The Vampire's Seduction (23 page)

“Yo.”

“Do you think he likes me?”

“Who?”

“The sexy one with the green eyes.”

Oh, geez. She was one of William’s play toys, and she didn’t even know his name. “I’m sure he likes you just fine, honey.”

“What is his name?”

“William.” I sighed. I remembered how Olivia had practically kissed his feet when she’d arrived on the doorstep. Now he had another groupie. I was officially in the middle of an undead soap opera.
Young Vampires in Love.
Could you stand it?

A new wave of torment must’ve hit her because she began to bawl almost as loudly as before. I staggered over to the bar again and rifled through the little drawer underneath until I found two old wine corks. I used my pocketknife to whittle them down a bit, then fitted one into each ear and made my way back to the chair by the coffin.

I patted the lid again and felt myself slipping into drunken oblivion. “There, there” I heard myself say.

William

I woke up on my office floor with Reyha’s cold nose prodding my ear. A wave of dizziness held me immobile. I felt drunk. The image of Jack swam through my mind on an unstable wave of confusion that soon turned to anger.

Why would Jack betray me? Had I somehow warped him into an oath breaker? I couldn’t believe it. Or was the lure of Reedrek too strong for any of us—even with the aid of voodoo blood—to resist for long?

I pushed Reyha away and sat up. I listened intently but no sound floated through the still air. It felt as though I’d been away for hours. Yet I could still feel the early-morning burn of the sun scratching the inside of my skin. I had to sleep, rest for the fight to come. I needed to save Jack from what he might be about to do; forget trying to save the vampire world. But it wouldn’t happen that way. With Reyha following, I went in search of Jack.

I found him looking dead, dead to the world. Seated on a ladder-back chair he’d pulled up next to Shari’s prison, he was slouched over onto the cushioned surface of the ottoman passed out, his lax fingers trailing possessively over an empty bottle of Dewar’s that was lying at his feet. Two other empties rested against the chair legs. I shook his shoulder and called his name, but he only moaned and tightened his grip on what must have been the final bottle.

Shari stirred then, feeling my presence. She began to twirl and shriek.

“William! Help me!” Somehow she’d learned my name. I should’ve been angry but the least I could offer her at this point was my acquaintance.

“Be at peace,” I said.

“Wi—Will—William?”

I didn’t speak to her again. Her suffering would go on for a while yet. I checked the lock on her coffin, then gently disengaged Jack’s favorite mode of oblivion before lifting him into his own racing coffin. I straightened the blue velvet lapels of Melaphia’s protective jacket and shut the lid.

There would be no rest for me this day and no time to dwell on when or if Jack might come to the decision to allow Reedrek to kill me. The future was not set, no matter what the shells showed. I intended to keep Jack busy and out of the way while I faced Reedrek, my own sire, my own destiny. Perhaps I could at least save Olivia.

I stripped off my shirt and threw it into the trash. Opening the armoire, I selected a fresh one along with a dark blue tailored jacket. The jacket wasn’t blessed like Jack’s, but it was Armani. Nothing but the best for what might be my last stand.

I sat down to write a brief note to Melaphia.

Dear One,

I have business to attend and I’m not sure how long I’ll be away. I leave Jack to handle things in my stead. Tell him to finish what we started downstairs, and try to clean him up to act as host for the All Hallows gathering. Tell him I’m depending on him.

Yours,

William

I made one last trip upstairs. Deylaud followed me step for step. I placed the sealed note on the kitchen counter before returning to the vault with Deylaud trailing behind me.

“Guard,” I ordered him, and waited until he took his usual position near the passage leading back to the house. I opened the tunnel door and stepped alone into the cool darkness.

The tunnels seemed deserted. I moved through them swiftly, as I had in the voodoo dream. Quite suddenly, I knew I was close to Reedrek.

He sat up as I entered the stone doorway to his hidey-hole. I ignored him as best I could. I kept my gaze on the shifting mass of snakes half filling the room. Several had twined close to Olivia’s head, making her look like an ancient Medusa in the dim light.

“Wake up, Olivia.”

She stirred, combing a clinging copperhead from her bright hair. Reedrek was instantly next to me, hovering within striking distance. I could smell ancient tombs on his breath. This would be the ultimate test then—to stand before him weaponless, no jacket, no charm. No blessings except for my mutated blood.

I kept my concentration on Olivia. “Are you all right?”
Are you his yet? Will you come at me, too?

“I’m fine,” she said, working to hold my gaze, folding her hands together in a portrait of submissiveness. What remained of her will I couldn’t tell. There was no time to test where her loyalties rested.

“Go home, Olivia,” I said before turning to Reedrek. “Whew! You smell worse than a rotting corpse. Have you taken to cannibalizing the dead to stay alive?” Olivia rose to her feet but seemed uncertain. I shifted my gaze to her once more. “I said, go home.”

I expected Reedrek to dispute my order. Instead he smiled. “I suppose people never truly change. You would trade yourself for a female as you did the very first time we met. How gallant. How pointless.” His gaze swung to Olivia. “That’s right, child. Go home. My chivalrous offspring and I have things to discuss.”

Without any further hesitation, Olivia disappeared through the door and into the dark tunnel. Having her out of harm’s way provided me with some slight relief.

I nudged a snake with my well-polished shoe. “What a perfect place for a coldblooded reptile like yourself to hide.”

He casually dusted the dank soil off his coat sleeve. “Shall we adjourn to a more hospitable place, then? One that more suits your delicate sensibilities?” he asked. “This is your city. Surely you know of other,
cleaner,
accommodations.”

I led him in the opposite direction from my home. Whatever happened between us, I wanted him as far away as possible from the ones I cared about. We ended up in a spot I knew well. A cavelike room near the river, with a steel barred door and smooth dry walls—a chamber that had most likely been built by pirates to store their booty and hide from the law. A table made of heavy rock stood in the center and two equally substantial benches sat on either side. Someone or something kept the dirt floor swept clear of debris and the corners free of cobwebs. A single lamp burned from a shelf carved into the wall. In all my time in the tunnels, I’d never seen a human there, nor a vampire for that matter.

With a lulling sense of normalcy, Reedrek removed his coat, shook out a lingering snake, then put the coat back on before taking his place on one of the benches. I sat on the one facing.

He got right to the point. “Now what is this I hear about voodoo blood?”

I felt myself flinch inside, although I know my features remained impassive.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play games. I already know about your mixed blood. Olivia told me.”

Olivia—I should have been more careful—

“She’s mine, you know,” Reedrek said on a huff of laughter. “You traded yourself for nothing. I sent her to bring Jack to me.”

“She doesn’t know anything. Do you think I would trust someone who showed up on my doorstep like a stray bitch?”

He shook his head sadly. “No, I suppose not. But you trust Jack, now don’t you?”

In my darkest moments I had pictured Jack being tortured or killed by Reedrek in revenge. With the help of the shells I’d seen the true danger—the blackest possibility. That Reedrek would turn Jack’s fledgling vampire mastery into something more traitorous. Closing my mind to that possibility, I drew in a long breath. I had to save Jack, and I had to stop Reedrek. But it wouldn’t do to fight him in any obvious way.

“You know, Jack didn’t turn out as well as I’d hoped,” I said with a sigh. “I thought to form him into something closer to my equal but he remains more than half human.” I allowed myself a pained expression. “As a matter of fact, no one on this side of the pond has given me a moment’s true pleasure.”

“Tsk, tsk. Poor fellow. Did I not tell you what a backwater hole this Savannah is? For all that it has in”—he waved his hand around—“ambiance. It lacks any true class or even intrigue. I mean, pirates and drunken Irishmen—have you forgotten England? Or Elizabeth? For pity’s sake! You’ve bedded a queen.”

Yes, I remembered Elizabeth. She’d been my equal in many ways. Not vampiric—no, she’d never craved my sort of half life. She’d been after her own immortality—as the God-appointed monarch of England. But I’d been her night counselor, confessor, and lover for many years. She’d even sent me to the Tower, to her cousin Mary, but not in love.

“If you’d taken her, she would’ve made us invincible,” Reedrek whispered. “Instead you entertained her with your cock—”

“While you killed her courtiers. She never liked you, you know. She put up with your presence because of me.”

Reedrek chuckled. “That’s because I never rode the ‘virgin’ queen half so well as you. I had more patience with your sport then.”

Elizabeth had always enjoyed the company of men, flirting shamelessly with half the ruling class. In an instant, she was there like a bright angel in my mind, standing before the fire with her halo of glorious red-gold hair, bundled in pelts of ermine to keep her safe from the cold English winter. She looked pale and fey in the firelight, as though the fairies had deposited her in the center of the English court. Her voice music to my desolate heart.

“Tell me of my cousin Mary. How does she keep in her confinement?”

I brushed my fingers along the fur, caressing her smooth, warm cheek in the process. I watched her skin pinken with excitement, and decided I would only lie a little. “She is angry and fearful. And the effort ages her.” A small satisfied smile tilted Elizabeth’s mouth. “But still quite lovely,” I added. The smile disappeared and she pulled away from my hand.

“Walsingham will not be swayed by beauty. He wears his duty to a Protestant England like the cross of our Lord.”

“Mary wears a rosary as well, in the place of breastplate armor.” I didn’t bother to mention how I’d been disinclined to get close enough to touch the Catholic relic. Elizabeth had sent me to frighten her, and that I accomplished with very little effort. Climbing through the high, unscalable window of her Tower room had been enough—and a show of fang had been more than enough. But her anger had drawn me in. She had tasted of heather and hopelessness.

Elizabeth turned on me then, inexplicably defending her cousin. “She is a queen, after all. And Walsingham would have your handsome head if he knew what we do together.” The English were eager to burn witches; what would they do with a creature like me? When I responded to her threat by casually pouring a cup of mead, she sighed. Tired of the game, she drew herself up and stepped close enough for me to feel the warmth of her body. She was naked under her fur wrap. She took the cup out of my hand and drank from it first. “I am your queen. Are you not here to please me?” I saw vulnerability in her gaze. It disappeared as quickly as I discovered it.

I smiled. “Aye, that I am.” Without warning I tossed the cup away, snatched her up in my arms, and threw her on the bed. I stifled her surprised scream with a kiss—deep and demanding. She fought me like a man until both of us were breathing hard. When I relinquished her mouth she grimaced. “You taste of blood,” she hissed.

“Aye, the blood of Queen Mary.” I thought she might scream again, or push me away, but as always she managed to surprise me. She licked her lips, then pulled my head downward for another taste.

Reedrek’s voice called me back to the present. “Yes, I let you have your fun. Then I taught you to hunt.”

After Elizabeth’s death, a death as natural as being born, I’d been more than half-crazy, uncaring. Lost in grief, with anger as my true love once again, I had hunted London with Reedrek as if we were lords of the realm, as though mayhem was our God-given right.

But God had nothing whatsoever to do with it.

One evening we’d boarded a merchant vessel, recently arrived from the southern climes, that was loaded with slaves and spices. Just remembering it brought back the scent of cinnamon, curry, and pressed olives. I’d spent most of my time killing the crew above decks while Reedrek relieved the slaves of their chains and their blood below. I’d watched in numb fascination as he’d decapitated this one, then strangled that one. Rather than pin them down, he’d held them aloft, off the slippery deck, as he’d sucked their arteries, seeming to enjoy their kicks and screams. Afterward, we were so bloody and bloated we could barely make our way back to our coffins. And I still felt no satisfaction or peace.

“Don’t you remember how it used to feel? Feeding at will? Walking the streets and reaping the juicy meal of the misguided?” He gazed at me and I could feel his mind searching for a weakness. “How long has it been since you’ve fed? And I mean truly fed, until you were satisfied?”

Possibly never, but at least longer than I intended to admit. I’d become a master at self control when it came to most things—especially hunting. With Eleanor’s help I’d gathered a stable of willing victims—my swans. A workable if not-so-sweet compromise.

“I find satisfaction in a different way,” I said, deflecting the true question.

“Show me,” he said. “Be my guide to this New World way of death and dining.”

He was challenging me in order to read my thoughts and habits. Humoring him, I blocked his vision of Eleanor and any reference to my mixed blood. If I could convince him that he might have the power to turn me into what he desired, I might have time to find a way to kill him. At least I might keep him busy and away from Jack.