Woman King (18 page)

As we continued kissing, his hands explored
my back and made tentative advances toward the front. I felt more
than ready for him to slip his hand under my shirt. I had been
exploring his body, marveling it how lean and hard it felt. I was
certain he could pick up on my thoughts and I reached to unbutton
his flannel shirt.

William pulled back from my advance. “Olivia,
you are a handful,” he said, making a noise that almost sounded
like the exhaling of breath. “There is no rush. I haven’t even told
you my story yet. There will be plenty of time for us to get to
know each other better. Besides, taking a vampire lover is a
complicated business, and you may want to know more before you sign
up for that responsibility.”

Honestly, I would have signed over the deed
to my house at that point. I was so aroused, it took a few moments
for his words to even register in my brain. I have never much good
at delayed gratification; it is one of my weaknesses.

Still, he had a point. I didn’t know anything
about taking a vampire as a lover, but honest to God, at that
moment, nothing sounded better. Then I thought of Elsa and her
reaction if she believed I’d slept with William. Reluctantly, I
came back to Earth.

“OK,” I said, taking his hand. “You’re right.
And I do want to hear your story.” William poured us both more wine
and began to speak.

“You know my name is William Ferrell. My full
name is William Aubrey Ferrell. I was born in Tullahoma, Tennessee
in 1830. My father was a farmer who left South Carolina and took
work with the railroad. I was one of six brothers and sisters. As
you can imagine, we were pretty poor. We had some land to grow our
food and raise a few chickens, but it was a difficult life. I was
born in the house we lived in. When I grew older, I trained as a
carpenter and made decent money for the family making furniture and
repairing things for the people in our village.

“I started playing music when I was a child,”
he continued. “There was a man in town with a guitar and he taught
me how to play in the spare moments when I wasn’t helping my mother
tend to my brothers and sisters. I made my first guitar myself out
of some extra wood I was given for a job. I carried that guitar
with me everywhere. In fact, it was with me in Louisiana when I
died.”

Once again I heard William make a noise that
sounded similar to breathing. He was occupied with the past now,
and I could feel his emotions becoming more intense. “When the war
broke out, there was no question whose side I would be on. I served
in the nineteenth Tennessee Infantry. By then, I had moved to
Knoxville, where there was more work. I joined in the spring of
1861.”

While I found his story captivating, I was
also doing the math in my head. We were sitting in William’s living
room in late September of 2011, which meant I was sharing a couch
with a 181 year-old vampire. There was no doubt, I mused silently,
that I was making the moves on a much older man.

“One year later I was dead,” William
continued. “I died in Louisiana at the Battle of Baton Rouge.”

“You don’t have to tell me any more,” I said
taking his hand in mine. “At least not tonight.”

“Actually I’m fine,” he said, looking
intently at me with his mossy green eyes. “I haven’t told anyone
the story of my life for a very long time. Truthfully, it’s nice
that you want to know.”

“I do, very much,” I said.

“So, we were in Baton Rouge. We had started
with 1,000 strong men, but by the time we arrived, there were
barely 100 healthy souls remaining in the division. We arrived with
no tents and little gear. Many of the men had neither coat nor
shoes. Imagine, walking for days on end, your feet bloody and raw.
There was no food, and our bellies ached with hunger. Many were ill
with dysentery. The filth and disease were overwhelming. The horror
of watching your brothers, cousins and friends killed or maimed. I
think for some it was probably a blessing to be killed.

“Did you feel that way?”

William shook his head. “No. After all the
death and destruction I’d seen, I didn’t care much about winning or
honor, but I didn’t want to die. I wanted to survive and go back
home to my family.”

“Did you? Survive the war?”

“Sadly, no,” William replied. “I remember the
day of the battle very clearly. It was very humid and also foggy.
The air was heavy and wet and I couldn’t make out the landscape
beyond my feet. It was a bloodbath; almost five hundred men were
killed on the battlefield, out of two thousand, maybe three
thousand soldiers. I remember lying on the ground, listening to the
screams of the wounded, while civilians from town ran their hands
through my pockets looking for valuables. There I was, 32 years
old, miles away from my family, and I had never even kissed a
girl.”

“Wait. What do you mean, you’d never kissed a
girl?”

William chuckled. “Women were not quite so
fast
as they are today. And I was too shy to say anything.
And then there was the fact that I was too poor to offer for a
lady’s hand anyway. What would I have given her? I had barely
enough money for the roof over my head. In those days there were
few women from good families who would have consented to marry
me.”

It was a shocking story, but did make sense.
It also made my kisses all the more intriguing. “I guess you
learned to kiss after you became a vampire,” I said, hoping for
more of his story.

“I did, but I haven’t had the wild life you
may imagine. Anyway, I was turned right there on the battlefield. I
had been lying on the ground for a while, having been shot several
times in my leg. It must have hit an artery because I started to
bleed out. There was no doctor in the camp and no medics to come
and help me. Believe me, as bad as war is today, at least soldiers
have the proper tools and support in battle.

“My second father was a Union officer. I
mistook him for a priest because he came so close to me. I thought
he had come to take my confession. Of course he had something
different in mind. He told me that I was minutes away from dying,
but that he could save me. He asked if I wanted to see the world,
live a life of endless travel and immortality. I felt my limbs
growing cold as the blood left my body and I knew I had little time
left to live.”

“Were you scared?”

“Of course,” he said. “I was human like you
and as afraid of death as anyone, but I was also intrigued. As a
poor man in Tennessee, my life’s prospects were limited. What my
new father offered was a life beyond what fate had in store.”

“So you agreed?”

“I did, and I walked out of Baton Rouge the
next day and on to a new life.”

“Where did you go?”

“Paris. It was an interesting time to be
abroad and my new father was convinced that the United States would
never evolve into a civilized country.”

“So you speak French?” I asked, feeling odd
at the way our lives seemed so neatly connected.

“
Oui, je parle français, et toi?”

“
Oui. Bien sûr.”

“
Bon,”
he said. “If you’re nice to me,
maybe we will visit France together.”

I was ready to be very nice to him. I was
also very tired. I looked at my watch and realized that it was
after midnight. I didn’t want to go home, though. I didn’t want to
leave William. Once again, he was not far behind my thoughts.

“You can sleep here tonight. As you can see,
I don’t have a bed in my room. I don’t normally sleep, but you can
use one of the guest rooms.”

I suddenly had a vision of being one of many
who walked down that path. I must have made a face, because William
took my hand.

“I am flattered at how popular you think I
am, but the fact is I’ve never brought a woman home with me. You’re
the first.”

His confession was my undoing. Baton Rouge,
dysentery, never being kissed; I considered that maybe it was all a
fabulous lie to seduce me. But I was holding out hope that it
wasn’t. Regardless, my emotions got the better of me and I burst
into tears, overwhelmed. I knew I was in serious danger of falling
in love with an old Southern gentleman. OK, an old dead gentleman,
but there was no doubt he was different then anyone I’d ever met. I
managed to get out an “I’m sorry,” before he picked me up and
carried me to one of the guest bedrooms. He pulled down the sheets
and laid me on the bed. With little difficulty he pulled off my
boots and tucked me in.

“You see, Olivia,” he said gently. “I told
you there is a lot to consider when you bring a vampire into your
life.” I nodded, but said little else. I was asleep in seconds.

When I opened my eyes the next morning, it
took me a few minutes to realize where I was. I was still in my
clothing from the night before; everything was buttoned and snapped
into place. I glanced at the watch on my wrist, horrified that it
was already 9:30 in the morning.

Horribly off schedule, I jumped out of bed
and opened the door of the bedroom. I padded down the hall to the
bathroom and freshened up. When I came out I heard the sound of
guitar coming from upstairs. Slowly, I climbed the steps and walked
into the loft. It was a lovely image, and I worked hard to keep my
mouth from hanging open.

There, sitting in one of the leather chairs
was William, shirtless, a guitar in his lap. His red hair was loose
around his shoulders, and as he leaned forward to play his guitar,
I could see more of the tattoo work on his back. There was an
enormous angel with its wings outstretched across his shoulder
blades. It was magnificent work, and I wondered whether the angel
was in honor of the man that saved him that day on the battlefield,
or for something else.

“Good morning,” I said, knowing he was aware
of my presence.

“Hello, sleepy head,” he drawled. “I was
beginning to worry you would snooze the day away.”

“It seems I might have. I don’t remember
sleeping so deeply for a long time.”

“You got an earful last night,” William said.
“I can imagine it was a bit of a shock. How are you feeling?”

“I feel great,” I said, and I meant it. I was
happy to have found William. I knew it was going to make all of the
rest of what I had to do more complicated, but I didn’t care.

“Mind if I come over and say hello?” I
asked.

William set down his guitar and opened his
arms. I came and sat on his lap and lay my head on his
shoulder.

“Do you sleep?”

“Not so much,” he said, adjusting his body to
accommodate me.

I was eager to feel his skin against my body.
He smelled delicious, lemony, like a very sweet sugary lozenge,
with a hint of rosemary. I sat there for a while not saying
anything, sitting in the cocoon of his body. I’m not sure how long
we sat in the chair together. Time stopped. We kissed, but it was
nothing urgent. After a few moments, we paused to talk, revealing
the small details of our lives.

I told him more about my campaign and
described Levi and explained how I had worked for him before. I
didn’t mention the Council. I’m not sure why. I had a feeling that
maybe this thing between us was too fragile to be laden down with
such complicated issues. In fact, it all felt a little complicated.
I’d never spent the night at a man’s home before where we didn’t
have sex. I’d never spent the night at a vampire’s house. I wasn’t
sure what to expect, but I was out of time to wonder. I looked at
my watch and thought of the long list of obligations I had pending.
I was long overdue at work.

“I have to go,” I said. “I don’t want to, but
I am really running late for what will be a very busy day.”

“Can I see you again?” was his reply, which
sounded so normal that I laughed.

“Forgive me,” I said. “It’s just that this
sounds like the conversation any man or woman would have. Are you
asking me out on a date?”

“I am asking you on a date,” he said,
crossly. “Please keep in mind, darlin, that I’m not a character in
a pulp-fiction novel. I won’t be using mind control to lure you to
my side.”

“Bummer,” I said. “What about bats? Will you
be flying in my window like Gary Oldman?”

My remark seemed to defuse the moment. I had
no desire to offend him and I was relieved when he shook his head
and smiled.

“No bats, no flying. I have none of those
tricks up my sleeve. I meant what I said last night. I’m simply a
man who wants to date a pretty woman.”

“You are a man who drinks blood,” I said
looking him in the eye. “That does seem like a topic worth
discussing.”

To his credit, William did not break our
gaze. “I might take a taste, but I will not
drink
your blood
unless you offer it to me, and even then I might refuse.”

“How do you survive if you don’t drink human
blood?”

William turned away slightly from me as he
spoke. “I do not need to eat as often as young vampires do.”

“Yes, well you are 181 years old,” I cut
in.

William smiled. “I can see you’re good at
math. So when you are as old as I am, you do not need to feed
daily.”

“But when you do feed, what do you drink?” I
asked. “And why wouldn’t you drink from me if I offered?”

“When I first became a vampire, my hunger was
overpowering, but now I can survive for weeks without feeding. When
I do need to eat, I drive up into the hills and search for
wildlife. Deer are plentiful nearby so I never have much of a
problem.”

“I saw you drink alcohol last night.”

“Interesting, isn’t it? All of the myths
about vampires and most of them are as untrue as we are undead.
Alcohol is something I’ve grown accustomed to over the years. Newly
made vampires require a lot of blood to survive. Alcohol is too
disruptive to their nervous system. But later, as you are able to
feed less, you can introduce other forms of pleasure back into your
life. For me, its whisky, sometimes wine. I like to eat raw fish
and meat occasionally. It’s good to blend in with people and eating
and drinking makes it easier to disappear in a crowd.