Читать книгу Love Me Forever - Rosemary Laurey - Страница 9

Typical Vlad showmanship. A Goth bar! Justin looked around at the dark-clad, pasty-faced mortals and wanted to laugh. He didn’t. The atmosphere suggested a dearth of amusement. Crossing to the table in the corner where Vlad lounged with a wry smile on his face, Justin sent his senses scanning. That Vlad hadn’t come alone was a given. Justin expected a show of power. He sensed two, no three vampires. Clever. Enough to suggest superiority but not enough to intimidate. As always, Vlad was the consummate tactician.

“Welcome.” It wasn’t quite Bela Lugosi but not a bad try.

“Vlad.” Justin paused at the table and nodded.

Neither offered a hand and Vlad remained seated. Dixie would call it a “testosterone power play.” He missed her. Kit was one lucky vampire. A Saturday afternoon strolling in Schiller Park, or helping out in the little shop, or better still, sitting at Stella’s kitchen table, beat negotiating with Vlad Tepes.

“Be seated.”

Justin took the empty chair, angling it away from the wall. “Interesting choice of venue.”

“Amusing, don’t you think?” A mortal would have missed the eye movement to the left. Justin was long beyond mortal. He sat upright, every sense alerted to the other vampires in the crowded bar. Vlad went on. “Yesterday a young woman offered to bite my neck. Claimed she was a vampire of the clan of Lilith.”

“Did you accept?”

The smile reached both sides of his mouth. “I fear my blood would have overpowered her. If the truth had not overwhelmed.”

“She was a believer.”

Vlad shook his head. “Of a fantasy. These children enjoy their games. We live in the reality.”

“Yes, that’s what we’re here to discuss…”

Justin turned to his right as a silent figure approached. The vampire he’d last seen behind the bar stood at his elbow. Without a word he placed two glasses on the table between them, nodded to Vlad and withdrew.

Vlad pushed one glass towards Justin and took the other. “Gwyltha suggested this would please you, domestic, but drinkable. I value your opinion.”

The mere mention of Gwyltha’s name on Vlad’s lips should have seared like acid. It didn’t. Gwyltha was a hundred-year-old heartbreak that eased with every passing day. Was it distance or the rejuvenating air of the New World? As he raised his glass, Justin caught the bouquet of a fine, vintage port. “To a satisfactory resolution.”

Vlad nodded, lifting his glass in acknowledgement. Justin sipped. Not bad at all. He held the dark liquid in his mouth savoring it on his tongue before swallowing slowly. “Tell Gwyltha I applaud her selection.” By Abel! That was easy enough! It was as if he’d asked Vlad to convey a message to a mutual friend, not the woman he’d stolen. Justin tasted again to focus his thoughts on the business at hand. “So.” He put the glass down on the marble table with a soft clink. “Where shall we draw the line? The Mississippi? You take the lands to the west…”

“And leave my colony here adrift among your people? Impossible!”

“They’d have nothing to fear.” Justin looked Vlad the Impaler straight in the eyes.

“I know that, my friend, but they don’t.” He lifted his hands, palms up. “These New Worlders…insecure, anxious, uncertain, in constant need of reassurance.”

Vlad was mixing with the wrong New Worlders! Those were not the adjectives to describe Stella—or Dixie. “What more reassurance would anyone need than the protection of Vlad Tepes?”

“Certainty of secure territory.”

“My people need the same.”

“Two, one still a fledgling, need very little territory.”

“Who knows how many more there may be in time? Better set boundaries that won’t need revision in the future.”

Vlad raised an eyebrow. “You envisage enlarging your colony.”

“I envisage safe and assured boundaries for both our colonies. With all courtesies of passage and cooperation.” Let old Tepes chew on that one. Justin sipped his port, his excellent port, he amended to himself and watched Vlad.

“Are boundaries necessary?”

“Yes!”

Vlad nodded. “I agree. As you will, I’m certain, concede my need for greater territory to accommodate my larger numbers.”

“We must exclude territory known to be staked by other colonies.”

Vlad grimaced. “Not the best choice of words.”

Julian grinned. A deliberate choice of words. Still, Vlad had survived his staking. “Forgive me…Now to boundaries…”

“I suggest you take Ohio and Indiana.”

“And Pennsylvania, Kentucky and Illinois.” That should give everyone enough stomping ground for centuries.

“Illinois is impossible. I have an established colony here.”

“All four of them?” Justin added the vampire he assumed was lurking outside to follow him. “Set aside Chicago as yours and I’ll allow them permanent safe passage.”

“Impossible.”

“Very well, you keep Illinois. We’ll go east. Add Virginia and West Virginia.” Even better. Access to the sea.

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.”

Vlad nodded. Justin reached across the table, enjoying the surprise in the other vampire’s eyes as he took his hand. When had they last shaken hands?

“Another glass of port?” Vlad asked.

Justin shook his head. “Thank you, but no. As they say, I have a plane to catch.” And this place with its pasty-faced, red-lipped mortals gave him the willies.

Vlad rose with him and walked him to the door. “It’s been a pleasure doing business. I never imagined the stern Dr. Corvus would be so reasonable.”

“I’m not unreasonable, Vlad,” he replied. “My thanks for the excellent port. Gwyltha ever had a good nose for a fine vintage.”

Vlad smiled. “A pleasant flight and…” He paused. “By the way, I have five. Perhaps you missed one of the ghouls.”

Shocked, Justin rescanned the room. In addition to the three vampires, there were two ghouls. Both young women, one behind the bar, the other carrying a tray to a table in the corner. Ghouls! Was there no end to the man’s depravity?

“Ah!” Vlad all but chuckled. “You disapprove?”

“You know my stand on that!”

“Yes.” He smiled. “They are raised from the grave. You raise from the dead. Is there any difference?”

All the difference in the world. Not that he was about to debate ethics with Vlad Tepes. “Give my regards to Gwyltha.”

Regards! The word jangled at the fringes of his mind all the way out to O’Hare. Regards! Was that all he felt for the woman who’d once ruled his life and owned his soul? Regards? Yes. Memories of Gwyltha were just that. Joyous, passion-filled, and sore. But the pain of almost a century had faded. Was this the re-energizing atmosphere of the New World? Or the acquaintance of an intriguing New World woman? And now he was returning posthaste to the same woman and, he conceded, to share the good news with his friends. Vlad never went back on his word, Justin had to hand him that. Kit and Dixie were assured enough ground to roam comfortably for a least a couple of hundred years.

“Be a good boy, Sam.”

“You know he will!” Lindy Zeibel, Stella’s next-door neighbor, ruffled Sam’s head. “Won’t you, Sam? We’re going to bake brownies and then he can take his bike up to the park. I’ve got a video to watch later, so you take your time. Drive carefully.”

“What video?” Sam’s eyes glowed with curiosity.

“Secret, you’ll see soon enough.” She glanced towards the inside of the house. “I’ve a pack of brownie mix out on the countertop. You go along, read the box and figure out what we need. And watch the oven, it’s already on.”

Sam hugged Stella. “Bye, Mom.”

She watched him disappear inside the house without a backward glance. Staying with Mrs. Zeibel was never a hardship. “Thanks. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“No hurry. Don’t speed, now, and tell your mom I say hello.” She glanced into the house where noises of fridge-opening and spoons jingling showed Sam was readying to bake. “And tell her she’s got one fine grandson there.”

“I will.”

“You’ve got to tell him sometime, you know.”

Knowing Lindy Zeibel was right didn’t help anything.

“Not yet. Later. What good would it do right now to know his grandma’s in jail?”

Mrs. Zeibel nodded. “He’s fine for now. Ain’t anyone going to tell him. Except those Day boys, and he’d never believe them.”

Thank heaven! Sam was scared of them and she wanted it to stay that way. Mind you, they’d been noticeably quiet since Justin had confronted the younger ones. No matter how he denied it, she did owe him. But…“Must get going. Thanks for keeping Sam.”

“He’s no trouble, dear. It’s nice to have a kid in the house. Drive carefully, now.”

Stella drove carefully. Cars were passing her and disappearing in the distance but what did she have to hurry for? She hated making this drive every two weeks to see her mother. Hated the checks and double checks, the questions, the searches and the locked doors. And at the end of it, she had to face Mom’s complaints and recriminations. Stella always told herself Mom was under stress, depressed—heck, she was in jail, she was entitled to moan a bit—and it was a daughter’s obligation to visit her mother. But it would be nice, just once in a while, to be greeted with a smile or be thanked for coming.

Trying hard to squelch her undaughterly thoughts, Stella parked and went through the motions of the system, the questions, the cursory search of her purse. On her first few visits, she noticed the almost incoherent boredom in other visitors’ eyes as they went through the process. Now she suspected her eyes looked the same. It was a means to let the humiliation slide off her soul.

“You’re late.”

“Sorry. There were road works on thirty-three. They fixed the stretch on the way back but now they’re working on the other direction.” It was all too obvious Mom wasn’t interested in repairs to roads she’d not be traveling along for years. “Sam’s doing real well in school.” Mom seemed only a little less bored over Sam’s progress. “Did you get the school picture I mailed you?”

“Yeah, I got it. Nice looking boy, you got there.”

Stella felt herself warm inside over even that crumb of approval. “Yes, Mom, and he’s growing like a weed.”

“When are you bringing him to see me, then?” The silence that followed was heightened by her mother’s smirk.

“Mom, you know how I feel about that. This is not the place to bring a kid.”

“Other inmates have their kids and grandkids visit. I suppose you’re just too ashamed to tell your son his grandma’s in jail?”

Since Mom put it so bluntly…“It’s not something he needs to know right now.”

“I knew it!” Mom’s narrow eyes gleamed. “Ashamed of me, aren’t you?”

Stella choked back the truthful response. “Mom, it’s not that.” She looked straight into her mother’s skeptical eyes as she went on. “I’m not ashamed of you, you’re my mother. But I’m doing my darnedest to raise Sam to be law-abiding, and I just don’t think now is the time to tell him his grandma is doing time for bank robbery.”

Mom gave her the full benefit of her hurt expression. “I see.” Her mouth became a narrow, tight line. “That’s how it is. I suppose next thing, you’ll decide you’re too proud to come and see me.”

“No, Mom!” The accusation hurt. “I’ve always come and I always will. Didn’t I promise?”

Mom waved a careless hand. “Yeah, yeah, you promised. I know you’ll come. It just gets me down being here. You don’t know what it’s like.”

True enough. The little Stella had seen was grim—but not grim enough, it seemed, to discourage Mom’s repeat visits. “No, Mom, I don’t, but I come as often as I can.”

“You could come every week.”

“Yeah, I could, but then I’d never have time to take care of the house.”

That changed the subject fast, as Stella had hoped. “How is the house?”

“Fine. I had to replaced the toilet in the bathroom. Other than that the house is okay.” If you ignored the house being two blocks from a drug dealer’s Mecca and having felonious neighbors.

“Good, you take care of my house, girl. I’m looking forward to going back there when I done my time.” And Stella looked forward to moving away. If only she hadn’t promised…“That house is special to me, you see.”

“Yes, Mom.” That was a lie; she never could see why her mother was so attached to that house. It was paid for, yes, but that alone mystified Stella, she never could fathom, or perhaps didn’t want to know, how Mom had come up with the cash to buy it. A year or so back, Stella had suggested selling it and moving to a safer neighborhood, not into the yuppie part of German Village, that she could never afford, but she found a nice house up near St. Leo’s. Mom had gone ballistic. Caused a real sensation, that had. Stella shivered at the memory.

“Are you cold?” Mom asked.

The unexpected concern touched Stella. “No, not really. Must have been someone walking over my grave.”

“Huh! You’ve got years yet, Stella. Not like me. I sometimes wonder if I’ll die in here.”

If Mom continued her felonious lifestyle it was more than probable. Stella stayed another half-hour and by the time she left felt thoroughly depressed, torn between annoyance at Mother’s moans and complaints and guilt at her irritation. It was always like this. From the “You’re late!” greeting to Mom’s parting, “I suppose you’re glad to be going, aren’t you?” visits always followed the same pattern. She should be used to it by now. Truth was, Stella was glad to be going, to leave behind the locked doors and the stale air and walk away. Something Mom couldn’t do.

As Stella headed south, she tried to turn her thoughts from Mom to Sam. Beggars’ Night was coming and with it the problem of paying for the costume. It had to be beyond her pocketbook, whatever Justin might say.

Now there was a man to fill a few idle daydreams—and get her heart broken, she didn’t doubt. Good looking, sexy as all get-out, and enough charm to lure the birds out of the trees. For a few miles, she let herself indulge in the fantasy of Justin asking her out on a date. It would be nice to spend the evening with a cultured, educated grown-up. Just a few hours listening to Justin speak would be better than a week’s R & R. Right! Talking wasn’t what a man like him had in mind! As if he’d want her for her wit and polish! Stella chuckled. More likely, a little diversion to liven up his vacation! Once upon a time she’d have been right there with him. Now she had more important things in her life, or rather one very important person.

Back in town, Stella decided to drop by the Vampire Emporium and settle up with Dixie. If there was any difficulty, she didn’t want Sam knowing. Better sort it all out herself and if Justin was there…

He wasn’t. Neither was Dixie.

“She won’t be in until later, but I’m Kit, her partner. Can I help you?”

Did every man she met these days have a smooth, British accent?

Stella looked across the counter at the dark-haired man wearing a leather eye patch and hoped she wasn’t staring. “I wanted to settle up with her,” she said. The man was slender, but looked stronger than the oak counter between them. “I owe her for a vampire costume.”

“You’re Stella Schwartz.”

“Yes.” Why be surprised he knew her? They were partners, weren’t they?

“Does the costume fit your boy? Think it will do? Dixie was afraid it might be too big.”

“It’s perfect—other than needing shortening so Sam doesn’t trip on the hem and a taking in of the waist. In fact, that’s why I came in. I need to pay for it.” She paused. “Justin wasn’t sure how much…”

“Yes, now…right…” Kit shuffled through a stack of papers in a file folder. “Dixie left a note somewhere.” He handed Stella an invoice. “Here you are.”

She stared at the figures. It couldn’t be this cheap. “Isn’t this a mistake?” Like a decimal point in the wrong place.

Kit shook his head. “I don’t think so. Dixie doesn’t make mistakes.”

“But surely it cost more than this.” She knew what a yard of cloth cost and this was velvet!

He nodded. “Yes, it probably did originally, but it’s useless now. The original order was canceled and not many people want pint-sized capes.”

“It’s not just the cape. There were the pants as well.”

He stared a minute. “Oh! The trousers!” He shrugged.

“Sorry, have to do instant translations a lot.” He gave Stella a searching look. “To be honest, you’re doing me a favor taking it out of the house. I’ve been telling Dixie for ages we need to have a clearance sale. We’ve got three bedrooms and two are chock-full with old stock.”

Justin slept in one of those bedrooms. Did he climb over trunks and boxes to get into bed at night? Did she care? She counted out the money and pocketed the receipt. “Thank your friend Justin for dropping it by.”

“I’ll be sure to pass your message on. He’s away right now.”

Why the rush of disappointment? The man didn’t live here, after all. “He’s gone home?”

“Just had some business to attend to.” Kit looked almost worried for a split second. “He’ll be back.”

When? None of her business! Time to get back to Sam. “Tell him I said ‘hi’ and give Dixie my thanks.”

“I will. Be sure to come by the shop on Beggars’ Night. Dixie’s planning something special.”

“We will.” She stopped herself from asking if Justin would be back by then. It wasn’t important and besides, Justin’s business was not hers.

That didn’t prevent her from wondering as she drove home, and telling herself she was not disappointed he wasn’t there. The man had a life didn’t he? About time she got one that didn’t include fixating on sexy, smooth British accents and dark eyes warm enough to melt your bones.

“I’m glad you’re back.” Dixie gave Christopher a hug as he came in the door.

“Nice to be welcomed home. What do you have in mind? Hunting or…?” He glanced up the steep stairs.

“Both! But first come talk to Justin. He won’t tell me a thing.”

Her partner grinned. “And I thought you were welcoming me for myself.”

“I am. Every molecule of you, after you get Justin to tell what happened.”

“He didn’t say anything?”

“I asked him if things went well and if he’d worked things out and he replied, ‘No and yes, or perhaps yes and no.’ Didn’t see much sense in persisting after that. I might not have any breath to waste, but I do have energy.”

“Where is he?”

“Out in the backyard watching the moon. He’s been out there a while.”

“I’ll wait for him to come in.”

“Christopher!” Now she had a hard time staying patient.

“Tell him you’re here.”

He shook his head. “I’m not disturbing him at prayer.”

Dixie knew better than to be surprised. Praying to the moon? Why not? Artemis, Diana, or some Druid deity? “He might be out there all night.” She needed to rest and wasn’t sure she could wait another whole day before knowing what transpired between Justin and his old enemy. Especially if, as he and Christopher both intimated, the outcome directly affected their life here in Ohio.

“He won’t. He knows I’m home.” An insecure woman would be disturbed by the strong bond between these two men and Tom, the third of the group. Dixie found it irked her. She was part of the blood bond, but not as enmeshed as the three men and unsure she ever wanted to be. “Stella came by the shop this evening,” Christopher added.

“Everything okay?”

He nodded. “Yes. She bought the story about an unclaimed order and the flaw in the cloth. Clever idea, that.”

“Good. I’d like to see Sam in it. First time I’ve made a kid’s costume.”

“She promised to bring him round the shop on Halloween. It really is a big deal here, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She still couldn’t get used to the idea of British children not having exactly the same as she’d grown up with.

“You need to get Justin to talk about Samhain.”

“I need to get Justin to talk about what went on between him and Dracula!”

“I said I would, Dixie, when Kit got back.”

They both turned. Justin Corvus, one-time regimental surgeon to the Ninth Legion Hispañia, filled the doorway, his face drawn and his skin gray. Did he need to feed? He’d looked worn coming off the plane. Now he was haggard. But he had just returned from negotiating with the vampire who’d stolen his soul mate, and come back, it seemed, with less than good news.

“Want to feed first?” Christopher asked. She hadn’t been wrong.

Justin shook his head. “Soon. I need to. I refused our Central European acquaintance’s offer of hospitality.” He sounded as disgusted as she had in her mortal vegetarian days, when she’d once been offered grilled kidneys for breakfast. He did manage a semi-smile. “There’s something you need to know.”

Of course, neither he nor Christopher could talk standing in the kitchen like any normal friends sharing life-altering news. No, they settled in the living room—Christopher in his usual wing chair and Justin in the recliner, which he pointedly didn’t recline. Since they wanted to get comfortable before possibly disrupting her life, Dixie took a little longer and turned on the gas fireplace. She hadn’t yet acquired the others’ skittishness towards fire. She still saw a fire as comforting, welcoming, and relaxing. But she hadn’t survived the great fire of London; both Christopher and Justin had.

“Shoot,” Christopher invited, when they all finally got settled.

“Want the good news first, or the bad?”

“Good news always comes first,” Dixie said. Christopher didn’t argue.

“Territory is not a problem.” Justin explained the division of lands.

“Just like that?” Dixie asked. “We get use of six states. Don’t the inhabitants and the U.S. government have something to say about it?”

“The government and the inhabitants don’t believe we exist, Dixie,” Julian said quietly. “Agreements among immortals don’t involve them.” He had a point, but the thought of a Transylvanian warlord and a Roman surgeon divvying up her country rather teed her off.

“We’ll need space to roam, Dixie. We can’t stay here more than ten, fifteen years—twenty tops,” Christopher said.

That she wouldn’t argue. Christopher had been doing this for four centuries, Justin much longer. “So that’s the good news.” Essentially it was. “What’s the bad news?”

Justin paused. If he’d been mortal it would have been for a slow, deep breath. “Vlad Tepes is making ghouls.”

Between Justin’s tone and Christopher’s shocked expression, she gathered this was horrific, not merely bad.

“By Abel!” Christopher said at last. “Are you sure?”

“I saw two.”

Dixie resisted asking where the difficulty lay. It wasn’t easy.

“Think Gwyltha knows about this?” Christopher asked.

Justin stared at him as if processing the question. “I doubt he’d tell her. She has rather strong feelings on the subject.” He shrugged. “But if Vlad supports it…Hell, if I know.”

“She wouldn’t countenance the making of ghouls.” Christopher spoke with certainty.

It was time to ask for explanations. “What’s the taboo about ghouls?” Their existence she didn’t question. Vampires and witches she’d learned about the hard way, ghouls she’d take on faith.

“Ghouls are mindless tools,” Christopher said, “created by some vampires to use as menials, servants. It’s abuse.”

“Okay, help me out here.” She paused as she thought a moment. “Ghouls are living dead…right?” Both men nodded. “We’re dead…or would be if we weren’t vampire…What’s the big difference?”

Christopher looked less shocked the time she’d asked if she couldn’t just feed from him. One look at Justin suggested vampires sometimes needed CPR. “Dixie,” Justin managed at last, “it’s the difference between life and death!”

“I’m not sure I see it.” She turned to Christopher. He’d always been willing to explain.

He didn’t let her down this time. “You’re right that we’re both resurrected, so to speak, and yes, both vampires and ghouls are created by vampires. The differences are immense. We have reason, mental strength, physical power and endurance. When we’re strong enough and old enough, we can transmogrify. We heal from hurt rapidly. Ghouls possess none of this. When they’re made, or rather raised, those powers are withheld.” He paused. “As Justin said, it makes for mindless, immortal creatures who can be used.”

“They’re chattel,” Justin went on, “passed from one controller to another and used for whatever purpose the current owner chooses.”

“Like slaves?” Dixie asked.

Justin shook his head. “Worse. Slaves, at least in my time, had rights and laws to protect them. Ghouls have nothing.”

“Slaves didn’t have much protection here,” Dixie added, remembering back to South Carolina history in eighth grade.

“But slavery was abolished a while back.” Okay a century, and so a mere eye blink in time to these two. “So,” she looked at both vampires, “Vlad’s got these two ghouls, slaves if you like. What are we going to do about it?”