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Earth, Red Nest Manor
Marianna studied her appearance in the mirror. It irked her that a wardrobe malfunction had occurred tonight of all nights. She should be downstairs rather than here in her suite. The humans would want to see the library, she was sure of it. So much human history there. She and Vincent had spent decades collecting and cataloging book after book, detailing human histories before the evacuation. There was only one treatise on their post evacuation life, and that from a single subject who hadn't actually evacuated. But now they'd come. Real humans were in her house, and where was she?
Upstairs, repairing a rip in her gown, gotten when she'd snagged it on her husband's gorgon statue. The sculpture was a masterpiece, really, but all those snakes... Marianna swore she was going to make him put it in the conservatory, where she could create a living barrier around it, if only to safeguard her wardrobe.
The sleeping area where she'd come to repair the damage opened into a larger workroom filled with everything she needed to create her art. A worktable, storage cabinets for clay, paint and tools. A large window to let in the light. It was one of her favorite places in the mansion.
Of course, none of that mattered at the moment.
"Humans," she murmured to herself. "After all this time and where am I? Upstairs, fixing the stupid gown that I didn't want to wear in the first place."
She pinned the torn fabric in place and ran a repair module over it. Seconds later, you couldn't tell the emerald silk had been damaged. The little machine had even replicated the lace overlay. Say what you want about tech, you couldn't beat it for emergencies.
Something scraped against the stonework behind her and Marianna turned, expecting Vincent or one of the staff had come looking for her.
Her gaze roamed over stone walls covered in rich tapestries, her worktable, and bookshelves. A half-finished sculpture waiting for her to complete it, her tools laying in a neat row next to it. The sheer white curtains fluttering in the cool evening breeze coming through the open window. Everything as it should be, except...
She hadn't opened the window, had she?
That dry scrape again, coming from the darkness under her worktable. Marianna stood, crossing toward the table. Something felt off, and a shiver ran over her shoulders and down her spine.
"Hello?" she said, keeping her voice soft. Perhaps a stray cat had snuck in. Vincent didn't see the point of having pets, but Marianna loved animals. Maybe she could talk him in to letting her keep it. "Come out, little one. I won't hurt you."
"Does she promise?" The voice scraped over Marianna's nerves, cold and metallic. She recoiled.
"Who are you?"
"She said she wouldn't hurt 516. Does she promise?" Menace oozed from the question, and Marianna picked up a chisel from her worktable as the voice went on. "Will she give it to us? We know she has it."
"Has what? How did you get in here?" she demanded. "You will leave, now. Or I will call Vincent."
A growl rumbled from under the table. "She lies. Carrying a weapon while promising peace. The master knew."
"What master? No. Never mind. Just... Get out!" Marianna backed away from the table, the chisel clutched in her hand, leaving a clear path to the window. She fetched up against her storage cabinet as the creature erupted from under the table with a scream of rage.
It was no more than three feet tall, its silver body round and compact, with spindly legs and arms. It launched itself at her, its metal teeth bared in a hideous grimace. Grasping claws reached for her and Marianna punched it with a clenched fist, sending the thing flying into the opposite wall.
Something hard and heavy landed on her back, claws ripping at her throat. Marianna screamed, a long, despairing wail, but it was already too late. Blood pumped from her carotid artery, spilling down the length of the emerald silk.
The first monster regrouped, leaping to bite, sinking its dagger-like teeth into her thigh. Agony ripped through her and she screamed again.
Marianna's vision clouded, darkness seeping in around the edges as if night were invading her eyes.
Feet pounded down the hallway and the creatures leaped away, cackling as they jumped through the window and disappeared.
Marianna couldn't see them. She was already dead.
The room was long and wide, with a massive oak dining table in the middle. Candles spaced down the center added their soft glow to the light provided by the crystal chandelier overhead. Rosewood paneling and built-in sideboards completed the old world feel of the place. All that was missing were weapons mounted over the fireplace and empty suits of armor in the hall.
Val couldn't shake the feeling that the room wouldn't be out of place in some of the fancier restaurants she'd visited, especially as she watched a stunning young woman in green silk hurry toward the exit. Probably needed the bathroom.
She and Alex were not seated together, which made her nervous at first, but when dinner was served – a spring salad followed by chicken Diane and parmesan asparagus – she relaxed. Spacing them out between the other guests certainly made for interesting conversations.
"How often do humans have intimate relations?" Dinara, the vampire they'd first spoken to when they arrived, asked.
Val nearly choked on her wine. "What?" She could feel her eyebrows rising, but Dinara didn't seem to notice.
“How often do you mate?” Dinara clarified helpfully, brushing a lock of dark brown curls over her shoulder as she waited expectantly for the answer.
"You mean sex?" Val set her cup back on the table and dabbed her lips with a linen napkin to buy time. "Well, it depends on the person, of course. It is considered a personal detail – one most people don't share with strangers."
A tinge of pink touched Dinara's cheeks. "Have I been rude? I apologize."
Val shook her head. "No need. Elder Margrave said his team was working on a book about the human experience. Sex is certainly part of that. At least, for adults. But now I'm curious. Don't vampires view physical intimacy as a private thing?"
"Not particularly. I mean, no one is going to commit the act in public, but it isn't a secret. At least, no more so than any other normal bodily function. Now, if you asked one of us how old we are..." She grinned, displaying the tips of her canines. "That could be considered rude."
"Many humans feel the same," Val admitted, glad she hadn't asked Vincent his age. She eyed Dinara curiously. "What about procreation? Is that a taboo subject?"
Dinara raised her fingers to her lips. "No, why?" Sudden understanding dawned. "Oh, you are probably referring to that old fable humans used to tell about us. That we ‘turn’ humans into vampires by biting them?"
"Not true, then?"
Dinara giggled. "There would probably be a lot more of us if it were. As it is, each clutch of eggs brings only a few younglings. Two, three at most, for every set laid. Our population remains stable, but it does not grow as human populations tended to prior to the evacuation. It's one of the reasons we were never the dominant species on Earth, despite being faster, stronger, and more disciplined than humans."
Irritation bubbled under Val's skin, but she nodded politely. There had been no smugness or superiority in Dinara's matter-of-fact statement.
"So, your species never preyed on humans as a food source?"
"Occasionally, some did. Hence the legends. But it was usually an act of derangement or desperation. One does not kill and eat advanced life forms. It is irresponsible."
Not immoral, Val noted. But irresponsible. "Your women lay eggs?"
"Those who can breed, yes. But not everyone is fertile. And it isn't restricted to females. Males can be breeders, too. But only one in three of us can present eggs for the collective. And of those who can, most only do so once during their lifetime."
"So that's why a group of vampires living together is called a nest?"
Dinara glanced up. "Why, yes. What other reason would there be?"
"I have no idea. This is as much a learning experience for me as it is for you."
"Speaking of learning, what impact do you think the evacuation had on gender relations among humans?"
Val answered as best she could, sparing a glance at Alex, who was laughing at something his dinner companion had just said.
Some twenty guests sat around the table, with Vincent Margrave at the head, looking both wise and youthful. As Val watched, a white-faced server hurried up to Vincent and whispered in his ear. The elder frowned, then stood to follow the younger vampire from the room.
She caught Alex's eye, then stood, setting her napkin on her seat. "Excuse me for a moment," she said to Dinara.
She heard the other woman object, but didn't turn. A few steps later, she felt Alex join her as they left the dining room for the hallway.
"What's up?" he asked.
"I don't know, but by the look on that kid's face, something is wrong. I'm going to find out what."
"Are you sure about that? Vincent might not like us getting nosy."
"Given the recent incident on Elara, and the fact that a container which was chock full of an intact nourichef is now empty except for a few spare parts, what are you willing to bet that whatever it is has something to do with us?"
Alex's mouth flattened into a grim line. "Nothing. I don't like to lose."
"Me neither. Now where..." she trailed off as voices drifted from behind a door down the corridor.
"...the victim? How did he die?"
"He had injuries to his throat and thigh," another voice said. "Both cut major arteries. He bled to death."
"And there is no sign of the perpetrator?"
"None. The fae have sent out search parties, but they notified us so that we can be on the lookout, just in case..."
Val pushed the door open. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I thought we should–"
A high, wailing scream echoed through the mansion. Vincent's already pale features lost every shred of color as he ran past Val into the hall. "Marianna!"
Val and Alex ran after him. Val reached for the blaster she habitually wore on her hip and came away empty-handed. Cursing, she picked up speed, chasing the flash of Vincent's blurred figure up a set of stairs and down a darkened hall.
Door on either side, all shut tight, suggested this might be the mansion's residential space. Another scream ripped the air, and they picked up their pace.
"I am never going anywhere without a weapon again," she puffed, keeping pace with Alex.
He tossed her a mini-blaster. "Good thing I planned ahead."
"And that you have pockets," she shot back, catching the pistol one-handed.
"You could have pockets." He slid a glance her way, taking in the black sequined sheath dress she wore.
"Where would they go?" she asked.
Before he could answer, they rounded a corner and pulled up short.
A door stood open, the corner of a neatly made bed just visible past the leading edge. Vincent knelt in the middle of a blood-stained rug, holding the limp form of a woman in his arms. Pinkish purple blood streamed from a gash in her throat, threads of purple staining her emerald gown with gore.
Night air drifted in through the open window, the breeze lifting trails of billowing organza sheers into the room like ghostly arms.
Val rushed to the window. Leaning out, she caught a flash of silver leaping from one steep roof to the next, and then it was gone.
"Reaper," she said, closing the window.
Deprived of the breeze, the curtains flattened, dropping vertical without a sound, and the room suddenly felt stifling.
Vincent lifted Marianna's body and laid it gently on the bed. "She is gone," he whispered, his voice breaking. He faced them, raw grief ravaging his features. "I don't understand this."
Running feet pounded down the hall and a moment later, Dinara and several others were at the door.
"What happened? Is Marianna all right?" Dinara asked.
Vincent walked toward them, tears streaming down his cheeks. "No. She is gone, taken from us by a murderer."
Gasps sighed through the small crowd, and every eye turned toward Val and Alex.
"I didn't..." Val trailed off. She'd been about to deny responsibility, but could she? If her suspicions were accurate, a reaper killed Marianna Margrave.
And she had brought it here.
