MY WOUNDS had closed and faded to sullen aches by the time I reached the outskirts of Eliza Drake’s estate. My appetite had reached a cannibalistic intensity.
Dark, lush trees heavy with black fruit covered the grounds of her holding. The sun never shined there. Only certain lichens grew under the trees, taking sustenance from the minerals of the rocks and moisture from the dew. The trees nourished themselves on blood, or so I had been told. I walked cautiously through the trees, down a well-worn path lit dimly by a pale glow rising from the lichens.
That landscape hadn’t occurred naturally. Eliza could shape the Ways. Old in the powers of the vampire kind, she could also touch the life and growth in living things and twist it into new forms. She had the same touch for death, or so I had heard. I believed what I had heard, considering the size and nature of her estates and her retinue. On the other hand, in all the time we had spent together I had never seen any sign of her overt power, though I had a feel for her considerable ability to mold the Ways.
The path divided, one branch continuing on into the forest, the other leading to an enormous manor house, every window ablaze with light. Music filtered out and into the night—the sounds of fiddles and pipes predominating. Inside, I felt certain, someone would be attempting a jig.
I had decided to be circumspect with Eliza. Cautious but truthful. It seemed the safest course I could live with.
I walked up to the brick portico and gave the chain a good hard pull. I didn’t know if Eliza would be at this particular manor or not (she had a few), but I figured someone here would let her know of my presence one way or another. The door opened after a brief pause, letting a rush of light and music come roaring out into the night.
A woman stood in the doorway, dressed in crimson—even the ribbons in her hair were bright red. The red went well with her pale skin, green eyes, and dark hair. She looked me over disdainfully.
“Your fangs are showing, Teila,” I told her mildly, letting Shaper’s façade slip away.
She laughed. “Zethus! It’s been a while since you’ve graced us with your presence. It looks like it’s been a rough day.” She smiled and beckoned me into the house.
I wiped my feet and stepped carefully across the threshold. “Is Eliza here?”
Teila nodded and closed the door behind me. “She’s upstairs. She’ll be happy to hear you’ve accepted her invitation.”
I had expected that the unread missive from Eliza had contained a more recent invitation, in addition to the standing invitation she had extended to me. She was a socialite, like most of the vampire kind, constantly sending numerous invitations of one sort or another. Some were less dangerous to accept than others.
I let Teila take my filthy, ragged coat and my battered hat. She disappeared into another room. When she returned, she paused to lay fingers on the rents visible in my clothing. “You need a new suit.”
“A seamstress would be cheaper.”
She laughed, linking arms with me. “Let’s go inside.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you planning to let Eliza know that I’m here?”
“Already done, my dear.” She gave me a wink.
“Ah.”
Teila, predictably enough, led me to the bar. On an enormous expanse of gleaming floor a number of people, mostly human in appearance, danced to music from a band whose shapes had a tendency to ebb and flow with the harmony. The gray horse on drums kept up a complicated roll of precision percussion, but the six-foot rabbit on fiddle stole the show, his long ears twitching in time.
Teila leaned close. “No one plays Irish like the Pooka.”
I nodded and rested my forearms on the twenty-foot long, polished, dark wood bar. It had been a long day. Events were beginning to catch up with me. I forced myself to remember that Eliza Drake’s was not the place to relax my guard, no matter how warm and comfortable the surroundings seemed.
I looked down the length of the bar, past the bartender, who gave me a friendly nod. Couples nestled together at tables set strategically around the parlor, absorbed in the pleasure of the moment and the delight of the chase. I wondered idly how many of the guests wearing human guises still retained their humanity. A lone human at a party in NightTown can quickly find himself classified as an hors d’oeuvre.
A man wearing white ruffles under a black evening jacket sat down at my other side, and proceeded to study me in a rude manner. I returned the favor. Not one black hair strayed from its appointed place on his head; his features were dark, narrow, and vaguely Spanish; his clothing and jewelry were expensive and meant to look it. When he spoke, his voice was cultured and what he thought sounded menacing. “You’re a little out of your depth here, aren’t you?”
I had never been fond of smoothies, con men, or ladies’ men. Call it the thug in me. This son of a bitch seemed to be trying for all three. I don’t like to be threatened, and I hadn’t had the best of days. “Who are you?” I snarled in return. “Other than a major stockholder in Brylcreem?”
He flinched, then his lips curled back from his long, pointed teeth. The Legion bristled as I sneered at him, but I relaxed as a delicate hand drifted down from behind me to pull back the sleeve of my ragged shirt. “See those marks? That’s a captive Swarm of Tindalans. If you managed to get lucky and kill him before he ripped what little remains of your soul out and bound it into a pile of dog shit, where it belongs, the Tindalans would tear you apart, inside and out.”
His eyebrows shot up as he looked past me. “Is this to be your treat, tonight? I hadn’t meant to poach. Though I thought you had more refined tastes.”
A dark woman in white eased into view, her full mouth smiling. “I don’t recall inviting you, Emory.”
He smirked. “I go where I please. I don’t have to beg for scraps from your table anymore.”
“Then why are you here?” the dark woman asked, ice in her voice. “There’s nothing here for you, Emory. Find your own kind, if you can. Hunt your own grounds. Don’t leech off mine.”
“Leech, is it?” Emory’s nose wrinkled in a snarl, his lips drew back to show his extended fangs. With his eyes smoldering like red coals, he suddenly didn’t look like such a ladies’ man. The bartender leaned across the bar, a pale light rising in his eyes. Emory’s glance shifted between the dark lady, the bartender, and me. Finding no sympathy or fear in any of our faces, he turned and left in a swirl of coattails.
A number of the people in the room stopped to applaud politely as the dark lady called after him, “That’s right, Emory—you go running back to momma.”
She turned to look at me, her eyes sparkling. “I’m glad to see you, Zethus, even if you are looking a little scruffy. It’s been a while.”
“Not so long, Eliza,” I responded gently. “Last winter—subjective.”
The shade of her eyes darkened. “Here, it felt like an eternity,” she said.
The bartender set a wicker basket on the counter.
“Ready for a picnic?” Eliza asked, cocking her head at me.
I felt a sudden chill. “How much do you know, Eliza?”
Her smile faded. “I’ve had a basket waiting, ready to go, every time I’ve invited you.”
I picked the basket up with my left hand. “Well then, we’d better not let this one go to waste.”
The moon had the rich color of glacial ice. Fat and full, it washed the glade with pale light. I pulled velvet blankets out of the basket and spread them out over a bed of thick, soft lichen. Eliza had chosen the spot, of course. We settled there under the trees, watching the moon. She drank wine while I ate a steak sandwich and a couple of firm, juicy apples, washed down with sweet red wine.
As I finished, Eliza grinned at me. “You were hungry. You’re on the run again?”
“It’s not an everyday thing,” I sputtered.
“For some people it’s not.” She ran a finger lightly down my cheek. “For others …”
I looked at the wine, as dark and rich and red as blood, and set the cup down. “Corvinus is dead, you know. I have the Fae after me and a bounty on my head.”
“I heard about Corvinus,” Eliza said softly. “The Whitesnakes involved there as well, do you think?”
I yawned. “I’m not sure yet. I don’t know enough.”
She put her arm around me, gently turned me, and pulled me back against her. “Relax here for a while. You’re safe with me.”
Curiously enough, I was and I knew it. I could trust Eliza. She was a creature of her word. My concern with Eliza wasn’t due to a lack of trust; I feared more the price I might pay for enjoying her company too much.
I relaxed, easing down until I could pillow my head in her lap. She rubbed the back of my neck with one hand and picked up my right arm with the other. “And what is your answer tonight?” she asked me quietly.
I felt a thrill of fear and desire work its way up my spine as she softly kissed the veins of my wrist. “My answer is the same, I’m afraid. That immortality comes at too high a price.”
I wanted life, yes. I clung to life, and youth. But I loved all that the worlds could offer, as well. I had no desire to accept any bargain that limited me so severely. I wouldn’t give up the sun for anyone, not even Eliza. So she always asked, and my answer never changed. Every choice has a price. It’s good to understand that before signing any contracts. I wished I had kept that in mind when I had dealt with Titania.
Then there’s the diet. I understand vampires don’t manage too well on blood that isn’t human. Something about needing to nourish themselves on more than simply the blood, but the vitality, the experience, the heart, mind and soul. I wasn’t particularly comfortable with the idea of anyone else paying the price for my extended life. I didn’t bother myself with anyone else’s choices so long as their choices didn’t threaten me directly—Eliza had to live with herself, and made what compromises she felt necessary. But I could control what choices I made, and the prices I paid.
Besides, I loved the hot, juicy texture of steak in my mouth, the crisp, tart snap of a firm apple, the warm, golden crunch of fried chicken, and the cold, smooth glide of ice cream. The idea of a liquid diet for eternity didn’t appeal to me.
In spite of all that, my breathing came with difficulty as she kissed my throat, the chill of her lips hovering over the pulse of the blood before she drew back and looked me in the eye. “I would not be such a harsh mistress.”
“That’s not what I fear,” I told her firmly.
She smiled sadly. “I know.” Her mouth moved to mine, and time passed as we danced together, under the shade of the trees and in the light of the moon. Later, I felt the day catching up with me, and I grinned up at her. “No tricks, now.”
Her eyes smoldered in the shadows. “I’ll never take advantage of you, you know. When you fall to me, it will be of your own free will.”
Still grinning, thinking about temptation, I faded to sleep.