The lulling movement of Vic’s hands continued, seemingly content to lie there with him for hours. Shame soured what remained of his lust, left him drained.
“I’m sorry,” said Johnathan. Vic stilled.
“Now who is the beautiful idiot?” He cupped Johnathan’s chin, turning his face toward him. Vic’s somber gaze studied his face. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
Johnathan swallowed; his throat unbearably dry. “I don’t have the words yet.” This was true, his thoughts a jumbled mess of guilt and fear. Repulsed by the inherent violence of his new nature. The dead plagued him, the slick sensation of blood coated his hands every time he closed his eyes. Now, he wondered how long he was meant to last, what the blood bond would do to Vic or if his body would eventually burn up like the rest. He certainly didn’t feel stable.
“When you do, I’m here.” Vic pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. The contact drained the churning mess inside him, leeching poison from a wound. “You don’t have to rush into anything physical until you are ready. I am happy just like this.” The words were an antidote to his fear if Johnathan let himself accept them.
He rested his head on Vic’s shoulder. The treacherous spiral of his thoughts turned to Merry. There was a history there but Johnathan wouldn’t and couldn’t ask, wallowing in his insecurities. The least he could do was keep them to himself instead of foisting them onto Vic. Hours dripped by, the room slowly lightening with the onset of day. Vic’s body went lax, limbs loose in sleep. Johnathan pulled him closer, caged him in his arms. The smile on Vic’s lips revealed his sleep wasn’t deep. Tangled together, they rested in silence until the room fell dark with the oncoming night.
Vic stirred and lazily twined his fingers through Johnathan’s curls. “I could stay like this forever.”
There was a soft knock at the door. Vic sighed. “I’ll get it. She’s here for me.” He gently dislodged Johnathan from his shoulder, righting his clothes as he padded across the room to the door. Johnathan quickly did the same.
Katherine waited on the other side; concern etched in the lines of her washed out face.
“My apologies; when you weren’t in your room, I assumed you were here,” she said, “Unfortunately, this was too important to wait.”
Johnathan sat up. “What’s wrong?”
“There is a contingent of Society Agents in the surrounding woods.” Katherine worried her bottom lip. “Their path is too direct. I think they know we’re here.”
Vic stiffened. “How soon until Alazar arrives?”
“He’s here. He was much closer than we realized,” said Katherine. Her gaze moved to Johnathan. “Don’t leave the room without donning the salve. Alazar didn’t come alone.” She didn’t quite look Vic in the eye. “Appears to be a full family reunion tonight.”
“Thank you for the warning, Katherine,” said Johnathan. He noted the tight set of Vic’s shoulders.
She nodded. “They’re waiting downstairs. I’d hoped we could give you a longer rest, but you know how Alazar can be.” She pressed a hand to Vic’s shoulder. The contact loosened him. “Be careful, both of you.”
Vic remained at the door after she left. Johnathan roused himself from the bed, laying a hand in the same spot as the Geist. His shoulder was still cold from the contact. “Who was she talking about?”
“I can handle them,” Vic said. He glanced up at Johnathan, his expression perturbed. “I need to return to my rooms to freshen up. I left the salve on your dresser. You need to smear it along your neck like this.” He mimed the movement, swiping a wide path across his neck and chest. “Wait for me?”
Johnathan nodded. Vic pressed a firm, urgent kiss to his mouth, anxiety imparting a touch of bitterness to his scent. He shut the door with a muted click behind him, a final silent ask for Johnathan to wait.
The innocuous bottled salve sat on top of the dresser. Johnathan pulled the cork. The odor made his eyes water, the initial punch was an odd woodsy musk that smelled heavily of pine and wet fur. Swallowing a cough, he smeared it on as Vic instructed, curious what his smelled like to a vampire. Hesper said the Nether still clung to him. His memory of the scent was faint, but the pungent combination of sulfur and smoke was unpleasant. What did the salve make him smell like now?
Shirt properly tucked in, he found a suitable pair of boots in the wardrobe, marveling at their precise fit. Fully dressed and partially disguised, Johnathan sat back on the bed and waited for Vic to freshen up.
The minutes crawled on. Johnathan glanced at the gilded ornate clock hanging on the wall, watching the slow march of the minute hand. After half an hour he began to worry. Katherine summons sounded urgent. He didn’t think Vic would keep them waiting, whatever his feelings were.
Another ten minutes of indecision passed before Johnathan cautiously opened his door and sniffed the air. There was another scent mixed in with Vic’s and the remnants of Merry, one of spice and warmth and the faintest tinge of old blood. His nostrils flared, tracking the newcomer directly to Vic’s door. He paused outside the room, but heard only empty silence on the other side.
Johnathan debated whether he should return to the room and wait for Vic to debrief him after he’d spoken with the others. Part of him rebelled at hiding. What was the point of concealing his scent if he continued to act suspicious? If Vic taught him anything, the best way to conceal oneself was in plain sight.
Decided, he followed the intermingled scents. Johnathan descended the grand staircase, sliding his fingers down the polished banister. His footsteps slowed, adopting a predator’s stealth. Beneath the grand chandelier, Johnathan caught another scent, a heady mix of exotic floral notes, rain, and rich dark earth. The foyer was empty, the long hallway silent except for a faint buzz he swore emitted from the hallway lamps. The new scent was strongest here, a lingering thread that led further down the hall, a spider’s waiting trap. Johnathan frowned, uncertain why the comparison sprang to mind.
Troubled, he followed the trail, observing the house in avid detail. Colors and textures were sharper, more defined to his high tuned senses. The ceiling rose to a point over his head, the wood carved with intricate patterns that tugged at the corner of his eye. The subtle crunch of fibers beneath his feet. Outside, the rain had finally stopped, the usual birdsong and animal activity resuming. There came a repetitive noise, a staccato tap, tap, tap of impatient fingers.
One of the previously closed doors was now open, a spill of warm firelight reaching out into the hall, beckoning him closer. The new peculiar scent originated there. Johnathan reached the doorway, pressing a hand to the frame while his gaze swept the room.
Velvet upholstered couches and chairs surrounded a low table. An open hearth took up half the back wall, where the fire stretched twisting fingers of light across the floor.
A woman stood there, her back to him. She held a hand above the flames. The other rested against the mantle, fingertips tapping against the stone. Ebony hair spilled down her back and shoulders in a long straight sheet, gleaming in the firelight. Johnathan didn’t make a sound, his silent perusal interrupted when she looked over her shoulder. Stunning was an inadequate description for her features, cast in a loving play of shadows by the flames. There was an unnatural smoothness to her brown skin, a perfection that echoed Vic, belying her nature. Her tongue darted across her lips, tinted a deep plum color, to taste the air. There was an odd allure to her that pulled at Johnathan, beckoning him closer. A whispered command to drop to his feet and worship her. To slice open his veins for her to feast. He took a step forward and rocked back, shocked she managed to hook so much influence into his mind.
Her lips curled; a fanatical light burned in her dark brown eyes. She laughed when Johnathan backed up a step, turning to the fire. The Hound within him bristled. He bit back the urge to snap his teeth. Challenging this female would be a mistake. There was something that rivaled the Morrigan, an aura of ancient forests and blood-stained teeth in the dark. She was a vampire, and she was old. Far older than Vic.
Johnathan wisely listened to his internal warning bells and left the female to her hearthside contemplations. Wondering whether his decision to come downstairs was stubborn rather than clever, he debated returning to the safety of his room before he encountered another, not so dismissive vampire.
Birdsong and the flit of unseen wings distracted him, not from outside the house but within. Johnathan kept his eyes on the female vampire until he was beyond the door, and headed deeper into the house. He emerged into the vibrant greenery of the conservatory, sucking in a breath. Sweat beaded his brow, more affected by the newcomer than he realized. Reorienting himself, he let the fresh, clean scent of the greenhouse wash over him.
A braided canopy of jewel toned greenery obscured most of the high domed ceiling, thicker than the endless local pines and firs, more vibrant than the stalwart oaks in full summer bloom. Johnathan wandered off the main path, deeper into the garden, catching faint hints of wine and smoke. Dripping vines brushed his shoulders. Blossoms in hues of violet and magenta hung in clusters, visited by birds with equally brilliant plumage, intermixed with the comparatively drab local sparrows. They chattered at his presence, flying off to the higher vines and branches when he drew too close.
He wondered how so many birds inhabited the indoor space, since there appeared to be no openings in the ceiling, a marvel of interlocked glass panels, the sky overhead a dark gray with the remains of dispersing rain clouds and oncoming night. A twilight sky, earlier than he believed. Easy to lose track of the hours between the murky rain and brightly lit interior of the Estate. He hoped to glimpse a clear night through the glass ceiling to see the stars.
“Quite the sight, isn’t it? Took ages to construct.” A familiar voice spoke from nearby, startling him. The influx of scents managed to hide most of Merry’s scent. Johnathan had no desire to speak with his host. Setting his jaw, he pushed aside a living curtain of drooping fluted flowers, revealing the long table, most of the instruments and glass bottles cleared for a massive book, the pages yellow with age. Johnathan’s gaze skirted over the text, the curved lines and symbols pricking at his nerves. There were more dried herbs spread out over the table, their light desiccated smell clouding the air.
Merry stood behind the table, working a mortar and pestle. They paused to add a sprinkle of seeds, grinding them down. “You may pull up a stool if you like,” they said, not looking up from their work. Johnathan hedged, torn between curiosity and his burgeoning dislike for their host. The latter emotion, he concluded, wasn’t quite fair, born out of his own speculation and doubt. Feeling foolish, he located the aforementioned stool, grateful to find a sturdy three-legged piece, and settled himself across from his host to observe their work.
The layered skirts and revealing blouse had been replaced in favor of a simple black shirt and pants, an identical outfit to Johnathan’s, well-made but worn. The lip rouge was gone, though Merry’s lips appeared slightly swollen. Perhaps they gnawed on their lips when they worked. There were plenty of reasons for swollen lips other than the treacherous image that came to mind.
“Where is Vic?” Johnathan kicked himself. There were a dozen other questions he wanted to lead with, but his tongue betrayed him.
Their mouth quirked up. “Likely intercepted by our new guest,” said Merry. Their gaze finally slanted at him. “I’m rather surprised you’re not with him. By the smell, you had a heavy hand with the salve, but considering our new arrivals, a good move.”
Johnathan absently rubbed his throat. “What is this supposed to smell like to them?”
“Werewolves, though they won’t find the scent pleasant either,” they said.
“Oh,” he replied, trying to hide his surprise.
Merry raised a brow. “I’m surprised Victor didn’t explain this to you. Or were you too preoccupied for conversation? Not that I can blame him. He does have an eye for the pretty ones.” They sighed, a bitterness tinging their wine and smoke scent.
He stiffened, uncertain how to proceed. This was not how he expected his encounter to go. Doubts and troubles aside, he suspected their host shared a history with Vic, this confirmed it. Merry did possess a striking appearance, and a confidence Johnathan envied. “My apologies. I didn’t intend to stir up any bad memories.” Johnathan bowed his head.
Merry paused and set down the pestle. They braced themselves against the table. Johnathan thought they were going to yell at him for touching on the sore subject, but their shoulders began to shake. They threw back their head in a robust laugh that startled a nearby cluster of birds to flight. Merry wiped a tear from their eye. “You are delightful.”
Johnathan fidgeted, uncertain what he did that amused their host so much. Merry leaned across the table to pat his arm. “I appreciate the concern, my dear. You make it very difficult to hate the one who filled Victor’s heart after me.”
The signature blush flushed up through his ears. “Oh,” said Johnathan. What else could he say to their blunt reveal? He’d convinced himself their history wasn’t so recent. Merry’s age was difficult to determine but they appeared youthful and registered as human to his senses. Merry’s fingers drifted down his arm, turning over his hand to trace the lines on his palm.
“You have an interesting lifeline, my young friend,” they said, tapping one of the thicker lines. “This one tells me about your relationships. Do you want to know if you have another great love in your future?”
Johnathan’s hand curled away. “I don’t believe in such nonsense.”
Merry’s nose crinkled. “A bold statement from a creature of the night.” They grinned. “In this case you are right. Truthfully, I have no gift for palm reading. My talents lay elsewhere.”
He rolled his eyes, torn between amusement and exasperation at his host’s antics. “How long has the Estate been here?”
That knowing smile returned at his obvious subject change. “Here? A few decades, give or take. The Estate isn’t a singular place. There are half a dozen similar locations spread through Europe, the Americas, even the far East.”
“And now deep in the state of New York,” said Johnathan.
Merry nodded. “The future great western empire, if it survives the next decade.”
His eyebrows drew together. “Why the next decade?”
A painted red nail tapped his palm. Merry still cradled his hand. “Can’t you feel it yet? The realms are shifting, Johnathan. A play for power is unfolding, and mankind will be the pawns.”
Warning threaded through Merry’s voice. Johnathan’s fingers flexed. “Between whom?”
Merry suddenly straightened and seized the pestle to continue grinding. The abrupt action puzzled him until his hackles rose. There was another predator in the room.
“Hello, Alazar,” said Merry. “I take it we’re ready to convene?”
“I expected to find you alone, Goodkind.” The bass voice poured over him. Johnathan itched to look at the source, but a lifetime of preservation against stronger, deadlier foes kept him in place. Alazar glided forward, a living shadow in a billowing black cloak. His skin was possibly a shade darker, midnight hued, and possessed the same ethereal quality as the woman he encountered earlier.
Alazar’s cold black stare bore into their host, the whites of his eyes stark in his handsome face. He smoothed an absent hand over his close shaved crown, revealing long nails painted black and filed to points to enhance his fierce appearance.
“Nor was I aware we were entertaining more guests.” There was a not-so-subtle challenge in that deep voice, and though Alazar clearly referred to him, he didn’t spare Johnathan a glance.
Merry was unbothered. “Sanctuary doesn’t require an appointment, Alazar. He accompanied Victor.”
The answer clearly didn’t satisfy him, but aside from flaring his nostrils, he didn’t react. “Is your draught ready? We’ve waited long enough.”
“Preparation takes time—”
“You’ve had plenty,” snapped Alazar. “You will be ready within the hour.”
Merry’s mouth set into a thin line. Tension saturated the air and with so little knowledge of the circumstances, there was little he could do but observe and try not to get caught in the crossfire.
“I will be ready when I am ready,” said Merry. Their sibilant tone pushed the moment over a proverbial ledge. Alazar’s hand shot out, angling for their host’s throat. Johnathan wrapped his fingers around the vampire’s arm before it touched their host.
Incredulity flashed through that merciless black gaze. Johnathan was also surprised, but he maintained his grip on Alazar’s forearm. “Attacking your host is the epitome of bad manners,” he said. Apparently, he lost his sense of self preservation.
Alazar’s gaze narrowed. “Who are you?” His imperious demand tempered by shock.
“Our guest.” Merry recovered a measure of their composure. Calculation crossed their features. “As I told you, he came with Victor.”
The pronouncement shifted Alazar’s anger to haughty interest. “Strange that Victor didn’t mention you.” He stopped fighting Johnathan’s hold. “Release me.”
Johnathan bristled at the order. He waited until their host nodded before he let go. Alazar’s jaw tensed at the defiant gesture, but he chose to ignore it. “How far Victor has fallen to lie down with dogs.” Alazar sneered. “I suppose you will join us. Even your ilk should be aware of this matter.”
Johnathan’s lip curled. A low rumble rose in his chest. Merry cleared their throat. “We’ll be there.”
“I shall have to advise Victor to keep his mutt in check.” Alazar smoothed his sleeves.
This was the first time Johnathan wanted to give in the Hound smoldering beneath his skin. Was Alazar born this arrogant, or did immortality make him a rude bastard?
“That is enough, Alazar. You might not like his presence, but Johnathan is a guest of the Estate.” Merry spoke through their teeth. “Now if you will excuse me, I need to finish this draught.”
The tension took on a vicious edge, Alazar’s attention sharpened, a viper rearing to strike. His gaze paused on Johnathan. Whatever he saw made him withdraw with a pointed sneer. “One hour,” said Alazar. He spun, robes whipping in his wake.
Merry’s breath rushed out in a shudder. “I can’t decide if that was brave or stupid,” they said. “But thank you.”
Johnathan gnawed on the inside of his cheek. He watched Merry resume their grinding, the rhythm stilted after the other man’s departure. “How does that prick know Victor?”
The pestle rattled in Merry’s grip. “They are old friends.” Johnathan wasn’t sure what to make of that, though he remembered Vic’s reaction to Alazar’s name.
Johnathan needed more information from their host. Merry drip fed him pieces little better than gossip. Katherine said that Alazar hadn’t come alone. How many vampires were currently stalking the halls of the Estate? Why did Alazar think he should attend this meeting? What was the nature of Vic and Alazar’s ‘friendship’?
Merry interrupted his train of thought, tossing the pestle down with a loud thud. “What do you want to know first?”
“How do you know I want to ask you anything?” Johnathan hedged.
“Questions march across your face like soldiers on parade,” said Merry. They brought out a bottle of wine from a cabinet under the table and a thin stemmed glass. The wine was a deep red, thick as fresh blood, with a sweet scent he didn’t recognize.
“Pomegranate wine.” Merry noted his curiosity. They dumped the contents of the mortar into the glass, the stem pinched between their fingers as they swirled the concoction together. “Alazar is not a patient man. He probably accosted Victor as soon as he arrived.” Merry lifted the glass and gulped down the wine in a single go. Twin drops of red ran down the sides of their mouth.
“You don’t appear to like Alazar either,” said Johnathan.
Merry swiped the black of their hand across their mouth, smearing the red liquid over their chin. “It’s complicated. Alazar doesn’t necessarily agree with my position as caretaker of the Estate.” Their wine-stained smile was full of chagrin. “But I have my reasons for being here.”
They set down the empty glass with a sigh. “Would you please find Victor and bring him before the hearth within the hour?”
“I’d rather swallow hot coals than do that asshole any favors,” said Johnathan. He started to get off the stool when Merry grabbed his wrist.
Their green eyes went glassy and distant. “You will have your answers, Johnathan, but remember,” they warned. “All bargains have a price. One you will both pay in time.” They jerked away from him. A frisson of awareness ran through him at the point of contact. Merry rubbed their temples with a winced. “I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”
Johnathan didn’t need to be asked twice.