Twenty-Seven
I spent the next day in bed, exhaustion taking over. When I awoke, it was already late afternoon, the setting sun turning the sky above us to a creeping indigo, fading into the dark.
And Vince stayed with me the whole time, peppering kisses on my bare shoulders, rubbing circles onto my back; comfortably silent when I didn’t feel like talking, murmuring how much he loved me when I did. I’d doze, curled into him, and when I woke, he’d be trailing his fingers along the valleys of my side, around my hips, up into my hair.
It was intoxicating. Calming. A different kind of touch, a soft reminder that kindness did exist, and I’d just forgotten for six years.
When I opened my eyes, facing the large window that looked over the grounds, his fingers brushing hair away from my face, a heaviness had eased from my limbs.
He noticed I was awake. “You need to eat, darling.” His voice was soft, hands coming to a stop. I hadn’t eaten since the night before. It was like I’d undergone a transformation myself, coming to the manor; like my needs were no longer the same in this dream world.
I pushed myself up, sitting up for the first time in hours. Grogginess clouded me, the world still hazy after my dreams of nothingness. Sleep had just been a respite from my tumultuous thoughts. A way to shut off the noise, the worries circling in me like a shark does its prey.
“Let us get out of the house,” Vince said as he sat up next to me, the muscles in his abdomen flexing.
We were both unclothed. The comfort I felt around him was unlike anything I’d felt around anyone else. I could strip myself to my barest form, and he wouldn’t look at me with any scrutiny. Just appreciation. Just—seeing me for who I was.
“Okay.”
His lips curved in a soft smile before he leaned forward and pressed them to mine. Every single time, it felt like we came together like puzzle pieces finally reuniting, the picture finally complete.
He slipped from the bed and held his hand out to me. “I want to take you somewhere,” he said.
As I stood, my knees weak from disuse, I wondered what Sinclair was doing—what the other vampires that lived here were doing. When would I meet them? And would they truly not harm me? Sinclair hadn’t ever tried, even if I was suspicious of him. The only one to attack me was the strange man in the garden—and given the way Vince had run him off, I didn’t think there was any way he was one of the permanent residents.
“We’ll have to go into the city.” Vince led me to a doorway across the room that opened up to a closet. “But we’ll be discreet.”
Without having to say it, he remembered. He knew I feared Lucas and what he would do if he found me. Before, I don’t think he understood my fear, not until Lucas pointed a gun at him.
I’m inclined to ruin you .
Now, I almost worried more for him than myself—how Lucas would react, knowing Adam was not actually dead. What destruction would come then?
“I don’t have any clothes.” I almost laughed, glancing at the simple silk slip that had remained discarded on the floor.
Vince grinned over his shoulder. “You do,” he said, pulling open one of the many built-in wardrobes within the massive closet, to reveal dozens of dresses in every fabric and color I could think of. I gasped, coming to stand next to him.
“How?”
“Pick out whatever you like.” A kiss pressed to my shoulder before he wandered to other shelves, shirts folded with crisp lines, whole racks of shoes at the floor. Suit jackets hanging neatly in a line. “I may have acquired some clothes for you. Just in case.”
Just in case.
He had always expected to find me. He was waiting for me. Making a place for me in this house, in his room, were I ever to choose him.
I pulled a cream-colored number from the lineup. Lace sleeves, a satin skirt, a swooping neckline. And as I pulled it over my head, the expensive fabric falling like water along my flesh, it felt so right, it almost took my breath away. It was exactly my size, snug where it needed to be, the skirt loose around my knees.
“This is my size,” I said, dumbfounded.
Vince turned to me from where he was buttoning his shirt. He grinned again, eyes sweeping over my figure. “I have my ways.”
The driver pulled up to an unassuming building, all dark brick and yellow electric lights. A single doorman by a modest front door. No one else lingered outside, no cars parked along the sidewalk. It was in a seemingly less-trafficked area, even though the sun had just fully set, and the night was just coming to life. I expected to see crowds, but wherever Vince was taking me seemed private.
When the car stopped—the same car in which I couldn’t resist climbing onto Vince’s lap the other night—he exited first and then offered me his hand. The brisk air immediately brought a chill to my skin. I was thankful for the satin gloves Vince had brought out, the wildly luxurious cashmere shawl that wrapped around my shoulders.
As we walked up the steps, the doorman made eye contact with Vince. He was dressed simply, a dark coat and hat, hands stuffed into his pockets, face mostly hidden by the dark. He nodded once, some understanding passing between the two of them, before he held the door open for us without a word.
Within, the warm yellow of the electric lights glowed in the nondescript lobby. An opening to a hall to the right, where stairs could be seen leading up, and a few shut doors to our left. Dark wallpaper, peeling in the corners. The floor was tiled, alternating white and black, with a red runner leading toward the staircase.
It looked nothing like the dinner club I was expecting.
My fingers tightened on Vince’s. “Where are we?”
He just turned to me and raised a finger to his lips. The building was quiet, like the walls sucked up any sound, my voice sounding out of place. Too loud.
We made our way up the stairs, steps muffled by the runner leading us to the next level. And at the top, another choice of two directions. He chose one, pulling me along, knowing where he was going, it seemed.
It was then I began to feel out of my element. What was he dragging me into? And why did I feel, deep inside, that I didn’t want to know what was behind all these doors? The further in we walked, the dimmer the lights seemed to get, and before long, I realized I was almost squinting to make out shapes in the darkest parts of the hall.
Vince stopped before a door that had no indication of what was inside. He ushered me in, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust in the darkness.
“A table for two,” he said to someone I couldn’t see, his grip on my hand secure. There was a muttered response before we were brought to a dining room—and I could only tell it was a dining room because of the candles that were lit on every table, the only source of light, barely strong enough to illuminate the visages of those sitting. I felt eyes on me as we were led to a table in the far corner, though I couldn’t see who stared, who peered out at me from the darkness .
Vince thanked whoever sat us, and pulled out a seat for me, guiding me down.
“I can’t see anything,” I whispered, holding onto the arms of the chair as I sat.
“That’s the point,” Vince chuckled, pushing the chair in and making his way to his own seat. I could only really see him once he was across from me, the flicker of the candle casting shadows across his features.
“You can see fine,” I said, noticing the ease with which he moved around in the space.
“I can.”
“Because you’re…” The word sat on my tongue.
He looked up at me through hooded eyes, the candlelight glinting across those gray irises. “A vampire?”
I swallowed, nodding.
“Yes,” he said. “I can see in the dark.”
We hadn’t had this conversation yet. And I knew we needed to have it, but I feared what I would learn; I was scared that he might say something that made me fear him . I took a breath, letting it settle deep into my lungs before exhaling, sending the flame dancing.
“Does that mean…” I glanced around, as though I could see through the heavy darkness around me. “There are others here?”
He paused. “Yes.”
I couldn’t hear anyone else’s conversations, just the low rumble of voices speaking lowly, whispers in the pitch blackness. I was suddenly self-conscious, worried whatever creatures lurked around us could hear my every word, could hear my heart beating. Like some sort of invasion of privacy. I was an open book to these beings, while I couldn’t even see where they were.
Vince reached across the table, fingers soft on my cheek, pulling me back to the moment, to him. “It’s alright,” he murmured, thumb brushing against my skin. “I am right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
My hands had become claws on the chair arms.
“It’s just you and me,” he said, leaning back into his seat. “Just focus on me.”
I linked my fingers with his, our clasped hands setting down onto the table. The tiny flame from the candle radiated a modicum of warmth, like a second caress on the inside of my wrist.
“This is a private club,” he said. “No one here is looking for trouble.”
The words only eased my anxieties a little.
There were vampires living in the city this whole time, vampires walking amongst us. Enough of them to have their own establishments.
“What else?” I asked, my free hand fisting in my lap.
I saw his brow arch in the dark.
“What else do I need to know about you?”
“What do you want to know?” he asked, head tilting the slightest bit.
At that moment, a figure came to our table, setting a platter before me and two glasses, one for me and one for Vince. A roast, some greens, the scent of the dinner making me realize just how hungry I had become .
So they catered to humans as well, if they were able to prepare such a dinner. It was simple, but smelled expertly done, like something I could get at any other club.
Vince raised his glass to his lips and took a modest sip of the dark liquid that appeared black.
I didn’t need to ask to figure out what it was.
It was jealousy that flowed through me, a feeling I couldn’t fathom. I bit my lip to keep from speaking.
“Is this sufficient for you?” he asked.
I nodded, taking a bite. A thought came to me then as I ate. “Can you not eat food?”
His one hand steepled over the top of his glass, turning the drink absentmindedly as he watched me. Like it was a delicacy, a dark wine, not meant to be gulped down, but savored.
Whose blood was it in that glass?
“I can,” he said, “but it doesn’t taste the same. It’s much like when you’re sick, and it loses all flavor.” Fingers trailing over the lip of his glass. His other hand propped under his chin, elbow at the table, the image of impropriety.
I could not imagine never tasting the sweetness of champagne, the strong bitterness of coffee, the sour burst of a ripe grape on your tongue. I couldn’t imagine smelling the candied almonds on the street and feeling indifferent to their sweet cinnamon scent. It would be a whole world closed off, a whole sense dimmed and vestigial.
“Where do you get the blood?” My voice came out meek and small, like I was afraid to ask .
His eyes flickered. “We get our sustenance in many ways. Willing donations, either directly from the source, or in a glass, such as this. Sometimes, we feed from each other.”
Like at those blood-letting parties. That couple that writhed together, feasting on each other’s necks.
“Or you attack someone.”
His brows drew together. “Only the worst of us attack. It’s uncivilized when there are other options.”
I set my fork and knife down. “How long have you lived this way?”
His hand stilled on the glass. “Six years.”
My eyes shut of their own accord, as if to shut the truth out. He’d gone away, and almost immediately, he’d changed. Lucas had sent him to his death and instead, he’d become this .
“What happened?” I whispered, my dinner forgotten. “What is it like?”
He thought about it for a moment, and the way his eyes searched me, I saw a glimpse into the past. For a brief moment, it was Adam in front of me, that intelligent mind churning.
He was so clever, always thinking about something, always mulling over something he’d read, wondering about bigger things than I’d ever even think about. Big philosophical things that hurt my head. He had tried to talk to me about those things once, about his thoughts on the world, the universe, about the possibility of God—or something else—and I had kissed him to make him stop, to draw his attention to me instead.
“It’s an entirely different existence,” he said, and I knew he spoke of more than just his change in appetite. He glanced up at me. His pause grew longer, and I knew he was hesitating .
“Can you tell me about it?”
I wanted to know, but simultaneously, I didn’t want to know. Wasn’t sure how much I could handle. My heart fluttered just thinking about what he was, wholly changed.
His eyes flickered as though he could hear it.
He was attuned to my heartbeat, to the flow of blood in my veins, the way a python is attracted to heat through the flick of their tongue. The way a shark can smell a single drop of blood through miles of water. Whatever transformation he had undergone had made him into a predator, one designed to hunt men.
And I had let him inside me.
“I will,” he finally said. “But I cannot tell it all at once because then I think I’d go mad.”
I nodded as though I understood. But I didn’t, not really. And I wouldn’t, until he told me. Until he revealed whatever it was he held within himself.
“How many of you are there?”
“It entirely depends.” His eyes darkened, like he feared my reaction. “There are perhaps as many of us as there are men, but we all come from different… species , as it were.”
I swallowed the lump growing in my throat, and his eyes found that spot beneath my ear. “And… what species are you?”
“I am Made,” he said. “I was not born this way, though there are plenty that are. They are… true vampires. Born.”
My eyelids fluttered closed at the word. Vampire .
“We are all over the world,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Us and many other creatures. My Sire was Born long ago, and then six years ago, he Made me. ”
Vince adjusted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable at the conversation. Had he told anyone? Was I the first? Was it some weird custom that it was improper to ask a vampire of their origin?
And how many species were there? How many other creatures ? I wouldn’t look at anyone on the street the same, would forever wonder what lingered beneath their facades.
Did I know any other vampires?
“I fear it’s a terrible story,” he said, glancing at me for my reaction. “I was away at war, and I was nearly dead.”
That thought alone struck a fear in me, that I had almost truly lost him.
No matter that all this time I thought he was dead—knowing, now, that he wasn’t, but he could have been—too many emotions circled within me, so many worries, such anger and frustration that any of this had happened at all .
“That was when my Sire found me and Made me. He drained me of what little life I had left and buried me—the ground was unholy and desecrated with the violence of the war, stained with the blood of every other soldier that had fallen, and some that had lived, and it was in that ground that I changed. Every bit of soil soaked with that misery, that anger. Imagine that—a land so profane, so synonymous with suffering, with anguish, and then rotting there. I was cursed as soon as I arrived, as soon as I touched that ground, and perhaps that’s why he chose me.”
He looked off into the room, smoothing his hand through his hair once. Perhaps it was too intense a story to tell here, of all places. His hearing was more attuned than mine. Any other vampire could listen in on us .
I opened my mouth to tell him that if he couldn’t bring himself to speak it now, I would understand. But he kept going, his hand a fist on the table, his voice low enough only for me to hear:
“I had no knowledge of any of this happening. My consciousness was long gone, my blood near spent after that battle. I was as good as dead. And though my spirit was still tied to my body, it was nearly free to move on to the next life. But he took the last drops for himself. Drank what little blood I had left, stole me from my fate. His bite is poison if he wants it to be, and I suppose there was something singular about me amongst all those other dying men. He put me in that ground for my transformation to take place. I died in that soil—”
His voice caught, and he said nothing for a moment, his jaw flexing, until he looked at me directly with those icy eyes. “That is why I am no longer Adam Vering. That is why you must understand I am no longer that boy.
“I died . My mortal flesh is dead, but I live on, reanimated by the poison that was in my Sire’s bite. It pushes every human cell out over the span of an evening, and when I awoke, I was no longer a man. I was new, reborn, but dead all the same. A creature birthed from that unhallowed ground, transforming in that blood-soaked soil to become what I am now.
“I renamed myself. When I awoke, I was half-delirious. But I knew, if nothing else, I could not let him know who I had been. Couldn’t tell him who Adam Vering was. I did not know my Sire, didn’t trust him not to find my family or—or you, and wreak more havoc. I had to mourn myself—you mourned me here at home, safe across the ocean, but it hasn’t crossed your mind that I had to mourn my own death, my own humanity. ”
Anger flashed in his eyes as he talked of his Sire. This other vampire, across the ocean.
My food sat untouched before us, my hunger from before gone. In all my misery the past few days, disbelief that he’d hide himself from me, I hadn’t considered what it made him feel. It had not crossed my mind that what he’d become was something he hated. That maybe he had wished for death.
My eyes ached as I tried to will tears away. I had cried too much the past few days; I did not want to spill any more tears. “Stop,” I said. “Tell it to me later.”
“I want you to understand,” his fingers gripped mine once more, “why it took me six years to come back to you.”
I shook my head. I hated Lucas. Hated what had happened to us.
That was what I mourned the most, what could have been if we were left alone. Adam had died, and I’d not known it. I would have never known it, not for sure.
His new existence was both a blessing and a curse.
“I would’ve died, over and over again, for centuries, if it meant I would get this moment.” He looked at me directly. “If it meant we’d be together once again. I’d become a specter if just to follow you and know you were alive and well. I wouldn’t let death get in the way of my loving you.”