Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
Having an angel in my small, uninspiring apartment above an underworld seafood restaurant was awkward.
His suit was perfection, like the rest of him, and there was nothing perfect about my place.
After being gone for so long, it was dusty but untouched.
There was no sign of Crucible or any intruders.
I crouched over the ferret’s small bed, smelling it, trying to gauge how long it had been since he’d been curled up on his little pillow. It had been a very long time.
“Do you have clothing for the ball?”
I looked up at the angel standing against the wall opposite me, where he’d been since we entered. “No. What I’m wearing is as good as I have. And getting invitations won’t be easy after I publicly testified against Mr. Good. He’s associates with the Vampire King.”
“Of course he is. You had your own place while you were enslaved by his cursed dagger?”
He’d clearly read my file. “Yes. He only summoned me when he had a target for me.”
“And he didn’t make you drink from him to increase the binding?”
“Mr. Good doesn’t meddle with his people. If you aren’t competent, you wouldn’t work for him. He also dislikes being bound to others.”
“So if you’re going to be owned by an evil man, it should be Mr. Good.”
I shrugged and straightened up, checking the cabinet for the cans of pet food I’d left.
They were still there, and I had a few blood bags in the freezer.
I should drink one before I had to go close to Gavriel.
I didn’t want to drink blood in front of him so that he really understood what kind of monster I was.
I didn’t want the scent of his discontent with me to grow.
I wanted him to like me, and not just so we could defeat Tralcon.
Which was ridiculous. All these wants were impossible, and I didn’t cultivate impossible desires.
I went to the freezer, got out the first blood bag, and then ran it under hot water in the sink to melt it.
“How often do you need to feed?” he asked, soft, like he knew exactly how to pitch his voice for the keen hearing of a vampire.
“Once a month, but I’ve gotten accustomed to much more often.” Which might be a problem once we were at the Vampire King’s castle.
“Once a month? That’s not nearly enough.”
I gave him a slight smile. “Agreed. A blood pack every day has been luxurious. I’ve gotten very spoiled.”
His brow furrowed. “Eating every day isn’t being spoiled. Most vamps drink several times a day. Once a day is supposed to be an austere diet.”
I shrugged. He was really pleasant to look at, but I had to be careful about not staring.
I had a few card games in the cabinet that I played with Crucible sometimes.
Gavriel would probably be a better opponent.
He wouldn’t chew on the edges of the cards, either.
Not that we had time for cards. I needed to focus.
“I’ll have to go shopping. How close do you need to stay to me? It’ll be easier to get invitations if I can go alone.”
“I never go far from my friends. But I can be invisible.”
I studied the bag of blood as it softened and melted in my hands.
It was almost ready to drink. Maybe it would be less shocking to watch me drink it from a glass.
“If I had a reputation for seducing angels, then that would give us a reason to be seen together, other than that we’re taking down Tralcon.
” I shouldn’t have said that about seduction.
It was too close to my feelings, not my desire to corrupt him, but he was my ghost.
“That is a pity. Most angels aren’t very good at infiltrating the enemy with lies, anyway,” he said apologetically.
I turned to smile at him. “I suppose we’ll have to be honest. Breaking down the Vampire King’s front gate is an option.”
He narrowed his eyes. “One that we’ll try to avoid.”
“Or embrace. You’ve read my file. I have a reputation as a slightly eccentric vampire who talks to no one and ignores the real people.
Tralcon kept me on the far side of sanity with bloodlust and despair.
They would be interested to see how I’ve adapted without him.
Without anyone. Vampires are interested in such experiments. ”
“I’m going outside to check the perimeter.” The next moment he was gone, leaving a strong scent of discontent behind.
And I hadn’t even opened the blood bag yet.
I sighed, pierced it with my fangs and drank, sinking into a crouch in front of my sink while I tried to think through logistics.
Reapers were easily corrupted because they killed so many.
I’d rather die than corrupt Gavriel. What a pretty name.
I would make a point of not corrupting him, which would be amusing to all the vampires.
Yes, our mission, with the two of us in close proximity, would be very amusing.
He couldn’t be the Reaper to them, but an ordinary angel who was my guard in our hunt for the demon.
I straightened up, poured my blood bag into a glass, and went to the desk where I kept my stationery. I’d always loved stationery, even if I very rarely had anyone to write to. And if anyone wrote to me, I’d need someone else to read it.
I opened my jar of ink, licked the tip of my nib, and then started writing.
Ever since I’d been changed, words were fuzzy at best, but I could still remember how they were supposed to be shaped, even if I couldn’t read them.
It was one of the many tragedies of becoming a vampire, that I’d lost connection with one of my greatest joys as a human.
No other vampire I’d met had trouble seeing words, but maybe they just didn’t mention it.
There were thousands of years when reading wasn’t mainstream.
Why could I see bullets and not letters?
Dearest Vampire King,
This coming weekend, my escort and myself will be prevailing upon your hospitality. I do hope that blood bags and more angelic fare will be up to par.
~The Ruby Blood
I squinted at the blurry writing, then put it in the envelope with cherry blossoms printed on it.
I wrote, ‘The Vampire King’ across the front and then went outside to find the angel, holding my glass of unfinished blood.
Writing to the Vampire King had dampened my appetite, but I needed to drink in order to be less of a threat to Gavriel.
And I needed him to see me drinking blood in a civilized way.
At the Vampire King’s court, civilization would be a very distant memory.
He dropped down beside me on the narrow balcony the moment I’d stepped outside, the familiar scents of Singsong City swirling around us, but unable to dampen his own wonderful smell. Compared to him, the blood bag was particularly unappetizing.
“Could you deliver this, or have one of your angel associates deliver it?”
He looked at the letter I held in my hands, not touching it. “You’re going to get an invitation from him directly? Bold.”
I wouldn’t tell him exactly what was inside the envelope. “I need to go clothes shopping. Does the team have a budget for this mission, or should I use my own finances?”
He kept frowning at the letter until he finally looked at me. “Do slaves have their own finances?”
I bared my teeth in a smile and nudged him with my elbow.
“I’m not a slave. And yes, they do when they work for Mr. Good.
He likes to give as much autonomy as possible while still maintaining control over those parts he finds useful.
The thing is, I don’t like to spend money on clothing unless it’s actually something that helps me kill people.
Pretty clothes rub me the wrong way, so I’ll spend as little as possible on them.
These clothes were paid for by my lawyers, which is why they fit so well and are of such high quality.
They’ll probably last forever,” I said, feeling glum as I looked down at the red sheath, and the heels in particular.
I hadn’t lost either one of them in our dizzying flight from the coast.
“Wear what makes you comfortable.”
“No, I need a fancy dress. I just don’t want to pay for it.” I cocked my head and studied him. Was this weird to him? Me pushing for money like a drug addict who needed her next fix? “Will you pay for my dress?” For some reason, I really wanted him to say yes.
“You want me to buy a dress for you?”
“No, I just want you to pay for it.”
“A dress you don’t want.” He shrugged and looked out over the shadowy undercity while a werewolf howled in the distance. “Very well. But first, you have to tell me why you don’t like pretty clothes.”
“I prefer weapons and gear. Isn’t that logical?”
“Being pretty, feeling pretty is psychological, not logical. You’re a vampire, and all vampires are beautiful, so you know that you are absolutely exquisite. Why would you dislike clothing that suited who you already are?”
These were shockingly insightful questions.
Were angels always so good at unpacking one’s inner turmoil?
It was also shocking to hear an angel like him tell me that I was exquisite.
“I wasn’t a pretty person when I was alive.
It feels disingenuous. As though there were some perks about being a vampire.
It’s all right to be a soulless, blood-sucking beast because you’re so pretty.
No. Beauty is a lure, and I have no prey I’m trying to attract. ”
“Like there is nothing that you want. Yes, I see.” He handed me a white card.
“For your use while we are on this mission together.” He took the envelope addressed to the vampire king.
“And I will see that this is delivered quickly once I’ve escorted you to the dress shop, where you will remain while I am gone. It will only be a few minutes.”
“Aren’t you worried I’ll run?” I asked, gripping his white card with a slight sense of glee.
“Yes. I’m worried that you’ll run into trouble, but I’ve read your file. You are capable of standing on your own, as you’ve had to do for the last century.” He offered his arm. “Shall we?”
“I’m still drinking my blood.”
“Then drink it.”
“The young are in such a hurry.”
“The ancient are so slow.” He gave me a slight smile and then leaned against the side of the building, relaxing next to me like we had all the time in the world. I wasn’t an ancient vampire, not close, but I was very old compared to him. Angels didn’t live forever. How lucky.
I sipped my blood and found myself relaxing next to him, looking into the darkness and feeling content. It was like old times, killing alongside my specter, only I wasn’t killing anything other than time.
“Who can kill time without injuring eternity?” I murmured.
“Eternity was meant to be injured. I say this as someone outside the constraints of time.”
“What does that even mean?”
“What does anything mean? I’m too young and delusional to properly explain anything to such an ancient soul as yourself.”
I studied him and then nodded. “You would be good at cards. If you can play words, you can play cards. What’s your favorite?”
“Card or word?”
“Blood type.” I raised a brow. “You know I meant card type, but now I want to know your favorite blood type. I’m too ancient and delicate to be disappointed.”
He flashed his teeth in a quick smile that was too beautiful to be real, but so was this conversation, words that didn’t hurt, intentions that were pure. “I’ve only had angelic, but I’m not opposed to trying something else the next time I have a blood transfusion.”
I shook my head and threw back the last of my glass. “No blood transfusions for you. Your blood is staying in your veins where it belongs.”
“And spades. My favorite card game.”
“And word?” I asked, trying to remember what spades was. Did I have the cards for it? Was it a special game?
“My favorite word is home. What is yours?”
“Home? It’s a good word, but sad.”
“Because your ferret isn’t here, but I’m sure he’ll turn up. Ferrets are magical that way.”
“You’ve never seen a ferret in real life, have you?”
“I’ve never seen lots of things in real life. I’m very young, you know. No more than thirty-five. Probably much less, but who keeps track of such things?”
“Thirty-five? Why aren’t you married? Oh. Perhaps you are.” That would be good. Very good, because one thing I'd never do was seduce another woman's husband.
"I'm not married because in this angelic blood there is a streak of diabolical goblin. Now you know my deepest, darkest secret. In fact, because of that goblin blood, you probably wouldn’t even go into toxic shock if you drank from my vei—”
I grabbed him and slammed him against the wall, glowering at him while he stared at me, interested but not threatened. “Never, ever tell a vampire that your blood isn’t toxic. Ever. That’s the only way I’d ever take you into the Vampire King’s castle. Swear it.”
He blinked at me, then his features softened. “I swear that I won’t tell another vampire about the content of my blood and its possible lack of toxicity.”
We were pressed together, and he smelled so incredibly good. I slowly lowered him to the deck and then backed away, trying not to smell him, to not think too much about my reaction, my threat that he’d taken so easily.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“I appreciate you letting me know. You’re already an asset to the team.”
I glanced at him. “One way or another, I will be.”
Change Your Stripes was the cheapest commission shop in Singsong City. Inside, I hesitated when I saw the skunk and smelled the musky apple cider scent.
“Can I help you?” the grumpy owner said, sporting green and purple stripes from head to toe. Somehow, it didn’t look hideous on her.
“Yes. I need several ballgowns for the Vampire King’s ball.”
She studied me for a long time. “Ballgowns?”
“If you have any.”
“Do you have any idea how much space ballgowns take up? Of course not, otherwise you wouldn’t be here to buy several.” She looped her elbow in mine and dragged me towards the back. “Who are you going with?”
“An angel,” I said, feeling an odd fluttering in my stomach, almost like I was excited to go to a ball with an angel. “We aren’t romantic, just working together to destroy a demon.”
“Of course. Nothing says destroying a demon like going to a ball.” She released me once I was in a stall and then gave me a scary smile. “Take off your clothes while I gather up the possibilities.” She swooped the curtain shut, leaving me alone in the small cubby.
Were we truly going to do this? Was I actually taking a sweet, innocent, young angel into the Vampire King’s hall? Yes. Because otherwise, he’d take himself, and there was no way I was letting him get into that kind of trouble without me.