she thought. She’d never before felt this uncomfortable in this situation.
But to her surprise—and relief—he took over. Leaning forward,
he touched his lips to hers, moved his mouth gently, as if experimenting
with an action utterly new to him. She responded, moaning softly in the
back of her throat. She felt as if she were about to cry. She felt almost
like a virgin. Not that she remembered what that felt like.
She reached toward him, hoping to draw him closer, but he caught
her hands. “I’d like to be in charge here, thank you very much.”
She grinned. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I mean, if that’s okay with you.”
“It’s perfectly okay with me.”
He kissed her again, harder this time, then bent and lifted her in
his arms. Laughing, he tumbled her onto the bed, landing half on top of
her. His fingers found the tail of her sweater and peeled it off her,
pulled the cups of her bra out of the way so he could suckle her breasts.
He was going too fast, but she couldn’t fault his enthusiasm. And
once he’d gotten a taste of her, he slowed down a little, sampling her
skin an inch at a time while she writhed under him. He maneuvered her
out of the rest of her clothes, but when she reached for his shirt buttons
he pushed her hands away. “I’m in charge, remember. For a while, at
least.”
“Sorry. You may have to remind me a few times.”
“Brigitte always—”
She laid a finger against his lips. “Don’t talk about her. This is for
you and me.”
“All right.”
He kissed her again, thoroughly exploring her mouth. She let him
take the lead, restraining herself when necessary, but it wasn’t long
before they were both so involved that it didn’t matter who initiated
what.
He hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said he knew how to make a
woman crazy in bed. He used his fingers and his mouth on her until she
was nearly weeping in ecstasy. And when he pressed inside her, hard
and deep, he drove her even higher, withholding his own climax until
she had shuddered to pieces twice beneath him.
To her surprise, then, he started to pull out. She was certain he
hadn’t finished. She grasped his buttocks, stopping him.
“Don’t stop,” she said.
He stared down at her, his glazed-over eyes telling her that he
hadn’t been consciously aware of what he’d done. It took a few moments
for her words to sink in, then the glaze changed to the intense,
mindless look she was accustomed to seeing as he let his body take
over, driving himself into her again and again, until he climaxed with a
soul-deep moan.
“Oh, God,” he breathed, sagging above her, propped on trembling
arms.
She shifted under him, touched his shoulder to urge him down
next to her. She curled her body into his arms, and he cradled her close,
trembling. She couldn’t tell if it was the aftershock of his orgasm, or if
he was trying not to cry.
“Are you all right?” Her voice came soft, barely more than a
murmur.
He nodded. “It’s never felt like that before. It’s never been that
good. Thank you.”
Smiling, she kissed him gently on the forehead. “You’re welcome.”
They lay curled together for a time, then Rafael sat up, rubbing
his hands over his face. He had been crying, she was surprised to
discover. His show of vulnerability touched her.
Apparently he’d had enough of it, though, because he pointed at
the TV.
“You get a signal down here?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes. Nicholas spliced into a cable feed
somewhere above ground for me. The picture’s crap most of the time,
when it’s there at all. Mostly I watch DVDs.”
“Wow. Where do you get them?”
“Different places. I buy them here and there, or rent them.” She
grinned, pointing to a stack of discs next to the chest of drawers. “Those
are all from Blockbuster. Good luck to them, trying to collect late fees.”
He laughed. “They must totally hate you.”
“I keep forging new membership numbers so they don’t know it’s
me. Plus I can put the whammy on them pretty good.” She lowered
her voice, imitating the vibrations of compulsion. “Give me three copies
of Gladiator. I’m never bringing them back.”
Chuckling and naked, he wandered to the pile of DVDs, glancing
through the titles, then looked at a similar stack of music CDs that
leaned precariously nearby. “I never had much of my own stuff. Wasn’t
allowed. We had to sneak stuff in or sneak out to find it.”
“Ialdaboth runs a tight ship, huh?”
“Very. One of my friends got his hands chopped off for smuggling
in old Eagles albums.”
She winced. “Didn’t they grow back overnight?”
He nodded. “He had a standing appointment. Hand removal every
night at dusk for three months.”
Sasha shuddered. “How did you put up with that place?”
“Not very well.” He gave her an apologetic look. “I guess that
shot the romantic mood all to hell.”
“It wasn’t exactly romantic. More like plain lust.” She grinned
wryly. “But, yeah, kind of.”
“Sorry.”
He joined her on the bed and put an arm around her. “Should we
watch a movie and cuddle? We could act like mortals for a couple of
hours.”
“That sounds nice,” she said, though she wasn’t sure why. Not
long ago she would have sworn that was about the last thing she would
ever want to do with a man. “Pick a flick.”
His choice surprised her, as had many other things about him, and
they were a half-hour into My Best Friend’s Wedding when someone
knocked on the door.
“Shit,” said Sasha.
“I’ll get it.” Rafael hit the pause button on the DVD player and
went to the door.
It was Dr. Greene. Sasha peered around Rafael to see him standing
in the hallway. He was wearing his white lab coat and a concerned
expression.
“What’s up?” Rafael asked.
“I’ve been doing some work in the lab,” the doctor said. “I need
to talk to both of you.”
Sasha followed Rafael to Dr. Greene’s office. Julian was waiting
for them, sober, performing complex finger gymnastics with a stubby
pencil. He said nothing, though, letting Dr. Greene run the show.
“I’ve been performing these experiments at Julian’s request,” Dr.
Greene explained to Rafael, who nodded.
“Sasha told me something about it. It sounds like a good idea.”
“Yes. Anyway, it looks like I’ve found the right combination of
elements. I’m not sure how it works, exactly, but I’ve gotten a significant
sample of juvenile vampiric blood to return to a normal, human
state.”
Sasha glanced at Julian. His expression told her nothing. He
twiddled the pencil in and out, around and between his fingers. That
guy should have never stopped smoking, she thought.
Dr. Greene passed around a sheet of paper with color pictur
es of
blood cells in two different squares. The blood cells in the left-hand
square were thinner and sparser than those in the right-hand square.
Sasha skimmed the text below the pictures, but it was all in medicalese
and made no sense to her.
“What does this have to do with us?” she asked.
“To put it bluntly,” Julian said, “we need a guinea pig.”
Sasha blinked. “But this is just for the kids. The little kids. Like
Daniel.”
“Yes, but I don’t want the doctor to test the procedure on the
younger Children.”
“Daniel’s, like, two hundred years older than I am,” Sasha protested.
“Yes, but he’s a ten-year-old, psychologically,” Dr. Greene put in.
“I’ve spoken with him, as well as several of the other younger Children,
and I don’t think any of them would be suitable candidates for
this phase of the testing.”
Sasha narrowed her eyes at him. “Because it might not work?”
“Partially, yes. But also because I don’t think any of them are
prepared to comprehend what a return to mortality would mean. They
weren’t mortal long enough to remember, so many years later, what it
was like.”
Julian switched the pencil to his left hand, which, Sasha noted,
was nearly as nimble as the right. “You two were Turned as teenagers,”
he said. “You can remember mortality. Thus you’re capable of
making an informed decision.”
Rafael looked flummoxed. “I thought . . . I mean, I was assuming
that in order for this to work, the vampire would have to have been Turned
before puberty.”
Dr. Greene nodded. “I was working on that assumption, too. But
it appears that’s not the case. It has more to do with achievement of
adult growth. I need to do some tests on both of you, but I have a
feeling you’ll both be eligible.”
“What kind of tests?” Sasha asked.
“X-rays. Quick and painless.”
She crossed her arms firmly over her chest. “What if I don’t want
to be mortal again?” The thought, quite frankly, repulsed her. She liked
her power, her strength. She liked knowing she would never have to
die.
“Then you don’t have to participate,” said Julian, balancing the
pencil on the backs of his knuckles.
She stood. “Let’s go, Rafael. I don’t want anything to do with
this.”
But Rafael remained in his chair, looking not at Sasha, but at the
doctor. “I’ll take the tests,” he said quietly. “If I’m eligible, count me
in.”
Mortal again. Rafael could barely bend his brain around the concept.
But having been Turned only four years ago, he had no trouble
remembering what being alive was like. It hadn’t been that long ago.
He remembered the sun especially, heat and light on his skin. And
suddenly he remembered what pancakes tasted like—remembered so
vividly it made his mouth water.
But Sasha was staring at him as if he’d completely lost his mind.
“Are you nuts? Do you remember what mortality means? It means
you die.”
He frowned at her, the ghost-flavor of maple syrup still lingering
on his tongue. “Yeah. Generally. What’s your point?”
“My point is you’re an idiot.” She stormed out of the room, slamming
the door behind her.
Dr. Greene blinked at the reverberation. “I’d say that was a ‘no.’”
“How long before we know for sure? If we’re eligible, I mean?”
Rafael asked. He couldn’t worry about Sasha’s reaction, not with this
huge, beautiful possibility looming in front of him.
“A couple of days,” said the doctor. “I’ll get back to you.”
Rafael nodded. A couple of days. It seemed, suddenly, like a lifetime.
He lay in bed just before dawn, thinking about it. At least he didn’t
have to worry about it keeping him awake. As soon as the sun rose,
he’d be asleep, regardless of what preyed on his mind. There was no
such thing as vampire insomnia.
He didn’t want to spend too much time obsessing about it, though.
So he turned his mind to the other thing Julian had asked him about—
the litany.
Brigitte had said it every morning just before daylight. Rafael knew
it was a secret thing, something only the privileged few were supposed
to know. This was precisely the reason he’d paid attention to it, since,
otherwise, it had seemed like so much gibberish. But he wasn’t supposed
to know it, so of course he’d done his best to eavesdrop.
The one who feeds on life. What the hell did that mean? And
what was the next line? The one who feeds on life holds power
beyond the one who eats death. Bring the First Ones. Feed.
That couldn’t be all of it. It was too short, and it made no sense.
But that was all he remembered.
Ah, there was the sun. Weariness pulled him under in a deep, soft
flood.
Three
He spoke to Julian the next evening.
The Underground’s leader laboriously transcribed the brief, practically
nonsensical words, then laid the piece of paper on his desk and
frowned at it. Thinking, Rafael supposed.
“You and Sasha have been staying fairly close to home, I hope?” he
said.
Rafael gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Yeah, I guess.” The farthest
they’d strayed was Sasha’s thinking place, and there he’d still
been able to sense the thick layers of ancient magic that kept the Underground
camouflaged. Even Ialdaboth’s inner sanctums weren’t as
well-warded as this place.
Julian gave him a dubious look. “Well, if you have been wandering,
I suggest you stop. A couple of our people went to Atlantic City
night before last and haven’t come back.”
Rafael’s stomach clenched. An overreaction, surely. “Atlantic
City’s a long way from here. Anything could have happened.”
“It’s not that far, but you’re right,” Julian said. “It could have been
anything. Traffic, sunlight, the frigging Jersey Devil for all I know. Maybe
they’re still down there whoring. But it won’t hurt you to be careful.”
“How well protected are we here?”
“Very. But the protection I’ve been able to provide for the others
may be less effective for you because of your blood ties to Ialdaboth.
Lilith was tracked here—they might be able to find you, too.”
“So it’s best to stay under the city,” Rafael concluded.
Julian nodded. “Yes. Most of Manhattan is fairly safe for most of
us—the magic leaks upward, through the ground, and scrambles any
interloper’s sensing abilities pretty thoroughly. Still, if I were you, I’d be
especially cautious. If you have no need to go to the surface, don’t.”
Rafael didn’t even consider objecting. He had no desire to skulk
around Manhattan looking for victims, anyway. Especially if there was
any risk of being discovered by Ialdaboth’s minions. “I’ll keep that in
mind,” he said.
“Good.” Julian gave him a vague smile. “Thanks for your help
.
You can go now.”
Relieved at the abrupt dismissal—he still felt unsettled around
vampiric authority figures—Rafael made his way to the hospital wing.
He let himself into Aanu’s room and stood next to the strange, silver
hyperbaric chamber where lay the bones he’d unwittingly guarded for
six months, day in and day out, doing what he was told, to keep from
being killed.
Except they weren’t bones anymore. The body was almost completely
healed. Muscles had formed, filling in the outlines of a large,
strong body. Yesterday he’d sat for three hours watching lungs build,
layer by layer. Today they were covered by a thin layer of muscle and
connective tissue that bound the ribs together. If he stood at the front
window of the chamber, he could see the heart beating. Aanu’s heart.
That was this body’s—this man’s—name.
What would it be like for him, coming back to life after four thousand
years? Would he be able to remember how to walk? How to
speak? How to breathe? What did it feel like, being remade layer by
layer?
What would it feel like to be mortal again?
Rafael could understand Sasha’s reaction. She’d been a vampire
for three centuries, and in spite of Dr. Greene’s assumptions that she
remembered what it was like to be mortal, Rafael doubted she really
did. Plus she seemed to enjoy being a vampire. That was fine, he supposed,
if you could find a way to make peace with the darker aspects
of the lifestyle. He’d never been able to do that, maybe because he’d
had the misfortune of being Turned by one of Ialdaboth’s followers. He
had a feeling, though, that it wouldn’t have mattered who Turned him.
He’d never be totally at peace with vampire-ness no matter the circumstances.
Something changed inside the hyperbaric chamber. Rafael blinked,
not sure at first what it was, then realized he couldn’t see the beating
heart anymore. Another layer of muscle had finished forming over
Aanu’s ribcage. It wouldn’t be long, he figured, until skin started to
grow. He wondered how long it would be before Aanu woke up. If he
woke up.
“How is he?”
The voice startled him. A woman’s voice. Brigitte. She was ready
for him. Ready to hurt him. Old reflexes kicked in, and he spun around,