A Drop of Scarlet, page 21
part #4 of Voice of Blood Series
Momentarily, I felt sorry for Ariane; soon she would be a victim of all of my banked passion, and I’d eat her raw and probably carve up her back with my claws, forcing that magnificent auburn head between my legs. But I’d make it worth it for her. I would bring her to heights of ecstasy that she had never imagined before, over and over again, taking her there with me and trapping her there until we both collapsed. I would get her to relax and know herself and add a new layer of memory onto this room, onto this rug.
Under my mouth, hers was gasping, and the sound went straight to the heart of me, and I actually took my hand back for a moment to clutch my pubic bone and hold my orgasm in the palm of my hand. So much for protecting my pants; I could feel a bolt of wetness seep through the fabric. I lifted my lips away from hers before I bit through them. Now that I had come, I wanted to taste her blood. That was sex, too, a deeper, wilder, illogical version, one that we both knew. I wanted to taste her blood and come again, but first I wanted to make her come, because it would make her blood taste better. I took my hand off my mound and slid it onto hers, and hers was as different from mine as her lips were different, her pubis as soft and plump as her lips were. I grasped her, wishing that she was warm with fresh blood so that I could feel her heat up under my hand.
But it wasn’t going to happen.
Ariane tore away from me violently, pushing me away so hard that I slid across the rug and hit the back of my head against the bookshelf. Books fell off and hit me in the face, in the breasts, in the shoulders, a small, sharp-edged rain of blows. “What are you doing, what are you doing, what are you doing?” she shrieked at me.
“I’m trying to fuck you,” I groaned, sitting up and holding my head. The skin had been broken, and a little smudge of blood came away on the damp palm of my hand. It was almost funny, the simultaneous throbbing in my head and in my vagina.
“No—I don’t—you’ve been trying to—you’ve been slutting around with John all this time and now you want to seduce me too? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ariane was over in the corner of the room, clasping herself desperately, like she’d just had her bodice ripped. I suppose I had ravished her. I kissed her like a maniac and then proceeded to come just from the sound of her gasps, which I now realized must have been in protest and confusion. Still, how stupid; and I began to feel angry myself. Was I blind and deaf? It wasn’t my style to throw myself at women who weren’t interested in reciprocating.
I rolled my eyes at her. “I’ve never touched John. I don’t fuck men. I fuck girls.”
“But Orfeo!”
There’d been a handful of others, too, but that was none of her business. “Orfeo’s special. John is my friend. It’s not like that between us. We discuss mathematics, for God’s sake. You don’t even understand how much he needs that, do you? Do you even know this man you profess to call your husband? If you think John would ever want me, you’re a fucking idiot.”
“You’re still a slut and you know it.” Her voice was damp and quavery, on the verge of tears.
I didn’t have time for sentimentality. My cunt was done thrumming, leaving just the pounding of my head. “Fuck you, Ariane. And fuck me, for wanting to bring you a moment’s joy. You don’t give it a moment’s thought when Orfeo does nothing but love other men, but if a girl tries to get to know you better, you throw her across the room. Classic.”
“Oh, you think I’m prejudiced?”
“I just think you’re full of shit. You’re a scared little princess. No wonder Orfeo dumped you. I wouldn’t want to have to put up with your adolescent nonsense, either.” I wanted to shut myself up so badly, but the beast was out. It was horrific and fascinating to watch myself, the Orchid providing a comfortable layer of emotional distance from the proceedings. I had a flash of scientific insight into the chemical mechanism that might explain that distancing ability that, under different circumstances, I would have loved to present to Ariane, so as to aid in her research and development; but the whole concept of having a friendly scientific discussion at the moment was so absurd that it actually made me laugh.
Her eyes glittered across the room, sparkling with tears, but tears of rage, not grief or embarrassment. I remembered this from the quarrels that I had with Maria, especially toward the end of her life, with her irrational and me savage, saying things I didn’t even believe, using whatever weapon was at hand to devastate my opponent.
Ariane’s mind was flicking through some options, as well. I could see them all playing out, the Orchid blurring them, but not obscuring them. All of them involved grievous bodily harm against me. The damn young fool didn’t even think to hide her thoughts! I’d be able to anticipate any attack she might think to launch and either step out of the way or use the force of the attack against her. If she rushed me I could trip her, then tear out her spine. If I wanted to keep her alive I could just rip open her throat and bleed her out. I could swipe her feet from under her and let her fall flat on her face, then laugh at her, if I didn’t think that further humiliating the girl would only increase her anger. She would never get tired, and never give up. It would be kindest, then, perhaps, to just kill her, quickly and efficiently, if messily. I imagined that John would forgive me in time.
I saw, spiraling through Ariane’s mind like a falling filament of a dandelion clock, her body arching through the air at me, twisting in midair like a diver, her arms outstretched; a really beautiful move, which I had to be sure not to allow. I let my eyes go out of focus and memorized where all my bones were. It was best not to overthink it. All I had to do was elude and subdue. She was a whelp; I could crush her skull with my little finger, and would if I had to.
Her leap was attempted, and interrupted—but not by me. Almost invisibly a figure inserted itself in her path and caught the force of her hands in its chest, but did not fall. Ariane crashed to the bare floor and the wind was knocked from her with a whump. I got to my feet, not believing my eyes.
“Orfeo?” I said.
My beloved Orfeo Ricari stared at me with a very severe expression. He wore the extreme paleness of skin that spoke of weeks since his last drink of blood, and the arid look of someone who had been traveling for a long time. His voice was booming inside my head so loud that I had to shut my eyes. The Orchid didn’t protect me at all from this.
WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING.
On the floor, Ariane cringed. “I’m . . . trying to kill George,” she whimpered.
“And you?” Compared to his inner authoritarian, his throat’s voice was as husky and soft as a wood flute.
“I’m trying to keep her from killing me,” I said.
Orfeo bent down and gave Ariane a hand up, even brushing off the dust from her top and brusquely wiping away her tears with his thumb, like a furious little mother. “Take a good look at yourself. Do you like what you see there?” He turned to me. “Why would you do that when you knew I was coming?”
“I didn’t know you were coming,” I said.
“Don’t you find that extraordinary, Jadzia Vilma Kopernik?” he snapped.
I smiled at him. “Don’t call me that. You’re not my father. I made you, not the other way around.”
“But you’re acting like a child, nonetheless. I’m not afraid of telling you the truth, because I love you and I know that you love me. So listen to what I say, set aside your anger, and think clearly. You had no idea I was en route?”
I shook my head. Ariane, when glanced at, did the same. And yes, it was extraordinary, we both realized. “I never even had a flicker,” I said. “I wasn’t listening for you, but—”
“You shouldn’t have any choice except to notice,” Orfeo said. “No matter what else was happening.”
“It must have been the Orchid,” Ariane spoke softly.
“This wondrous drug?” he scoffed. He wrapped his arms around Ariane’s shoulders, squeezing his eyes shut as if he were in pain. Ariane trembled in shock, as if the last twenty minutes had just been illuminated for her. “What I don’t understand is that I set out to come here five nights ago, and I have been traveling toward you, with you in my thoughts, for five nights, and you didn’t even feel a flicker of awareness. How is this possible? Are you on the drug all the time?”
Ariane and I stared guiltily at the floor. Orfeo raised his eyebrows. “Even while you sleep? Did you never even dream of me?”
“I dreamed about you,” said Ariane.
“As did I,” I said. “In fact you haven’t been far from my mind all night.”
“Oh, really?” Orfeo inquired, his voice oily with sarcasm. “Yes, yes, I see that. Could you not possibly make the connection?”
“I think of you all the time,” Ariane claimed, her voice rising in intensity. “Constantly. Twenty-four hours a day, I’m thinking of you and calling you. And now you’re here.” She gave a short, dry laugh. “Now.”
“I just saved your life, you idiot. She would have cut you into a thousand pieces and then mocked every one of them individually.” Orfeo kept his arms around her as he spoke, holding her tightly. “Show some proper gratitude or I’ll regret having stayed her hand. You have only just tasted the nature of true combat, and it was only because I fought Daniel so many times before that you were able to better him. You took my knowledge of how to gain the advantage of him, but you have no such knowledge of George; I have never fought her, and I hope that I never have reason to. I’ve seen her work—it made my blood run cold.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Now apologize to her,” he said to Ariane.
Ariane pushed away from him, her eyes lighting up again. “Me? Apologize to her? For what?”
“For insulting her,” said Orfeo, a puzzled note in his voice.
“Me insulting her?” Ariane gave another coughing laugh, like a lioness. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe you would say that. Did you even hear what she said to me?”
Orfeo raised his head so that he could look down his nose at her. “Yes, I did. Every single word. And I don’t disagree with any of it.” Ariane laughed again, her voice so strangled with fury that I could only guess that was what the sound was. “You rudely refused her when you could have taken a more diplomatic approach, and called her a name which does not suit her. Promiscuity does not a slut make.”
“Oh, thanks,” I said.
“Fuck you and your mama,” Ariane cut in. “I don’t have to stay here for this. I could . . . I could . . .”
“You call me, I come, and then you leave?” Orfeo said petulantly.
“I can’t deal with this right now,” said Ariane distantly. “I’m going for a walk.” Her mental landscape was chaos. I stepped aside as she walked past me, out of the room, and out the rarely used front door. Her footsteps squished into the soaked lawn, then, splashing faintly on the rain-wet pavement, slowly receded into the distance, down the hill, toward the city.
Orfeo stared at me.
“I’m sorry, rabbit,” I said to him. “Wait. John is coming.”
“I’m glad to see that I’ve helped to clear your senses,” Orfeo sneered. “I am appalled. How could you let yourself grow so careless? Do you know what I could have done to you, while you were trying to get into her pants? And that—can’t you ever leave well enough alone?”
“I just wanted a kiss,” I said.
He walked to me, stood on his toes, and kissed me, fiercely and deeply, giving me a mouthful of tongue and saliva, at the same time squeezing my left breast with his hand. I knew it was meant to be a punishment, but coming from him, it still felt good. He pulled away as abruptly. “Why didn’t you just ask for one?” he whispered.
“You know Ariane,” I said dismissively. “I don’t know. I didn’t think she would react that way. I wanted to prove to her that I didn’t fancy John, because she’s been shitting herself with worry about that since the moment she laid eyes on me.”
“Do you fancy John?” he asked, trying not to smile.
“No,” I said with finality. “I don’t. He reminds me too much of my brother Jozef. And no matter how promiscuous I might be, I have never had any desire to fuck my sibling. Unlike you.”
A testy smile emerged on his face. “I could have let her jump on you,” he mused. “She might have been able to get a few good licks in. Sounds like you could use a good kick in the tits.”
“Orfeo,” I said, fluttering my eyelashes, “I love you.”
“And I love you. I brought you your records.” He walked around the study, trailing his hand over the chairs and the shelves and the lamp. “Oh! How I loved this room. But, oh, how I never wanted to see it again.”
A sudden drop in temperature announced the opening of the side door, admitting a breath of frigid wind and the smell of rotting grass. Orfeo faced the entrance of the study and met John’s eyes, and did not waver. John stood in the doorway, holding his dripping umbrella, his dark eyes cold.
“Hello, John,” said Orfeo, gently and sadly, but on his guard.
“What are you doing here?” John’s voice was much softer than I had anticipated.
“I came because Ariane called me,” Orfeo explained, “and I couldn’t take it anymore. She is in great peril; I am hoping that I haven’t come too late to save her.”
John turned his attention to me. “Why’d you do that?” he asked me. “Why did you try to—she’s my girl, you know. I take that very seriously. I know this might not make sense to either of you, but I don’t want other people to shag my girl. I just don’t.” He grimaced at Orfeo. “I don’t want you touching her again. Either of you. You’re both just the same. It makes perfect sense that you made him; both of you, absolutely rotten to the core. Selfish and venal. Whatever your danglies tell you to do, you do, when you really ought to just have a wank and try to think about something else.”
“I’m sorry, John,” I begged. “What I did was stupid and thoughtless. It was a mistake I heartily regret. It’s the Orchid. I’ve been so worried about you—”
“What, since Psych?” John smirked, then sighed. “Yeah. So . . . The way you manage your worry is to grab your fanny at my wife and then get upset when she doesn’t want it? Well done. Where did she go?”
“Just listen,” said Orfeo to John. “Let her into your thoughts—it won’t be difficult to find her, if that’s what you want.”
“I couldn’t tell you anymore what I want,” John said. “Wait, no, I do. What I want is for you to get out of my sight and stop reminding me of things I’d sooner forget. Both of you—get away from me.”
“I have only just arrived,” said Orfeo. His throaty voice was soft and calm, but the echoing voice rang inside my head like Gabriel’s trumpet, impossible to ignore or disobey. “And I would like to relax a while. Go find Ariane. She is not your possession; she is a person who means a great deal to you, and you can provide a trusted presence in her time of upheaval. She won’t turn you away. Go on—you’ve got your umbrella.”
John frowned, struggling against the stronger will, but it would not be budged. Slowly, he turned and stepped forward, out of the room, following Ariane’s path exactly, through the front door and away through the drizzle.
“You cast him out of his own house,” I murmured. “Cold.”
“I bought this house,” said Orfeo irritably.
“But then you gave it away. Feo, please.”
“You all need to stop taking this drug so much,” he said. “All but John, I suppose. The contrast is amazing. He seems able to reason. Action and clarity will be needed soon, I think. We have to get her away from here.”
“Do we? Are we her caretakers now?”
“I love her, and I am responsible for her fate,” he replied. “It is because of me that she has this life. I realize that I am not so heartless as to cut her adrift when she needs guidance. I tried to do that, but she was not as mature as I had hoped. She needs to develop a new understanding of how the world works. We have insight that may assist her. Think of how lost you and I would be, if not for Chicot. He remained steadfast for much longer than he had to, until he assured himself that we could no longer benefit from his presence. Why not? Might as well perish defending someone of note. She has so much power, so much genius. She and John both do. We may yet benefit from their intelligence.”
“You turn guilt into strategy,” I teased.
He sighed ruefully. “I might as well do something useful with it—it is a well that never runs dry.”
After a brief respite, during which Orfeo refreshed himself with a well-chilled pint of blood, we went together to the first cemetery on the left up the hilly road leading into the woods. We sat, hands locked together, sharing our thoughts and our recent experiences. Well before dawn, we crawled into the darkness and safety of a small marble crypt with one vacant slot, and lay together on the cold stone. It was only then, in the blind dark, with his head nestled into the curve of my neck, that I allowed myself to cry.
XV
DECIDING
ARIANE DEMPSEY
I was grateful for the fog, the lovely blindness that it provided, the streetlights yellow haloes as distant as UFOs in a blurry photograph. Even the small sounds of morning approaching had to struggle through a wall of water vapor before they could reach my ears. Good. I wanted to be blind, deaf, numb; I wanted a goddamn time-out. My feet carried me forward and my lungs breathed for me and my hands uselessly wiped the rain off my face, over and over again, as the droplets accumulated.
As I kept walking, the fog got denser and denser. I was headed downtown, toward the river, a few hundred feet closer to sea level. I was almost completely sober, and I felt beaten and heavy, though I couldn’t tell if I needed sleep or if it was just the aftereffects of shock.
Orfeo Ricari, standing there, unchanged, still reprimanding me, taking sides against me.
I had to stop walking and grab my temples with my fingers. Through the distance, somewhere behind me, to the left, back up in the hills, George was upset and crying. I smiled a terrible smile and concentrated as hard as I could to send her my overwhelming urge to break down in tears. Let Ricari dry her face, if he preferred her to me so much.
