Morrigan's Bite (Crow's Curse Book 2), page 15
“It was not what you think,” he said.
“I know what I saw,” I snarled.
“Erzebet, please.” He caught my hand up and pressed my fingers to his lips. I was too weak and shaken to resist him, even when he nibbled on my fingers and drew blood. I tried to snatch my hand away, but he kept my hand to his mouth, and blood ran over his lip. “I cannot watch you suffer any longer.”
“You are a monster,” I said. He was the cause of my suffering, and in that moment, I hated him for it.
“Perhaps,” he murmured against my palm. “But I am a monster who will save you.”
He gathered me to him, and I tried to push him away. He embraced me with such passion, an ardor I had never seen, not even from him. He pressed his lips to my throat, invoking a sharp pain that summoned a cry to my lips. My insane husband drank my blood until I was weak and dizzy. He gently laid me back on the bed. I was certain that he would kill me then, that I had married a murderer.
He opened a wound in his own palm, cut the pale flesh with his nails. He pressed his palm to my lips and urged me to drink. I tried to resist. Though I likely needed the medicinal blood, I did not want anything from him. But the blood slipped down my throat, warm and familiar.
I drew away from him, and he let me. Confusion washed over me. The blood pooled in my stomach, and I felt a curious headiness from it. My head pounded, and my breath shallowed.
A sharp rap sounded at the door, and Gitta slipped in, carrying an earthenware jar. I was too disoriented to object. But she said nothing as she set the jar down and knelt on the floor. She drew a circle in chalk, decorating the perimeter with strange symbols. At last, she turned to Ferenc and beckoned him.
He carried me into the circle. Gitta gently pressed the jar to my lips, and a slurry of what tasted like blood and earth was poured into my mouth. She chanted softly under her breath. Around me, the lines of the circle glowed and grew blurry. I realized at that moment that Gitta was a witch, and my husband was a willing participant in her bizarre ritual.
Gitta pulled the jar away and smoothed my hair away from my face. “Rest now, my lady,” she murmured. She rose and left the chamber, locking the door behind her.
Ferenc remained, holding me close to his chest.
“What have you done to me?” I murmured. My limbs felt light, and my head swirled.
“I have awakened you,” he said. “As I promised.”
I fell into a dark slumber then, one I might have mistaken for death. Strange images bubbled up in my dreams: crows flying in thick murmurations over twilight skies, cauldrons full of blood, and Ferenc on horseback on battlefields full of primitive warriors. These images seethed in me, churning, and I yearned to take to the sky.
I awoke in Ferenc’s arms in my bed. I didn’t know how long I’d slept, but it was still dark. I awoke to a ravening hunger that pounded through my body like thunder.
“I’m sick,” I said to him. “The falling sickness...” I was convinced that was it. The sickness had overcome me, and I was dying.
“The falling sickness will never trouble you again,” Ferenc said. He slid from the bed and pulled the wrapped parcel from the floor, peeling back the tablecloth.
It was Mirella. She was bloody and barely conscious, bleeding from a half-clotted wound on her neck. He pulled her to the bed, and I recoiled. He arranged her in his lap.
“Drink,” he said to me, turning her neck up to me. “Drink and remember who you are.”
The smell of blood had grown heady, intoxicating. I yearned for it, gazing down at her torn flesh. With a growl, I bent and bit into her neck, feeling the warmth against my lips. Ferenc stroked my hair as I fed. He told me stories of a long time ago about a goddess and her king, an indivisible couple who ruled the land in darkness and blood.
With each sip, sanity slipped away. I became convinced I was a goddess. Perhaps I wanted to believe it, having been so powerless for so much of my life. But my blood sang with that truth, then, and for the rest of my unnatural life.
I AWOKE IN DAMP DARKNESS, feeling chilled and cranky as hell. In my dream, Ferenc had made Bathory a monster. Without him, Bathory would likely have faded from history, unknown. I knew that if I wasn’t careful, Merrel would make me a monster in this lifetime, too.
I lay stretched out on my side. Merrel’s coat was draped over me. It smelled like frost and incense. I pushed it away and sat up, rubbing my face.
Merrel squatted on the curved floor of the storm sewer. He was feeding a rat, I realized. He must have found a package of crackers and was feeding it broken pieces from a crinkling wrapper. He placed a piece a foot distant from him and held still, the way that only vampires could hold still. The rat crept up, snagged the food, and retreated to a safe distance to eat. I found it bizarre that he treated humans with such callousness, citing their transience, but he was gently feeding a rat.
“Are you courting a familiar?” I muttered at him.
He glanced back at me. “Well, I was considering eating him. But rats don’t have much blood.”
I made a face, reaching inside my jacket for the plasma packets. I wasn’t hungry yet, thank whatever gods other than me existed, but maybe Merrel was hungry. I plucked out a packet and extended it to him.
“I’m all right,” he said, waving it off. “You’ll need those in the future.”
As I put the packet back, my fingers closed around my cell phone. I turned it on, and was barraged with voice mails and text messages. Sorin. Kara. Curt. Gibson. Dr. Mrzack. All imploring me to get in touch.
Curt’s texts indicated my surgical patient was okay, but that the chief of surgery was convinced I needed to get some psychological help. No kidding. I texted Kara and Curt back in our group chat that usually held meme jokes and weekend plans: I’m okay. I just need some time. I promise.
And I closed the chat.
Gibson’s messages indicated that he didn’t have any leads yet on Opal and Nora, but he was reviewing video footage from gas stations between here and my hometown. He was also searching through passive license plate scanning data from local police departments.
I told him that I was with Merrel. And that Merrel would give them back if I played nice.
Gibson texted back immediately: Don’t trust him. You know what he is.
I looked over my phone at the vampire feeding the rat. I was pretty sure that I knew what he was. He was a soulless murderer. But he had information I needed. And...I hated to admit it, but we were connected. In a bizarre, timeless, and unhealthy way. But maybe I could work that connection to convince him to give my sister and Nora back to me. And then break it for good.
I left Sorin for last. My heart ached, and I couldn’t think of what to say. But I needed to reassure him I was all right.
I’m getting this vampire business under control, I texted him.
He texted back immediately. With Merrel? You know what he wants, and he’ll do anything to get it.
That’s what I’m hoping, my thumbs tapped out. He has my sister. He has Nora. This is my only chance.
Garnet. Don’t forget who you are, he texted.
I paused for a moment, staring at the glowing words.
I can’t forget, I answered. And then I turned off my phone.
I leapt down to the floor of the storm sewer. “What now?” I asked Merrel.
Merrel grabbed his coat and grimaced at it. “I think we’re filthy and have been sleeping with rats. If we get cleaned up, I’ll take you to dinner.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Someplace classier than the plasma donation center?”
“Infinitely.”
We climbed back up to the street. I noticed that we seemed to have awoken early; the sky was still red in the west.
“Can you stay awake for the whole day?” I asked him.
He nodded. “Just as a human can stay awake during the night. It takes time, though. The newly turned sleep hard.”
I nodded. “So...would it be possible for me to work a day shift someplace without sunlight?”
“You could. But I wouldn’t advise it. Our powers are low during the day. You’ll feel sluggish, and your reaction time isn’t good. You’re weaker, and your senses are dulled. If you can’t sleep, I suggest expanding your cable television package and staying in,” he said.
I made a face. None of this was working out the way I wanted to. I was feeling pretty well screwed.
Merrel walked to a black vintage Mercedes parked at the curb. I was pretty sure that car hadn’t been there the night before. I noticed that the parking meter was full. He pulled keys out of his pocket and opened my door.
“Where did you get a car?” I asked, suspicious. I knew that the first rule of dealing with killers was that you didn’t want to let them take you to a second location—death was pretty much a done deal, then.
“I have employees,” he said. “They get things done for me during the day.”
I rolled my eyes and got in. What was it Gibson had called vampire groupies? Renfields? “So how in the hell do you get people to work for you?”
Merrel slid in behind the wheel. “Same way anybody else does—the internet. You hire personal assistants, security, drivers, whoever you need. You interview them and pay them.”
I sank back against the leather seat. I didn’t have the money for all that. “Does your hired help know what you are?”
“No. Some vampires are more open with their closest people. But I don’t like that. Too risky.” His mouth turned down as he pulled the car away from the curb.
“I could see that. You’d have to worry about them stabbing you in your sleep.” As much as I wanted to stab Merrel in his sleep, I couldn’t imagine how much his employees wanted to. They were people, after all. I’m sure his disdain dripped down to them.
“Actually, the biggest risk is that people want to be turned.” His lip curled up.
“You don’t offer eternal night as part of your benefits package?”
“No. I don’t turn people.”
“You turned me.”
He glanced at me as he merged onto the freeway. “The only people I’ve turned have been your incarnations.”
I regarded him. He seemed to really hold the idea of turning people into vampires in low regard. “Why not others?”
He shrugged. “It takes a lot of energy to make another vampire. You are, after all, offering another person your blood. And one must commit to teaching that vampire how to get along in the world. You’re responsible for that vampire for the rest of its eternal life.”
“Kind of like having kids?”
“Kind of. But people rarely get along for centuries, even if they are undead.” His mouth turned down. “Humans are somewhat lucky in that regard. Most of them die before their lovers turn on them.”
I stared out the window, feeling called out. “Where are we going?”
“To one of my daytime shelters.”
“Is that where Nora and Opal are being held?”
“No.”
My heart fell. Damn it, this vampire was determined to wring every minute out of his three nights. Not that I wasn’t gaining useful information, but I was impatient to secure the release of my sister and Nora.
“How do I know that you haven’t killed them and that you aren’t messing with me?”
He glanced at me. “You don’t.”
I sank into the leather seat. Yeah. I didn’t know anything, and I hated that.
The car edged off the freeway in the Glass District, traced through brick streets, and parked in a garage behind a fashionable renovated rowhouse. This was the most gentrified area of the Glass District, with antique replica lampposts and modern garages.
We crossed a tiny backyard to the rear of the house. The backyard seemed so sterile in comparison to Sorin’s garden, holding only a shade-giving tree and a gravel ring circling a copper fire pit. The pit was blackened and still smelled of ash; I wondered what might have been burned there. I suppose that it made sense not to have to pay a gardener to snoop around Merrel’s sleeping place, but it seemed more a picture out of a magazine than a yard that was truly used by anyone.
The interior was the same, glossy and not lived in. We walked into a kitchen full of granite and stainless-steel appliances that I’d bet my sweet ass had never been used. The house was spotless and silent. I crossed dark floors—probably sealed, to make blood stain wipe-off easy—to see leather couches and an antique trunk doubling as a coffee table. Thick velvet drapes pooled on the floor. It didn’t seem like anyone lived here. Maybe I understood that, to a degree. I sure hadn’t done much with decorating my apartment.
“You don’t spend much time here,” I said. I paused to look at a painting over the fireplace. A landscape of a beach at sunset stretched across the canvas. The sun’s eye was red, bleeding across the horizon.
He shrugged. “It’s convenient.” He crossed to a hall tree where garment bags hung. He handed one to me.
“I took the liberty of having clean clothes ordered for you,” he said. He gestured with his chin up the steps. “There’s a bathroom at the top of the stairs. It should be equipped with everything you need. I have some calls to make. Please draw yourself a bath and enjoy.”
How did he know I was a bath person? Eh. Maybe he had dastardly vampire things to do and needed me to get lost. I climbed the steps slowly. I hoped that if he said anything about Nora or Opal, I could hear it with my enhanced hearing.
The hallway at the top was dark. I looked to my right. The door was partly ajar, and I nudged it open. It was a bedroom. Merrel’s bedroom was painted in a twilight blue, with the same velvet drapes pooling on the floor. A carved wooden four-poster bed took up the center of the floor. I wondered if he really slept there.
Soundlessly, I approached the bed, my fingers brushing the velvet coverlet. He did sleep here; I could smell incense and that sharp tang of frost.
I looked up and sucked in my breath. The ceiling of the bedroom had been painted to resemble a sky during the day. The sky was pale blue, with a sun, clouds, and birds.
“It’s not my best work,” Merrel said from the doorway.
I turned, startled. Of course he was too quiet for me to hear—he’d taught me how to do it.
“You painted this?” I said, gesturing at the ceiling. “It’s beautiful.”
He nodded. “Someday, I’ll do it over again. But it helps me sleep.” He gestured toward the door on the opposite side of the hall. “Your bath is running.”
I nodded and fled his bedroom. Ducking into the bathroom, I shut the door behind me. I felt a little guilty snooping. But I reminded myself that Merrel was my enemy, and I had to find out whatever I could about him. Even if that meant that I learned that he was artistically sentimental about the sun.
The bathroom was huge. I realized that the original townhouse must have been renovated to resolve smaller rooms into two larger ones on the second floor. The bathroom was tiled with a mosaic sea glass floor. Candles flickered, and steaming water ran into the largest bathtub I’d ever laid eyes on. A window beside it was open, blinds turned so that I had a view of the Glass District and privacy at the same time.
I locked the bathroom door. I felt filthy for a whole lot of reasons, and the bath beckoned to me. I shucked off my filthy clothing and stepped into the tub. I turned the tap off. I sank up to my neck in the hot water, looking out at the glittering lights of the Glass District. From a distance, the thump of club music and snatches of laughter filtered up.
I glanced at the ledge of the bathtub, where candles clustered. Bottles of scented oils, soaps, and shampoos stood on a mirrored tray. I let my fingers rove over them and poured an oil that smelled like the ocean into the bath. I wondered if I would ever see the ocean again. It was hard enough to make sure I got across town before dawn as it was.
I leaned back and closed my eyes. Though I was in the den of a monster, the monster certainly knew what I would find soothing. For a moment, I gave myself over to it.
CHAPTER 15: HUNTING LESSON
I knew that I was changing, but I didn’t understand how.
Ferenc stayed with me in my chambers for the next several days, vanishing only to bring me prey. I was ravenous; I craved blood like I had craved nothing else. Ferenc promised to teach me to hunt but told me that I was new to this state of life, and that I needed to go slowly. I wanted no such thing; I was drunk on blood and wanted more. Blood now seemed to do all that the physicians from my childhood once promised me it would: it cured me of the falling spells. And more than that, I felt alive in a way that I never had before.
Gitta disposed of Mirella’s body, whisking her crumpled remains away as quickly as if she were an empty wine vessel. Ferenc brought me blood in the coming nights, in flagons and in people. He hauled more than one unconscious person he’d found wandering the dark roads to my chambers, brought to my window for my pleasure.
I drank from them without guilt, needing no more carefully measured teacups. Their blood nourished me, in a way in which I knew I always needed. Perhaps it was a sense of royal privilege, or Ferenc’s encouragement, or my own deep-seated delight at suddenly becoming powerful. But I relished it. When I drank, I occasionally sensed bits of their souls in their blood, saw their ghosts standing in my bedroom, glaring at me with accusations on their faces. But I ignored them, and they always faded within a few days.
Ferenc had gone out to hunt for us one evening, but he was taking a long time. I was impatient and summoned a chambermaid to me. She came to my room and gasped, for my rooms were a tousled wreck, and I had yet to properly dispose of a body that lay on my floor. I’d only bothered to shove the body beneath my bed, and the feet stuck out.
She opened her mouth to scream, but I clapped my hands over her lips. I locked the door behind her and sank my fangs into her straining throat. I had drained her dry by the time Ferenc returned.
“I should have left some for you,” I said.
He dropped the body he’d brought on the floor and came to me, taking my hands. “My dear,” he said. “We must be more careful. These weeks have been heady, yes. But tongues will begin to wag, and mortals can hurt us.”
