Sips of Blood Part 17

Poor Garrett didn't know, couldn't know as yet, but unless something else happened to him, he would find out.

Voici is your medicine. A medicine marked with an expiration date. Use before the man with the scythe claims him.

Marie ached. Marie's eyes slowly closed. Yes, she needed sleep. Her coffin awaited upstairs on the second floor. It had been relined with a soft peach satin, although the home soil still supported her body. Sleep would bring back the freshness of her skin and bones. She dreaded the preamble to sleep. She always did, but especially now. Her body each day would semi-decay into the soil to be rejuvenated. Her wounds would make the decay more intense. The decay would spread to a greater portion of her body, and as it did, the smell would frighten her. The decay always made her sleep uneasy, and the decay seemed to worsen with the centuries. Always on awakening she would be whole. The staleness would still be there inside the box, but that she could escape for at least a while.

Garrett gurgled some more. What did he want, she wondered. To be freed? To be beaten? To be fed upon?

She bent her head back and looked up into his eyes. Gla.s.sy pupils stared back at her. The whites of his eyes held a network of intersecting red blood vessels.

"Can a future be told by studying one's blood vessels, Garrett? I think I see your future." Delicately she brought her hands up so that he could see them. "My hands cannot rescue you."

"Chauffeur" he hoa.r.s.ely said.

"My integrity cannot save you either. You were my most obedient slave. The most willing and giving. My favorite until..."

No! He did not want to hear these words. My favorite until... La Maitresse never finished the sentence. It wasn't necessary, because he had known all along. She had sent him away to make room for another.

His blood no longer nourished her fantasies. Instead she had thrown him aside like a used condom filled with spoiled desire.

He looked at her damaged face and knew he would never see her again. He wished for a strong Maitresse who could command and be obeyed.

Sade had diminished her. Perhaps the ghost of the real Marquis de Sade had taken over the man's body.

"Sade," he whispered and watched Maitresse's eyes harden.

"Sade," he whispered again, because he wanted to see that hate s.h.i.+ne in La Maitresse's eyes one more time.

"Sade is a strong-willed child, a demanding bully who will never grow up."

She used the back of her right hand to wipe away the sweat dripping into Garrett's eyes. It was not clear what color his eyes were, and she felt ashamed that she couldn't recall. Weakly she lay back on the floor to stare up at Garrett. Careful, Marie, fall asleep here and the body will not recuperate. Instead she would wake weaker, without her soil to replenish with her native minerals.

"You have family, don't you, Garrett? A wife, children. You never told me how many children. You have people to return to at home. It would be foolish to use you as my medicine, Garrett. I would have to flee. Inconvenient, given that my casket needs to be specially packed, with me stored safely inside it."

Maitresse speaks of death as if it were upon her. Could she be hurt far more than he thought?

Garrett's body throbbed with pain. He saw La Maitresse, and then she disappeared into the dark, for how long he did not know. But then she appeared again. The same mutilated face, the same brown eyes that had nourished his obsession. Her voice seemed softer, kinder. Too kind. Where is her strength? Her upper lip started to swell. He thought he saw the lip pulse.

Fear paced his pain. Hate weakened his spirit. Still, he caught glimpses of her, briefer now. The coldness of her body chilled his sweating flesh. He smelled waste, his own brought on by the torture.

Only La Maitresse and he existed, bound together in a spiralling darkness that would take them both.

"I'm sorry, Garrett." She had just realized that she would never be able to make it back to her coffin before pa.s.sing out. "I'm so sorry, Garrett. I sent you away to save you. Now I must have you."

She lifted her head to kiss him on the mouth. Pain pa.s.sed between them. She glided her body from under his and stood.

The wounds on his b.u.t.tucks had clotted. As she bent down to look more closely at his wounds, her fangs automatically pushed out from between her lips. Touching the wounds, her teeth bit into the young scabs on his flesh and he bled anew. Her tongue lolled across the blood. She heard her own little lapping sounds. Evidently Garrett had heard also, for he squeaked out a "Thank you."

No, thank you, she thought and would have said, only she couldn't draw her tongue back from the blood.

The tension in her body began to ease.

No, thank you, Garrett, for the gift of your life.

Chapter 30.

Liliana fed her pets. The rabbit her uncle had given her had become more docile. A racc.o.o.n with singed fur licked her hand as she put down his dish. She had saved him from one of her uncle's temper tantrums. Minerva, the eighteen-year-old cat, yawned and plopped her fat body down for a delicate meal of sardines.

These were animals she didn't have the heart to feed from. The others, the melange of rats, mice, hamsters, and ferrets, she kept apart in an enclosed shack that had little light but was kept clean. The animals were so small that she had to drain several at one sitting, or perhaps, as she would put it, standing. Often she would stand in the shadows of the woods at twilight and swiftly wring the neck of her chosen meal, suck the animal dry, and discard the corpse quickly among the trees. What she didn't eat scavengers would pick at.

"Miss?"

"Yes, Matilda."

"There's a young man here asking to see you. His name is David Petry."

"Oh!"

"I'm ready to leave for the day. Is there anything you'd like me to do first?"

"Is my uncle home?"

"I haven't seen him all day. Would you like me to wait around until your business with Mr. Petry is finished?"

"No. Go on home, Matilda."

Liliana noticed the relief in Matilda's expression. She hadn't wanted to stay another minute. Matter of fact, she had already slipped off her ap.r.o.n and stood in the doorway holding her pocketbook and vinyl tote.

As the two women said goodbye, Liliana caught a glimpse of David Petry waiting in the salon. His build seemed almost identical to Stuart's, and he paced with the same nervous energy that the young soldier had possessed.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Petry?" Liliana drew her shoulders back and walked with a forced indifference.

"Mr. Sade said that you would have some papers for me." He walked to where she stood and then retreated three steps.

"My uncle didn't give me anything for you. Are you sure you were not supposed to see him directly?" Of course not; this was another try at getting her to drink fresh human blood. If she hadn't taken Stuart's blood, whatever made Sade think she would rob this young man of his life?

"I feel awkward, but I'm sure of what he told me."

"My uncle is not at home right now, so it's impossible to ask him; however, I'll remind him of this tonight." She certainly would.

David started for the door.

"Mr. Petry!"

He turned quickly.

"David, please."

"Then you may call me Liliana. My uncle is trying to hook us up." Why the h.e.l.l had she said that?

"You mean like in dating?"

"It goes beyond that."

"I'm honored that he would consider me as a potential boyfriend."

"You wouldn't be if you understood his motive."

"Nothing so petty as to have me encourage you to eat rabbit, I hope?"

"Nothing so petty."

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do now. Ask you out? Smile? Say I understand and then gracefully leave? What do you think I should do?"

"Whatever your emotions lead you to do."

"Is that an invitation to ask you out or an objective view of the situation?"

"Both."

David smiled broadly. His shoulders relaxed, and he heaved a great sigh.

"In that case, why don't we humor your uncle and go to dinner this Friday evening?"

Liliana turned her back on David. Curiosity kept making her want to see where the similarities between Stuart and David ended. Most probably she could sit through one date without jumping David's carotid.

"My job is close to the city, so why don't I meet you in the city at the Four Seasons Grill?"

David cleared his throat.

"Sure."

"Has my uncle given you a retainer as yet?"

"A small one."

"Don't settle for small, David. Ask for more. There's peril to your a.s.signment."

"Is he in trouble with the IRS?"

"My uncle will pick up the dinner bill."

"No. I mean, I couldn't allow that. I would really like to take you out to dinner, but perhaps you'll allow me to select a restaurant." He gave a crooked smile. "One that I can afford."

Liliana's cold body tickled with the hint of warmth that sounded in his voice. She nodded agreement.

The front door slammed shut, and a loud voice was singing a joyful aria from La Belle Helene.

"Evohe, que ces Deesses..."

Sade's white complexion glowed. His long white hair flowed freely over his shoulders. The open poet's s.h.i.+rt revealed enough of his chest hair to emphasize his virility.

"Monsieur Petry, I forgot you would be ici."

"I'm certainly glad you are here. Your daugh--"

"Niece," Liliana corrected.

"Sorry. Your niece said that you had forgotten to give her the papers we had discussed over the telephone."

"Un desastre, monsieur."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"A disaster."

"What happened?"

"Way too complex to explain right now, but maybe later. If you promise to stay for dinner."

"I can't this evening, sir.

"Is there a good time I can call you? I'm probably going to be out of the house most of the evening, but I can put aside some time to call you."

"What will you be doing, monsieur?"

"Uncle! It's none of our business."

"Your niece is right, sir. I've made several special trips out here at your convenience; however, this can't continue. Perhaps you could fax the papers to me or--"

"Monsieur, I have given you cash as a retainer."

"Not enough cash, I would guess, Uncle. At least not for what you expect him to do."