Immortal With A Kiss Part 10

"Holt Manor," I said, remembering the necklace from the portrait Lord Suddington had shown me.

"Exactly. He was always lurking about that place, as if he belonged there! He thought better of himself than he was. Young Alistair was somewhat obsessed with that house."

"What happened to the necklace?"

"It was returned, and there was no real harm done. After that, Laura began to grow uncomfortable and she put an end to all of it."

I leaned forward anxiously. "What do you mean? That was the end of the friends.h.i.+p?"

"That was the end of Alistair." Eloise waved her hand as if to demonstrate the justifiable dismissal of the thief. "He was disgraced. After all, he had stolen an heirloom from the most prominent family in the neighborhood. Laura was right to turn in the necklace, and cut him off without a word afterward."

"What happened to him?" I felt myself tense. Somehow, this sign of the Dracula had to be significant.

I was disappointed, however, when Eloise shrugged and told me, "His mother sent him away and we never saw him again." She studied me, and frowned. "Oh, do not look so, dear Emma. Yes, I know it is not much of a story, not for a daughter seeking to learn of her mother when she was a young lady. You see this is why I wish you had not made so much of my small recollection. It was nothing so important, not even of much interest, I'll wager."

"That is not true," I replied honestly. "I have always been eager for any information about my mother. No matter how small or insignificant this memory might be to you, it means a great deal to me." I hesitated. "Let me ask you a question of a completely different sort. I am trying to find out information about something known as the Cyprian Queen. Have you heard any mention of such a thing?"

Eloise blinked and seemed bemused by my question. "No. What is that, dear?"

"I am not sure." I sighed. "It seems some of the girls are talking about it. From what I have gathered, I am not certain it is wholesome."

She raised her eyebrow. "The . . . Cyprian Queen? As in the queen of Cyprus?"

"Mrs. Boniface! Mrs. Andrews!" a sharp voice cut in. Miss Sloane-Smith had come up behind us, and by the look of her, with her high color and sternly set jaw, she was in a temper. "What is this nonsense? Should you not be with your cla.s.ses?"

I rose. "As a matter of fact, we were just finis.h.i.+ng our conversation."

Eloise seemed oblivious to the headmistress's state as she gathered her knitting and headed for the door. "I must be getting my cla.s.sroom in order myself."

I followed her out, but Miss Sloane-Smith waited at the door and grabbed my arm, silently staying me. I stared at her, but she did not meet my gaze until we were alone. The glare she gave me then took me aback. "I will not have nonsense spread about my school. We have had a difficult year, and I want all to go smoothly from here on out."

"I am sure I agree," I told her.

"Why were you asking about the Cyprian Queen?"

I froze for a moment, then answered carefully. "I was curious. I heard some things-"

"When I retained you, you a.s.sured me you did not listen to gossip!"

I glanced meaningfully to where her hand gripped my arm, and after a moment, she released me. I thought I saw the blaze of hatred flare in her eyes before just as quickly subsiding. It clearly galled her that she could not terrorize me as she did Miss Easterly and the others.

Drawing in a steadying breath, she said, "I do not know what you meant, bringing up this thing, this Cyprian Queen, but I do not want it mentioned again. Am I making myself clear?"

"Why?" I snapped, my pride stealing my good sense. I could not help myself; she reminded me so much of Judith.

"Because it is nonsense, that is why. Dangerous nonsense far beneath the attention of a teacher of this school." She leveled a finger at me and began to point. "We do not deal with superst.i.tion, Mrs. Andrews. It is bad for the school."

I was stunned by her fervor. She knows, I thought suddenly. She knew about the Cyprian Queen!

I could hardly demand she tell me. Lord, how I wanted to shake her, to rail at her to open her eyes to what was going on. People had died, and she wanted only to bury the happenings as deeply as possible. That was deadly, I was convinced.

Ironically, it was to Judith's credit I maintained my composure. All of those critical lectures on my overly "warm" nature had left their mark, and I held my tongue, nodding to show I understood.

She left me then, and I closed my eyes, taking in deep breaths to steady me. But I was shaken. Deeply shaken, and equally determined Miss Sloane-Smith would give up her secrets one way or another.

A few days later, there was great rejoicing in the village of Blackbriar. The woman, Rose, who had gone missing a week ago along with her child had returned. She offered no explanation for her absence, but it was generally acknowledged that some nefarious man had seen her, wanted her, and taken her but that she'd managed to escape with her child, although she could not bring herself to speak of her ordeal. So many had gone missing in recent months, never to be seen again, it was considered a veritable miracle by all that she and her child had come home safely.

Sebastian and I knew better. When the rumors of her sickness-nerves, it was said-reached us, we paid special heed. It appeared she had developed a severe depression. She abhorred light. She was found wandering in the night. She had no appet.i.te and suffered severe moodiness.

We digested this news soberly. We understood clearly what had happened to Rose, and perhaps her child. And what we had to do.

I arrived at the inn just before dawn, once again sneaking out of the school and into Sebastian's rooms without detection. "My bag is down in the trap, behind the inn."

"Excellent. The timing should be good. James, her husband, will be gone before the sun comes up. And she will be weak. But we must hurry. We don't want it to get too late and risk being seen by anyone else."

Father Luke stepped forward. "I am coming with you," he said, shouldering the bag Sebastian had prepared.

I balked at the idea. "Absolutely not," I insisted. "You are not strong enough."

Sebastian was not so kind. "You will be a hindrance."

"If I drop dead on the spot, let me lie there, then," the priest growled as he pulled on a woolen coat. "I am not allowing the two of you to go out there alone."

"It is my job," I said with an effort at patience.

He leaned in close to me, frightening me a little. "It is my job to save souls."

"Ah, here is the righteous avenger for G.o.d!" Sebastian exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "You were not so devout wallowing in the opium h.e.l.l I found you in."

"Sebastian!"

"He needs to be made to see sense."

"I need to cease being treated as a child!" Father Luke thundered.

"You are an invalid," Sebastian yelled back, completely undaunted by the priest's towering rage.

The priest's lips peeled back as he surveyed Sebastian. "Now enough discussion," he said at last with soft menace. "Neither of you have the physical means to stop me, despite my weakened state, and we are wasting time."

There was no more arguing after that.

The cottage was a humble but neatly kept dwelling on the edge of the south woods, a few miles from the cobbled streets of the village. We pulled the trap I'd brought from the school behind a thick tangle of brambles set a little way off. Father Luke took up a position nearby to keep guard while Sebastian and I crept close.

"The husband is gone," I whispered, pointing to a row of boots by the back door. A pair made for slender feet-woman's feet-and a tiny pair for a child. I paused, staring at those boots. They were very small indeed. Dear G.o.d.

"I wonder if he has noticed anything," Sebastian said.

I unpacked my crucifix, tucking it under my arm, and I handed two stakes to Sebastian. "We could be wrong, you know. Perhaps she was merely abducted." I kept looking at those little boots. "We must be certain. Here, hide these. Where is the vial . . . ? All right. We must be very quiet."

"Will she not be asleep? I thought vampires sleep during the day."

"If she is strigoii vii then she can endure sunlight, though it will weaken her." I paused. "I think."

He braced a hand on my shoulder. "You will do well. Have confidence."

That was easier said than done. I did not feel at all confident. I never did, not until the moment I had to do these unspeakable things to survive.

The door was not locked. We entered the house, Sebastian surprisingly stealthy by my side. The dwelling was simple: a hearth with a table and chairs at one end of a long room, a window and several chairs at another. I saw a basket with a modest selection of well-used toys by a chair with sewing draped over it, as if the mother and child had just left but a moment ago.

"The bedroom," I said, barely audible, and we advanced.

The room was in disorder, and as dark as a cave. We could barely make out the two figures on the pallet. The mother lay on her side, curled like a question mark around the child, a cherubic-faced boy with a cap of straw hair.

My equilibrium dipped, and I had to blink rapidly to gain my head. The child was beautiful. Grabbing Sebastian, I repeated, "We must be very, very sure."

He nodded, squeezing my hand back, and I silently unsealed the vial of holy water. I readied my cross, and averted my gaze from that beautiful child. Then I nodded to Sebastian.

Let me be wrong.

My hopes were dashed once the first droplets of holy water hit the sleeping woman. The pain of their contact with her skin brought her awake with a deafening shout. The child beside her woke as well, eyes at once alert and malignant, all beauty gone.

I immediately wielded the crucifix, and the pair cringed in unison against their pallet, the woman hissing like a cornered asp as she closed her hands protectively about her child.

My own words came back to me, of how the strigoii vii retain their ident.i.ties, still think and feel. She still loved her child, although she was no longer human. My stomach lurched sickeningly, but my hand was steady when I held it out for the stake. Sebastian thrust it into my hand, and my fingers closed on it, strong and sure as I brought it up, aiming it like a spear with the point trained on the woman's undead heart.

"Please," she pleaded.

I could not allow myself to think of her as a mother. She was not even a person, not any longer.

But the child . . .

"Emma," Sebastian said, and his voice snapped me back into focus.

"My name is Rose," the thing mewled. "Do not kill me. I am helpless, see? We are helpless. Please. Please. Do not kill my baby. My little Jamie."

"You are already dead," I replied, and lunged.

It was not artful, or done with particular finesse. But it was effective. She surged up, one hand grasping the pole as I drove the tip in deeply. There was no blood, for that source of life did not run in her veins as she had not fed recently, it appeared. The heart I skewered did not pump. For all her presentation of vitality, she was nothing but a corpse.

I stood over my work, taking a moment to study the thing that had once been a young wife and mother. I was not unfeeling, but neither did I have any remorse, and my thoughts strayed to my mother and whether or not I would one day stand over her dead body, just like this, and how I would bear it.

The sound of the door being flung open behind me startled me out of these disturbing thoughts. I spun around, my mallet raised in defense. A man stood in the doorway. By the look of horror on his face, I knew he must be the woman's husband. I braced myself, ready should he show himself to be a vampire. But his eyes were filled with anguish as they stared at his dead wife.

"What have you done?" he wailed, then rushed toward me. I threw up my hands in defense, but he shoved me aside and made directly for the baby, who was wailing plaintively and holding its hands out for its father.

"No!" I screamed, realizing what would happen.

But it was too late. The child was a vampire; it craved blood and the guidance of its mother was gone. As soon as its father had it in his arms, the tiny mouth opened. I think the man saw this, for he froze, horror-stricken as his son surged up at his neck, jaws working.

The father yelled, this time a terrible keening sound of a heart in agony, as he flung the child from him. The little vampire rolled, landing on all fours and remaining crouched, its rabid little eyes fastened hungrily on the man. A thunder of footsteps brought me around and I saw Father Luke burst into the room, his face as pale as snow.

"It's the father. Get him out of here," I directed sharply. "He should not see this."

The thing's father shouted again, this time in fear. I turned to find him backwheeling rapidly as the boy scrabbled toward him, mouth red from the blood he'd drawn, thirsting for more. The air was redolent with the sickening, raw smell of blood.

Father Luke, powerful even weakened as he'd been from his illness, effortlessly grabbed the father by the scruff of his neck and pulled him back, then out of the room. The child screamed in protest, a sound far beyond human. It turned to me, then, and I braced myself.

I closed my eyes-even I could not watch what needed to be done-and then I planted my foot on the child's back and drove the second stake in a downward arc. The thing-I refused to think of it as a baby any longer-wriggled like a mighty sturgeon on a harpoon, its strength astounding me. The sounds . . . I discovered I was screaming myself to drown out the noise and then . . . then it was still. Still and, at last, silent.

I sucked in a great gasp of air, as if coming out of the depths of the ocean. I found that I was unable to open my eyes.

"Emma." Sebastian's arms came around me, drawing me up from where I knelt over the body.

I threw off his hands and ran.

In the outer room, I confronted Father Luke and the man. Poor fellow. He was a husband and father no more. His eyes met mine, and I saw he'd known, or at least suspected, for though there was horror, grief, shock in his face, there was relief as well. He must have suspected something was terribly wrong when his wife and child had returned to him different in a way that had to have frightened him.

I felt like I was suffocating. I ran outside, past him, my chest heaving as I tried to draw in clean air. I could smell the blood even out here, and so I stumbled away from the cottage, trampling the dried stalks of herbs Rose had planted. The crushed plants filled the air with sweetness. I felt my gorge rise in my throat, my stomach not being too steady to begin with.

I made it to the edge of the copse before going down on my knees. I fought nausea, determined not to give in. As I sucked in great gulps of air, I heard Father Luke's voice behind me, explaining to the poor man what had happened, and a.s.suring him that he and Sebastian would dispose of the bodies. I knew I should get up, help them, but I could not. I was spent.

A sound, a movement, brought my attention up. My eyes were filmed with unshed tears but I could see through my blurred sight a wolf, standing still as a statue up near the tree line. It was huge, with thick fur, staring at me with eyes as gray as the sky before a snowstorm.

I was not afraid. The creature appeared calm, even intelligent as our gazes met and held. My physical discomforts faded. I slowly came to my feet.

It turned slowly, and walked toward the trees. Without thinking, without question, I followed, walking at first, then breaking into a run to keep up with the wolf as it led me deep into the forest.

Chapter Twelve.

The morning mists that had burned off in the clearing still clung to the ground, twisting over the gra.s.s like the ghosts of serpents. I wanted to escape the scene at the cottage, what I'd done. And the wolf was so beautiful. I had no sense of danger, even when a low growl penetrated my thoughts. I pulled up fast, breathless and exhilarated from my run. The wolf was standing in front of me, facing me now. Then, slowly, it came toward me.

Words floated from nowhere into my consciousness: I set the trap for you, and you came. You did not disappoint me. I know you now. How pleased I am to find you, sister.

A small part of my mind beat frantically against the actions of my body, called out for me to run away, run as fast as I could back to the carnage, to my friends. To that terrible, dead child.

The voice again: Come.

I knew that the vampire could take the form of a wolf. All vampires can-those evolved beyond the stages of the slavering newly born, anyway. Of course I knew this. And yet I remained transfixed, even jubilant, as it advanced.

Sister . . .