Halfway Bitten Page 6

  “Philip, I understand that we don’t know one another. I can also grasp that you’re an archaic pig who thinks women can’t say big, scary, polysyllabic words like your name. Are you with me so far?” I asked, and his shoulders tightened at my flippant tone.

  “Perhaps I did not wish for you to know my name.” His expression grew mulish, casting more shadows on his face in the rare light of the stars.

  “That isn’t really relevant, Philip. You see, you’re on my family lands. You’re clearly inhuman, and you assaulted a child today,” I began, but he interrupted me heatedly.

  “I did not assault the girl. I spoke to her and— ”

  “No.” My voice cracked with certainty. “You taunted her; maybe got off on it a little. Then, you lay hands on her in a direct violation of the law, both human and witch. Your simple presence here is causing me some concern, which in turn causes my grandmother to be concerned. You see how this might raise my ire when you deliver virtual grunts for answers to my questions?”

  He waited a moment before responding, “I will try to be more elaborate with my answers.”

  “Good.” I smiled at him for a flash, then got back to business. “Let’s set the issue of your assault to one side for the moment. Why are you here?”

  “Interesting question. No, I’m not dodging you, I’m complementing your observational skills. You didn’t ask me what I am, nor do you seem concerned. That tells me as much about you as you know about me. A sort of unspoken trade, don’t you think?” Philip grinned in the gloom, and I could see the points of his teeth. A vampire, and not young. I’d been right to hold him at arm’s length.

  When I stayed silent, he went on. “These are your lands? By what right?”

  I gave him a murderous glare, letting my charms clink together in an unspoken message. “What an unwise question, but I’ll answer it.” My voice was dripping frost, but a hot flush was creeping up my cheeks. “I do not claim ownership of these lands. My family claims stewardship, as well as protective status over the residents herein. That would include visitors, like Amy, the young woman you attacked.”

  He looked at me, adjusting his opinion. My use of the term family was not accidental. “Before you attack me, allow me to ask . . . am I not a visitor?” He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.

  “You are indeed. But, like a rabid animal, I have no problem removing you from this place. By force, if necessary. Now, enough dancing. I don’t want to waste time asking you a litany of questions; I’d rather you simply tell me who you are—in detail—and why you are here. We’ll address the issue of your behavior momentarily.”

  Philip lifted his palms and grinned. “That’s not unfair.” He exhaled, looking up into the sky. “I’ve travelled some distance in order to lay claim to something which has been taken from me. It is—I cannot call it an object; it’s much more complicated than that. Do you understand the power structure of vampire clans?”

  I nodded slowly. “Somewhat. Whose clan do you represent?”

  “I am of House Tidewater, but I do not represent them. I am the last member, so in truth, I am Tidewater.” The vampire who called himself Philip looked upward again. “I expected the stars to be different, but they are the same cold, distant points.”

  “Is this the part where you wax poetic about the mysteries of the universe, charm me with some legend about the stars being souls trapped in heaven, and we forget all about your assault on that girl?” I asked, a smile creeping into my voice. I enjoy folklore, especially when it’s being used as a distraction.

  “I may look the part of a savage, but I respect nuclear fusion as a force of creation. No, I enjoy the poetry of lies that we use to describe that which is unknown, but I trust fact over myth,” Philip said with an impudent grin. It made him look young, and I could see an echo of the man who must have been before he was turned.

  “A vampire and a skeptic? That’s rare earth, indeed. On a long shot, let me ask if you’re hungry?” I stared at his eyes to see if he reacted to the thought of feeding. If he was in command of his inner lust, then there was another reason for his attack. I intended to understand it before he was done talking.

  “Yes.” One word, and his eyes cut away from me in a mix of shame and admission.

  “But that isn’t why you attacked the girl, is it?” I said, more statement than question.

  He measured me before answering. “True, but what leads you to that conclusion?”

  I started ticking points off on my fingers. “She’s a kid. There’s no way she could fight you off should you choose to feed. It was daylight, and that generally meant you would have a suicidal need to hunt. You don’t. Shall I go on, or do you want to tell me the reason you chose a gangly teenager to scare, knowing that she would tell her parents and cause some moderate stir in our quiet little town?”

  He laughed then, warmly, and when his eyes returned to me there was genuine respect in them. “You are quick, witch. And yes, you are correct. My, ah, interaction with the girl was designed to draw attention, not from the town, but from certain visitors in the town.”

  “Other vampires?” I asked, immediately thinking of the danger to Halfway. I didn’t like the direction such thoughts took me. Wherever vamps ran unchecked, you ended up with large scale destruction, one murder at a time. Their presence was like a slow rising tide that never stopped until everyone was underwater. I knew first hand from my deceased friend, Jim, that vampires were still taking entire villages if given the chance. Jim Dietrich, now gone, told of an entire village in Afghanistan that had simply vanished. I explained that the people of that ill-fated town struck a deal with a vampire. The agreement collapsed, and nearly sixty families were consumed by something that probably hadn’t been human for centuries. I understand vampires and their territorial nature, along with the complicated social interactions they engage in with each other. It’s an arcane type of posturing that is more animal than human, and I’m blessed by the earth and stars that Wulfric is half human, and all good. His vampire half is kept in the background like a muted television, and the man I care for is nothing like any vampire I’ve ever met.

  Philip nodded. “I can tell by your expression that you think me more animal than man.”

  I said nothing. Even in the starlight, my thoughts were easy to read.

  “I am not a beast. I was once a king, you know. I’ve watched my land and people be ground into dust over the centuries, and now I’m forced to beg for my bloodgift as would a filthy pauper.” His knuckles cracked as he rolled his fists into angry knots. “From three hundred proud vampires to— to me. And now I am summoned like a dog for the right to feed myself.”

  “Bloodgift? What is that, Philip?” I asked. The term was new, and ominous.

  The vampire did something so human I had a moment of vertigo. He spat on the ground while cursing in a liquid tongue I didn’t recognize. “It is—when my clan began to wane, we were forced to seek permission to hunt. Our own territories were being stolen from us all over again. You cannot imagine the violation of such a thing, witch. It is inhuman to endure such slavery.”

  I stared at him, a smile spreading on my face at the stupidity of his words. “You mean like, I don’t know, being fed upon without permission? By some bloodsucking undead who regards you as glorified cattle? That kind of slavery, Philip?” I said, my tone acid. If he thought I was a sympathetic ear for his clan’s fall, he wasn’t just wrong, he was delusional. I found myself wondering if vampires could go crazy. I know that sleeping all day leaves me irritable and on edge. Plus, vampires don’t really eat, and they’re terrible at social situations. I mean, who wants to go for centuries without the possibility of a waffle or a lunch date? Not me.

  Philip grew dangerously still, and I let a spell build to critical mass, ready for his attack. It didn’t arrive because the vampire demonstrated a mastery of his anger I wouldn’t have thought possible. Generally, vampires of great age have deteriorated into one of two permanent states—the first being a k
ind of sage in which their mastery over their appetites is nearly complete. You can tell that type; they have an aura of calm around that isn’t really evil, just reeking of age and experience. Those, I can tolerate. I think.

  The second kind is far more dangerous. They’re well on their slide into some kind of barely-controlled animal state in which their bodies have become little more than a skin covering for a coiling mass of hunger. They kill without thought, or even malice, really, because the echoes of the human they used to be are lost to the punishing drum beat of their need for blood. Philip struck me as neither, so I wasn’t sorry about needling him to the point of violence. I was curious about what lay under his veneer of humanity, and in my own way, cut him to see what he was made of. His reaction was most welcome, despite me being in close proximity to a vampire of his age.

  Simply put, I was right and he knew it. Indulging him in some fantasy about his status as a victim was almost comical. I thought about how many unwilling necks he’d pierced during the years of his eternal hunt and felt myself stiffen once again, the anger at such wanton disregard for life giving me a stinging rush of anger.

  After a long moment, he sighed. It was a bitter sound, and it seemed quite human.

  “I will never be used to my status as a relic,” he began.

  That got my attention. In my experience, vampires are usually so in love with their own power, they think the sun rises and sets on them. If they can tolerate sunlight, that is, which is a neat trick that more than a few of them have mastered. But back to their status as epic narcissists—you don’t think they all dressed that way simply because they love vintage opera costumes, do you? No, they’re arrogant, prideful, and powerful enough to be disconnected from their own mortality by an endless thirst for blood and dominance.

  I tilted my head at Philip and pressed him on his appearance. “Let me explain why I’m so unimpressed with your arrival. I got a note indicating that there are vampires keeping prisoners on my family land. Do you know what that means?”

  “I can surmise. I assume that’s a violation of your coven’s policy?” he said. There was no hint of avoidance in his answer.

  “That’s one way to put it. Keeping someone as living food is cause for summary justice on the part of my family. But it doesn’t end there, Philip. Are you aware of retroactive magic?” I asked him. When he shrugged, I explained, “Witches are like badgers. We’re most powerful in our own dens. Think of these mountains as my den,” I said, waving grandly, “and my familial magic is intensified by the location of it when cast. So my spells can be shaped to act like bloodhounds. They don’t just destroy the being who commits a crime against our people, the magic actually becomes a metaphysical force that will seek out the entire source of this affront. Oh, it’s true that a really skilled caster might interrupt some of the effects, but over time my spell will worry at their defenses until it finds a crack. Then, anyone or anything associated with the abuse of unnatural power in our lands will be killed. No warning. No gradual erosion of their powers. Just instantaneous death—or true death, in the case of your kind—and there is little that can be done about it. So when you tell me that you are the Tidewater Clan, I have to say that I’m not entirely saddened by that, because some other clan is keeping humans as cattle. On my. Family. Lands. Do you see what you’ve walked into, Philip?” I was standing close enough to him that I watched his eyes widen at the threat in my voice.

  “I keep no humans, nor have I ever. I spent my mortal years as a kind of slave myself, and would not visit such a thing upon others.” He raised a hand as a kind of vow.

  I laughed in his face. “Do you think you’re the first vampire to tell me that you’re different? You’re right about one thing: purebloods are slaves, but only to their lust. If you don’t have human blood in your veins, you can’t beat this thing, Philip. It owns you. But you already know that, don’t you? So why are you trying to convince me that you’re one of the good ones? I have a blood-smeared note telling me that there are people in danger right this second. Do you propose to help me free them?”

  “I don’t even know where these supposed prisoners are,” he protested.

  I tapped a finger against my temple. “Then think. You’re a vampire who has come to my town for some purpose that you still haven’t revealed. So how about if you answer that, because vamps run together, like worgs or ghouls. You’re never solo.”

  “I am.” He stood, arms crossed.

  I conceded his point for the moment. “Yes, but you’re meeting someone, aren’t you? Why?” My fingers twitched. I wanted to send a ray of sun into this guy, and soon, unless he gave up the whole mystery-man routine. I hate chit chat, unless it’s at the diner.

  “I thought I was. I’m here to plead for the right to move freely. I was told that clan leaders would pass through here, and if I wished to press my case, I could do so. Here. On your lands. So, yes. I lost control and scared the girl, but I am a transient. I will not stay. You have my word,” Philip said.

  “Who are the leaders?” I asked. I had my suspicions.

  “There are two. I have met neither, but they are only recently come to power. They’ve killed every mobile vampire on the eastern seaboard of the country and into Canada.”

  At that, my brows shot up. That was a serious power grab.

  He nodded at my reaction. “Exactly. The only vampires who are still in power are in major cities, where their soldiers protect them. But as you know, my kind are restless. We move about, and that is why so many undead are missing, leaving great chaos behind them. I know you may find this distasteful, but a steady hand, even if it is undead, will control crime in an area. You see the problem with such a vacuum.” Philip shrugged in hopes that I did see the nature of power. When local crime lords were removed, there was a flurry of violence to fill their position. If the control had been in the hands of a vampire, it meant the ensuing struggle would be even more horrific. Vampires can kill far more people than simple thugs. They’re built for it.

  I considered Philip for a moment, then pointed south. “You’ll hunt elsewhere. And allow me to offer you a compromise for your moment of weakness.”

  He looked warily into my eyes. Good. He should be worried, no matter how many years he’d been preying on humans. The McEwans aren’t sheep, and we don’t brook the presence of wolves. I considered my words before speaking, lest there be any wiggle room. Vamps can be crafty; sort of like lawyers with fangs, although vamps don’t charge three hundred bucks an hour. On second thought, maybe vamps weren’t totally bad. I shook my head and focused on the bloodsucker in front of me, leaving thoughts of law firms behind.

  “Find the identity of the new clan leaders. You have two days,” I said, my voice casual.

  He ran his tongue over the points of his fangs, and I saw him reconsider attacking me. “If I cannot discover these people, what happens?”

  I smiled, then looked off into the east. A delicate bloom was rising in the thin clouds that hung in the twilight sky. “My Gran says I have a rather sunny disposition. Don’t make me show you.” Pointing a finger at him, I discharged an invisible gun. At his grave nod, I cut my eyes, indicating he was free to go, but in truth, neither of us were certain of victory if it came to a fight then and there.

  He knew my thoughts, but chose the better part of valor. With a bow, he turned and walked away, his feet leaving a deep green trail across the silvered dew of the lawn. And for what felt like the first time in memory, I exhaled.

  Chapter Fourteen: Cat Herding

  I went straight to work, feeling a bit bedraggled but determined. Over the next two hours, I let the coffee pot be my spirit animal, and when breakfast reached the peak, I was not only in fine form, but reasonably cheerful. Stars and sun, bless the magic contained within the humble coffee bean.

  Cooking is something that only occupies part of my mind, letting the remainder of my thoughts travel overland to chase down flimsy ideas that always seemed to lead me back to Alex. Something about the
young man told me he was the tie that bound everything together. There was an event just over the horizon, and the weird circus, dead girl, and roaming undead were woven tightly in a means that I couldn’t see—yet. Alex would help me unravel all of this unsavory activity that left my teeth humming with magical energy. I could feel the potential for great harm, and my witchmark left no doubt as to what our familial opinion was of such an occurrence. The tingle of readiness in my mark was as noticeable as my caffeine buzz.

  I walked out of the diner resolved to find Alex, bring him to my Gran, and debrief him to the best of our abilities in the least-invasive way possible. We hadn’t quite reached the whole dungeon and executioner’s hood stage, but that didn’t mean that gentle persuasion wouldn’t be just as effective. My Gran’s eyes peering inquisitively over the edge of a teacup can make most people sing like canaries. She has the gift of letting you know she senses you aren’t telling her what she wants to hear. This inquisition arrives with the lift of one single, arched brow. It’s an art form perfected by teachers, suspicious witches, and small town judges.

  I thought of Alex and his quiet, hesitant energy, and smiled. There was something about him that made me feel protective, even upbeat—the exact opposite of what his sister brought out in me.

  I detest Anna. I don’t like the way she sits. Or stands. Or talks or eats. And although I’ve never seen her sleep, I’m pretty sure I’d hate that too. I get mad—I mean, who doesn’t? Even the patron saint of keeping your mouth shut would find being around Anna reason enough to fire off an insult or two. Or three. The thing about it is that I really like cats, so it can’t be the whole dual nature as a shifter panther, or some other animal quality that sets my teeth on edge. If she was a centipede or a badger, I could see me having that tingling feeling of distrust, but she isn’t. She’s a big, beautiful cat, lithe and exotic, and I can’t stand it.

  Have you ever gotten caught up in your thoughts and snapped out of it to find you’re someplace completely unexpected? Well, I have, and I came to, so to speak, standing a few yards away from the rock where I’d seen both Alex and Anna. Neither of them were there, but as I turned, shaking my head at my loss of emotional control, Alex walked out from a copse of bedraggled alders with a shy smile on his face.