A Drop of Red (38 page)

Not afraid. I’m
not
afraid now.

That strange jasmine smell—what
was
it?—hovered while she walked, careful to look human lest any normal students see her.

Minutes later, she was knocking on a familiar door before entering, knowing no one would be inside anyway. Then, drawing in a quivering breath, she called on her vampire powers just this once and darted into the room, quickly shutting and securing the door behind her.

No more jasmine,
she vaguely thought.

She moved to a wardrobe, opened it, focused on feeling round the back panel for the spring that she knew would release a door that hid a tunnel to the sub-Underground common room.

A private tunnel not belonging to the girls at all that they would’ve been severely punished for using in any case but this.

 

 

 

MUCH
earlier, after the ritual, the cat had stayed for hours more in its buried, faraway room, absorbed with the sight in the mirror.

Beautiful again!

In the oval reflection, the creature preened, worshipped, celebrated the blush of its revitalized future. Such rosy, tight skin. Such red lips, glossy hair, and refreshed eyes . . .

Pity it would have to use cosmetics when it went back to work aboveground. It was always a shame to cover the rituals’ effects until aging took over again.

Even so, it couldn’t take its gaze off of itself while caressing the length of its bare body, cupping its firmed breasts and sliding its palms over its smooth stomach.

I don’t look a day over my late twenties.
Not a moment past the age when it had exchanged blood and become a vampire.

Then it stopped its celebration for a moment, its gaze connecting with the one in the mirror.

Its eyes. There was still the wisdom of ages there. . . .

Yet the pause didn’t last long as it continued on to all the other wonderful improvements again.

When it felt a tingle licking at the back of its mind, it knew Mihas had finally entered through the ground door from the forest. He’d arrived from the main Underground, where he had spent last night and today, and had come to meet the girls in the sub-Underground for their nightcrawl.

Excitement raced like tiny bites under the cat’s taut skin.

But, through Awareness, it knew Mihas was preoccupied. He was no doubt musing about that event from nearly a week past when one of the
custode
s, keepers who worked for the Underground on a consulting basis, had disappeared from duty. The unit possessed backups, yet the head
custode
’s absence still crossed Mihas’s thoughts every so often.

Naturally, the cat had attempted to assuage him; the creature had been his constant, his consort, his calming balm throughout the centuries. If there were a blood brother behind the
custode
’s disappearance, there was no reason to fret. Mihas and the cat had so many resources at their fingertips that falling to one of those storied, scheming blood brothers was laughable.

And he always believed the cat, just as much as it believed.

The creature took one last look at its naked mirror self then dressed in a silken gown that recalled the old days when Mihas had loved the cat more than he did now. It spent its time aboveground in a relatively drab disguise, mainly because it didn’t look young and gorgeous enough to assume this form—Mihas’s favorite.

But now . . .

Now it couldn’t wait to show Mihas its rejuvenated look before the students arrived. It couldn’t wait to win him back.

Anxious to see the desire in Mihas’s eyes—when was the last time it had seen that from him?—the creature moved past the newly cleaned blades hanging from the ceiling, then exited the room. It took care to charm the rock door so no one else would enter if they ever found the hideaway.

It rushed through the tunnels, the hem of its heavy gown barely dusting the floor. In the final tunnel leading to the girls’ common room, its Awareness doubled in vein-quaking force.

Mihas. Companion. Beloved.

When it ultimately came to the beads that decorated the entrance, the Awareness tripled.

It bit its lip to hold back the overwhelming yearning for him while peeking through the rounded plastic baubles.

There he was, sprawled on a divan while paging through a manga book one of his “darlings” had brought down here to read.

The cat touched the beads, creating a mysterious prelude to its entrance, playing with Mihas as much as he played with everyone else.

Yet he still paged through the book.

Anticipation gnawed under the creature’s skin now, and it rattled the beads once more.

Another turn of the page.

The cat wouldn’t rush in. It wouldn’t
give
in.

Yet then Mihas glanced up, a wide grin curving his mouth as he tossed the book aside.

The cat pressed its hand to its chest, which drummed with hollow vibrations.

“I can see your outline through those beads, Claudia, and I scented those clothes of yours long before that.” Mihas cocked his head. “No more cat form?”

He sounded excited, even under the teasing tone.

Long, long ago, the cat had trained its voice to a husky, smooth timbre—a tone that fooled the world above, and even itself sometimes.

“Why look like a cat when there’s no need now?” it said. “Not after what Blanche gave to me tonight.”

At the mention of the girl’s name, Mihas leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs. He hated it whenever one of the students was sacrificed.

Perhaps a reminder of what their nubile bodies yielded would return some perspective to him. . . .

He spoke, casting a pall on the cat’s well-planned ceremony of revelation.

“In case you’re wondering,” he said, “the girls are becoming suspicious about yet another disappearance, but they’re more affected and lonely than anything. The remaining members of the class always seem to get that way after three of their own have left with little explanation.”

“I cover the absences. Sharon was allowed to say her farewells before she departed. Plus, I took up her identity while e-mailing the rest of the class, just as I’ll do with Blanche. I’m also sure you managed to distract the girls with your Underground tour. Every time the third one leaves, your enthusiasm for your home seems to make them forget until the next student’s departure.”

And, make no mistake, the cat was watching to see which girl would come next. Which lovely girl threatened it the most.

Wolfie stood. “It’s a hard time for them, Claudia. After the third girl, it always becomes more difficult to disguise these rituals of yours. There are only so many times one of them can run away or be claimed by their parents before the rest begin to concoct nefarious explanations.”

“I shouldn’t need but one more ritual before the school year ends and the remainder of this class moves on to the main Underground.” The cat brushed against the beads in a bid to regain Mihas’s attention. “Then I’ll have a crop of new girls who won’t know any better.”

The restless clack of the strands had indeed snatched his focus, just as Claudia had hoped.

“Show yourself, my love,” he said, his tone gritty, as it always was when the cat became a new woman again.

Yet Claudia knew this wouldn’t last. Not with his darlings near and dear to keep him satisfied—a situation the cat allowed only because Mihas always returned to it in the end.

Still, at this wonderful moment, Claudia knew he was keen to see the results, even though sorrow also colored his voice.

But he would forget about Blanche soon, just after Claudia stepped through the beads.

The creature savored this moment of utter control. It was going to make him suffer for turning his affections elsewhere while Claudia’s beauty had shriveled.

Although he was forbidden to consummate his lust or actually feed from the fresh, sweet, finely raised Queenshill class, he did everything but poach them from the cat. Yet he would realize, once again, that these were not his girls at all—they belonged to Claudia, just as
he
belonged to her.

It had always been thus, even before the cat had secured a job on campus fifteen years ago in order to make the harvesting for its rituals easier. The sub-Underground was Claudia’s own paradise, and every two years it carefully chose seven girls for the class, which consisted of students who believed they were only being primed for the Highgate Underground.

There was much work involved, mainly because the girls had to fit the profile of a neglected daughter who wouldn’t be monitored by parents—a candidate who was too afraid to leave what the community offered, even if they began to suspect strange doings. The girls were always the type who never wished to reach womanhood, with all its gnarled, snatching thorns and terrifying dark places.

Claudia was even now weeding out younger candidates for the next class of seven—a safe number that would carry the cat through its rituals and then some.

Mihas ran a hand along the wall on his way toward the entrance.

“Yes, come,” Claudia said, feeling those tiny bites of stimulation eating through its skin to make their way to the top, where its flesh ached. “I thought you had perhaps grown overly fond of Blanche and you might not enjoy what her sacrifice has brought about. Show me I was wrong.”

“How can you say that when you’ve always been the fairest of the fair?” Mihas eased to the other side of the beads, his hungry voice filtering through them. “You have forever owned my heart, even if my attentions have occasionally wandered.”

“Oh, the charm,” Claudia said. “How it slays me.”

Mihas smiled, his teeth gleaming.

But the cat would not allow him such an easy escape, even if all it wished to do was part those beads and see the blossoming of renewed adoration in his gaze.

So long. Too long . . .

“I have always owned your heart?” Claudia asked. “Even, centuries ago, when I first grew ugly and you left me so you could wander the surface world while I remained below? You had your entertainments, while I played the good companion, minding our responsibilities. Remember, it was only a little over a year ago that you took those trips to the States—Los Angeles, Chicago, New York—all to see that band you like. Then it was off to Ireland, then Scotland—”

“I have always returned to you, my love.”

“You stay once I restore myself with young blood—the kind you, too, believe gives you such power.”

When Mihas lent more wattage to his pointed smile, Claudia’s blood rushed south. He had such sway.

“Whether it was in Persia,” he said, “or in South America or anywhere in France—you knew I would end up by your side. Yet, here in London, I have settled, except for my holidays. I believe that should merit some appreciation.”

“The dragon commanded the creation of Undergrounds, Mihas. Not I.”

“Ah, details, details.” His charisma traveled like strokes from a reaching hand. “Does it not mean anything that we have created all these children together—little girls we outfitted to communicate with each other as one true class? Fearless, hungry, vicious things who are half me, half you?”

He could talk Claudia into his graces every time, but he was forgetting that their progeny—part of the wolf that defined his vampire form and part of the cat that defined Claudia’s—didn’t touch any emotional chords within.

Yet that wasn’t true of Mihas. Rumors from traveling blood brothers testified that other master vampires had developed cravings for the souls of the children they created. Would his affection for their progeny follow the same pattern? At the moment, he loved his girls for their flushed skin and dimpled smiles, but he didn’t have an appetite for anything so meaningful as a soul connection.

And if that ever happened, Claudia might not be able to compete anymore.

The creature teased the right side of the beads, pushing only a few strands back. “You talk of children, Mihas, but all I’ve ever wanted was you.”

He looked at Claudia’s exposed hand—the fruit-soft skin—and his eyes got that lost and hungry glaze for which the cat had been wishing. He was all Claudia’s now.

“Mihas,” the cat-vampire said, nearly purring as it finally parted the fall of red and orange.

His expression deepened to stricken male worship, and he fell to his knees.

“My Claudia,” he whispered, strangled by his passion as his teeth lengthened in uncontrolled lust. “Oh, my Claudia.”

The cat smiled, leaning toward him to claim its reward for enduring his faults, his naughtiness.

As it touched its mouth to his, the prick of his teeth pierced the new softness of its lips, dragging Claudia into a dreamy reawakening of love.

 

 

DELLA had bounded through the tunnel where she knew help—and punishment—would be waiting. There had been sharp roots along the way, digging into her skin, but she was already healing from the cuts.

Yet she was hardly even thinking of them anyway.

Telling the truth was more important than anything, and she was willing to stand up to the consequences. Unfortunately, she would be doing it face-to-face since she had not been able to reach Wolfie or the cat with her thoughts from the boarding house. As usual, a layer of earth had blocked a mind-reach from the surface to below, so here she was, running, running. . . .

When she came to a cavern, she sensed both of her superiors. She picked up speed and, within a second, arrived at the beads dangling before the common room’s entrance, winging them aside while stumbling in.

The sight before her stopped her cold.

Anguish gripping her, Della spun away to avert her eyes, mostly because she hadn’t expected to see Wolfie kissing . . .

Who?

She heard the kiss end, heard Wolfie say, “Della?” like a man under a wicked spell.