Fang Girl (10 page)

“Well …” Dad looked reluctant, as I made “go away” motions at him from behind Ebon’s back. “All right. I’ll be in my studio, sharpening some brushes—I mean pencils. Shout if you need me.”

That left me alone in the living room with a blond, sharp-cheekboned, spiky-haired vampire wearing leather and velvet. Every word I’d ever learned drained out of my brain. “Uh,” I said. “So.”

“So,” he said, his voice smoldering like the heart of a banked fire.

This was immensely unhelpful, in terms of unsticking my tongue from the roof of my mouth. I shifted my weight, staring down at the carpet. My hands felt two sizes too big, flopping on the ends of my arms like dead fish. We were alone. He was a boy vampire. I was a girl. According to my novels, now we would gaze soulfully into each other’s eyes and discover an irresistible life-bond connection, possibly accompanied by hot yet chaste psychic sex.

I risked a tentative glance into Ebon’s eyes, and discovered that he was gazing at me so soulfully it would have put a basset hound to shame. Oh, wonderful.

“Uh … so,” I tried again.

“So,” he murmured. “Here we are.” His head tilted to one side slightly, exposing the long masculine line of his neck, and his voice dropped into a deep, intimate murmur. “
Ma chérie
, there is … something about you. Something different from anyone I have ever met. It is … strange. As if there is some deep connection between us, even though we come from different Bloodlines. Do you also feel it?”

Unless the mystic bond he was referring to felt identical to total, utter, stomach-clenching embarrassment, no. “Uh, let’s talk about, um, vampire hunters!”
I squeaked, backing up and running into the wall. “They’re still lurking around, right?”

“They will not attack while I am here,” Ebon said with utter confidence. “They have reason to fear my name.” A shadow crossed his face, as if he was remembering dark and terrible deeds. “I did not always have the control I do now.” He turned away, staring moodily out the window at the front garden. “The beast I must constantly battle, the bloodlust …” He trailed off, lost in angst-filled contemplation of his inner pain, or possibly the rhododendrons.

“Okaaaaay.” I surreptitiously edged around to put the coffee table between me and the admitted schizoid psycho. “What about Lilith, then?”

Ebon resurfaced from whatever depths he’d been plumbing. “Indeed, she is a greater threat. Many of Hakon’s Bloodline are endeavoring to ensure she cannot reach you, but she is as subtle as a snake. She will eventually evade them and return to claim you. Unless …” Without warning, Ebon closed the space between us with two long strides, suddenly so close I could have felt his body heat, if he’d had any. “
Ma chérie
, are you brave?”

“No!” My shoulder blades were practically digging
through the wall as I attempted to avoid contact with his chest. If he proposed some sort of psychic bonding, the wall wasn’t going to stop me. “And for God’s sake, get out of my face! Haven’t you ever heard of personal space?”

Ebon took a sharp step back, caught his ankle against the coffee table, and went sprawling. Piles of books cascaded after him.

“Ack!” I dropped to my knees, grabbing for scattered books. I’d restored three to the table before it occurred to me I should probably be more worried about my flattened vampiric bodyguard. “Um, are you okay?”

“Fine!” Brick red and much less Byronic, he scrambled up and started to help me restore order to the table. “My apologies,” he muttered, looking utterly mortified. “My intentions—that is, I did not—”

“Uh, Ebon?” I interrupted, distracted by the way he’d moved two books that I’d just put down. “What are you doing?”

He looked down at the stacks on the table, as if only just noticing how he was sorting them. “Oh. As I’m sure you’ve discovered, we of the Blood can be a touch—ah, obsessive, about items being arranged precisely to our liking.”

“Yeah, but look, I already made a pile for small leather-bound books.” I pointed at my stack. “See?”

He coughed, sounding embarrassed. “Small leather-bound books with an odd number of letters in the title.” He gestured apologetically at the stack he’d started. “Small leather-bound books with an even number of letters in the title.”

I stared at him. “You have got to be joking.”

“I’m older than you. I’m afraid the tendency strengthens with age.” He restored the last book to the table and sat back on his heels, clasping his hands together. “Many of the Elders have such exquisitely refined taste, they can’t enter other people’s houses. It’s not that they can’t come in without being invited—it’s simply that, if they do, they are overcome by the desire to clean up.”

“Huh.” I leaned back against the sofa. Ebon was somehow much less intimidating, now that I’d seen him flat on his back under an avalanche of vampire romances. “What was that you were saying about being brave?”

“Uh …” Ebon looked as if he was trying to find his place in a script again. “Oh yes.” He cleared his throat. “It is dangerous, but there is a way we can hunt down Lilith, if you are willing to learn the powers of
the Bloodline. For you—and you alone—have a direct connection to her.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Yeah, I know, she can spy on me.” I wondered what Lilith was making of all this, if she was listening in. “How does that help?”

“That bond is a two-way path.”

I sat bolt upright. “You mean
I
can look through
her
eyes? And sense where she is?”

Ebon hesitated. “You should not attempt to link with her senses yet—not only is it considerably more difficult, it could be highly dangerous. I fear that should you open more fully to her than you already are, she could strengthen her unholy link with you and enslave you to her own twisted desires.”

I remembered how reasonable and persuasive Lily had sounded. “Right. Let’s not do that. What
can
I do safely?”

“I can teach you to master the other power, of feeling her direction through the pull of the Bloodline. She cannot hide from you, any more than you can conceal yourself from her.”

“Holy sh— uh, I mean, wow.” Lily hadn’t bothered to mention
that
. “Is it hard? How does it work?”

“The Bloodline is like a river, in which we exist as
naturally as fish.” Ebon’s long, pale hands swam through the air in demonstration. “You will find that there is a current to the Bloodline, which flows from sire to childe. A sire may reach downstream to all of his descendants, though with more distant generations the power of the Bloodline is spread out and weaker—he can still use their senses, but for less time, and he cannot precisely sense their location.” Ebon splayed his fingers out like a branching stream, then closed them again. “But with his direct children, the connections are sufficiently strong and focused that he may use it to tell which direction they are from him. Likewise, a vampire can reach upstream, against the current of the Bloodline, to his direct sire—though no higher, as the force of the Bloodline is simply too strong to battle upstream to one’s sire’s sire.” Ebon raised one finger. “As Lilith’s only direct descendant, you and you alone possess the power to locate her. I can teach you now, if you are ready.”

“Hey, it’s not like I had anything else planned. Let’s do it. Um, what am I supposed to do?”

“It is like listening to the beat of your heart.” His voice lowered, rich and hypnotic. “Except that rather than feeling the tides of ordinary blood, you attune yourself to the gentler call of Blood.” I still couldn’t
work out how he could say the capitalization. “But you must be careful not to allow yourself to be swept away. Center yourself firmly in your own body, then look inward, and feel the beat of Lilith’s heart sustaining you, flowing into your veins. Then, simply turn in the direction of the current.”

Feeling a bit stupid, and uncomfortably aware of Ebon watching me, I shut my eyes. Without breath or heartbeat, my body felt like an empty cathedral; a vast, silent space, in which even the tiniest sound would echo like thunder. I tried to let my mind expand to fill that expectant void, attuned for the slightest motion.

When we’d lived in a flat, I’d sometimes find myself humming a song under my breath for no apparent reason, only to realize that the music was coming through the wall, from one of our neighbors—too quiet to hear unless you were listening for it, but loud enough for my subconscious to have picked it up. The Bloodline was like that. With my mind turned inward, I could feel something running underneath my own senses. There was the echo of a pulse fluttering in my still chest, the sensation of air expanding my unmoving lungs. Flashes of color sparked behind my closed eyelids, streaking together like an Impressionist painting. And beneath it all, the tide of
my blood ran like a river, stretching out beyond the confines of my skin.

One current seemed to be flowing inward, into my veins, just as Ebon had said. But there was also something else....

“What do you feel?” A strange hint of excitement edged Ebon’s whisper. I peeked at him from under lowered eyelids. His body was taut, poised to catch my next words.

What was it Lily had said?
Your Bloodline isn’t normal.... And if Hakon knew, you’d already be dead.

“I dunno,” I said, picking my words carefully. My voice sounded weirdly muffled in my own ears, distorted around the edges by other half-heard sounds. “You said I should only be able to feel one current, my connection to Lilith, right?”

“Indeed.” Ebon sounded as calm as a hypnotherapist, but his clasped hands tightened. “Remember to keep steady in your own body. Tell me exactly what you feel.”

I really wasn’t sure that was a great idea, not until I had at least some clue as to what was going on. Without moving, I tried to picture the Bloodline in my head. One current was definitely streaming
out
of my own heart, not into it. And, when I focused on it, it turned its attention on me.

The Bloodline roared in my veins, demanding my attention like a hungry toddler. Whatever was on the other end felt close, very close. In the very next room, in fact.

“
Oh
no,” I moaned, opening my eyes. “No, no, no!”

“Uh …” Ebon trailed behind me as I rushed to the kitchen. “Xanthe, are—?”

“This totally wasn’t my idea,” I interrupted. “I swear, I had nothing to do with it!”

Ebon followed the line of my pointing finger, staring bemusedly into the empty waters of the fish tank. “What—?”

The mound of pink and blue gravel heaved, revealing a silver-scaled flank.

“Good Lord in heaven!”
Ebon recoiled so hard he rattled the kitchen cabinets.

Brains-the-fish struggled free of the gravel, thrashing its tail. It hung in the water, pale as the moon, then drifted forward without visible effort until it was nose to nose with me on the other side of the glass. The look it gave me was way too considering for a fish.

“It’s a fish,” Ebon said, weakly. “Why have you bitten a fish?”

“I didn’t!” I said, locked in a death stare with the goldfish. My eyes started to water. “Blame my mum; it
was her experiment. Has anyone ever, um, made a vampire animal before?”

“It is considered extremely perverse. I know of only one who has done so, but that was with cats. I can at least understand cats. Cats are nice.” Ebon was obviously rattled, oddly drawled vowels breaking through his polished French accent. “How can a
fish
be a vampire? It doesn’t even have teeth.”

Brains gave him a look that suggested it was perfectly willing to try sucking him to death without them.

“You know,” I said slowly, most of my attention still occupied with the Bloodline. “I think this is going to take me a little while to grasp. I could do with a bit of private practice.” I groped for something to keep him busy. “Um, you ever play
Rock Band
?”

His eyes lit up. “You have
Rock Band
?” he gasped as if he’d opened a closet and found Narnia. “Er, I mean.” His expression snapped back to his customary polite-yet-brooding look. “Only if you are sure you don’t require my assistance.”

“No, really, I’m good for the moment. Get Zack to show you.”

He hesitated a second longer, practically vibrating with indecision—but duty was helpless before the
power of rock. “Simply practice feeling for direction—don’t try to make contact,” he reminded me and took off. I listened to his eager footsteps go up the stairs and to Zack’s room. A few minutes later, two sets of feet thumped back down again, heading for the living room. I waited until I heard the crash of guitar chords.

“So, Brains,” I muttered, under the unlikely sound of an eighteenth-century, aristocratic French vampire enthusiastically murdering Iron Maiden. “What do you think he’s expecting me to find? And why is he so keen for me not to actually look down these Bloodline things?”

Brains rippled its fins in a piscine shrug, looking up at me.

I knew exactly where it was looking, because I was getting a fish-eyed view of my own face.

Looking down the Bloodline was easy. The connection was a bright, straight road between us. And now that I was able to sort Brains out from the background flow, the rest of the Bloodline was starting to come into focus too.

One current going outward, to Brains. One current coming inward, presumably from Lilith.

So what was the
other
connection I could feel? The one that went in
both
directions?