Resurrection (12 page)

What was he to say to her? Ged had promised this woman who was convinced she was his bride of five centuries past that they would talk. In truth, he was at a loss.

Her gentle breathing convinced him she was sleeping so he eased himself from the bed and made his way downstairs. It was dusk outside, the January afternoon fading fast though it was not much after four o'clock. His brief excursion outdoors in daylight had taken its toll, but he was recovering now and almost back to normal, though his eyes were smarting still. It would pass.

Ged fired up his laptop and Googled time travel. Apart from something predictably pretentious on Wikipedia and some rather stunning photographs of outer space he found nothing of use. In fairness, this meant little. Ged knew that if he were to Google vampires he'd find a similar dearth of reliable material. He allowed himself a sardonic chuckle. Shit, he should be the last one to quibble about the existence of paranormal entities.

But still, he'd walked this planet now for something in excess of five hundred years. If time travel could happen, if there had been other instances, surely he'd have come across the phenomenon before now. Or if not he, then another of his kind. He pulled out his mobile phone and selected the number he needed from his speed dial. The call was picked up before the second ring.

"Hey, man, how are you liking your little bit of England?" The cheerful voice boomed from the phone. "Is it cold and wet enough for you?"

Ged grinned to himself. Although his lawyer had lived in the US for the last two centuries, James originated from the Scottish Highlands and had always hated the rain. "Hi. Yes, the weather's great, just as I like it."

"So, you're not calling to ask me to acquire some more real estate for you then?"

"No, not this time. Actually, it was Serena I was hoping to talk to. Is she about?"

"Hey, you'd better not be thinking of seducing my wife. I've told you before, man, keep your hands off. I wouldn't want to have to hurt you."

"If I thought she'd look twice at me I'd give you a run for your money, but the woman's convinced you're some sort of sex god. Pathetic really. Have you thought about making her an appointment with an optician?"

"My girl sees fine." There was a pause, then, "Hey honey, the sassenach is on the phone, asking for you."

There was a muttered exchange which Ged couldn't catch, then a female voice came on the line. "Ged? Is everything all right?"

He drew in a long breath. "Yes. No. In truth, I have no fucking idea."

"I see. You'd better tell me then."

Serena was the most ancient vampire in Ged's acquaintance. Born on the Trojan peninsula in the first century A.D., she had been turned when the emperor Nero still ruled Rome. She had somehow managed to survive for over a millennium virtually alone in the world, before meeting others of their kind. Her powers were off the scale, honed and built over the centuries as was the case with all vampires who managed to survive their early, formative years, but later enhanced by the aeons of detailed study to which she had devoted herself.

No one understood vampire physiology better than Serena. She was the acknowledged world expert among their kind, widely respected and her influence was unparalleled. Without her support and the credibility she brought to his cause Ged doubted he could have convinced other vampires to invest with him to develop the medical technology which had transformed all their lives. He supposed in his support for human science he was a visionary too, of sorts, though never in Serena's class. She was an authority on all things vampire, both fact and myth, and was perhaps his closest friend. Certainly, there was no one he respected more.

James was right to be wary. Ged would have fucked Serena in heartbeat if either of them had one. She had never been interested in him in that way though, preferring the more studious and infinitely more learned Highlander despite the fact that James was a mere infant of just two hundred and fifty.

Apart from her encyclopedic knowledge of vampires, Serena possessed more than a passing knowledge of other paranormals too. Ged had only encountered one or two shifters in his time and had not warmed to them, but he quite liked witches on the whole. Serena embraced them all, her thirst for understanding unquenchable. If anyone could advise on his current predicament, it would be her.

"Have you ever come across stories of time travel?" No point beating about the bush, he came right out with it.

There was a pause, then, "Once or twice. Do you really mean stories, as in fantasies which we know are made up, or actual time shifting events?"

"What? You mean there are such things? Really?"

"I believe so, though it's not my area of expertise."

"Whose area is it?"

"There is someone, a witch I believe, based in Chile. She wrote a thesis on the subject. It was very interesting. Shall I forward it to you?"

"Yes, do that. But, I need to talk to her."

"I doubt that would be possible. She's somewhat reclusive."

"Give me her number. Please."

Serena chuckled. "It’s not that simple, as you should know. Marta Roi is an alpha-grade telepath so she doesn't have a number. Doesn't need one—if she wants to hear from you, she will."

"Are you in touch with her?" Ged knew it was virtually impossible for a mediocre delta-grade telepath such as himself to make first contact with an alpha, but Serena should be able to.

"Yes, we do correspond occasionally."

"I need you to check something out for me."

"Go on."

Serena listened in virtual silence as Ged related the events of the last day or so. She asked occasional probing questions, both about the mysterious woman who had appeared on his property, and the wife he had thought dead for all these years. As he finished his account, she asked him the one question he refused to ask himself.

"Do you believe her?"

"I know she's not lying." Even a delta could penetrate the thoughts of a mere human. "Jane believes that she is my wife."

"I meant, do you believe she has travelled across time?" Serena's tone was patient, but implacable.

"I... yes, I think I do. But..."

"But you'd like some more tangible proof. She brought nothing with her, you say, apart from the clothing she was wearing?"

"That's right. Oh, and a candlestick, possibly. I found it close to where I found Janey."

"Send the clothes to me, and the candlestick. I'll get them age-tested. That won't be definitive as the fabric could have skipped a few centuries also, but Marta might be able to detect something."

"Thanks. You ready?"

"Give me a reference. I have a lock on you."

"Hold on, I'll just put the candlestick with the rest." He laid the candelabrum on top of the small pile of clothing. "Okay. The stuff is to my right, about three metres away." He glanced over at the nightdress and wrap, now dried but not washed, and folded on his kitchen table. As he watched the clothing and the candlestick shimmered as though caught by a sudden draught of wind, then disintegrated before his eyes. "Do you have them?"

"I do. Certainly looks authentic. I'll get to work on it. Meanwhile, where’s Jane now?"

"She's here. Sleeping. She's been somewhat traumatised by all this."

"I'll bet. Remember when you were first turned? I expect this feels similar. Will you take care of her?"

Ged had arrived at much the same conclusion. If some massive time shifting event had taken place the chances were that Jane would need help and support as she acclimated to her new circumstances. Ged hadn't much relevant experience. He was not a vampire who had much patience with fresh little turnlings as a rule. He appreciated the value of managing the novices through their transition phase, not least as newbie vampires could be a deadly bunch. They had a tendency to go off careening around the place and getting them all a bad name. Ged was happy to contribute financially to support the global network of reorientation centres which now existed, but preferred not to get his hands dirty.

"Yes. She'll be staying with me." He surprised himself with the vehemence of his tone. He had promised her, though, and would not renege on that.

"Good. That's probably for the best. I'll be in touch." Serena ended the call, and Ged slumped in his chair. At least he was taking action now, and he should be able to learn something from Serena's enquiries. And his longtime friend hadn't thought he was crazy, which was encouraging.

Less than three minutes passed before his phone rang again. He glanced at the caller ID to see his lawyer's face smiling back at him.

"Hi." Ged wasn't sure whether to expect his lawyer’s voice, or Serena's

"Hi yourself." It was James.

"She told you then?"

"Of course. Man, this is a turn-up. A wife, eh? That changes things."

"It does? How, exactly?"

"You know how, exactly. Unless of course she enjoys the same games you do."

"And you."

"And me. But Serena's the perfect submissive for me and I'm a one-woman Dom. You, on the other hand..."

"Jane isn't a submissive." Or, he recalled, she didn't used to be. Hell, she didn't even like vanilla sex that much, never mind the fucking kinky shit he loved.

"Awkward."

There was no need for James to elaborate, Ged knew exactly what the implications were. A wife who didn't share the lifestyle would be unlikely to readily accept her husband topping other women, or at least, not here in the enlightened twenty-first century. Back in the fourteen hundreds fidelity had been a more fluid concept. Life was simpler then, a wife did as she was told.  

"It needn't be awkward."
Who was he trying to kid?

"Ah, not a love match, then?"

"Hardly. She was only ten when we were married. We were betrothed when she was only two years old. I was twelve, I think."

"Children grow up. How old is Jane now? Or then?"

"She died—sorry, disappeared—when she was about twenty two as far as I remember. It
ha
s
been a long time."

"And she never warmed to a decent whipping? Even when she was older?"

"I did not whip my wife, James. I spanked her on occasion, when it was warranted, but I was a perfect husband." Ged was indignant, more so as his friend laughed out loud.

"Perfect husband, my arse. You were a Dom then, the same as now. If you never whipped her, then how do you know what your little wife might have liked? Did you spank her for fun as well as to punish her? Fuck her until she couldn't stand? Did she have a tight little arse or was she—"

"For fuck's sake... Jane was a lady.
My
lady."

"Right. And...?"

"Fuck off, James."

His friend was still laughing as Ged hit 'end call'.

Christ, what a fool he'd been, not to mention an insensitive, faithless clod. James' questioning might have been crude, but it had the desired effect. Ged accepted that he had not the faintest idea what his little lady wife might want. He'd never taken the trouble to find out.

Meanwhile though, he knew full-well what
he
wanted. His cock and fangs had told the story, reacting to a bolt of sheer lust before he could exert any sort of self-control. He knew his threats and misguided attempt to coerce the truth from her had terrified Jane, although she had seemed to accept his word that she wasn't in danger from him now. He sincerely hoped that was the truth. Then later, as he watched her in the shower, a towel draped discreetly over his lap, he'd managed to summon up a little more forbearance and kept his fangs concealed, but had still been obliged to mutter his excuses and leave her to it when his aching jaw would be denied no longer. He'd dived into his own bedroom for the privacy he required, not returning until he'd worked out the tension single-handedly.

He glared at the now silent phone as his thoughts drifted back to that earlier time when she truly was his wife. Janey had always been a pretty little thing. He had managed to ignore that fact with spectacular success while she was still ensconced in Richard and Anne’s household, but the truth of it hit him right between the eyes on the day she descended from the Duke’s coach in the centre of his courtyard, ready to make Roseworth her home.

She would have been fifteen years old by then. His tongue had stuck to the roof of his mouth as he bowed over her hand in formal greeting. Determined to impress his bride with his courtly manners he had brushed his lips over her knuckles, marveling at the delicately boned fingers and skin which resembled the finest porcelain. Her beautiful hair shone like burnished gold, the dark reds and copper tones glinting under her coif. Unbound it fell to her hips, though she normally kept it restrained as befitted a lady of the nobility. Jane was well-trained, a perfect lady.

On the day of her arrival in his home Jane stood before him in the courtyard at Roseworth, her lovely dove-grey eyes lowered. Her smile was soft, her lips trembled slightly and in that moment he knew she feared him still.

Jane had always feared him, a fact he found both abhorrent and impossible to escape. She had cowered under the protection of Richard and Anne yet all the while she was his. Jane was his property, his wife to bed as he pleased, yet even though she now dwelt under his roof he couldn’t bring himself to force her when he knew she did not desire him. For the first couple of years it didn’t matter. He could wait for his heirs, and in the meantime, his keep was full of warm, willing females. His needs were met handsomely and his perfect little wife remained pure.