State of Grace (Resurrection) (26 page)

‘I wouldn’t mention your lack of belief to anyone, if I were you,’ he advised. ‘It will get you killed.
Humans are happy to kill in the name of this god. I have seen people destroyed because they refused to follow the path of Christ. They are called heathens and pagans, and believers in this god do not tolerate belief in other gods. Also, it is strange not to believe. There are very few humans who do not believe in a god of some kind. You would be persecuted for that.’

‘So, damned if I don’t believe in a god, and damned if I believe in the wrong kind of god.
Ok, I get it, but you still haven’t answered my question.’

‘I was born during the Roman colonisation of this country,’ he explained. ‘Romans had other gods, many of them. When I w
as resurrected I discovered the British had their own gods, as did the Saxon invaders. Why should this god be any different?  It is part of the human condition to believe in something, to try to explain their world and the brutality of it. It gives them heart to pray to gods to intercede, to make their lot in life better, and it gives them hope that after they die all their suffering will be rewarded with a better existence. It also gives them hope that death is not final. Finally, religion gives humans a set of rules to enable them to live together; this god has ten, I understand: thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal, thou shalt not covert thy neighbour’s wife, horse, cow…. Without rules like these your society would disintegrate. But, human beliefs have no influence over my kind. I have met vampires that are much older than me – Viktor is one such – and older even than he. They walk where they please, and because a human decides that a place is holy does not mean that it is so.’  He gave his elegant one-shouldered shrug. ‘This god, too, will be replaced by another.’

‘This God is still around in my world,’ I said. ‘Many people worship him. And you
- you don’t believe in anything?’

‘I, too, am probably agnostic,’ he admitted. ‘All this beauty,’ he gestured expansively, ‘could not have dropped from the sky. There must surely be something that created it, but I do not know what.’

‘Not the Christian God?’

‘He is too young.
There are gods much, much older and the world is older still.’ He smiled to show he was teasing me.

I couldn’t believe I was discussing theology with a vampire. It was, to say the least, surreal.

‘Do you believe you are evil?’

‘Do you think I am?’ he replied gently.

‘No. I don’t.’ And it was true. I might feel icy shivers of terror on occasion, I might be frightened out of my mind by what he is and what he does, but evil? No. I believed he was no more evil than any other predator. And I told him that. I didn’t imagine his relief, it was apparent in the relaxing of his whole body. I hadn’t realised my opinion mattered so much to him.

‘Everything I have read,’ I began, and suddenly he was kneeling before me and I squeaked in surprise. He held my hands
in a tight grip. ‘You can read?’ he demanded, staring at me intently. He was incredulous.

I nodded, too freaked out to say anything, wondering what I had done o
r said to provoke him. He was as unpredictable as a crabby cat.

‘How did you learn? Who taught you?’ he persisted.

‘In school, but I could read a bit before then because I remember my mother teaching me.’

‘Your mother! Your mother also can read?’

A light bulb switched on in my head. ‘And my father, and my brother. Everyone I know can read.’ I squirmed my hands free and in his distraction he let me go. ‘Do you want me to teach you?’ I asked.

Suddenly he was haughty. ‘I already know the written word, ‘he said, somewhat formally. ‘I read Latin, obviously,
and French, Greek, Arabic, and English (but there is little written in that language). I can also read runes, although they tend not to be as rich as other writing.’

It was my turn to be incredulous. ‘And of course you speak all those languages, too.’

‘More,’ he replied. ‘I spoke three or four before I became vampire.’

I was amazed. ‘I only speak English,’ I admitted.

He smiled again. ‘I know, Eryres.’

‘Eagle,’ I said, remembering.

‘The Welsh language,’ he clarified.

‘Welsh. You speak W
elsh?’ Why was I not surprised.

‘When I learned it, it was called British and it was spoken slightly differently, but yes – Welsh.’

Abruptly aware of his proximity, I breathed his scent and my head span. ‘You smell so good,’ I murmured, before I realised I had spoken aloud.

‘I know.’ He was not in the least modest. ‘We all do, and we all have pale skin, melodious voices and are all highly attractive to most humans. I say most, because there are a few
humans who are unmindful of our ‘charms’. And some are more susceptible than others. You are rare, though: I cannot enthral you, yet Viktor can. It intrigues me.’

‘You are beautiful, too. Are all vampires beautiful?’ His nearness was calming my fear and exciting me at the same time.

‘You think I am beautiful?’  If I didn’t know better I could have sworn he was blushing. ‘As I said, we are highly attractive to humans, but as for beauty… We do not appear much different from when we were human. If you were an eighty year old crone when you were resurrected, you would still appear old, although you would not act as such.’

‘Are you immortal?’ This was like a game of twenty questions, but while he was in the mood to answer me I was going to find out all I could. The more I knew about him, the better I could understand him. I wished he would back away
: he was making my head spin, and I was increasingly unable to think clearly.

‘Immortal, like the gods,’ he mused. ‘Fortunately not.’

‘Fortunately?’ My curiosity was in overdrive. ‘Why on earth would you wish to die? You will never get old, or sick, so?’

‘I am nearly eight hundred years old. Life can become a little tedious at times.’

‘You wouldn’t say that if you knew you were going to die in the next year or so.’ I whispered bleakly. He gave me a questioning look. ‘The tumour. It is growing inside my head, damaging my brain. Eventually, sooner rather than later, the damage will become too great and I will die.’

He touched a finger to my temple, his fac
e full of sorrow. I noticed his skin was not quite as cool as previously.

‘Did you have sex with her?’ I asked sharply, unwilling to discuss my impending demise any further. I couldn’t take the expression on his face any more either. It was a mirror of my own pain.

He withdrew gracefully back to his own chair.  ‘No.’

His answer surprised me: I thought sex and blood were irrevocably linked for vampires, and I said as much.

‘Blood is not linked to sex. I can, and do, drink without sex. But sex is more pleasurable when I take blood. For both parties. And I do not have sex without taking blood.’

A rush of heat seared my nether regions
and I tried to retrieve my anger. ‘So that woman….?’ I waved a vague hand.

‘Was food,’ he finished, his voice rough.

‘Didn’t you feel anything for her?’ I asked.

He shrugged. ‘She is nothing to me.’ He was expressionless once more, all humanity leached out of him, leaving only the bones of what he was.

‘You feel no compassion, no guilt about what you did to her?’

‘I told you I am
going to apologise for what I am. She was not harmed. She still lives.’ The subtext here was he could so easily have killed her. ‘She will remember kissing me, because I choose for her to remember and she will remember she enjoyed it.  She will replace the blood that I took in a matter of days. It could have been very much worse for her.’

His voice was a low and menacing growl, a dog-like warning to keep my distance. Ice ran through my veins and I could have sworn the temperature had dropped. I knew it was only my reaction to the danger in his voice, but I couldn’t help
a shudder. He noticed and let some humanity flow back in to his face, and the hard, implacable lines softened. He leant forward in his seat and I shrank back in mine, a corresponding distance. I was acutely aware he brought out the prey in me, as I was absolutely certain I brought out the predator in him: it was painted in every smooth line of his face, every controlled muscle in his body. The leopard had retracted his claws, but I was not fooled.

‘She was not harmed,’ he repeated. ‘I only took as much blood as was safe for her to give. We pick healthy humans, normally young and strong, to drink from,’ he explained, the vampire in him hidden, replaced by teacher. ‘We do no
t choose women who are breeding either, or the sick or the old. And no, it is not because of compassion or sympathy,’ he continued, seeing my hopeful expression. ‘It is common sense.’

‘You said ‘try to’,’ I accused.

Another Gallic shrug. ‘It is not always possible.’

‘Of course not.’ My sarcasm was showing.

‘Diseased humans do not taste nice. And they smell disgusting to us if their blood is tainted, we find the blood repulsive and usually it does not nourish us. But if necessary we will feed from the old or from women who are with child. Even children. As long as they are healthy.’  He certainly was being blunt. ‘It is something we try not to do.’

‘
Don’t tell me – it’s because you are protecting your food source.’

‘Yes.’

I thought about that for a bit. The whole drinking-blood-thing disgusted me but I could see Roman, at least, tried to minimise the discomfort his meals felt. Whether that was a vampire thing, or just a Roman thing, I couldn’t tell. And he seemed to have a kind of rule about what should or shouldn’t be eaten. A bit like the Jewish faith, or Christians, with their ‘eat only fish on Friday’ rule.

‘Explain to me what you mean by enthral. You have mentioned it several times.’

‘So many questions, cariad,’ he murmured. ‘Why do you wish to know so much?’  He frowned. ‘You cannot understand the danger you are in.’

‘Danger? What do you mean ‘danger’?’ I sq
ueaked. Aside from the obvious, that I was sitting in the same room as mankind’s’ only real predator.

‘Humans suspect we exist; they tell tales around their fires, frighten their children with stories about us. They dislike being abroad during the hours of darkness and are fearful of the things they suspect walk the night.’ He grinned, his sharp teeth flashing. ‘But only you know for certain. Every other human who knew for certain will have either be
en killed or resurrected if their memories cannot be removed. I cannot remove or alter your memory, so which is it to be?’ He inched forward.

My mouth was suddenly dry and I am fairly sure I was as pale as he. My hands and feet tingled with adrenalin as I had an urge to flee, though my muscles were paralysed and I was unable to move, so great was my terror. ‘You wouldn’t,’ I whispered.

He draped himself back over his chair and the mood was shockingly broken. I heaved in a gulp of air and willed my hands not to tremble. Pride demanded that I try to hide my fear from him – but he knew anyway.

‘The woman, earlier. She knew.’ My voice was thin and high pitched. I cleared my throat.

‘Cariad.’ His voice, in contrast to mine, was like melted chocolate, rich and warm and sweet. ‘You have not been listening. I have not, and will not, harm her. Some – many – humans can be enthralled by us: enchanted, glamoured, bespelled, whatever you wish to call it. The ones that can be enthralled come to us willingly. They find us irresistible and they give their blood, and anything else we require, without hesitation. Sometimes we combine drinking with mating if the human is attractive: the humans may as well get some pleasure out of the experience. And they remember the sex, but not the blood, never the blood. We make them forget.’