The Blood That Bonds (16 page)

They were walking again. Theroen looked
straight, down the road, unable to meet Two’s eyes. His hands were
clenched into fists, his lips pursed into a thin white line. “They
loved it, and I hated them for it. And I hated myself even
more.”

“
Theroen.” Two touched his
arm.

“
Do these things surprise
you, Two?” He took her hand, tightened his own around it for a
moment, let it drop.

“
No. Not that you hated
yourself for it. That’s no surprise at all. That’s not you,
Theroen.”

“
Is it not? Abraham did not
instruct me in these things. His first attempt was a dismal
failure. The very next night I awakened, horrified to discover
myself on a stone slab in a mausoleum, and Abraham was there, with
a human. He forced the man’s neck to my teeth, laughing at my
screams, my prayers, my promises of atonement and reasoning with a
God I had forever left behind.

“
Oh, and his sweat was
rank. Bitter. Disgusting. His screams mingled with my own, but I
drank … and drank. I felt him pass into death, and I wept. Abraham
looked upon me in disgust and left me there weeping, returning only
near dawn to drag me back to the crypt where the coming sun
paralyzed my limbs, battered me into sleep.

“
It was four days before I
drank again. I starved. The thirst raged until I could bear it no
longer. I took another human, this time away from Abraham, who had
once again left me to my own devices, appalled at my inability to
accept the gift he had given me. There was a young woman, kneeling
at the grave of her father, whispering, grieving.”

Theroen shook his head, his eyes
distant.

“
I took her like a storm,
unfamiliar with my strength, desperate in my hunger. I broke her
spine shoving her head backward, tore away the heavy garments at
her neck, ripped most of her throat out with my teeth … all of this
before she could even have been aware of what was happening. And
when it was done, I was glad. I was glad to take something from
these creatures of God, and leave them nothing in
return.”

Two watched him, saying nothing. Theroen’s
face was grim. There was no reminiscence in this tale, only the
memory of events he would sooner have forgotten.

“
It’s all rather sordid,
really.” Melissa came up behind Two, touched her shoulder, looked
at Theroen. “Sort of surprising, given your nature, Theroen. My
first time was so cut and dried. You brought me to that nice man’s
house in Brooklyn. His wife had passed away earlier that year and
he
wanted
to die.
We sat and talked, kissed a little, and then I took him. He died
smiling.”

“
You know less of my nature
than you might think, Melissa. I’ve had four hundred years to study
it, and learn it for myself.”

“
Well, what I know of it is
that you’re way too conservative to be a vampire, and you’re really
good at getting Two all nerved up on her first night as one!”
Melissa touched Two’s shoulder again, smiling, impish, unwilling to
allow Theroen any more time in his melancholy.

Two laughed. “Actually, I sort of figure
that this can’t possibly be as bad as what Theroen just
described.”

“
I assure you it won’t be.”
Theroen at last looked at her, then glanced down the street again.
They were approaching the first houses on the outskirts of the
small town, windows dark and dead. Two supposed that in the day the
town must look quaint and picturesque. She wondered when she would
see daylight again, how long it would take before her body was
equipped to cope with it, as Theroen had told her it would be. For
now, she supposed it didn’t matter. Theroen and Melissa had
adjusted to life under the moon. So would she.

Strains of music in the air. Two listened,
but couldn’t pinpoint the source. “Where’s that music coming
from?”

“
You owe me fifty dollars.”
Theroen was grinning at Melissa.

“
Shit.
Fuck!
I totally thought it’d be at
least another half mile.”

“
What are you talking
about?” Two questioned, bemused.

“
I heard it about a mile
ago. Theroen, probably back by the cars. We made a bet on when
you’d hear it, while you were thinking about Theroen’s story and
not paying attention. I didn’t think your ears would get that good,
that quick.” Melissa shrugged.

“
There is a bar. It is the
only place you’ll find anyone awake at this hour, without invading
homes.” Theroen gestured down the road, toward the center of town.
“I think there you will find a suitable—”

“
Client,” Two muttered.
Theroen raised an eyebrow, and she shook her head. “Never mind,
Theroen. Old memories.”

“
I know those well. This
man … you’ll know him. You’ll sense him. Trust me.”

“
And why is he
suitable?”

“
You wanted someone who
deserves death, yes?”

Two nodded.

“
He beat his wife to death,
two years ago, for breaking a glass while cleaning the kitchen. She
was six months pregnant with their first child. He beat her to
death with a chair leg, and then drove across three states to
dispose of her body. He lied his way through the investigation and
came out clean. She is still considered a missing
person.”

“
How do you know
this?

“
I read the paper, and I
read minds. I was curious. I parked my Ferrari, walked through the
woods, stood in the shadows outside his home and concentrated until
I had all of the information I wanted.”

“
Why didn’t you kill him
yourself?”

Theroen shrugged. “They are mortals. What
does it matter to me? Besides, as Melissa mentioned previously, I
prefer to drink from women.”

“
Is this the wrong way to
start, Theroen?”

“
There is no wrong way.
There is only the thirst and the blood. Is this what you wanted,
Two? If it is not, I can happily lead you elsewhere, but I thought
here you might find some respite from guilt.”

Two nodded. “This will work, Theroen. Are
you sure I’ll know him?”

“
You will sense that
darkness in him, I believe. For me it shines out like a
beacon.”

Two took a deep breath, steeled herself.
“Okay, then.”

She headed for the bar alone.

* * *

The bar was everything Two
would have expected from this small, old-fashioned town. Yellow
wood glowed mellow in the dim lights, dented and scarred and shined
by decades of service. A television in the corner, above the heads
of the customers, was attached with screws that were two years –
maybe three – away from pulling out of the water-stained
plasterboard. It was playing old reruns of
Sanford and Son
with the volume
turned down. A few ailing tables were scattered near the far end of
the building, most empty. Someone was asleep at one of the wall
booths, and three or four men were clustered near one end of the
bar.

The reaction to Two’s entrance was
immediate, their stares like a physical force pressing against her.
The sensation reminded her of her pool hustling days. She grinned,
glanced around, moved toward the bar, away from the cluster of
men.

“
Help you?” The bartender
looked to be in his late fifties. His voice was all Jim Beam and
Camels. Dark, scraggly hair, three days of stubble. Not the
one.

“
What’s your best red
wine?”

“
Nothing you’d probably
consider good.” At least he was honest. Two smiled at him, looked
to the beer taps.

“
Just a Molson, then,
please.”

“
Do I need to card
you?”

“
Don’t know. Do
you?”

The bartender turned away, grinning. She
watched the glass fill with the amber liquid. The idea of actually
drinking it seemed a foreign concept to her now. After the blood,
everything else had lost its appeal. Two doubted she would be able
to stomach it, even if she were to try.

But she wasn’t going to try.

By the time the glass arrived in front of
her, she’d found the one. Dark, quiet, withdrawn. His thoughts were
black things, and she could feel them on the air like tendrils of
wet mist. Theroen was right. The violence of which he had spoken
seemed to exude from this man in waves, and with it something else
– an undefined ease that told her the rest of what she needed to
know. There was no guilt here. No remorse. This man had murdered
his own wife and child in cold blood over the breaking of a glass,
and sat here now feeling justified.

He looked at her now, and Two could see the
beginning of desire in his eyes. She stretched, her nipples
outlined against the white cotton of her shirt, navel exposed, and
glanced at him with smoky eyes. She could hear the blood pounding
faster in his veins.

The glance had been perfected during her
time with Darren. She tossed it out, caught her prey, and began to
reel him in. Phantom images seemed to dance across her mind: a
woman’s horrified eyes, terror becoming distant and detached in
death. A shovel. His breath in the cold moonlight. Two smiled at
him as he moved toward her, hand on the bar, drunk and
unsteady.

“
Hello.” Her voice was
sweet sugar, long and slow and husky, full of promise. He nodded to
her, sat down on the stool next to her, glanced at her untouched
beer.

“
One for the road?” he
asked. Two smiled.

“
Something like that. I
didn’t come here for beer.”

“
Oh no?”

“
I’ve been on a trip, and
now I’m headed back into the city. Back to my boyfriend. But I
couldn’t go without one last stop. I couldn’t go without …” Two let
her eyes flick down, just briefly, then return. She could see his
eyes darken as his brain, or perhaps another organ, completed the
thought.

“
Do you have a wife?” she
asked him.

“
No. Not … no.”

“
A house?”

“
Yes.”

“
I’d like to see
it.”

She left a fifty on the bar.

* * *

Theroen and Melissa were not there, but Two
knew that they had not gone far. She could not sense them, but she
wasn’t trying too hard. They had no reason to leave, only to keep
their presence unknown to this man. She was sure they wanted to
watch. This was her first true moment as a vampire.

They walked along the road that, only
minutes ago, Two had traveled in the opposite direction. They
didn’t talk. Two was nervous, shuddery, trying hard not to show it.
The thirst was growing in her by the moment. She could smell the
blood now, so close to his skin.

“
What was her name?” she
asked.

“
Who?”

“
The wife that you told me
you didn’t have. The one you lied about.”

The man was momentarily taken aback. He
paused in his step, looked at her, eyes wide. Two glanced back, the
playfulness gone from her eyes.

“
What was her
name?”

“
Look, I don’t know who you
think I am. I’m Sean …”

“
I didn’t ask who you were.
I asked what her name was.”

Sean swallowed hard, shoved his tousled
brown hair back from his forehead. Two stepped toward him, touched
a stubbly cheek, smiled again.

“
It’s a simple question,
Sean.” She moved her lips over his, barely touching, pressed the
tip of her tongue to the center of his upper lip. He opened his
mouth instinctively, and the touch became a kiss, long and damp.
She touched below his waist, and what she found there was rock
hard, despite his concerns.

The nerves were gone. They’d slipped off as
the moment approached, and Two was cold now. She played her lips
about his neck, tasting his salty sweat, not yet bitter from fear.
Sean’s hands were limp at his sides, his breath speeding. With one
hand she touched his hair. The other unbuttoned his pants,
navigated beyond his boxers, touched skin to skin. He shivered.

“
Were you hard like this
when you did it, Sean? Tell me her name.”

Sean moaned. Fear? Lust? Two’s hand
quickened. She smiled, sharp teeth against his neck.

“
Tell me her name, you
fucking murdering piece of shit.”

“
Th—Theresa. Her name was
Theresa. Oh,
God
…”

Two pressed her teeth against the flesh,
pressed hard, waited for the pulse. She had been here before, on
the receiving end, and found the wait now even more interminable
than it had been then. That instant before release had seemed to
her unbearable, but waiting for the moment when she could take the
blood proved worse.

Sean stiffened. His heart pulsed. Two bit
down. What began as a cry of passion became a scream of pain,
trailed into a moan somewhere between horror and ecstasy. Sean
sagged. Two followed him to the ground, attached at the neck, lost
in the blood.

Ambrosia. Red and throbbing. Tears at her
eyes, carving hot little tracks down her cheeks. The heart stopped,
the flow of blood ceased, and Two pulled back, gasping. Crying. She
looked at the body before her, limp organ hanging from open pants,
the neck a still shot from a horror film. She stood, staggered
backward, felt her heels bump the curb, felt her knees trying to
buckle.