They Come by Night (8 page)

“No. We’ve been in existence for almost as long as vampyrs. There’s even a school of thought we were once the same species, but at some point we branched off.” He sighed. “So much of our history has been lost.”

“Okay, so before the Plague we were a luxury.” I was only just coming to terms with being a sabor. The thought I could have been born a vampyr—that didn’t bear thinking of.

“Yes. Sabors and their families belonged to the vampyr lords, and they were kept isolated on their estates. You have to remember those were feudal times, Ty. The vampyrs guarded their possessions ferociously, and their sabors most of all.”

So we were nothing more than possessions?

“What happened afterward?”

He went to the sink and ran the water for about a minute before taking a glass from the cabinet and filling it. “With the population of normals so depleted, we became a necessity. For the other vampyrs to survive, they had to drink from us. The rege had no choice but to permit it.”

“And you’re telling me we have to be virgins for our blood to be of any use to them.”

“Yes.” He brought the glass to his lips and took a long swallow.

“You said they don’t come to you anymore.” I had a sick feeling. This wasn’t going to end well. “What happened?”

“The next vampyr who came to me realized immediately what had happened. He….” Uncle Phil looked lost and as sick as I felt. He touched his throat, and now that he’d drawn attention to it, I could see his birthmark was more than just a birthmark. It was a scar.

“Uncle Phil, what did he do?”

“Nothing more than I deserved.”

It looked as if his throat had been—I closed my eyes, shutting out the sight. “How did you survive it?”

“I survived.”

“But it wasn’t your fault!”

“He was furious. They can only drink from a virgin, he told me. He demanded to know which vampyr had been my partner, but I refused to tell him. I could feel him trying to invade my mind. I had no idea that could be done. It… it was like being raped again.”

“
Again
?” Oh, Jesus, my poor uncle!

“My action,
our
action, resulted in there being one less sabor available to them. After that, vampyrs no longer came to me, and normal humans seemed to sense there was something different about me. They avoided me as well.”

“Did she ever come back to apologize?”

“Vampyrs never apologize. At any rate, even if she would have wanted to, that wasn’t possible.”

“Why?” I knew I shouldn’t ask, but if being a sabor was going to be my fate, I had to know.

“I wasn’t the only one who was punished. The rege knew which vampyr had taken my virginity. Her talisman was taken from her.”

I had no idea what the talisman was supposed to represent, but his tone was so chilling I shivered. It had to be really important, and the loss of it equally devastating.

“How do you know this?”

“The vampyr who came after… he knew something had happened. No vampyr had ever raised a hand to me—it wasn’t necessary—but he… he flung me against a wall, and I thought he’d fractured my spine. I’ve never been able to figure out how he didn’t.” He shook his head. “He left, and I had no idea how long he was gone. All I know is by the time I regained my equilibrium, he’d returned.”

“Did you… did you love him?”

“No. He blamed that on the fact I was no longer a virgin, but I couldn’t have loved him. He told me what happened to Vidalia in all the gory details, and said it had been done because of what
she’d
done.”

“Made love with you?”

“No. Oh, that pissed him off, but that wasn’t what really drove him wild. He said any vampyr could scent that Vidalia had fed a sabor.”

“How could he—Wait a second!
You
fed from
her
?” Could that even be done?

“I’d never have survived otherwise.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Fifteen years. God, I wish she’d let me die!”

“Uncle Phil!” That shocked me more than anything he’d said before.

“Do you want another Coke?” he asked abruptly, and I knew he wasn’t going to answer me.

I stared at the bottle in my hand. It was empty. “No, thank you.” I put it down on the table. “Is that why you live here alone?”

“I live here alone because that’s my choice.”

“So I… I don’t have any choice in the matter?”

“I’m afraid not.” His expression was desolate.

“I guess I’d better go. Thanks for talking to me, Uncle Phil.”

“You’re welcome, Tyrell. I’m sorry I can’t help you. It’s in our blood, you see. Literally.”

Shoot.

Well, all right, then, if that was the way it had to be, but I didn’t care what the rules were. I wasn’t going to fall in love with any vampyr whose only desire was to bite me!

And if any of them thought otherwise….

Well, they could just bite me!

I
NEVER told Dad I’d gone to talk to my uncle, but when I went back out to see Uncle Phil again just before Christmas to bring him a little gift, it was to find the windows of his cottage boarded up and a For Sale sign stuck in the front lawn.

I
T HAD been a long two years. My body had ached with the growth of muscle and bone, and I’d been uncertain what to do with the hormones that flooded my system. For the last year, girls had been looking at me with as much interest as their moms looked at Dad, and so had a couple of the boys, even one who I’d have sworn was straight.

In spite of having more testosterone than I knew what to do with, I was still a virgin, never been kissed, never been laid, because while it might be interesting to have sex with someone,
any
one, my body kept saying, “Uh uh, no way!” The fact of the matter was as much as I longed to be touched, paradoxically, I couldn’t bear being touched—not a friendly clap on the back, not a high five, not even Dad’s hand resting on my shoulder. I’d hoped as my body filled out I’d be able to tolerate contact, but no such luck. It was a good thing that as a runner, body contact was never called for, and I was nimble enough on my feet to avoid any pileups.

How in hell was I going to let a vampyr come close enough to sink his fangs into me?

T
HE DAY of my eighteenth birthday finally dawned. This evening a vampyr was coming to claim me. I’d be taken away from my home, from Dad, from everything I was familiar with.

For the last week I’d been antsy, my dick half-hard, unable to settle on any task Dad gave me.

Now it was even worse, and even though he kept me busy with chores around the house, my nerves were so bad I’d no sooner leave the bathroom than I’d have to turn around and go back in, and I found the tension ebbing and flowing as the day progressed, but mostly flowing. I was a total wreck.

One good thing was my friends were busy with college. Some were scattered across the country, and they wouldn’t expect a farewell phone call. Jimmy Black, my best friend, was still in town, but when he asked where I was going, I was able to offer something vague about going to Disney World and then turned the conversation back to him. Maybe that came across as if he didn’t care about me, but I knew he did, and it just made it easier for me to not have to lie to him.

Dad had made my favorite meal, and I knew there was a triple chocolate layer cake—chocolate filling, chocolate frosting, chocolate cake—in the fridge with my name on it. I didn’t have much of an appetite when it was time for dinner, though.

“It’s going to be okay, Ty.”

I could tell he wanted to hug me, or maybe give me a simple pat on the shoulder, but he wouldn’t, and while that made me sad, there was nothing I could do about it.

“You know I can’t stand anyone touching me, Dad. How am I going to cope with that?”

“I have every faith in you, son. I know you’ll manage.”

“I hope so, Dad.”

“I wish you could have spoken to your uncle about this. I don’t think you’d feel so nervous, then. Unfortunately, I was just given the bare bones. I tried to talk to your uncle—”

“What? When?”

“Last year. His house was empty.”

I caught myself before I could say “Still?” I’d never told him I
had
spoken to Uncle Phil, and it only made me
more
nervous. Especially since what Dad and Uncle Phil had told me were diametrically opposed.

“Well, it doesn’t seem fair,” I muttered.

“Life isn’t fair, son.” He looked at the clock on the wall. “Time’s running short.”

I wished he hadn’t reminded me. I rose and started to clear the table.

“That isn’t necessary. Why don’t you take a shower and change? I’ve… I’ve laid out your clothes on your bed.”

“Okay.” I looked into his eyes. We were almost the same height now. “I guess I should have packed earlier.”

“There’s no need. Everything will be provided for you. I… I….” He cleared his throat and leaned forward to pick up his plate. He hadn’t eaten much, either.

“Will you be okay, Dad?”

“I’ll be fine. And if they ever mistreat you, you come right on home.”

“But will they allow it?”

“Fuck them. I don’t care what they allow. If any of them hurts you, I’ll hunt them down with holy water.”

“What about the Jewish ones?” I thought about Uncle Phil pressing a Star of David against my forehead. “Or the Muslims?”

“Garlic and wooden stakes will work on them just as well.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Now hurry. You’ll want to make a good impression.”

I went up the stairs to my bedroom. Lying across the bed were clothes I’d never seen before: a pair of black boxer briefs, black trousers, a silk, blood-red dress shirt, and black silk socks. On the floor was a pair of shiny black slip-ons.

There was no tie, though. The throat would be open, baring my birthmark.

I showered, shaved, and dressed, and then went back downstairs. My father stood there, trying to smile.

“You look good, son.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I held my arms out from my sides and turned around. “I don’t recognize these.”

“The clothes are from the vampyr.”

“How did he know my size?”

“They have ways of knowing things.”

I thought of Adam, who’d somehow known I was going to run away that night when Dad had first told me about sabors. I’d often thought of him as the day—night—when I’d be claimed for the first time came closer. He’d hoped to be my first vampyr. Would he? Or would it be a strange vampyr?

“Ty….” Dad looked so pale I was afraid he was going to pass out. He pulled me into a hug, and I shuddered.

“It will be fine, Dad.” I fought back tears and let him hold on to me.

His grip eased, and he kissed my cheek. “He’s… he’s waiting outside.”

He? I licked my lips. “Are you okay with that, Dad?”

“
Me
?” He laughed a little wildly. “Male or female, you’re the one who’ll—”

“I didn’t hear the doorbell.”

“He knocked.”

I gulped and shivered, this time from knowing what was waiting for me on the other side of the door.

“I’m sorry, son. It’s in the genes, my genes, your mother’s…. We passed it on to you.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I won’t be passing them on.”

“
What
?”

Didn’t Dad know I had to stay a virgin?

But then he nodded. “That’s right. Sabors don’t marry.” Okay, if he wanted to put it that way. “Just remember what I told you. If one of them hurts you….”

“I’ll remember.” I smiled at him, hoping it didn’t look as forced as it felt, and turned to leave. “Oh. My jacket.”

“It’s a warm night for October. You won’t need it. Tyrell. I love you, son.”

I lingered in the doorway. “I love you too, Dad.”

A voice spoke from the darkness. “Are you ready, Tyrell?”

My dick grew iron-hard, just from the sound of his voice, and my mouth went dry. Was this how it started?

I swallowed a couple of times before I could get the words out. “I’m ready.”

Waiting on the front steps was Adam.

A
DAM TOOK me to a little Craftsman-style bungalow way out in the country, about eighty miles from Clewiston.

Two steps led up to a porch, which was lit up.

“It’s small, I know, about six hundred square feet, but it’s all yours. This is your home now, Tyrell.”

“Look, call me Ty, would you please? The only person who calls me Tyrell is my dad, and that’s when he wants to make a point. And… and I know what you’re going to do to me and… and I’m kind of okay with that, but….”

“But not being reminded of your father will make it easier?”

I nodded.

“All right, Ty.”

“Thanks.”

He unlocked the door and pushed it open, and for a second I thought he was going to scoop me up in his arms and carry me across the threshold, which would have been embarrassing, us both being guys and all, and him being only a few inches taller.

Although he didn’t pick me up, he did touch me. His hand was cool on the small of my back as he urged me to enter—I could feel it even through the material of my shirt—and I shivered. For the past eight years I hadn’t wanted anyone laying a hand on me, and now…. A wave of voluptuous pleasure swept through me, just from that simple touch.

He paused outside the door.

“Adam?”

“I can’t enter unless I’m invited in.”

I sighed. “Enter freely, Adam.” For the time being, I guessed this would be his home as much as it would be mine.

“Thank you.” He stepped over the threshold and closed the door. He flipped a switch to the side of the jamb, and the light came on.

“Why are you thanking me?”

“For accepting me.” He tipped my chin up, and I finally caught a glimpse of his eyes. While his hair was the color of old gold, as trite as that might sound, his eyes—most blonds I knew had blue or green or gray eyes, but Adam’s were cinnamon.

Right now they looked hungry, more reddish than brown, but before I could start shaking, I realized they were surprisingly tender as well.

“You didn’t have to, you know.”

“I didn’t? Geez, why didn’t someone tell me before now?” I groused, although I really didn’t mean anything by it. I was—not getting an erection, because I hadn’t really lost it since I’d heard his voice earlier tonight, but… I shifted. I was so hard I ached. If he looked down and saw, I knew I’d melt in a puddle of mortification.