Zen and the Art of Vampires (19 page)

“Yes, and she must have known that, so she would make every effort to pass on to you the mantle of her responsibility. She would have instigated a blood exchange.”

“Well, she didn't do anything like that,” I said, shuddering slightly. I remembered the grip she had maintained on my hand and held up my palm. “Other than dig her nails into me.”

Everyone looked with interest at the three faint crescent markings on my palm. Although the wounds weren't deep and had closed almost immediately, faint marks could still be seen.

“Ah, I thought it must be something like that. Very good.”

“It may be good to you, but frankly, I'm more worried about her transmitting some horrible disease because I had her blood all over me.”

He smiled. “I can assure you that you will not receive a disease. What you witnessed firsthand was simply the passing of the light from one Zorya to another.”

“That does not apply here,” Kristjana protested. “She is not of the Brotherhood.”

“Nonetheless, she has been chosen,” Frederic told her.

“Maybe you need to explain that a little more to me,” I said, still wary.

“There is normally a blood tie between Zoryas, as our learned sister says. But in the cases where there is not, one can be created by the exchange of blood between two individuals.”

“Is that the only way a new Zorya can be made?” I asked, rubbing my palm.

“No,” Frederic admitted. “The stone itself can choose a Zorya.”

“The stone can?” Magda asked, clearly disbelieving such a thing.

“Yes. It does not happen frequently, but it can happen in cases where a blood relationship is not possible.”

Magda looked thoughtful. “So Anniki was putting her seal of approval on Pia by digging her nails into her hand and making her bleed? That sounds painful, but pretty definitive.”

“It is indeed.” Frederic made one of those European bows that men here seemed to do so well. “Welcome to the Brotherhood, Zorya Pia.”

“Thank you,” I said, heaving a sigh of relief. So far, so good.

“Now, perhaps you will tell me again what happened to Zorya Anniki,” he added smoothly, taking my elbow and steering me toward a back room.

“Again? I thought I went over it well enough already.” I glanced back over my shoulder at Magda, who was following close behind. “There's really not a lot more I can tell you.”

Beyond Magda, Kristjana marched with a determined set to her jaw. I had a feeling she wasn't buying my tale. Mattias, on the other hand, looked positively sunny in comparison.

Frederic escorted me into a tiny, dimly lit office, holding out a chair for me before seating himself behind a thick Victorian desk. Magda took the chair next to mine. Mattias leaned against the wall, shooting me an anticipatory smile every now and again. Kristjana stood next to Frederic, her eyes veiled.

“Perhaps you would take notes?” Frederic asked her.

“Notes? There're going to be notes taken? Really, I don't know that I have that much to tell you—”

“It's just a formality,” Frederic interrupted, giving me a bland smile that made me more than a smidgen uncomfortable.

I glanced at Magda. She gave an almost imperceptible shrug.

“You may proceed,” Kristjana said, pulling over a chair from the wall so she could write at the end of the desk.

I briefly went over my actions upon finding Anniki.

“I find it . . . interesting . . . that you were sleeping so soundly that you were not aware of someone entering your room, let alone stabbing the Zorya. Do you, perhaps, suffer from a sleeping disorder?”

“No,” I answered hesitantly. I really did not want to tell them I'd been with a man, not through any prudishness, but more a desire to avoid the repercussions that would be sure to follow if they found out just what Alec was.

“Ah?” Frederic's mild brown eyes considered me with an unusually perceptive glint. “Do you have a reason accounting for the fact that you slept through the attack on the Zorya?”

“Is all this really important?” Magda asked before I could answer him. “I mean, so she slept through two people creeping through her room into the bathroom. It's not really so out of the bounds of reality to imagine that she was just tired and didn't wake up.”

“I do not imply that it is,” Frederic countered. “However, you must grant that the Brotherhood has a right to be interested in the circumstances of the death of one of our most esteemed members. More than a right—we have a duty to ensure that the guilty person is punished for the murder.”

“I want the person caught, naturally,” I said slowly. The question was, did I really? It couldn't have been Alec. It just couldn't have been. I couldn't have slept with a man who possessed the ability to mercilessly slaughter a woman while I slept in the next room. I would have sensed that sort of evil. Wouldn't I?

But if the killer wasn't Alec, then it had to be Kristoff, and much as I knew him to be capable of killing someone, I had a hard time resolving the image of him stabbing Anniki in the chest and running away. Kristoff wasn't the sort of man to run—if he killed a Zorya, I imagined he'd take full credit for the act, feeling it a point of pride.

I bit my lower lip while those thoughts chased each other around. Alec or Kristoff . . . it had to be one of those two who had killed Anniki. And yet my instincts told me that neither had. But what motive would anyone but a vampire have to want the Zorya dead?

“You wish to tell me something but are afraid we will think poorly of you for it.” Frederic's voice cut through my murky thoughts. I glanced up to find him smiling benignly at me. “I can assure you that will not be the case.”

Would it matter if I told them I was with a man, so long as I kept Alec's nature from them? It was clear they knew I was keeping something back, and I was a horrible liar, as was proven a few minutes earlier. If I tried to lie about what it was I was hesitant to say, they'd know, and perhaps keep after me until the truth came out. And then surely they'd wonder why I felt it necessary to keep mum about something so innocuous as spending the night with a man.

“You're right, of course,” I said, taking a deep breath. I would hedge my bets a bit by mixing most of the truth with a little bit of a red herring. “I come from a small town where old-fashioned values are still held, and I forgot that Scandinavians are more open to such things. The reason I slept so heavily is because I had been up into the wee hours of the morning with a man. He was gone by the time I woke up, an unflattering reflection on my charms that I hoped to avoid dwelling upon.”

“A man?” Mattias said suddenly, frowning. “You are
my
Zorya, and yet you slept with another man? Who is he?”

“I really don't think his name is pertinent,” I said, striving for a lofty tone. “He didn't kill Anniki.”

“You have known this man for some length of time?” Frederic asked, his expression shrewd.

I gave a little embarrassed laugh that was entirely heartfelt. “Now you really are making me bare my sins. As a matter of fact, I just met him last night.”

“If you just met him, then how do you know he did not murder the Zorya?” Kristjana asked, looking up from her sheets of paper.

That was the question, wasn't it?

“I don't make a habit of sleeping with murderers,” I said, manufacturing an outraged expression.

“But you don't know for sure that he didn't kill her.”

“No more so than I know any one of you didn't creep into my room and stab Anniki, but I certainly don't think that's likely,” I pointed out.

“I wish to know more about this man,” Mattias demanded. “Is he a tourist? American?”

“I think he's a tourist,” I said, not wanting to get into too many details, “although he's not American. He has a slight German accent.”

“German.
Tch,
” Mattias said with a frown.

“How exactly did you meet him?” Frederic asked.

“Look, I've answered your questions no matter how embarrassing I've found them, but I am not going to subject myself to a third degree!” I said with a quick glance at Magda. She gave me a discreet thumbs-up at my indignant attitude. “The details of my night with him are neither here nor there. I've told you that he didn't murder Anniki. He was with me for part of the night, and after that he left. I don't know anything other than that.”

Frederic was silent for a few moments before he rose and went to the lone window in the room, pulling back a faded gold curtain to glance outside. It was starting to get late, and I was beginning to feel the full effects of a day of stress and no food. “You do not seem to understand the full ramifications of the death of the previous Zorya, Pia. She was a blameless member of the Brotherhood, and had no enemies that we know of—save one. You are aware of the existence of Dark Ones, yes?”

“Dark One what?” Magda asked, clearly confused.

My fingers tightened around the armrests of the chair. I forced myself to relax. “Anniki told me about them, yes.”

“Who are they?” Magda asked.

The three people in the room all watched me, clearly expecting me to provide the answer.

“They're the vampires I told you about earlier,” I said, picking my words carefully. “They have a long history of animosity with the Brotherhood people.”

“Animosity?” Kristjana snorted, jabbing her pen into the paper. “That is a deceptively mild term. It is our goal to cleanse the world of the evil the Dark Ones possess.”

“Oh,
those
vampires,” Magda said thoughtfully. She nodded after a few moments' reflection. “The ones you do the Buffy number on, right?”

“Buffy number?” Frederic looked confused for a moment.

“It is a reference to an American television show,” Kristjana explained.

“Ah. Buffy! Yes, I remember that now. It is not quite the same thing, mademoiselle. In reality, Dark Ones are merciless, soulless monsters intent on corrupting our world until no light at all exists.”

I sat silent, thinking of Alec. He wasn't evil. Kristoff certainly had a harder edge, but even he wasn't a monster. He could have killed me easily, but opted not to.

“I had no idea,” Magda said, shaking her head at her folly. “Well. That's certainly an eye-opener, but what has that to do with Pia? You don't suspect her of being a vampire, surely.”

“No, of course not,” Frederic said quickly, making a vague gesture. “We would know if she was, but there is the fact that the only people who would desire a Zorya dead are Dark Ones. Thus it must be one of them who killed Anniki. And it is entirely within the bounds of reality, as you so charmingly put it, that your friend here was used by one.”

“You think she slept with a vampire?” Magda asked, with obvious incredulity.

I arranged my face to look surprised at such an idea. “I think that's stretching things a little, don't you?”

“Perhaps,” Frederic said, moving quickly to my side. Before I could object, he swept back my hair and examined the side of my neck. “But not so unlikely as you might imagine. You are aware of the mark you bear here, Zorya Pia?”

“A mark? She bears a mark?” Kristjana said, half standing.

“It's just a hickey,” I protested, pushing Frederic back and getting to my feet. “A love bite, if you will. Not a vampire bite.”

“She does! She bears the mark,” Kristjana said, throwing down her pen and starting toward me.

Suddenly worried, I backed up, holding out my hands as if to ward them off. “You people are blowing a little bite way out of proportion—”

“Pia Thomason,” Frederic said, cutting across my protest as the three of them closed in around me. There was something in his voice, some indefinable note that held a compulsion with it. Despite my desire, I found myself meeting his gaze, my eyes locked to his as he stalked toward me. “You will answer my questions truthfully.”

“I . . . I . . .” I reached out behind me, part of my mind screaming for me to run, the other part calmly agreeing that whatever Frederic wanted was for the best.

The three people stopped in a semicircle around me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Magda beyond them, her face pinched with worry.

“You will answer my questions,” Frederic repeated, his gaze pinning me back like a bug on a board.

The hairs on my arms stood on end as I fought the compulsion that washed over me like waves of pounding intention.

“Yes,” I said against my will.

“The man you were with last night, he was a Dark One, was he not?”

“Yes,” I heard myself answer, as if from some great distance. I wanted desperately to get away, to run from the suddenly scary man, but he held me prisoner with just the force of his will.

Magda gasped.

“You knew he was a Dark One and you provided him access to the Zorya Anniki,” Frederic said, more a statement than a question.

“No.” I shook my head. “I didn't know until this morning about him being a vampire.”

“Why did Anniki come to your room?” Frederic asked.

“I don't know. I really don't know. Maybe because I was the only one she'd talked to last night?”

Frederic was silent for a moment. I was aware of the others, but couldn't seem to drag my eyes from his to look at them. “Where is the Dark One now?”

“I don't know. He left just like I told you—sometime in the night.”

His gaze bored into me with a sensation of stripping away all my thoughts and revealing my innermost self. I wanted to squirm away, to stop the examination, but was powerless against his will.