Four, p.27
Four, page 27
“Twenty years, wow,” Gail said.
“It always takes them longer to learn things,” Georgia said. “Maybe that’s why they have to live so long.”
Minerva nodded emphatically as she returned to her seat. “That is sad but true. Zee only thing I envy you humans is how fast you can train your muscles to do what you want. We have to replay what we used to know and practice over and over again to make perfect, but once we do—” She punctuated her sentence by whipping off one of her earrings and hurling it at the humans. Gail jumped as the gold stud pierced the velvet less than an inch from her arm.
“Wow,” Gail gasped.
“Stronger than us, faster than us, and tougher too,” Georgia muttered. She plopped back on the sofa and tossed the earring back to the vampire. “Can we move on now?”
“That depends,” Minerva said, “Are we going to get to hear anything good?”
Gail jumped in. “So, Stefano . . . err, Steve, he can actually remember being human?”
Minerva rolled her eyes. “We all see what we were, but mein bruder is just obsessed with his shell. It’s because he is a baby still.”
“So you remember being human?” Gail asked.
Minerva sighed deeply. “You see this body? It once belonged to a pretty little daughter of a village artist. Zee poor artist lost his wife to zee plague and his son to some noblemen’s war, but he managed to keep two daughters around. He was the finest maker of colored glass in zee whole region, but the nobles liked to take from him more than they ever gave. Blah, blah, blah, poverty, suffering, so much sadness. Zee poor wittle family couldn’t buy food one winter, so zee artist sold off one of his useless daughters to a fat, ugly, old, rich man because she was so pretty, with hair like gold. Well, long story short, some other humans decided that they wanted what zee artist’s village had, and there was raping and pillaging and all zee normal old-time pleasures. Zee merchant didn’t want this shell anymore after a dozen pillagers or so had had their way with her, so she was cast off like so much other garbage. Boohoo, rather than die, she made a deal with zee devil, and I have enjoyed my existence ever since. Zee end!”
“But what happened to the artist and his family?” Gail asked, wide-eyed.
Minerva shrugged. “Hell if I know. That was in the past—a place where far too many pathetic people choose to dwell. I am grateful for zee Fenstermacher tochter for being strong enough to give her life for me, but that is zee limit of my connection to your kind. You are amusing creatures and you help pass the time, but in zee end, I know you are ultimately one thing—food.”
“If there is one virtue Minnie here exemplifies, it’s honesty,” Georgia said. “In fact, I’m sure the only person she’s ever lied to is herself.”
Minerva responded with a grin that could freeze hell over.
Gail quickly filled the silence with, “So, what happened after Stef . . . err, Steve confessed to you? Was it . . . were there—”
“I told him that I needed to take Mr. Lambley home, and I left him there in shock,” Georgia said.
“No way!” Gail cried.
“It’s true,” Georgia said. “I left him hanging. What? Do you think we’d end up rolling around the terrace while Ren and Geoffrey were on the other side of a glass door?”
“I would,” Minerva offered.
“Are you going to stay and be the peanut gallery for the rest of the night?” Georgia asked.
“Only if it gets interesting,” the vampire said.
“Oh, Gail, if you like, I can tell you all about Mr. Lambley’s schedule and the best cleaners for all the furniture,” Georgia said with a wink.
Minerva gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes and stretched like a cat. Finally she folded her hands neatly and sat like an attentive little schoolgirl. “I promise to be good,” she said sweetly.
“I don’t care if you’re bad or good, just be quiet!” Georgia said. “I hope you’re not drinking anymore tonight. Seriously, do I need to make a call?”
Minerva shook her head. Georgia waited patiently to make certain that the giddy vampire was indeed keeping her promise to be quiet. Gail took over as the energetic one, practically bouncing in her seat as she waited for any further details.
“You sure you don’t want to hear about the amazing dry cleaner in Brighton?” Georgia asked. She kept a straight face even as Gail’s eyes practically fell out of their sockets. Georgia milked the suspense by taking a drink and checking her phone. After one more sly little look over her screen, she said, “Well, I did head back after tucking Mr. Lambley in. I mean, I had to know more . . .”
Georgia stood frozen in the pool of light from the streetlamp in front of the Intercontinental. The first rays of the August sun were threatening to poke over the buildings but weren’t quite enough to flip off the nighttime sentinels. Every time she tried to move a foot closer, she shuffled back toward the curb until she finally gave up and started walking back toward downtown and civilization. She hadn’t made it twenty feet down the street before the sight of a rat scurrying from a dumpster to a storm drain made her jump and turn right back around.
“Grow a spine, woman,” she muttered. This time she made it within a foot of the door before wheeling back around. This time the door swung open to reveal a tall, slim figure in leather pants and a tight-fitting shirt.
He stared down at her bemusedly from under a perfectly untamed curl and smiled just enough to tease her with a fang. “Well, this is a surprise,” Steve said.
“Where is Ren?”
“Cleaning up. He told me that someone was skulking by the door. I was hoping, but I didn’t think it would really be you.”
“Well, Mr. Lambley passed out early tonight. I think there was a bit too much brandy in his blood. I couldn’t sleep so I thought—I dunno, I thought I’d finish the conversation.”
“Did you and Gingersnaps have a good laugh at my expense? I am the Jaeger who thinks humans have souls, after all.”
“What?” Georgia said. “No! We talked about Dracula in the movies and how he was an oily, home-wrecking sack of undead shit. I’m not really one to comment on existential vampire issues. All I want to know is why you think you’re so much like me and to find out the rest of your story.”
“Do you want to come in or talk out here by the dumpster?” Steve asked.
She let him lead her back up the stairs. She stared in wonder as he stepped effortlessly into an early-morning dust mote without so much as a flinch. Instead of going into his penthouse by the front door, he led her to a fire escape and pointed toward the roof. “I’m a sucker for a good sunrise. How about you?” he asked.
“This is so weird,” she said as they climbed up to meet the sun. The bottles and towels had been dutifully cleaned, so Steve ended up perching on the edge of the hot tub to watch the light creep across the Boston skyline.
She watched the light play against his washed-out face and light up his dark eyes. The warmth of the early-morning glow gave some life to his features and highlighted his sharp jaw and the toned lines of his arms. When he was stripped of his suits and hair gel, Georgia could finally notice Steve’s dimples and adorably girly eyelashes, as well as the overall smoothness in his quirky face.
“You were just a baby when you—”
“Died?” he finished. “Well, they say war is a young man’s sport. I guess you finally see me as they see me. To them I’m just a baby too.”
“Well, you aren’t even one, right?” she asked.
Steve shook his head. “I’m getting there fast enough though. I’ve tried playing their games and being all that they expected me to be, but it hasn’t worked yet.”
“Here’s a novel idea—just be yourself,” Georgia offered as she finally sat beside him. Together they watched more of the warm light pour onto the decking.
“That’s some solid advice. Did you get it from a fortune cookie?” he asked.
“Probably.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes more. Finally Steve started to scratch the back of his hand and sigh at the faint red patches just showing up along his knuckles. Georgia reached in her purse and pulled out a tube of burn ointment.
“I’ve learned to carry this around,” she said softly as she worked it into his joints. “We should probably go inside.”
“I don’t want to give in. It makes me feel so inhuman,” he said softly.
“Well, news flash, you are a vampire,” Georgia sighed. “Look, if you don’t want to go in, I’ll just get Ren. I’m sure he can convince you.”
“All right, all right,” he sighed.
As they slipped inside, a rather surprised-looking Japanese man nearly dropped the glass he was drying in the kitchen. “So it is a guest,” he said. “Is there anything I need to prepare, master?” Ren asked.
“Just go to bed.”
“As you wish,” Ren said, but he didn’t move as quickly as Georgia was used to. Instead, he stared at her for an agonizing few seconds before ducking out the door.
“Claudia picked me not just because I was a good old American Jew-boy, but because I somehow was immune to vampire’s mist,” he started again.
“I got that much already,” she said.
“The mind protects itself from trauma. When a vampire is born, they forget the feelings of being human. They forget the pain of dying. Even the Pendragons don’t remember their transition. They just remember waking up,” Steve said. “The problem is that all that confusion, all that blissful amnesia, is triggered by the same sort of power that allows vampires to control humans. If you’re immune in life, you are in death as well.”
Georgia watched closely as his face turned even paler than usual and he sort of staggered until he could steady himself on the counter. As his eyes glazed over, the human drew closer to touch his arm and make sure he was still even conscious. Even the slightest touch made him jump.
“You remember—”
“It’s a terrible thing to remember your own death, especially when it was slow and drawn-out and painful. I felt this thing growing inside of me, taking me over, and I remember begging for hours for the agony to end. I felt my last breath, and I remember just how weak it was, and how I was cold and alone. I—I’m sorry, there really aren’t quite the right words to describe it.”
“So you are like Mr. Sugar?”
“No, he’s a stillborn. The vampire never killed him. I don’t know how he can stand it. I just remember my human life ending and my vampire one beginning. My family thinks I have an overactive imagination, but I know I lived that life. I know I was once human. I’m sure it helps sell their whole claim that they’ve changed and become more accepting, but there are those in my family that just wish I could either learn their truth or disappear. I keep thinking that if I’d only been taken by the Pendragons that it somehow would have been different.”
“And that’s why you’re so jealous of Mr. Lambley?” she asked.
“Well, that, and he gets to take you home every night.”
“You do know that there is nothing like that between Mr. Lambley and me, right?” Georgia asked. “I’m home with him every night because I work there and that’s my whole being-under-his-protection clause. You know, that thing that keeps me from being a late-night snack to other vampires?”
“But I see the way you look at him.”
“Oh, come on—” Georgia started.
“No, nothing like that,” Steve said quickly. “All I mean is that when you look at him, you aren’t afraid.”
“He’s my boss, and he only tried to attack me once or twice, and he has no fangs to bite me even if he did lose control again. I have to take care of him! You really can’t be afraid of someone who needs you that much.”
“I just wanted you to know why I could never attack you. I know you have the same curse I did. No matter how much I would want to, I know that if I hurt you, I can never take it away.”
“That’s the problem, Steve. Don’t you get it? In life there shouldn’t be a happy magic eraser to make your problems go away. You need to learn that your actions have consequences and do them right the first time, or just learn from your mistakes and make them better. You’ve had it so easy up until now.”
“Easy?” he snapped. “I’ve been stuck with memories that nobody should have, and if you think I want to just magically erase all my problems, well, I—maybe I used to, but it gets old really fast when you can’t be with someone without them forgetting you. Maybe you despise me, sweetheart, but at least it’s something real, something that evolves!”
“Steve, we keep going round and round,” Georgia said. “I know you’re alone and I know you have issues, but can you honestly expect me to take on a relationship with someone with nearly a century of baggage? I mean, what will this even lead to? I’ll be dead in doggy years to you and old and wrinkly in a blink of an eye.”
“Would you give up on something wonderful just because it’s going to end? Everything comes to an end, sweetheart. It’s not like it’s your problem anyway. Look at it from my point of view. I’m the one falling for the mayfly. It’s not like you’ll have to go on with the empty gaping hole inside!”
Steve stormed halfway across his apartment and then started pacing furiously around the couch. Georgia’s face softened a bit as she saw him gnaw on his lip in that adorably awkward way Mr. Lambley liked to do as well when he was upset.
“You are exhausting to argue with, you know,” Georgia finally sighed.
“You are rude and difficult and frustrating . . .” Steve growled. His voice trailed off as Georgia dropped her purse on the floor and sauntered over slowly.
“Keep going,” she said as she placed an arm over each of his shoulders. “Tell me how you really feel.”
He looked down at her chest, her bare shoulders, and the way one camisole strap had slipped down her arm. His gaze kept dodging hers and instead focused on the little butterfly earrings in her ears and the curve of her backside in her jeans.
“Your hair was in style fifty years ago, and you dress like a hooker on top and a tomboy on the bottom,” he said.
“Mmmhmm, you really do know how to sweet-talk,” she said as she leaned up to his ear. She then breathed slowly, carefully, all around the delicate curves of cartilage. “And I think you are an entitled, undead, obsessive asshole,” she whispered.
He started to protest, but words failed him as she followed her comment by sliding lower and rubbing the bridge of her nose down his neck and nuzzling right into a comfy place along the collarbone. She smiled as she felt his back stiffen and he had to shift his weight to adjust his pants.
“Do you really hate me that much?” he finally choked out as she slid her face back up and started tracing the edge of his jaw with her cheek.
She moved her mouth right next to his. “No, I don’t hate you,” she started. He held his breath and finally met her gaze. “But it’s not like I love you either,” she finished.
He closed his eyes, and his shoulders slumped. They snapped back open suddenly as, for the first time, Georgia’s lips pressed against his and her tongue forced its way into his mouth. For a second he limply pushed her back, but his arms caved as one of her hands slid off his shoulder and started making its way hungrily down to his waist. He let her mouth explore his thoroughly and come up with air before he dared to start protesting. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Look, you have two choices here,” she said flatly as she yanked the top of his fly and slid her fingers around the button. “You can keep talking, or we can go to your room.”
Steve grabbed her by the waist and jerked her forward, quickly covering her mouth with his own and deftly preventing any buzz-killing conversation opportunities. He was rewarded with Georgia swinging both legs up around his hips, facilitating easy transport to his room in the back. Neither of them said a word as they collapsed into his mattress, instead, they focused with near-military precision on the fastest way to unbutton, unbuckle, and undress.
Georgia did smile as she discovered that underneath the designer threads, there was a fairly sculpted chest and the absence of any completely unappealing bodily surprises. She took a moment to run her hands down his back and breathed a sigh of relief that she didn’t snag a load of hair. Meanwhile, her undead companion took a fair bit of time scientifically analyzing the exact circumference of her breasts and thoroughly verified that she had neither any unwanted lumps nor silicone underneath her perky little nipples.
Georgia didn’t make the poor soul wait as she flipped him over and jumped on top of him. Steve tried his best to stem the tide of excitement, but the whole messy affair ended up lasting only a few violent minutes before both of them were lying exhausted and giggling next to each other.
“Well, that was something,” Georgia said as they both stared at the same water stain in the ceiling plaster.
“I’ve never quite . . . yeah,” he stammered out.
“A little excited?” Georgia teased. “Oh come on, I know they don’t remember it, but you’ve had to have gotten some practice.”
Steve continued to stare at the ceiling. “What just happened?” he asked incredulously.
Georgia rolled back on top of his chest and started toying with the little wisps of hair there. “I got sick of arguing with you,” she said. “I figured I’d try something different.”
“That was definitely not what I was expecting,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her.
“Are you complaining?”
“No,” Steve said quickly.
“Then shut up, and we might even do this again sometime.”
She curled up against him and rested her head against his chest. As she listened to his lack of heartbeat, her eyelids grew more and more heavy. Soon the whooshing sound gave way to soothing strains of moody jazz and the faraway voice of some silky-sounding siren.
Georgia snapped her eyes open as she felt something drift over her shoulder. She blinked as a cat jumped from her chest and padded off toward the door. It was a huge ginger thing, with huge luminous eyes and a tail that twitched relentlessly.
