Duncan Page 12

  The man made an impatient noise. “Enough, Milford. I’ve already told you, I’m not the devil. Doesn’t your God heal as well? Now, do you want my bargain or not? You live, and in return, you serve as my aide.”

  Duncan stared. “But you’ve already healed me.”

  The man smiled gently. “So I have.”

  Well, this was vexing, Duncan thought. For this was no trick. The worst of the pain was gone. And not only the pain from the wound which would most certainly have killed him, but the ache in the leg he’d broken as a child. The break had healed poorly and had pained him every day since. And yet, lying here in the mud and blood, he felt better than he could remember since childhood. And perhaps this was a gift from the heavens, for the stranger did not bear the likeness of any of the demons Duncan had seen in the good books, nor did he carry himself like one in the way the ministers warned of in their sermons. Even more, he gave no indication he would take back his healing if Duncan refused the bargain, which a servant of the devil surely would have done.

  But at the same time, Duncan could not, in all good faith, refuse the bargain since the stranger had in truth healed him. Vexing indeed.

  “For how long?” he asked suddenly.

  The man raised a fine brow in question.

  “How long would I have to serve you?”

  The man shrugged. “For the rest of your life or mine,” he said, and turned to survey the battlefield once again.

  Duncan sighed. He’d expected as much. Not that it mattered. He had nothing and no one to go home to anymore. He doubted his home was even there any longer.

  “Very well,” he said. “I agree to your bargain.”

  “One more thing,” the stranger said, turning toward Duncan with a wide grin.

  Duncan froze beneath the sudden weight of that black gaze. His heart began to pound and his breathing became short, as if his body already knew something that his mind had not yet grasped. Some part of him knew he should be gibbering in fear, crawling on hands and knees, if that’s what it took to flee this inhuman monster before him. Instead, he lay and stared, almost in wonder, as the man’s grin grew fangs as long as any red wolf’s, and as the silver light of his eyes began to glow like the stars themselves. Perhaps the stranger had bespelled him somehow, or perhaps he was dead after all, and this entire conversation was nothing but a dying fancy.

  “What are you?” he heard himself ask.

  “I am Vampire,” the man said. “And if you choose to remain with me, you will be, too.”

  “I don’t know what that is,” Duncan said, amazed at his own calmness.

  The man—no, the vampire—laughed. “It is a wondrous thing,” he said, then lowered his head, staring intently at Duncan once more.

  “Are you . . . human?” Duncan asked.

  The vampire lifted one shoulder. “I was born human. I still am, in a way. But becoming Vampire changes you. Makes you more of whatever you were. You will still be Duncan Milford, but you will be more, as well. Stronger, sharper, more powerful.”

  Duncan thought about that. “Could I ask a boon of you?”

  The stranger seemed surprised by this, but he nodded. “You may ask.”

  “If I go with you, if I become this . . . vampire as you are, I would ask that you permit me one final task before we leave.”

  The vampire tilted his head in curiosity. “What task is that?”

  “Vengeance,” Duncan said softly.

  The silver in the vampire’s eyes gleamed so brightly Duncan feared it would bring others running. “Done,” the vampire said. He stood and offered his hand.

  Duncan grasped it and felt himself pulled to his feet as if he weighed nothing at all. “What do you I call you, sir?”

  “Raphael,” the vampire said. “My name is Raphael.” He stepped back and made a sweeping gesture. “Lead the way, Duncan Milford. Your vengeance awaits.”

  They walked most of the night. Duncan had worried at first about sentries, about being labeled a deserter or worse. But Raphael had assured him they would not be seen, and they weren’t. Several times they passed within feet of a sentry, once walking past the command tent itself. And yet no one seemed aware they were even there. Animals were a different matter entirely. The horses sensed them, moving about and snorting restlessly when they slipped through the picket lines, but Raphael and Duncan were long gone before anyone came to check the animals, assuming anyone had bothered.

  As they walked, Raphael told Duncan something of who he was, of what it meant to be Vampire.

  “As your Sire,” Raphael said as they traveled down an abandoned country road, “I will teach you how to survive, how to use whatever gifts the rebirth bestows upon you.”

  “Rebirth?”Duncan repeated.

  The big vampire nodded. “That’s what we call it, for that’s what it is. Everything you were before will change. You’ll leave everyone you know behind, even family. Do you have family, Duncan?”

  A wave of grief swept over Duncan, nearly drowning him, and it was several steps before he could speak again. Raphael kept his silence, and Duncan was grateful for it. Finally, he said, “I did once. No longer.”

  Raphael said nothing at first, as if pondering the many ways a man could lose his family. “This vengeance you seek, it’s for your family.” He said it as fact, not in question, but Duncan answered anyway.

  “Yes.” He swallowed the hard knot of loss clogging his throat. “My wife and children.”

  It was several minutes before Raphael spoke again. “That’s a heavy burden for any man to bear.”

  Duncan nodded, then studied the vampire closely, wondering if he, too, had lost someone. “Did you leave family behind, sir?”

  A fierce look crossed Raphael’s face, and Duncan thought perhaps he’d gone too far, presumed too much. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Raphael spoke first. “My parents,” he said abruptly. “Though my father was no loss to me, I grieved for my mother. My sister, too, or so I thought for a time.”

  Duncan was curious about that last bit, but decided against pressing his luck any further. “You said you’re newly arrived in this country, sir? You picked a bad time for it.”

  “In truth, we arrived a few years past. It’s taken this long to get settled and decide to move west.”

  “We?”Duncan questioned somewhat nervously. “There’s more of you?”

  Raphael must have heard the nerves. He grinned down at Duncan, his eyes going that strange silvery color again. “If you mean vampires, there’s more than a few, though humans are largely unaware of us. My own group is small, just those I brought with me from the old country. You needn’t worry, though. They’re completely loyal to me.”

  “Might I ask where they are, sir?”

  “Stop siring me, boy. If you must, my title’s lord, for that’s what I am, a vampire lord.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Duncan said dutifully, though it seemed odd to say it. There were no such titles in this country. The founders had left behind that sort of thing, but perhaps vampires were different. “Do you have many land holdings, then, my lord?” he inquired.

  Raphael barked a laugh. “And there you’ve pricked my pride but good, Duncan.”

  “I didn’t mean any—”

  “Don’t apologize. You’ve the right of it. I’ve nothing but a few loyal men and a purse filled with coin. The men were carefully chosen, and the coin comes easily. For the rest of it, be assured, Duncan Milford, I will rule an empire before I’m through.”

  Duncan nodded in agreement, and the two of them continued for some time without speaking. The moon had set and the night had begun to take on the stillness that precedes the dawn, when Raphael verged suddenly from the road, heading deep into the trees. Duncan followed, not knowing what else to do. He’d chosen the route they were taking back to his home, but they had many miles to go yet, and he wasn’t familiar with the lands they were passing through. Raphael seemed to know where he was going, however, weaving his way through the thick fores
t until they reached a small hut. Hidden beneath some low-hanging branches, it was a rough-built structure of unfinished logs and mud, but it looked sturdy enough and was most likely used by hunters in summer. Since it was winter now, the place was empty as far as Duncan could tell, and the sturdy lock on the door didn’t invite visitors. But Raphael didn’t hesitate. He walked right up and twisted the thick metal lock as if it were paper, then tossed it aside.

  Duncan stared from the now useless padlock to Raphael and back again.

  “You’ll do the same soon enough,” Raphael assured him, then pushed the door open and stepped inside. Duncan followed more slowly and found Raphael giving the place a critical survey. “I’ve slept in better,” he said. “And worse. This will do.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and said, “We’ve just enough time. Have a seat, Duncan.” He didn’t wait, but dropped to the floor, pressing his back up against the wall.

  Duncan shrugged and sat beside him, wondering what was coming next.

  “There are things we must discuss before going forward,” Raphael began. “I was made Vampire unwilling, or at least unknowing. No one inquired as to whether I wanted it or not, but I tell you this, I do not regret it. It is an incomparable gift. I have lived nearly three hundred years, Duncan. I have power that you would not believe if I told you, but that you will understand when you join us. There are many things you will have to learn about being Vampire, but the most important is this. In order to survive, you will need to drink human blood.”

  Duncan’s eyes widened in horror.“My lord! I have fought in war, as you well know, but I’ve no desire to survive by killing innocents!”

  Raphael shook his head. “It is not necessary to kill the humans you choose to drink from, Duncan. Moreover, once you become Vampire, your bite itself will become enjoyable to them. Some will actually invite you to drink their blood in exchange for this pleasure, though there will be times you will have to take what you need. But you will never have to kill for it.”

  Duncan looked away, mulling over what he’d just heard. This certainly cast a fresh light on the decision he’d made. Could he do this? Could he bite another human being and drink his blood?

  “Again, I will not make you Vampire without your willing consent, Duncan. You may still, with my blessing, consider the healing a gift and return to whatever waits for you. Or you can go forward with me and the others. The choice is yours, but you must make it now.”

  Duncan stared through the same empty doorway Raphael had, seeking his own past and his future . . . and found nothing at all. His past had been stolen when his family was killed, and his future had died along with them.

  “I’ll do it, my lord,” he whispered, then repeated more strongly, “I’ll do it.”

  “Then we must begin, for the sun is not far off. An important lesson, Duncan. The sun is our enemy. It traps us in slumber through the day, and if we are exposed to its light, we will burn unto ash if left there. It is perhaps our greatest vulnerability.”

  “Can we be killed otherwise, my lord?”

  Raphael nodded. “A stake through the heart, or a sword, if wielded properly. Fire, if the damage is too great to be healed. And no one, not even a vampire, can survive having his head removed.”

  Duncan laughed nervously. “Good to know, my lord.”

  Raphael clapped him on the shoulder, then stood and looked around. “Lie over there,” he said

  “My lord?”Duncan asked, looking up at him in confusion.

  “Lie down,” Raphael repeated. “It will be easier for both of us.”

  Duncan’s heart stuttered a bit, despite his earlier words. “Now?”

  “Now, Duncan,” Raphael said gently.

  Duncan rose to his feet. It was nearly too dark to see, but he could make out a lone cot against the far wall. It was little more than a wood frame and slats, not even a straw mattress. Whoever used the place in summer would have known better than to leave such a thing behind. It would have been crawling with vermin by the next season. He shuffled over to the cot, then reached down with one hand, putting weight on the slats to test their sturdiness. They gave a bit, but held, so he lowered himself down, thinking even this was better than the cold ground he’d slept on for the weeks since he’d been swept up by General Bragg’s march through Tennessee. He let out a weary breath and thought he could probably sleep, except—

  “Comfortable, Duncan?”

  “Er, yes, my lord.”

  Raphael loomed over him in the dark. “I’m going to bite you,” he said as he knelt next to the cot. “On the neck, because it’s fastest.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  “Only at first,” Raphael said with surprising honesty. “But after that, you’ll experience the pleasure of a vampire’s bite for the first and last time. Vampires cannot feed from each other, nor does their bite have the same effect as on a human.”

  Raphael turned Duncan’s head firmly to one side and held him there. His breath was hot as he drew closer, and Duncan’s heart kicked furiously in his chest. There was the touch of something hard and pointed, and then a pain as sharp as a knife slicing into his neck. He had one moment to think perhaps he’d been played for a fool, and then his blood heated and his body stiffened in a way it hadn’t in the months since his wife died. Some small part of his brain was telling him this was wrong, but it didn’t feel wrong. It felt . . . wondrous! And then he felt nothing at all.

  When Duncan woke, he lay still for a moment, listening, astonished at the multitude of sounds all around him. He turned his head at a scratching noise and knew there was a mouse scurrying along the wall, though he couldn’t see it. Outside, an owl swooped overhead, its wings a hard flutter of sound. Duncan smiled. It was as if he’d lived in only half the world until now, with the other half beyond his pitiful senses. But no longer.

  He stretched, feeling strong and limber, marveling again at the lack of pain or soreness. His grin stretched wider, and he wanted to throw his head back and laugh with a joy he hadn’t felt in years.

  “You’re awake.” Raphael ducked as he stepped through the doorway, and Duncan realized it was still night. Or was it?

  “How long did I sleep?” he asked.

  “Just the one day,” Raphael said. “You’ll sleep later into darkness than some of us at first, but my blood is powerful, and your strength will build up fast enough. After that, it’s up to you. No one can predict what gifts Vampire will bestow. We have to wait and see.”

  “This is gift enough,” Duncan said enthusiastically. He stood, testing his legs one at a time, twisting from side to side, and gave in to the urge to laugh.

  Raphael grinned back at him. “We’ve got to get going. There’s your vengeance to see to, and then we must rejoin the others.”

  Vengeance, Duncan thought. He straightened and faced his new master. “I’m ready, my lord.”

  * * * *

  Washington, D.C., present day

  Vengeance. It was the first thought Duncan had as he woke the next night. He couldn’t bring Lacey back for Emma, couldn’t take away the pain of her death. But he could bring vengeance against those who had wronged her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Falls Church, VA

  Emma sat perfectly straight, hands folded together in her lap. It had taken two days to get everything ready. Two days to arrange a proper farewell for the only person in the world who’d really mattered to her. The funeral director had been very kind, but there were so many decisions to make, things she’d never have thought of on her own.

  But despite the rush, despite the stress of arranging the funeral so quickly, it was all beautiful. And perfectly Lacey. The music, the flowers, even the casket with its bronze embellishments and beautiful mahogany wood.

  The soft swell of some of Lacey’s favorite music muted the murmur of whispered conversations all around her. It had been difficult to find the right songs for tonight. Lacey had always been a rock and roll kind of girl, her music better su
ited to roaring down the highway with the windows open and music blasting.

  Emma smiled sadly at the memory, and smoothed her skirt with nervous fingers. She’d worn her best black suit, her gray silk blouse, even the black Jimmy Choo pumps she’d bought on a dare from Lacey and then never worn, because they were too nice for work. And since Emma never went anywhere except work, they’d sat in her closet, still in the box, never worn until tonight. Lacey would have loved that the Jimmy Choos had been broken out for her funeral.

  Emma closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight of the casket any longer. She’d half expected Duncan to show up, but she was glad he hadn’t. She didn’t think she could deal with any vampires right now. Even knowing it wasn’t his fault, that blaming him for what Victor had done would be like blaming the guy next door for what someone across town had done. She still wasn’t ready to face him. Not yet.

  The burial wasn’t until tomorrow; that would be private, just between her and Lacey. But Lacey had so many friends, and they’d all called Emma, wanting to participate somehow, to say good-bye. So, the funeral director had suggested this memorial. He’d called it a viewing, but Emma had refused to permit an open casket. Lacey would have hated that.

  Emma had arrived early and stood by the door at first, shaking hands, staring at faces she didn’t know as they said all the right things. They were Lacey’s friends, not hers. Lacey had always been so much more social than Emma. She’d made friends so easily.

  And one of those friends had helped kill her. Actually, probably more than one, from what Duncan had said.

  But the people here tonight didn’t know that. They all thought it was an accident. That Lacey had lost control of her car and spun off the road on her way to visit someone back home. Of course, Lacey didn’t have anyone back home. There was no back home. But these people didn’t know that either.

  Emma opened her eyes and stared straight ahead, sitting on the bench in the front row where she’d taken refuge, unable to cope with anymore well-meaning strangers. She couldn’t take one more understanding smile, one more delicately dabbed tear, not even one more gentle handshake.