Chapter 14
London, England
1927
Marion walked quickly, heels echoing on the cement. To all the world she appeared a mortal woman, carrying a sleeping child home after a long day.
Lucas watched her, as emotionally engaged in the scene before him as he would be if he was watching a badly acted play. Actually, that summed up Marion nicely: a bad play that never ended.
She shifted the girl's form closer to her, trying to lift her higher, so her face would be tucked against Marion’s neck. The heavy red cloak slipped down to show a pale cheek and Marion took the time to stop, cover the girl's fair hair back up and settle her exactly how she wanted.
There was never logic to anything Marion did. She acted in the moment.
Her ‘children’ learned or they died. There was to be no crying and no complaining. No whining and certainly no running away. Marion liked the idea of dissent, that her children were individuals and would love her despite her sadistic coddling, but they could never give her what she really needed.
A foil. Someone to smack her down and keep her in line.
The wind rose as Marion stepped out onto the bridge that overlooked the Thames. Her hair lashed at her face and swirled about her like a mad ghost, the curls being pulled and loosened haphazardly. Again the cloak slipped and Marion left it, focusing on the wind and the shimmering water below her.
It was a full moon and the water was inky black and reflective, choppy because of the current and breeze. She looked over the ledge then laughed at something. The woman was mad.
She put the bundle down on the ground. The arms and legs instantly splaying open in a way Marion undoubtedly disapproved of. She made a stern tsking noise and wrapped the girl tightly in the cloak, swaddling her in the dense fabric.
Mothers did that to soothe their babies and so she did it for her children too. Of course, the girl was twelve so it looked a bit odd, but Marion wouldn’t notice.
She sat back on her heels, the knot complete, a velvet mummy with only her face exposed to the night. Marion put her hands on the cold concrete and leaned down to give the girl a gentle kiss on the lips.
For pity’s sake.
Sighing, she picked her up, walking confidently back to the rail. With an effortless heave she threw the girl over the bridge, like a woman dumping a chamber pot out the window.
Lucas moved out of the shadows and Marion whirled around, a kid caught with a sweet after daddy had told her no.
With a smile on her face she walked to him, hands clasped in front of her.
“What happened, Marion?”
“Nothing.” Still smiling, she shrugged. Her breath fogged the air, her body still warm from the girl’s blood.
“How many is that this year?”
Marion licked her lips nervously. “Two. She was the second this year, just two. And her death was a mistake. She became sick.”
The lies were just insulting. “Marion, it's March. And I know she was neither ill nor a runaway.”
Marion looked genuinely frightened for a moment then gave another careless shrug. “What would you have me do Lucas? I see a pretty girl, she reminds me of Margaret and I try— I do try to take only the girls you allow, but sometimes I am overcome. It's the mother in me. I love too deeply, Lucas.” She sounded so pitiably sad.
Lucas looked into her eyes, rich brown eyes that were beseeching him so prettily and frowned. This would end. One way or another. “Marion, there can be no more mistakes. You are to make a companion.”
She gasped in horror and her hand flew to her mouth in shock, her little fangs flashing like diamonds. “Non!”
“There have been too many accidents and you are too restless. It's dangerous for you and work for me. I won't spend my time policing you. You will make someone to be your equal. I want to meet the person you choose as consort. I will be there for the change, ensure that a sufficient amount of your life-force goes into their making. I want them to be more powerful than you. You will become Second to whomever you choose. Do you understand me?”
Lucas saw fury flash in her eyes. But she was too powerful to be wandering around murdering at will. Too unpredictable. She needed someone to tame her, and that wouldn’t happen if her chosen wasn’t powerful enough to contain her.
She gave a laugh that pierced him like shards of glass. “You want me to be better behaved? You think to chain me like a dog? How dare you! I am six hundred years old. I try to live as you bid me but you ask too much. It is unnatural and perverse, Lucas. I did love that girl. I love them all!” Huge tears welled in her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks.
If he killed her now, he could go.
Marion decided to try a different tactic, “Please Lucas, for what we had, the love you bore us, do not take this from me. I know it must be hard for you, alone for so long and to see what I have with my children, that special bond that only a mother can have... but hurting me won't make you less alone or happier.” She waited, gaging the effect she might have had on him.
And there it was. The reason she lived. ‘don’t kill me because of the love you bore us.’ How many deaths did he allow because he’d once loved?
“Marion, I do not kill you in sufferance of the past we share, but the world is changing and little girls cannot disappear the way they have these last hundreds of years. The humans have come too far, it risks exposing us all. None of these girls are Margaret and they never shall be. You must change. Find someone to care for you. Bring him or her to me and I shall oversee the transformation. You have a year. Find someone.
“A year!” she screamed, “You want me to choose a partner for eternity in one year? You want me to be miserable. Admit it, you only wish to curb me because my power is a threat to you. Everyone else is gone, except for me. Don't pretend that I am so stupid to not see it! That you force the second most powerful vampire in the world to give up power on pain of death, only so that there is no risk to your throne.”
“Treasonous words, Marion.”
“True words,” she mocked him, “The world is changing, Lucas. You cannot rule with absolute power as before. These humans have evolved, there is democracy now,” she said democracy like it contained letters she had never heard before.
“That has nothing to do with our race. I do not fear you Marion. We know the outcome of a contest.” He moved before she could react, invading her personal space and cupping his hand against her face gently: a parody of tenderness. His hand moved downwards, touching the lean lines of her neck and he knew she understood the threat, he'd rip her head off before she could do a thing to defend herself.
He knew his power burned her. Marion held herself still, pushing all of her energy into her flesh, forcing herself to be just as hard as him. He gave her a sad little smile, his power running over her, forcing her flesh to softness. Then his fingers squeezed her throat.
“I will rip your head off of your swanlike neck, if you do not come to me with a consort within the year.” He released her and stepped away, vanishing before she could tell him what an utter bastard he was.
For the next two months Marion was in a fury, leaving a bloodbath behind her, killing anyone who would go with her, savagely tearing their throats out to display her frustration with Lucas. She was like a dog who peed in the house when her owner left her alone for too long.
He had done enough to spare her. Last chance and if she didn’t fall into line he’d break his word and kill her. He waited for her in her apartment.
He saw her wrinkle her nose at the smell. She walked into the dining room, where the smell worsened, seeing chairs filled with corpses. Flies buzzed around their heads, resting on their eyes and mouths.
Lucas strode into the room and grabbed her quickly. She tried to react, managing to hit him with one fist before he picked her up and threw her onto the dining room table.
She landed on top of a dead sailor with a thud and recoiled away from him, scooting backwards, misjudging the distance so that she plopped off the side of
the table and into the lap of a small dead boy with dark hair and dirty clothes. Marion scrambled to her feet.
Lucas came towards her again, slowly and precisely.
“Kneel.” His voice was like thunder.
She complied. He saw her comprehend.
Her eyes dropped to the carpet, nipples pebbling against the bodice of her gown. “Lucas”, she breathed, the word filled with desire. Even as she feared for her life she desired him.
It was almost irritating.
He grabbed her from the floor and threw her into the wall, her cry of pain sounding suspiciously like pleasure. She sagged but kept her feet and waited for him to come to her.
“You have fouled my home,” she said, and it sounded flirtatious.
Marion pulled up her skirts, baring her legs and thighs. She made her stance wider, put her hand between her legs and touched herself.
Now that was irritating.
“Lucas, Lucas, come to me.” Her hands lifted to her breasts, lifting them as an offering to him and pinching her nipples. He didn't move.
Centuries ago he would have taken her roughly, goaded on her by her frenzied sexuality. She'd had no inhibitions with him, had sunk lower and lower to try and keep him.
“I have rescinded your year.”
Her eyes widened. “You won’t! Break your word to Margaret? Everyone will know you for a liar. You jeopardize your own throne if you kill me.”
“You are wanton and cruel, I give you one last choice to find a master who can contain you. But I will wait for you no longer. Come.” He held out his hand and she reached for him, making sure the hand she outstretched was the one that still glistened with her juices.
He ignored it, gathering her bony frame close to him, stretching his will over hers, transporting them from London to San Francisco in less than a minute.
He looked around at the houses and shops, the hills that were overlaid by streets. This city was a symbol of man subduing mother nature.
That never seemed to turn out well.
They stood in front of a building, the acrid scent of cigarettes and cigars, alcohol, human sweat and lust overlaid everything. Raucous calls from both men and women rolled out in greeting.
The door was guarded by a large human male. He nodded curtly at them and opened the door. It was dark inside and they went down a dark hallway lined with closed doors. The sounds of sex and violence drifted out from behind the doors as they made their way to the main theater.
The theater was filled with tables, lots of men and a smattering of women. It was Prohibition and everyone was drinking with abandon, enjoying alcohol while they had access to it. Lucas watched Marian respond to the crowd around her, losing herself to the beat and pulse of the patron’s hearts and desires.
He went to a table right before the stage, a reserved sign and an opened bottle of wine set before them. He held out a chair for her and she sat, smoothing her hair and shifting agitatedly in her seat. After 600 years she still responded like a mortal- quick to anger and fuck, always looking to laugh or cry, desperately seeking more.
But Lucas knew the truth: eventually there was no more.
He heard a groan from the stage and looked up from the table to see the performance nearing the end. Lucas presumed it was almost over, he’d heard one of the men have a climax and the other one was close, if the amount of grunting and writhing was any indication.
Lucas looked back to the table. Hopefully the wine would be decent.
Marion reached out her hand and touched his, a beseeching look in her eyes. She shook her head a little and he saw tears in her eyes.
He flicked a glance to the stage, where the men had left, a lull before the next act began.
“So wise, Lucas. Knowing everyone’s wants but your own. You bring me here and play me like a fiddle. I witnessed something beautiful on that stage. What did you see?”
“I have no interest in making you believe I desire something from you. I want nothing but your compliance.”
“What about my happiness?”
He slanted her a narrow glance.
“What about your happiness?” she said.
“My wants. My happiness…. For someone who might not survive the evening you are very philosophical.”
She jerked back from him. “If I become as cold as you then I will allow you to kill me in truth!”
“Let us hope I am still around to see it. Look now. Here is your chance.”
Marion looked around her like something was about to jump out at her.
A few people shuffled out of the theater. Two men next to her rose and walked out, going towards a door that was held open by a woman wearing only a pair of lacy underwear.
Marion watched the men embrace and he knew she felt loneliness like a stake through the heart.
Then the crowd quieted and a woman came out onto the stage. She was fully dressed but wearing men's clothes, her shirt a crisp white and unbuttoned several buttons down, exposing a shadow of cleavage. She had short dark hair and was so severe with her hard gaze and bright red lips.
Marion stared at her, transfixed.
“Her name is Rachel,” Lucas said.
Such presence from a mere human was very unusual. Rachel stood still, waiting, until another woman came out, crawling forward on hands and knees. She was naked, large breasts swaying with each forward motion, blond hair loosed and flowing over her shoulders. She held a riding crop between her teeth, gaze fixed on Rachel.
She stopped at Rachel’s feet and sat backwards on her knees, face up tilted so that Rachel could take the crop, her face glazed with adoration and submission.
Rachel reached down a hand and pulled the blond to her feet. She didn't take the crop, but left it clenched between the woman’s teeth. Rachel made a shushing noise and Marion reacted to the voice, leaning forward slightly, eyes swaying closed.
One would think he had brought her to a hypnotist she was acting so entranced.
Rachel stroked her hands down the woman's shoulders to her breasts where she pinched the women's nipples cruelly. The blond shivered and made another muffled noise. Rachel snapped her fingers and a young man appeared at her side, carrying a velvet cushion. Marion rose from her seat a little, trying to see what was on the cushion.
“Nipple clamps and a fleschette,” Lucas explained patiently.
She darted a quick glance at him, looking slightly suspicious.
The show passed fairly quickly, small rivulets of blood sliding towards the edge of the stage and dripping to the floor as Rachel lightly cut into the naked, and now clamped, woman.
And now Rachel stood on the stage alone, the bloody woman led off to recover, the audience stunned to silence by the violent performance. She slapped the fleschette against her thigh and waited.
Her posture was casual, her attitude beyond confident as she waited. She glanced at Lucas and he inclined his head slightly. Rachel’s gaze turned to Marion, locked on her and for a moment their roles were reversed. Marion was the frightened human and Rachel was the Hunter who had captured her prey with her gaze.
Marion stood and walked to the stage, extended her hand and it was grasped loosely as the cruel woman jumped to the floor gracefully. She inclined her head, “I'm Rachel.”
Marion smiled and blushed, “Rachel. I'm Marion.”
Rachel cocked her head to the side and slid her hands into her pants pockets, watching expectantly.
They stood that way for a moment, silent and assessing and then Marion laughed, a sound so fresh and happy, that for the barest moment Lucas thought he felt a tiny twinge of envy.
Rachel smiled back and gestured towards the rooms where they could be alone. Marion dropped her hand and began to walk out of the main room, sashaying her hips in a bold invitation.
Rachel glanced at him again before nodding—a bargain struck. Then she followed Marion into one of the rooms.
Lucas glanced at his wine, decided to leave it and disappeared.