Angel's Curse (23 page)

Drake held up some sketches. They weren’t on paper. Rather it was some sort of cured animal hide. At first I thought they were pictures of vampire porn, but as I looked closer I realised they were the vampire equivalent of the Kama Sutra, positions designed to allow sex, and the sharing of blood, to be performed at the same time. The sketches were quite old and I wondered if the male vampire was Drake. There were certain similarities.

“It’s not me, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said. “They’re older even than I. Sadly I’ve never found one whom I thought could master these, but you, it seems you
are
the master and
I
am the student. Perhaps together …”

Some of the positions required a great degree of flexibility and dexterity by both parties, and I was glad I was limber enough to consider attempting them. I only hoped Drake could match my flexibility, as he had my stamina and blood lust.

I let my fingertips tickle his spine. “Where do you want to start?”

He pulled one out of the pile and pointed to it. “This one I think.”

I studied the sketch for a moment and sat up. Drake climbed back on the bed to meet me and the sketch fell to the floor, where it was hard to see.

“That’s going to be a bit of a nuisance,” I said.

I leaned over Drake to look at the sketch and used my hand to
pull up
a three dimensional image, placing it at the end of the bed, about a metre in the air. It slowly rotated so we could see what limbs were being placed where, and when we were in position I let the image drop to the ground. It seemed awkward at first, but once our rhythm was in sync it exceeded my expectations. My whole body was alive and tingling with an almost orgasmic feeling. Every fibre of my being was ignited with such pleasure that I thought I would transcend this plane of existence at any moment.

We were interrupted by a strange sound I’d not heard before. We managed to ignore it until dirt from the compacted ceiling began to rain down around us. The canopy of the bed was made from a strong, sturdy material, and it protected us from the shower of debris, allowing us to continue in our pursuit of pleasure. It seemed hours before we were finally finished, lying back on the bed, marvelling at how two vampires had actually worked out
that
position in the first place, and stayed still long enough for someone to sketch it.

“Remarkable,” Drake said, leaning in to kiss me again.

I rolled my eyes and smiled. “Which one now?”

Before Drake could answer someone started pounding on the door.

“Drake, are you all right? There’s been a cave-in!”

The pounding continued and Drake snarled, angry at the interruption.

“
Leave me!
” he yelled, then grinned wickedly at me. “I’m otherwise engaged.”

I laughed. “Would you like me to fix it? The cave-in, I mean.”

“Please. Otherwise they might break down the door.”

I tapped the tip of his nose with a finger and the ceiling was solid once more, as was the area in the hallways and adjacent rooms. I wove something
more
into the soil to give it extra strength and ensure a natural cave-in would not happen again. I wanted no more interruptions.

“
Now
can we get back to what we were doing?” I purred, biting his ear gently.

He pulled me to him and held up another sketch for us to study, before we attempted what was shown.

“
Marvellous,
” he said, and I laughed.

18.
Another Birthday

The weeks passed. I was so caught up in the lust, as was Drake, I had forgotten everyone and everything else. It was an addiction to us and we lost track of time. Even the other vampires had given up trying to coax Drake out of his chambers.

Eventually we crashed. We’d had no sleep and no food, apart from what we drank from each other, for too many weeks to recall — the solstice seemed months ago. I lay in Drake’s cold arms and we slept like the dead, as vampires
had
once slept. Nothing could rouse us and nobody tried.

In time we woke to the kind of sleep hangover people have when they’ve slept too long. I walked my fingers down Drake’s chest and he grabbed my hand pulling it away before it reached my desired location. I pouted.

“We need to feed,” he said.

He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hands through his hair. That simple gesture reminded me of something, but for the moment I couldn’t place it.

There seemed to be a lot of noise outside in the corridor. Drake pulled on his jeans, walked to the door and opened it.

“What’s going on?” he said.

“Nine-one-one,” someone said.

Drake nodded and closed the door. He retrieved the rest of his clothes and sat on the couch, getting dressed.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Where are you going?”

“Nine-one-one,” Drake said, as if that were all the explanation I required.

“I heard that already,” I said dryly, “but what does it mean?”

“We go to the temple to remember and mourn.”

“Remember what?” I asked in frustration. “
Mourn what?
”

“Nine-one-one. It wasn’t only mortals who died in the World Trade Centre. A whole clan was lost.”

“Oh my god,” I said. “Today is September eleven?”

Drake shrugged his shoulders. “Apparently.”

I remembered now why that simple gesture had seemed so familiar — Danny had done it often enough. Danny — how could I have forgotten him so easily? How could I have forgotten what I intended to do?

“I have to go,” I said.

“You don’t have to come along if you don’t want to,” Drake said as he pulled on his boots.

I shook my head. “You don’t understand. I have to
leave.
”

Before Drake could ask what I was talking about I blinked my body out of existence and transported myself behind the La’miere, near the service entrance. I thought there was less chance of my being seen out the back, and luckily there was no one there.

It had been so long since I’d last been here that they probably thought I’d simply left, heading somewhere else for a time. After all, they believed that my husband was rich, so I must be part of the jet-setting crowd. I could come and go as I pleased.

It was now time to return and let them know I’d be back for a short time, before heading off again. I walked the short distance to the front of the hotel and entered through the revolving doors.

“Helena,” Peter said. “You left without a word and I didn’t know where to forward your mail. There isn’t much, but I held onto it nonetheless.”

“Peter, thank you. I’m sorry I left so suddenly. Something came up that I couldn’t get out of. I think I’ll only be staying for a month or two before heading off again.”

Peter handed me my mail and a swipe card to access my room.

“It’s good to see you, Helena, although I have to say you look a bit flustered.”

“Yes, it was a difficult journey this time, and again
no bags!
”

“Everything is exactly as you left it. The housekeeping staff have kept your room in order.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

I headed to the elevator and as I was the only person in there, once the doors closed I transported myself directly into the room.

I sat on the edge of the bed and read the letter Danny had left me months before. I slowly slid off the bed onto the floor, remembering what Danny had said to me a year ago.
If we’re still alive on your next birthday, we’ll celebrate like no one else has ever celebrated before.

I was still alive, but Danny was gone, and the ache in my heart returned.

Curse all angels to hell!

“Happy Birthday!” I screamed in a fit of rage. “Here I am alone, Danizriel. Don’t you care? I can’t even get drunk or take drugs to numb the pain.
I can’t do anything to numb the pain! It never fully goes away.
”

There had been two men in my life recently, one was dead and one was, well, undead. One I loved with a passion, the other I did not — I had simply been lost in a mutual lust.

There’s nothing wrong with lust, it’s quite healthy,
the voice in my head said.

Love is better though,
I thought back at the voice.

Yeah, but your love is gone,
the voice replied.
You need to make a choice.

How do you choose between something that is good — love — and something that
feels
good — lust? I could continue to function normally — as normally as I could — being in love, but I couldn’t say the same for the lust. It was too addictive, and I was already aching to go back and get a fix.

I can’t do this anymore.

I’d already kicked one habit — cocaine. I didn’t want to lose myself to another that was surely just as dangerous.

“I don’t want to be
here
anymore. I don’t want to be a creature of habit. I should have died well over a year ago, before Danny found me.”

Somehow I felt I’d just been given a temporary living extension. Maybe it was so I could learn about love and true loss, or maybe it was just so I could debase myself even further with the mutual sharing of blood. I was disgusted with myself — that I’d sunk so low.

“Give me the daggers,” I said, and the daggers Drake had given me, to use in the fight against the archangels, appeared in my hands.

I dropped two to the floor, and grasping the third in my right hand slashed my left forearm again and again. There had to be some of Satan’s blood left on these old blades.

I just don’t want to go on anymore!

I tried the other two daggers and only succeeded in cutting a checkerboard into my arm. My clothes, the bed, the carpet and Danny’s letter were covered in my blood. The bleeding slowed and the wounds healed, leaving a crust of dried blood on my arm.

I leaned my head back against the bed and cried. I couldn’t even succeed in killing myself.

A knock on the door made me jump. If anyone came in and saw this mess they’d think someone had been murdered here. I grabbed a few tissues and wiped my eyes, then blew my nose.

“Clean up this mess,” I said, flicking a hand in the air.

Everything returned to its previous clean condition, including my clothes and the letter. I headed towards the door and, leaving the chain in place, opened it.

“Helena, there’s a delivery for you. I thought I’d bring it up personally,” Peter said.

I unchained the door and opened it so he could come in. He had the largest bunch of flowers I’d ever seen — complete with a vase — a bunch of helium balloons that announced to everyone it was my birthday, a wrapped parcel about the size of a large shoebox, and a sealed envelope.

“Helena, have you been crying?” Peter asked.

“It’s nothing,” I said. “It’s not important.”

“Would it have something to do with Mr Malakh?”

“I said it doesn’t matter, Peter.”

“I’m sorry to pry, Helena, but when a beautiful woman is clearly upset my heart bleeds.”

“Then I apologise for distressing you unnecessarily, Peter. I was watching a sad old movie. They always make me cry.”

Peter knew I was lying, but didn’t press the matter. It was none of his business after all. He placed the vase on the coffee table, set the balloons free, so they floated gently to the ceiling, and handed me the parcel and envelope.

“Happy Birthday, Helena. I hope the rest of your day will be better,” he said.

He gave my arm a gentle squeeze and left, closing the door behind him.

I sat on the couch. Who knew it was my birthday? Not Kiana — not unless David had told her, and I doubted he’d remember. I’d never mentioned the importance of this date to Drake. He had no idea where I was staying anyway.

I unwrapped the parcel and removed the lid from the box. Inside was a handmade and tailored top, with an off the shoulder neckline, made out of hundreds of white feathers. There was a typed note in the box. It said
now you can soar the heights.
It was a beautiful gift, yet creepy at the same time.

I opened the envelope and pulled out a birthday card and handwritten letter. It was from none other than Danny. All that was written in the card was
love Danny,
in his beautiful flowing script. I unfolded the letter and it read,

My dearest Helena,

It has been some time now since we parted, and I hope the ache I know you feel — for I feel it too, and I’m no longer living — is starting to fade. I had a difficult time trying to think of what you might like for your birthday. I’ve never had to think of these things before. It was something I thought about just before I died. I needed some way to let you know I had not forgotten you, and never will. I remembered that you once gave me something simple — a daisy chain — that was made with love by your own hands. I can’t quite say the same for my gift and I’m not sure if you will like it. I did not make it with my hands, but in my mind I visualised what I would like you to have, from the shape of the garment to the slight variation in the colour of the feathers. I can see you wearing it now, and my heart sings.