Secret Worlds (191 page)

With the smell of blood gone, she concentrated on the other scents assaulting her nostrils. Instantly, she knew that the perfume on her nightgown was made of lilacs, orange zest, vanilla, and just a hint of cinnamon. She remembered buying it, but she couldn’t remember smelling it before. The memory lay hidden behind a hazy veil, and she experienced it as an observer. It was like trying to remember a dream. The memory was there, though it didn’t feel as if she had lived it.

“How come I know what scent I’m wearing, and I can remember purchasing it, but I can’t remember actually smelling it?” She twirled to Lawrence, seeking answers.

“All your knowledge is intact. The memories from your mortal life will seem dull to your sharpened senses. You are having a hard time remembering smelling it because you didn’t smell it as clearly in your mortal life. Human memories are also wrapped in emotion, which you experience differently now. It can be difficult to unwind the feeling from the memory.”

“Am I immortal?”

“Very nearly. A single human isn’t a threat. If you’re to die, it’ll likely be by the hand of another vampire.”

“How?”

“Decapitation, burning, or destruction of your heart.”

Short list. Amaia picked up a porcelain figurine of an exotic bird, admiring how the light danced on its surface. “How many others are there?”

“In the entire world? Thousands. But don’t worry yourself about them. Right now, we need to focus on you, Amaia.” Lawrence rose and placed his hands on her shoulders.

Amaia set down the figurine. “You keep calling me that, but it’s not my name.”

“Yes, it is. When you’re reborn, you’re given a new name. I have named you Amaia. It means the first.”

“The first what?”

“My first child.”

Amaia shook her head. It was strange to hear his voice as if it were her internal thoughts. “Can any vampire get in my mind like that?”

“Goodness, no.” Lawrence sat in the window seat. “I can only do it because I’m your sire. Vampires mind-speak with their makers and their mates, no others.”

While Amaia could see the advantages to such an arrangement, it left her unsettled. “Can you hear all my thoughts?”

“No, I can’t hear any of them. You have to want me to. It’s like speaking, only with your mind. You simply will me to hear what you’re thinking. You may give it a try if you like.” Lawrence’s expression was open and encouraging, just as it always had been when he taught her something new.

Amaia gathered a thought in her mind and tried to push it to Lawrence.
“You’ve always been like a father to me.”

The smile on Lawrence’s face spoke to her success.
“And you’ve always been like a daughter to me.”

The bond Amaia felt to Lawrence seemed even stronger than the familial closeness they had shared when she was mortal. Fierce loyalty to him surged through her, a desire to please him. There was only one other person to whom she had felt so close.

She ran downstairs to the parlor, forgetting to move slowly. The burst of energy that launched her deflated when she saw the room was as organized and tidy as it ever had been. The man she had been eager to see was nowhere to be found.

“I burned the body along with your dress. It was too soiled to save. First kills are always a messy business. You don’t develop your fangs until your transformation sleep.”

“He was someone to me.”

“Michael? Yes, he was. A pity he was your first kill. When the venom takes hold, you can’t control yourself. It urges you to feed. If you fail to feed by the time it burns off, your transformation won’t be complete, and you’re easily killed. You’re not to blame for killing him. It’s all a case of bad timing on his part.”

Amaia tried to remember. She reached into her dreams and realized that they hadn’t been dreams but flashes of memory.

“I loved him.”

“Yes.”

“But I killed him.”

“You did. I had hoped to wait until you were more accustomed to your condition to bring Michael to you. I had hoped you might ask him to join us.”

Amaia’s mind swirled. Even through the veil shrouding her mortal memories, she knew she had loved Michael even more than she loved Lawrence. Or at least she’d thought so. Her mortal self would have never imagined she was capable of killing him, no matter what Lawrence said. That was just like him, trying to lessen the blow for her sake. Lawrence always watched out for her.

“You’ll need to learn how to look more natural. You’re standing still as stone. Remember, humans don’t have perfect balance. It’ll take near constant thought at first to blend in, but it will eventually become instinct.”

Amaia made note and tried to casually sway her arms. Instead of gentle curves, her arms made sharp, quick angles, resembling a marionette being jerked about by an impatient child.

Lawrence’s laughter rang in her ears. “Don’t think so much. It’ll come. You’re less than an hour into your new life. Here, sit. Relax.”

Lawrence’s wrinkled hand took her smooth one and led her to the same couch they had shared when he had bitten her. She had never noticed all the lines crossing Lawrence’s hands before. She would never age. For eternity, she would retain the skin of a twenty-two year old.

“I told you you’d like it. You never have to worry about aging, about losing the power your appearance gives you.”

“I thought you couldn’t read my thoughts.” Amaia smirked up at him.

“Not by any supernatural means, but I’ve raised you since you were eleven. I know how your mind works.”

Amaia tried to grasp the memories lurking beneath the surface. “I was a whore. What am I to be now?”

Lawrence chuckled. “No, my dear. You were a courtesan. One of the best. Certainly the best I ever trained. You were never merely a good fuck. It was your company men like the Marquess of Buckingham, Prince Charles, and King James wanted. You don’t think a common whore could afford to live in this house, do you?”

Amaia took in the delicate tapestries on the walls, the intricate silver candlesticks, the mahogany table, and her own silk nightgown. These were not the trappings of a streetwalker, and they were all because of Lawrence. He had managed her affairs well.

“Don’t worry about the future. I’ll take care of you, just as I always have.”

Amaia fingered the engagement ring on her right forefinger. The memory of Michael offering it to her flashed before her. In quick succession, she saw images of them together. He had been willing to take care of her, that much seemed certain. Looking at the pearl centerpiece, she felt a slight discomfort, a wisp of the emotion she had felt upon receiving it. The pearl was a symbol of purity and evidence of Michael’s delusions. He had never accepted that she enjoyed her life as a courtesan. When given the chance, she had jumped at the opportunity to gain independence as a vampire. She had always despised girls who had been foolish enough to follow the siren’s call of love. Love was weak; it hadn’t been strong enough to keep her from killing the only man who’d ever devoted himself to her. Looking back, it seemed strange that she had been so close to abandoning her own credo. Still, the ring was a lovely piece. The rubies surrounding the pearl played with the light in ways she hadn’t noticed as a human. It was a ring worth keeping.

Amaia’s eyes settled back on Lawrence. He sat perfectly still. It did look unnatural, a marked difference from the way he had conducted himself thus far. “What is it?”

His eyes focused back on her. “It’s my sire, Zenas. I can’t put him off any longer. He wanted to be here when you woke. He is very anxious to meet you.”

“Me?” That a vampire would desire to see her surprised Amaia. What was she to a vampire? It dawned on her that Lawrence had a whole other life populated with people unknown to her.

“Yes, you have been eagerly awaited.” Lawrence rose and sped to her room, and Amaia followed. He went to her wardrobe and pulled out one of her fanciest gowns, a light cream satin with crystals sewn into the fabric. There was only one reason to wear a dress like that: to show off. Its sole purpose was to announce wealth and prestige. “You’ll wear this. I convinced him to wait until tonight. There’s no use having you go out in daylight when you’re barely an hour old. That gives us some time, but not much.”

Amaia readied herself with the ease of much practice. Hair was combed, lips reddened, face whitened with ceruse. Lawrence handed her stays. “I’ll help you dress. I don’t want a maid seeing you yet. You can’t quite pass as human.”

Amaia’s ribs moved as the stays tightened. The pressure increased more than she thought possible.
“I can’t breathe.”

“You don’t have to.”

She waited for her lungs to burn, for her mouth to gape open to gulp in air, but it never happened. Come to think of it, she had only breathed to talk or catch more of a scent ever since she’d woken.

“You will need to learn to mimic breathing. It’s one of those things humans won’t be able to identify, but they do notice the stillness. Breathing aids in more natural movement. However, it’s not a necessity, and in this case, it is quite the advantage.” His hands on Amaia’s shoulders turned her to the full-length mirror.

A gasp escaped her lips as she took in her appearance. Her hands flew to her impossibly small waist and then made their way up to breasts that appeared fuller, lifted as they were by the stays. “Will my clothes fit properly?”

“No, they won’t have the tailored appearance you’re used to, but it’s not such a big difference that anyone will mind. Today I’ll pin you in, and it should be fine. We’ll have them all altered eventually or just buy you new ones.”

Lawrence made quick work of the petticoats and laces. When she was fully dressed, Amaia went to her vanity mirror to style her hair. She picked up her silver boar bristle brush and ran it through her long auburn locks. The sheen from her hair accentuated her hazel eyes. It was odd to be looking at the same face she always had, but to see it so differently. It would take some getting used to. She picked out a jeweled comb and some hair pins and arranged her hair, sweeping the front up and leaving the back to curl loosely over her shoulders.

All the while, Lawrence paced behind her, watching her in the mirror. She found it unnerving. Adjusting to being undead was hard enough without Lawrence watching her every move. When she stood, he brought a pair of jeweled shoes for her to step into, and her outfit was complete. “What do you think?” She twirled.

“Lovely, as always. Practice moving slowly until it’s time for us to leave.”

Despite feeling foolish, Amaia did as instructed. How could she be expected to move slowly when she had just been born into a bright new world? There was so much to see and do. Her own rooms appeared foreign to her new vision. How would the rest of the world look?

Knowing that it was important to Lawrence, she tried to concentrate. She discovered that he was wrong. The trick was not to try to move slowly; the trick was to imagine walking through water. Only then was she able to achieve a realistic movement speed without losing any of her natural grace.

“Excellent, my dear. The sun has set. It’s time we were going.” Lawrence stood and fetched a dark blue wool cloak from her wardrobe.

“So it’s true then? We can’t go out in daylight?” Amaia had been dreading the restrictions of her new form. She supposed it was fair. Immortality had to come at a price.

Lawrence guffawed. “Hardly. What nonsense humans teach their children. We travel whenever we like. The sun merely does less than pleasant things to the noxious odor of humans. It’s more enjoyable to be out at night, and it’s easier to go unnoticed.” He wrapped the cloak around her, hiding the opulence of her dress. “No need to draw extra attention.”

Amaia didn’t know what she felt more, relief or excitement. It appeared she had been given the world, unbridled by silly rules. Life—or death as it were—was perfect.

She stifled a giggle as she followed Lawrence to the door.

London, February 1623

As soon as they settled in the rented carriage, Lawrence curtained the windows. “You don’t need distractions. Focus on breathing. I want Zenas to see that you’re a quick study.”

“I thought you said I didn’t need to breathe.”

“Not to live, but your stays aren’t so tight that you can’t pretend.”

Amaia drew in a shallow breath and immediately squinched up her face.

“The smell?”

“Yes. It’s dreadful. What is it?” Her hand flew to her nose, trying to shield it from the pungent stench. The air seemed full of sour sweat, baked waste, and decaying plants. The source was a mystery. The horse before her smelled as horses always had, only stronger. It certainly wasn’t pleasant, but it was hardly the overwhelming fetor surrounding her.

“Mainly humans. I told you. You’ll get used to it. I’ll admit it’s startling at first. Now that you’re not one, you notice their stink more acutely. Sometimes there’s a benefit to duller senses. You’ll learn to pick out the good and disregard the bad.”

“How can they smell so distasteful when they’re meant to be food?”

“The cow always smells worse than the beef, my dear. It’s not their flesh we’re after, it’s their blood.”

It made sense, but Amaia couldn’t stomach the thought with the odor assaulting her nostrils. “Where are we going?” Amaia didn’t risk removing her hand from her nose. The only pleasant scent she could discern came from herself.

“To a manor outside the city. Usually Zenas would make us travel to wherever he is—which these days tends to be Moscow—but he came here to see you. It’s rare that Zenas travels for anyone. It reveals his interest in you. I need you to follow my lead.”

“How?” Amaia lowered her hand. The smell was dreadful, but she’d have to learn to cope eventually, and she wanted to make Lawrence proud.

“You’ll bow to him, feed his ego, but your first loyalty is to me, just as mine is to him. He has the power to destroy you, and there’s nothing I can do to protect you—not yet. He’ll want me to supplicate to him for you, to demonstrate his power.”

“He sounds like a prick.”

Lawrence’s hand gripped hers where it rested on the bench. His blue eyes held her gaze. “A very dangerous prick, my dear. Don’t try to play him. Not only will he not be susceptible to your charms, but you’re still too new to your condition to use them effectively. The best thing you can do is watch quietly.”