The Fertile Vampire (10 page)

But werewolves?
 

Nope, if there were werewolves, capitalism wouldn’t be far behind.
 

As it was, there were enough commercials for vampire products.
 

Need to keep those fangs looking new? Bright and Sharp, the only toothpaste you’ll ever need.
 

Pas-true, our new blend of cow and sheep blood, pasture raised with no antibiotics - for the discerning vampire.
That one was hosted by the guy who did the Mexican beer commercials. His melodic voice almost had me racing out to buy some of the stuff and I can’t stand the taste of blood.
 

So far, there were no commercials offering resorts to the furry.
Need a place to unwind during the full moon? Come to the Lunar Mountain Retreat where you’re free to explore the wilderness. Lean-tos filled with clothing furnished for those embarrassing mornings after. Grooming essentials of long toothed combs and wipes provided.

Any self-respecting entrepreneur would have jumped at the chance to sell to werewolves. They could also market to humans:
 

Anxious about the full moon? Wondering about your neighbor? Thinking your boss’s ankles are starting to itch? Wear the full moon pendant, made of one hundred percent guaranteed pure sterling silver for those nights you’re forced to be out. This emblem will protect you against the creatures of the night, make a fashion statement and show you’re aware of the changing nature of today’s culturally diverse society.
 

 
If the world knew about werewolves, I would have known about werewolves.
 

“So they’re real?”
 

He nodded.
 

I leaned my head back and stared at the ceiling. “Am I going to start sparkling any time soon?”
 

“Pardon?”
 

I waved my hand in the air, erasing the question.
 

“Do you do a ceremony with werewolves, too?” I asked. “You know, the one about asking me about God and that stuff?”
 

“The trial? That is handled by their packs. I only preside over newly made Kindred.”
 

“You’re a Master,” I said, remembering what someone at dinner had said. “Why are you mentoring me?”
 

This time, he was going to answer me.
 

He shook his head, still standing in front of me. I pointed to a chair and he raised one eyebrow. Evidently, one did not point to Il Duce. Still, he sat.
 

“I asked for you.”
 

Well, that was a surprise.
 

“Why?”
 

I wondered if I truly wanted to know. There were so many revelations I could take in one night and I’d about reached my limit.
 

“Do you wish to know about the other Brethren?”
 

I took another swig of wine, wishing I could get snockered. Alas, Poor Yorick, thou art doomed to sobriety.
 

“Brethren?” I finally said.
 

He crossed one leg over the other and sat back in my chair, managing to dominate my living room.
 

“You didn’t think vampires and werewolves were the only ones?”
 

Well, hell, yeah.
 

I pointed my finger at him, drew tight circles in the air, then pushed through them. Take that.
 

Maybe I was feeling the wine a tiny bit.
 

“There are more supernatural creatures in the world, Marcie, than mortals. We outnumber them.”
 

“Insects.”
 

“Pardon?”

“There are millions more insects than there are human beings. So, you’ve just described insects. Tiny little vampires with transparent wings. Werewolf cockroaches. Bees. What would bees be?”
 

He stood, coming to sit beside me on the couch. Gently, he took the empty wineglass from me, setting it where I couldn’t reach it.
 

“Why does it upset you so?”
 

I sighed. “I was getting used to the idea of being a vampire. I mean, I knew there were vampires. My stepfather was one. My boyfriend…” I snorted. Doug was never my boyfriend. He was a hookup, pure and simple, and I never thought I’d treat myself with such disregard. But the sex had been mind blowing. Surely I was allowed a little fun?
 

“I don’t know,” I said, giving up trying to explain. “It’s just that the world I knew isn’t the world I knew.”
 

He took one of my hands in his. Unlike Ophelia, his hands were toasty warm. So, too, his eyes, the color of a Hershey bar. A melted Hershey bar.
 

I was suddenly ravenously hungry for chocolate.
 

Slowly, I pulled my hand back and looked away. I was not going to be mesmerized by Il Duce.
 

Before I knew it, I would be kissing him, and begging him for more, addicted to the sex.
 

No, I was going to be a good little vampire.
 

I had to find a better name.
 

“So, are vampires and werewolves deadly enemies?” I asked, remembering the fiction I’d read.
 

“No.” He held out his hand, rocked it back and forth. “Maybe in isolated cases. We don’t normally travel in the same circles. You won’t find a vampire attending a werewolf social function, for example. Not out of an abundance of caution but simply because we have nothing in common. Shapeshifters are different. They obey no laws. Nor do they have a common and unifying governing force. We do not mingle with them because they are the vermin of our world.”
 

“You should have told me all this in the beginning.”
 

“Exactly when was this? Oh, Marcie, you need to go to Orientation and, by the way, there are werewolves and shapeshifters afoot.”
 

“Are there?” I asked, startled.

He smiled at me.
 

“How do I know if someone’s a werewolf?”
 

“How do you know if someone’s a vampire?” he countered.

“I used to be able to smell you,” I said.
 

His eyes narrowed slightly, a sign I’d surprised him.
 

“My step-father smelled like popcorn. Doug smelled like cloves and, sometimes, like chocolate.” I was not about to tell him when Doug had smelled like chocolate. There were some things not meant to be shared between mentor and mentee.
 

“What do I smell like?”
 

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve lost the ability to smell you. Becoming a vampire did something.”
 

“That’s why you’re going to Orientation,” he said, standing. “To learn how to recognize the Kindred.”
 

“In order to be a good little vampire.”
 

He studied me and I got the impression he stopped himself from commenting. I met his gaze and for one long uncomfortable moment it seemed to connect us in some way.
 

“Would you have killed me if I’d said I wanted to die?” I asked.
 

A hint of smile appeared on his face. “No, I would have taken you into another room and attempted to convince you otherwise.”
 

I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of persuasion he would have used.
 

My internal temperature rose a few degrees. No doubt due to the wine.
 

“Are you really a duke?” I asked.
 

The glitter of his eyes indicated he knew I wasn’t feeling comfy in his presence. I didn’t feel unsafe. I was aware, in the same way I’d been aware of Doug or any handsome man who attracted me physically.
 

Even in my semi-tipsy state, I knew getting involved with Il Duce would not be a good idea.
 

“I am. Prince Almonte, Duke of Arosta,” he said, making a small bow.
 

“A prince, too?” Somehow, I was not surprised.
 

“It is a courtesy title. The duchy of Arosta was my family lineage.”
 

He smiled at me, his eyes twinkling and I was once again struck by how handsome he was. And how sexy. And how troubling. Not to mention dangerous.
 

“Why can I eat food and nobody else can?” I asked.

Once again, it looked like he didn’t want to answer me.
 

I sat up and reached for my glass. Clutching the glass, in case he thought to take it from me again, I waited for an answer. I was prepared to wait until hell froze over.
 

He folded his arms, his eyes growing cooler. This was probably the Master persona, the man who could command anything he damn well wanted.
 

Except for me, of course.
 

He’d become my mentor. Why? It wasn’t my big blue eyes, even though they were my best feature. After the fortune in capping my front teeth, I also had a damn good smile. I doubted he was interested in those, either.
 

“You were interesting,” he said. Like I was going to take that for an answer. “In the VRC, you did not require a transfusion in order to survive.”
 

From the beginning I’d been different. Why?
 

“It was an oversight. The night had been a busy one. By the time the nurse realized a few hours had passed, everyone thought you were dead. As you should have been.”
 

“But I wasn’t.”
 

“No,” he said softly, “you weren’t.”
 

“Maybe that’s why I don’t like blood now,” I said, nearly desperate to find a reason why I wasn’t a normal vampire - which was an oxymoron if I ever heard one. I had the feeling the odder I was, the more danger I was in.
 

“No,” he said, glancing toward the hall where the styrofoam case of blood bottles sat. “You should have died. Fledglings require constant feedings. You do not.”
 

“I do,” I said. “I’m eating like I’m pregnant with quintuplets.”
 

He only smiled at that.
 

“Also, I heard you,” he added.
 

“Heard me?”
 

He nodded. “When you woke, I heard you. You were in pain and anxious. I heard your panic. The ability to compel is very rare, Marcie, especially to one of my age, but it seems you have the ability to compel me.”
 

“What do you mean?”
 

“When you think of me, I must respond.”
 

I didn’t have an explanation for that. But I did haul out my phone and showed it to him.
 

“Amazing invention, the phone,” I said. “You call it compulsion. I call it technology.”
 

“You didn’t call me tonight,” he said.
 

I had called him, but his office had been closed. My stomach clenched.
 

“When you were afraid, I heard.”
 

What the hell did that mean? Were we connected by something else other than being vampires? Was he implying we were soul mates?

My danger alarms were all ringing merrily. I was feeling clammy and my pulse was racing.
 

I wasn’t sure I liked being a vampire yet. I certainly didn’t want to be linked, even psychically, to another one.
 

He fixed a smile on me, one filled with compassion, understanding, and too much charm for me to be entirely comfortable.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

A rose by any other name

“You are upset,” he said. “But you should not be. The
Frater Cruentus
are the better part of mankind, the exalted, the special.”
 

“What’s the…” I stumbled in the pronunciation.
 

“The
Frater Cruentus
is an old term. Loosely translated, it means those of us linked by blood.”
 

“Bugs again? They’re ants, we’re not? Are you saying every human born with talent or skill was a vampire?”
 

“If they were born with talent or skill we turned them,” he said.
 

As I stared at him, he shrugged. “We recognize those with promise and go to them with an offer. Most accept. The minor irritations of our condition are outweighed by the major benefits: an increased lifespan, the ability to communicate with others of a similar intellectual nature.”
 

He smiled. “You would be surprised how many of your favorite authors are writing under different names while bemoaning the copyright laws. Since it’s been much longer than their lifetimes plus seventy years, they can no longer benefit from their works. Or mathematicians who continue to labor on the same problems they encountered two hundred years ago. Or those whose interest in the solar system have found their minds expanded by recent developments in telescopes.”