Borne in the Blood Read online

  “What are you doing?” she muttered uncertainly.

  He held out his elbow, inviting her to take it. “I’m asking you to walk with me.”

  She slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, marvelling at the rock-hard muscles and soft fabric of his shirt. He smiled with one corner of his mouth and walked her toward the kitchen, aiming for a candle-lit passage that seemed to angle downward and then curve immediately out of sight.

  “Also, I want to tell you a story,” he said, so softly that Tesa found herself leaning in to hear it as they walked. “I am willing to bet you have never heard the history of the first vampire.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The story went like this:

  Hundreds or thousands of years ago, it is so hard to say when, there was a race of creatures who lived in the sheer cliff caves of Bavaria. How they had come to be there is a mystery, because presumably they were men at some point. But they were no longer men; they were monsters.

  The creatures called themselves Ur and told each other that they were the beginning of all creatures, though in all probability that cannot be true. They kept mostly to themselves, sequestered in the caves or hunting in the rich, dark forests below for the fresh, steaming meat of boars and bears.

  Their strength was unimaginable. Tall, naked in the snow, and muscled as though carved from the rock face itself, they were similar to the smaller humans but for their inch-long fangs and glowing red eyes.

  A grown Ur could outrun a large forest lynx or wolf, or ride upon them if he wished. He could square off against a boar, face to face, and snap its neck in his arms, then carry it back to his family or merely pull it limb from limb and satisfy himself with it where he had slain it.

  While the Ur lived in the caves in one remote area, each preferred more or less to remain on his own, maybe with a mate and child, but no more. He could call on his cousins for aid if absolutely necessary, but their inherent suspicion and viciousness encouraged solitary lifestyles.

  When game was sparse in the forest, or when an Ur simply felt it was worth the risk, he could run naked for miles to the villages to steal a human baby from its bed. Virgins and children made the sweetest meat, and the humans warned their young ones to stay close to safety. But as these things go — many were lost to disobedience, and many were lost to the simple savagery of an Ur under the cloak of night.

  It was a rivalry that played out over and over: The Ur would be beaten back and driven nearly to extinction by the humans, who could be formidable in large groups. The Ur would retreat to their caves. They would be nearly forgotten. The humans would eventually disregard the bloody lessons they had learned, and so would the Ur. And then there would be more blood.

  And then Anya came.

  A caravan of nomadic people from Portugal... or Persia... or the mountains of Mongolia… or the arctic Lapland... ambled through the snow with their huge wolves and moose pulling sleds of their belongings. All who were able walked behind as the large family wound its way through the canyon below the cliffs, seeking to trade pelts, jewelry, and dried rare herbs with the villagers north of the caves.

  The Ur watched, unseen, from their high vantage points overlooking the canyon. The Gypsies snaked through, far below, in a long single-file line of pack animals and their burdens. At the back of the line was a straggling group of young, strong women and children.

  The Ur licked their lips and breathed steam through their noses, watching the silent travellers below. And they waited for nightfall.

  In the absolute black of a moonless night, the Ur watched as the tiny lights of the campfires sputtered to coal, one by one. Then they began to slink down the face of the high cliffs, soundlessly leaping from rocky handhold to handhold, lowering themselves to the canyon floor.

  As the women and children slept huddled under pelts around the gutting fires, the Ur slunk over the snow and surrounded the smallest group at the back, which was cut off from the larger group by a frozen stream. Trails of slaver fell from their open lips and froze in the icy air before hitting the glittering snow. They stood massive and naked over the silent, sleeping bodies with their chests heaving, drinking the scent of the fresh hot blood that had been so neatly delivered to them in fur-wrapped parcels.

  The fire lights went out, plunging the canyon floor into darkness. The only light came from the glittering red eyes of the Ur as they shifted from foot to foot, gradually becoming unbearably drunk on the scent of the spicy hot blood that lay so easily before them.

  Finally, the biggest could no longer wait to begin. He reached into the furs at his feet, groping around within until he found a small boy of about three and plucked him from his mother’s tit. He held him inverted, steaming, by one heel and grinned like a wolf into his face.

  The little boy opened his eyes sleepily, becoming suddenly awake. He opened his mouth and sounded a loud, keening wail for his mother before the Ur ripped him to pieces and drank the blood from his still-beating heart.

  The sound woke the group, and suddenly it was madness. Women burst from their beds, brandishing blades and coals against their attackers, holding their youngest behind them for safety. But it was useless. The Ur had barely to exert themselves against these small, scrawny females. Their necks snapped like sparrows’ wings. Their innards tasted like jam.

  The Ur feasted on dozens of the Gypsies, sometimes letting them get a few yards away before running them down in the forest. One fell through the ice as she fled, splashing in the near-frozen water, naked and trying not to scream.

  After a time, the Ur were either satisfied or bored and they wandered away from the blood-drenched clearing, sloshing through the red-black sludge that the snow had become. One stumbled to the river, half-blind with blood rushing through his body, his fangs dripping streams of crimson slaver across his naked skin.

  He came across the Gypsy woman as she struggled in the ice. She saw him and ceased moving, preferring to drown rather than be savaged by the Ur. But he dragged her out by her hair, holding her up with one arm in the black night. She wriggled like a fish on a line for a moment, and then seemed to calm. Perhaps she accepted her fate, or believed herself wily enough to escape.

  The Ur held her up and brought her close, sniffing her deeply. She smelled like spice and a distant fire. Her neck pulsed with blood. The Ur drank of her but did not kill her. Either he was already too sated to consume her, or something about her was different.

  He took her to his cave.

  There they lived, even after the Gypsies found the bloody field in the morning and rushed away, convinced they had been attacked by wild animals. The Ur and Anya lived in the cave. He would take her blood and be… satisfied. And after a time, she permitted it. Then she welcomed it.

  He changed. Her blood in his veins altered his every cell. It brought thoughts and songs to his mind, and chased the animal from his heart.

  ***

  Tesa looked up at Gunner as they stood in front of the massive carved door in the flickering candlelight. She could hear her breath echoing down the long hallway. He closed his mouth and stared meaningfully at her.

  “I… I don’t understand,” she stammered finally. The story seemed oddly familiar, as though she had heard it in a dream long ago. But his telling of it was unlike anything she had ever imagined. She could see the rippling muscles of the Ur in her mind’s eye, and hear the screams as they echoed along the canyon walls.

  Gunner nodded. The amber light of the candle softened his features. She watched his long eyelashes press against his cheek. Stubble shadowed his jaw. The night had gone on so long, it felt like years ago since the first time she had seen him. He seemed exhausted, as though he was carrying an enormous weight.

  “Tesa, I know this will sound so strange to you, but we were monsters. Anya made us… men. Well, as close as we could ever become again. And without her kind… we are doomed to become monsters again.”

  He paused for a moment, letting the information hang in the air. Letting it sink in.


  “Your kind, Tesa. Without someone like you. ”

  Her mind reeled. “That’s just… That’s crazy, Gunner.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “I know it must seem so. But you have no idea how happy Stark was when the CBI alerted him to your… lineage.”

  “The CBI?”

  “The Clean Blood Initiative. They… keep tabs on your people.”

  Tesa squinted. “I thought that was like the government or something, like the Marburg2 thing.”

  “It is,” he said quickly. “The Marburg2 is a legitimate health emergency for the population at large. We just sort of piggybacked our concerns onto it.”

  Tesa tried to reassemble what he had told her. “Wait, so I’m… what, like a relative? Of this Anya or whatever?”

  “Yes. It appears so.”

  “And you need me or you… Oh God, you become like that thing ? The wraith?”

  He nodded slowly.

  She shuddered and tried to breathe deeply. The walls of the hallway threatened to close in on her. Where were they? Gunner’s voice had lulled her into not paying attention, and they’d gone down hallway after hallway, shuffling along stone corridors and down marble steps. They could be anywhere.

  “I need… I need to get out of here,” she muttered, and panic started to build in her chest. She looked at the door and reached for the handle.

  “Not yet,” he pleaded, and reached for her hand, holding it between his two hands. He held it to his chest and drew closer to her. “Tesa? Look at me. It’s okay. It is.”

  “No, no no,” she muttered to herself, her eyes going wide as she searched frantically for a way to escape.

  “Tesa!” he said in a loud voice. “Look at me!”

  Tesa began to pant and looked up into his eyes, trying not to whimper. He pressed her hand flat against his chest and drew her close.

  “Tesa!” he said sharply and instantly a blue, cool haze descended on her. She drank it in like water, breathing it in great gulps, feeling it seep to every inch of her body. She felt all the terror drain away from her and become a distant, pointless memory.

  Then just as suddenly, the sensation withdrew. It felt like a tide going out. Tesa stared up at Gunner and blinked, realizing she was in his arms again.

  “What was that?” she asked in a faraway voice.

  He smiled and winked. “Um… you’re sure you’ve never felt anything like that before?”

  She shook her head. It seemed to be filled with honey.

  “I just compelled you.”

  “Huh, cool,” she said in a half-drunk voice.

  “You’re not mad?” he said softly, holding her semi-limp body in his arms.

  “No,” she sighed deeply. She could feel his breath falling on her lips. “I’m not mad. It’s sort of nice, really. Really nice. Reeeeallllly. ”

  “So I have heard,” he said with a smile.

  “So you have? Oh, haha,” she giggled and laced her hands behind his neck. “Ohhhhh you probably had your own Gypsy princess once, huh?”

  He squinted, bunching up his nose adorably, she thought. Suddenly she could see how handsome he was, how beautiful, really. His skin was so milky and smooth it looked painted on. His bones must be very fine, she figured, to fill out his marble-statue-quality face.

  Hadn’t she disliked him? Just minutes ago? She couldn’t remember.

  “I had a… Someone. Once. But that was a long time ago.”

  “And so you had to capture me to take the princess’ place?”

  He nodded, saying nothing.

  “That sounds like a fairy tale,” she sighed.

  She chuckled, feeling rather deliciously hung over. The blue haze had receded and now there was just warm ooze in her veins. Everything seemed agreeable. Fear was like a preposterous thought when everything was plainly all right with the world. All her worries had fallen away like veils, leaving her with a bell-like clarity.

  And his eyes shone like a copper penny. His arms were so strong, she would probably never have to walk again. If what he had told her was true, she could keep him strong and kind, and never have to worry about the creature that had killed Grant, or Yvonne, or even Stark. She would be his, just like he had claimed her to be.

  “What do I get out of this?” she said suddenly.

  He raised his eyebrows, gathering her closer and surprising himself. When she isn’t biting and clawing, she is really sort of sweet, he thought. For an alleycat.

  “Well… not to put too fine a point on it, but there is really nothing in the world I couldn’t acquire for you.”

  “Nothing?”

  He appeared to think about it for a few seconds. “I can’t think of anything.”

  “Jewels?”

  “Of course.”

  “A supersonic jet?”

  “No problem.”

  “A yacht?”

  “We have three.”

  “Um… I can’t think of anything else…”

  “Oh, I am sure you will come up with more,” he chuckled, daring to hold her closer.

  Tesa let her body go limp, letting him support her completely. He didn’t even seem to notice the weight and just held her up, her feet inches from the floor. She felt his chest expanding as he breathed and felt every inch of their bodies, pressed together.

  His face was just centimeters from hers. She could see tiny reflections of her eyes in his eyes. Tesa lifted her chin until her lips were mere millimeters from his lips.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  “Okay?” he repeated slowly.

  “I’ll be… yours. I will.”

  He said nothing. Staring into his eyes felt like falling into a well. Tesa could see the kindness in his gaze that had been absent before now. And he had saved her from Stark… and the wraith… and had such strength and history. She could picture it now. Luxury, devotion… simplicity.

  “You should kiss me,” she whispered, almost inaudibly.

  She watched the skin around his eyes crinkle as a smile spread across his face.

  “I should?”

  She nodded. “To seal the deal. You should.”

  Tesa closed her eyes and waited. His arms circled around her ribs and one hand slid up the nape of her neck. Gunner cradled the back of her head and tipped her forward, kissing the top of her forehead gently.

  Tesa smiled shyly as he eased her back to the floor. The touch of the flagstones was cool on the soles of her bare feet. Disappointment and a good deal of embarrassment threatened to crumple the snowy bliss in her head.

  “Um… that’s not—”

  “Tesa,” he interrupted, “I want to… I do. But there’s more, and I want you to have every opportunity to back out now. Or to stay. But you have to know everything.”

  Tesa let her hands fall to her sides, enjoying the sensation of sliding her palms down his sleeves and feeling his solid muscles inside.

  “Okay,” she said resolutely. “I suppose it has something to do with this scary looking door right here?”

  Gunner took a step back and looked at it. “What? It’s not scary. That’s solid Black Forest craftsmanship from the old country. It’s like 300 years old. It’s practically a museum piece.”

  “Okay, sure,” she said, running her fingers over the carved frieze. A small girl in a short cloak was pulling chunks of a woman from the mouth of a wolf the size of a small car. “Is it like a family heirloom? From when you and Stark grew up in the old country or whatever?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, okay, now that you mention it, this was my bedroom door when I was a boy. It used to terrify me. But not Stark… No, he is much older than I am.”

  “Wait, what?” Tesa stopped tracing the shape of a tiny girl with an axe twice her size and looked up at him, startled. “I thought you were brothers… You even call each other ‘brother.’”

  He shook his head and shrugged. “No, we’re cousins or… he might be my uncle a few generations back or something. Our family has given a son to the Ur every generati
on for… Forever, I suppose.”

  “So you’re not like, born this way?”

  Suddenly his face became serious. “It’s complicated,” he said tersely.

  “Are you… will you make me…”

  He shook his head and looked at the floor, pursing his lips. “It’s… probably not. No. Normally your kind doesn’t… fully convert. For lack of a better word.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugged. “Nobody knows.”

  “Wait, what does ‘normally’ mean?”

  Gunner drew himself up tall and gave her a small smile. He reached down and took her hand, drawing it up to his lips and inhaling deeply with his eyes closed. Then he kissed her chastely on the palm of her hand. The sensation sent sparkling chills down to the soles of her feet.

  “Okay, just to repeat myself: If you want to leave, I will let you leave. We will have to go quickly, before Stark can find us. But I’ve given you my word. All right?”

  She nodded mutely.

  He smiled wanly and reached for the cast door handle in the shape of a curling wolf’s tail. The latch clicked and the door swung silently inward, revealing a semi-dark room. The space was almost cavernous, with the far walls disappearing into the darkness. Small carved tables were placed near the door to Tesa’s left and contained vessels of water, small glass bottles of differently colored liquids, and a large basin filled with dark water and a linen towel.

  In the center of the room sat a huge four-poster bed that looked similar to the one in Tesa’s chambers, but with draped layers of fabric that swirled over the carved posts and pooled on the floor.

  Tesa leaned forward into the gloom, trying to pick out the tiny noise coming from the bed. Gunner’s hand slipped around the inside of her elbow and he drew her slowly forward.

  “What’s that sound?” she asked.

  “Rose is… She isn’t dying. You should know that. But she is no longer alive, either. She’s…”

  “It sounds like crying,” Tesa whispered, dismayed.