Vampire Miami (17 page)

Selah watched with dawning realization as
Charles fought for calm.
He’s being punished,
she realized.
My presence is being used to humiliate him.

“And so in such manner has dear Charles come to
us. He paid the blood fee of a hundred million dollars with Daddy’s
money, and then flew in under the cover of secrecy to receive the
embrace. Not the first, not the last, but perhaps a warning to us
that we need to scrutinize our applications more carefully in the
future.”

Charles slammed the flat of his palm down on the
table and shot to his feet, turning to glare at Karl who returned
the look with an air of innocent surprise. Charles opened his mouth
to speak, but seemed to choke on his words.

Karl raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Charles? You have
something to say?”

Charles shot Selah a look of pure venom. His
hatred for her had just doubled, she realized.
Great. Thanks,
Karl.
“I was promised equality. What is this ‘Nouveau Vampire’
bullshit?”

“My dear Charles,” said Karl, shaking his head,
“we may have seceded from the United States, but this is still in
effect a very crude meritocracy. Nobody here is ‘equal.’ You, for
example, are not my equal. You, as my creation, are my inferior, by
quite a large degree.” The gentle voice slowly grew merciless,
bright and precise as a surgical tool. “If you want respect, you
will have to earn it, and squandering an opportunity to catch two
members of the Resistance by running in and getting shot is not the
way to do it. Especially if you then spend the rest of the night on
the floor crying like a little child with soiled underwear.”

Charles’s mouth snapped open again, and his
fists tightened so that she heard his knuckles pop. Karl met his
gaze with complete calm. Invisible chains of intensity and fury
seemed to coil through the air around Charles, who was clearly
fighting for self control. Selah willed herself to not step back
and in so doing draw attention. Finally, Charles looked down. He
nodded jerkily, and with extremely poor grace sat back down.

Karl watched him for a moment longer, and then
turned back to Selah. “Where were we?” She didn’t for a moment
believe that he had lost track of their conversation. “Ah, yes.
Charles reporting strange feelings after drinking your blood. Your
consequent behavior. Had it been any other vampire, well, I would
take them at their word. It being Charles, however, I shall have to
verify his experience myself.”

Selah’s mind began to race. Karl seemed to be
more powerful than Charles. If he drank from her, and the same
effect repeated itself, then it was possible that she’d gain his
power. Would be able to overpower Charles and escape. She could
make a beeline for the Wall, and hurl herself over it, move faster
than the soldiers could react. Perhaps—but the—oh, Lord, what of
her grandmother? She tried to remain calm, to think. The embassy.
Could she strike a deal?

She looked at Karl. At his soft flesh, its
doughy appearance. Tried to stifle the repulsion. Raised her chin.
“Hurry up, then.”

“Oh, no,” he said, “you misunderstand me. I am
not going to sample your wares. Charles will.”

“What?” demanded Charles, staring at Karl.
“Again?”

“Must I repeat myself?” Karl’s smile was
completely devoid of humor. “Again.”

Charles looked at Selah. He stood so abruptly
that the chair fell over with a crash. He stared at her in such a
manner that made Selah feel naked. There it was again, beneath his
anger, beneath his personality even. Beneath everything that could
be understood as “Charles,” there it was. That hunger, that need.
As if his being “Charles” was but a masquerade, that beneath all
the words and poses, the clothing and even the flesh, there was
only this roiling darkness of need and voracious hunger. He stared
at her, and then nodded.

Before she could react, he rounded the table and
walked toward her. Selah began to back away. She could see them
now, his fangs, could see their milky white and slender lengths,
having descended somehow from where they’d been hidden. His eyes
were livid now with hunger, as if having agreed to go through with
this, there was no longer any need to pretend that he was ever
other than famished, always and forever, for tonight and through
the rest of his eternal existence.

Selah raised her arms, not wanting him close.
Let him,
a voice whispered in the back of her mind, a voice
that craved that sweet pleasure again, that overwhelming wave of
orgasmic sensation that had swept her away when he’d bitten her
neck the night before.
Let him,
whispered a second voice,
the voice of cold reason, knowing that through that kiss would come
power and speed, would turn her once more into a weapon that could
perhaps survive the night.
No,
whispered her truest voice,
never.

She turned and ran. Made blindly for one of the
hallways, knowing as she did so she wouldn’t get far, but unable to
simply stand and let Charles take her. Which he did, anyway. She
had managed but one step when he had her by the neck, his fingers
like ingots of steel, clamped around the base of her skull so that
fiery pain made her knees buckle and she cried out in agony. She
was on her tiptoes, she realized, legs almost kicked out from under
her, hands clawing at his forearm. The pain was all consuming, and
then he let her go and she fell to the ground in a crouch. Tears
filled her eyes and she heard him laugh. Standing behind her,
looking down at her, laughing with pleasure and cruelty and
delight.

Selah didn’t think. She turned and rose and
buried her knee as hard as she could between his legs. It was like
trying to knee a statue. Pain blossomed in her knee and she crashed
to the ground holding her leg, the pain in her neck yet throbbing.
Charles looked down at her in contempt.

“I am no longer a man, Selah. I am now so much
more.” He leaned down and hauled her up by the arm. Selah heard
herself sobbing, and felt a spike of consequent anger. Could see
how that pleased him, lit a light deep in the depths of his black
eyes, so that she bit down on sobs and summoning all that was left
to her, cracked her forehead as hard as she could against his
nose.

She saw a blinding white light, like soundless,
formless oblivion, and then blinked and stared at Charles. She had
trouble focusing on him, but she saw that he was cupping a hand
over his nose, eyes mere slits of rage. Karl was laughing,
somewhere behind them, and Selah wanted to do more to hurt this
monster, but she felt like a marionette whose strings had all been
tangled. She couldn’t make her arms or legs move as she wanted to.
She blinked tears away, fought for self-control, but by then, it
was too late.

Charles leaned in and bit into her neck
savagely. No delicate puncturing, this; he tore into her neck in
the same manner a dog might tear into a steak. She screamed, going
weak with shock, and then her blood was pumping up, out. She could
feel it escaping in great gouts through her neck, could feel his
lips buried deep in the wound, his tongue probing into her flesh.
It was the most terrible blend of pleasure and horror she’d ever
felt, a shocking collapse into ecstasy and excruciating pain. It
was too much, too much for her to handle, and with a final cry, she
felt the darkness rise up like a flood and claim her mind, her
soul, and bring her swirling down into its depths to drown.

The beat of her heart. Slow and steady. Calling
her, summoning her back from oblivion. She didn’t want to return.
Fought the sound, its insistent nature. Tried to dive deeper, but
failed. It beat with undeniable power, pulling her back. Numbness
began to fall from her limbs, recede from her mind. Vigor stole in,
returned, and she felt the void about her once more in all its
incredible vastness. She opened her eyes and saw stars, saw the
glory that was the firmament in all its infinite constellations.
She couldn’t help but feel wonder at its beauty, at its sheer
complexity. Her heartbeat sped up, ever faster, ever more powerful,
slurring its beat as its tempo increased beyond the possible,
became a great vibration that seemed to shake the vaults of the
heavens themselves.

Selah turned. Below her, as before, the ocean.
From horizon to horizon, the black waters surged, waves tipped by
whitecaps as if lashed by a thousand furious winds. She hovered
high above, and with something like regret, resignation, turned and
lowered her head and fell, plummeting down and away from the light
toward those dark waters, gaining speed with each passing moment
till she was but an arrow sent down from the stars.

Downward at impossible speed, gaining in power,
energy, the desire to live, to revel in pleasure and pain. She
closed her eyes, realized that she was laughing, laughing endlessly
with delight tinged with madness, terror tainted by desire.

Selah awoke with a gasp. She was lying on her
side, face resting in blood-soaked carpet. Eyes closed, she reached
up with one hand to touch the side of her neck. The skin was
smooth, unmarred by Charles’s teeth. She lay still, feeling like a
great longbow that had been drawn to its breaking limit, all that
energy and power held in abeyance for one long, unbreakable moment,
which would end with a release that would shatter the world. Ah,
the glory of it, the sheer unbelievable bliss! She lay still, mind
racing, a cork bobbing on storm waters, and only gradually became
aware of herself as Selah, and recalled her predicament.

Charles was speaking in tones of wonder, but she
couldn’t make out the words. Babbling, almost. Selah smiled. She
would explode up, would catch them both by surprise. Would cast
Karl out through one of the great windows, would send him hurtling
down to his death, and then make her way free. Would find Mama B,
would help her escape, would flee Miami. They could escape down
into Mexican Free States, would disappear. It could happen. It
would
happen.

Snapping her eyes open, Selah pushed off the
ground so hard, she literally leaped to her feet, landing as
lightly as a cat. The world seemed to slow, as if time itself was
having trouble keeping up with her. Charles’s words grew slurred,
the vowels dilated, and she spun toward where she knew Karl stood,
already surging into her leap, beginning her extended attack that
would result in his death.

But he was ready. He was standing right before
her, smiling that stupid little smile of his. She didn’t have time
to react. Even as she raised her arms to dash him to the ground, he
somehow moved faster and punched her straight in the face. It felt
as if she’d ridden a motorbike at full tilt and hit a low-hanging
bar of steel with her face. Her head snapped back so hard, she
crashed down onto her shoulders, collapsed into a broken pile.

She had to get up. Had to stand. She began to
rise, moving automatically. How had he moved so
fast
? She
would wipe that smile right off his face. Would—but she didn’t get
a chance to think any further. A second blow caught her across the
back of the head, and everything went suddenly and shockingly
dark.

Selah awoke. Her head pounded and her mouth
tasted foul and coppery. She blinked sluggishly and realized that
she was handcuffed to a chair, each wrist trapped to a steel
armrest. She was back in the empty apartment. Sunlight poured in
through the windows, and from the angle it looked to be late
afternoon. Late afternoon? She blinked again, wishing she could rub
the sleep and dried blood out of her eyes. Her cheek was throbbing,
and her left eye felt tight and swollen. She tried the handcuffs,
but there was no supernatural strength left to her. Just her own
frail body. She rattled the cuffs, and then sank back. Her whole
body ached, especially her spine from having spent who knew how
many hours trapped in this chair. She rocked it experimentally. It
wasn’t bolted down. Not that she knew what good falling onto her
side would do.

She willed herself to stop, to think. The last
thing she remembered was Karl Plessy knocking her out. Some
gentleman. She tongued her lip and winced. It was split pretty
badly. He had been ready, ready for her attack. How predictable of
her. He’d played her like an expert. Then again, he
was
Karl
Plessy, infamous for his politics and policies, whatever those had
been, and she was just a seventeen-year-old girl out of Brooklyn.
No shame there.

Still, that wouldn’t be good enough. She had to
think. She closed her eyes, tried to ignore the pain in her head.
She wasn’t dead. Which meant Karl wanted something from her. He
probably saw value of some kind in her ability to give emotions and
take vampiric power. Which meant, if she had something he wanted,
might she have some form of leverage? Selah groaned. What leverage
did she have? All they had to do was threaten her grandmother.

She opened her eyes and scanned the room. Saw a
hypodermic needle on the kitchen counter along with a torn pack of
blue ampules. Frowned, and looked down at the inside of her elbow.
Three vicious red dots along her vein.
Bastards
. She rattled
the handcuffs, though mostly just to make herself feel better, and
then sank back. Nothing to do but wait.

Nobody came for hours. The sun slowly set. Her
bladder was near bursting and she felt lightheaded from thirst by
the time the door finally opened. She’d expected Hector, but
instead Karl himself walked in, dressed in a freshly pressed
baby-blue shirt and dress pants. Shoes that shone like his eyes. He
studied her, and then smiled.

“Well, Selah, first, let me apologize. What an
awful way to spend the day. I know you don’t care for my apologies,
but I’ll make them regardless. You must be needing to use the
bathroom. Am I correct?”

Selah wanted to deny it, but the burning pain in
her bladder prevented her from being stoic. She nodded
grudgingly.