Strange City Page 15

  Those old wives' tales about the Sabbat and the Infernal are just that. And I never took you for an old wife, really Anastasia. How dramatic. The way you talk, you'd expect me to burst into flame at any moment."

  Anastasia rose and smiled as sweetly as she could manage. 'Don't give me any ideas, Selena. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've suddenly lost my appetite for this conversation." She whirled and stalked down the stairs From the balcony, Anastasia could hear her laugh­ing. "You'll be back, my sweet, You'll be back," Selena called.

  Ana took a cab across town, and made her way to the market, where she purchased a handmade wicker pic­nic basket from a street vendor. She began to fill the basket with wonderful things, things that she knew Sofie loved.

  Ana loved tasting the sweet flavor of the warm Valpolicella wine in her blood, loved the sweet tang that garlic and basit and oregano brought to her lovers' vitae. She threw herself into shopping, trying to forget the disturbing things Selena had said.

  Ana decided she would take Sofie and drive up to the beachhouse, where they'd spend the rest of the night. It would be nice to get away, away from Selena, away from San Francisco, away from other vampires.

  She smiled thinking of the light Sofie's eyes would have when she saw the caviar, the foie gras, and the anchovies, all wrapped in green foil She even smiled at the vendors who wished to haggle with her, and who were surprised that, be it Italian, Greek, or even Chinese, she answered all in their native tongue. Soon her basket was filled with jewel-like parcels, wrapped neatly in their individual packages, giving off a redolent scent of luxury

  All this preparation was for the midnight picnic on the beach that had become their tradition at the house. Ana shook out her hair and smiled absently as she thought of the daring race they would play with the sun as it burned over the cliffs and pierced to the ocean: about how sweet those last kisses were, before retiring for the day. Sofie would be able to sleep next to her while the jealous sun burned in the sky. It would be heaven,

  Ana began to feel filled up with the combination of anticipation and longing that she felt, It consumed her. Sofie was the moon and sun in her life Sofie was what made each step worthwhile. Sophia, bringer of wisdom, Sophia, bringer of peace. That gentle spirit, a magical woman who did not even know the simple magic that she carried in her fingers, the grace and beauty that she held in her eyes. This was why Ana loved her, why Ana had forsaken her own kind for a simple life with her, away from the intrigues of the Kindred.

  Anastasia had met Sofie by pure chance, had stum­bled into her fife as the result of an accident, and had stayed with her because of something totally coinci­dental and unexplainable. Sofie painted Ana's dreams, painted the landscapes of her daytime slum­bers. She did so with a clarity and accuracy that was unnerving and disturbing to Ana, who held herself quite an authority on the occult and magick. Sofie fell in love with Ana's dreams, and with the vision of Ana, and finally with the reality of Ana. When it came time to reveal her nature, Anastasia had steeled herself for the possibility that she would have to blot out her existence by commanding Sofie to forget her forever.

  She needn't have worried. Sofie had smiled her sweetest smile and said, "Then, my love, let us seize the night, as we can never be together during the day"

  Ana could almost feel the love that she shared with Sofie as a palpable thing: it surrounded her, kept her warm, kept her calm, lust now, relaxing, she realized how much Selena had goaded her, how close she had been to losing control. She walked the rest of the way up Russian Hill, and through a secret garden to get to the well-nigh hidden brownstone they rented.

  The door to the attic apartment in the brownstone was properly locked, so Anastasia was spared that ini­tial shock of dread and panic when one finds one's door ajar, hanging open there like a murderer on a noose, No, she was lulled into a sense of security as she opened the door and made her way through the silent attic, intent on the meal she would soon be cre­ating It was not until the pungent smell of her lover's blood wafted up to her nostrils that she was hit with the wave of terror.

  Ana screamed. She ran down the spiral staircase that joined the lightproof attic with Sofie's studio. She ran through the studio, following the blood trail that had been left, sickened by the panic and the fear and the intangible desire she felt spring from the warm blood. The blood trail led up to a beautiful antique dressing mirror, one that Anastasia herself had procured for Sofie, who so loved mirrors. The bloody footprints around the body led up to the mirror, and vanished.

  Anastasia threw back her head, unwillingly, totally consumed in her frenzy. Skirling, whipping winds rocketed through the suite, breaking ancient porcelain and toppling an expensive antique laboratory set of glassware, shattering it. She lifted her arms up in total submission to the rage, allowing it to consume her and fill her up completely.

  The winds stopped, but as if in answer to this cho­rus of destruction, another sound replaced blowing winds: the crashing of shattered glass. One by one, every pane, cup, plate, mirror, picture frame, and blown-glass art piece exploded in a shower of tiny glass fragments.

  And, like the eye of a hurricane, there was sudden calm. Anastasia sank to her knees and then to the floor in supplication to ever dark power and every God she had ever known. She even cried out to Caine in her agony, to come and take her from this pain.

  She sank into a timeless state, where her senses dulled and she was unaware of the shards of glass that peppered her skin. She held her eyes, weeping bloody tears, unable to move otherwise. She crouched there for a long time, until the first light of dawn crept over the tops of the expensive houses on the hill.

  That light, as faint as it was, caused her to look up. Ana saw through blood-sheened eyes the dawn approaching, and began to feel drawn to it, as she always did. Only now she felt that she would not have the self-control to swing close the heavy shutters that would protect her from the sun.

  Anastasia looked at the dawn, helpless to stop it. She knew that she would soon be struck by a sun­beam, but she could not bring herself to care. She looked about the room for something of Sofie's, something she could gaze upon in the bright sun­shine before it took her unlife forever.

  She saw Sofie's first painting, a beautiful seascape, with a little girl and a dog, hanging slantways in its now-giassless frame. She looked up at it, and sighed, smiling through her tears. She would soon join Sofie. She felt a warmth on the back of her neck, and felt her skin start to bubble under the heat.

  And then, as if in answer, she felt a twinge, a defi­nite pang of some kind, some sense which begged to be listened to. She focused her awareness on that twinge, on that merest sliver of a feeling, and felt it brighten. She felt her certainty grow that Sofie was indeed still alive. Her powers, latent and bound though they were, did not fail her. Sofie was still alive. no matter how ridiculous that seemed.

  Pain. Pain was needed. Pain, after so much shock, after so much delirium. Pain, to awaken her senses and focus her priorities. She grabbed a shard of glass and jabbed it into her palm, watching it sink in, watching her black blood well up around it. The pain was enough.

  She got to her feet and slammed closed first one, then the other heavy shutter, collapsing against it, Anastasia slumped down until she was resting on the floor, her back against the warm shutter.

  Then, from exhaustion and wounds, Anastasia fell into unconsciousness.

  She dreamed. She dreamed of a happier time, a night almost four years ago. She saw herself and Sofie, on the beach The moon was bright. Sofie was naked, as she always was on beach, and wet from the water. No. Ana, no. I want you to promise me. I want you to put away your super powers, i don't want you to use them anymore."

  Anastasia shook her head, trying to focus on Sofie. "Why my love? Why? They are a part of me,"

  Sofie put her fingertip to Ana's lips. "No No, Ana. They are a part of your old life. Your old ways. And now you're with me. Remember what you told me about that Goal-condra thing?

  "Golconda.
Yes. I remember" Anastasia was smil­ing at Sofie. When she wanted to be charming, she was charming. It didn't hurt that she was teasing Ana the entire time, turning slightly in the firelight.

  "Well, that proves it. No more ESP. No more spoon bending or door opening. Nothin'. Okay? You got it?" Sofie was smiling, but her voice was firm.

  Anastasia looked very serious. "You're serious, aren't you? You really want me to throw everything away?'

  "Not everything, Anastasia. You'll stil! have me. What do you want? Maybe that's what you have to ask yourself."

  Anastasia watched the surf come in, watched it wash out. I want... I want to be with you .. ."

  "So promise me. Promise me, and I won't bitch about it anymore." Sofie dug in the sand with her toes.

  "But . . . what if I need my powers to protect you?" Ana said, looking far out to sea.

  "I'm not saying you should throw them away . . just don't use them, Unless you have to. And I mean, there better be a damn good reason. Now, will you pinky swear?"

  "Pinky swear? What's that?"

  Sofie laughed It sounded like the surf in her dream. "You know, a solemn promise. How would you put it? An oath. You gotta swear."

  Anastasia smiled at Sofie. She shook out her hair and drew her close. "No, Sofie. I have a better idea. A much better idea."

  Then she was suddenly in the beach house, bent over a leaf of parchment. The parchment contained the carefully worded terms of her promise, and she signed it in her own blood. Sofie looked solemnly at Ana. and realized that it was one of those issues that she would not bend on. Ana held her hand while she made the pin prick. Sofie signed her part of the con­tract in her own blood. She remembered celebrating that pact as one might celebrate a marriage; it was a honeymoon of sorts- The dream turned to the silvery nights they spent by the sea,

  The telephone rang. It rang again, incessantly. Ana's eyes were nearly sealed shut from the bloody tears she d cried, but she managed to open them and find the telephone. The digital clock on the VCR told her it was evening again.

  It was Selena's voice. "I imagine by now youve dis­covered my little plot."

  Frenzy boiled up inside her, and she choked it back down. "Where is she, you bitch!"

  "Please, please Anastasia, Such language. Let's be civilized shall we? You can certainly sense that she is still alive, no? Or are your powers weak from disuse?"

  Anastasia struggled to hold on to her rage. Although she couldn't sense Sofie with her Pact-bound pow­ers, she felt strongly that she would know if Sofie was dead—the sense she had felt earlier had not diminished.

  "What do you want with me? What do you want to secure Sofies release?"

  "Ah. Secure.' Release.' You're talking like a general, Ana. Why not come down from that high horse and talk to me? Remember me, your Selena, your Moon? I have not changed. Perhaps it is you who has changed Tell me, are you happy under the yoke of your Sire? Are you pleased that he can control what you do? Are you happy in the Camariila?"

  Anastasia nearly dropped the phone. Looking around, she noticed where she was for the first time-She had managed to crawl, bloody from the piercing glass in her skin, to Sofie's futon, which was ruined now with her black blood She was weak, hungry, and the Beast within her was rattling its cage.

  "Selena. I'll do anything, lust don't harm her. I swear, i you hurt her, I'll make sure you bum in the sun."

  "Anything, Anastasia? My, my, The Ana I once knew would've never been so desperate-sounding. She would've steeled herself, and even sacrificed a petty mortal if it suited her purpose. Where is the Ana who faced the Primogen of New York?" She laughed. "Oh, and Ana—I don't have to remind you that you're in no position to make threats."

  "Don't toy with me, Selena. Name your price."

  "My price? My price? Why, that implies that it is something that can be paid, as a debt is paid. As a Boon is paid. No, no. Anastasia, what I want is some­thing much more than a price. I want your oath. I want your loyalty- I want your soul. I want your blood. I want you, Ana, sweet Ana And you can have your pretty girlfriend as a pet, if you wish. But you'll serve me. Me, and the sacred Order of the Black Hand, the Sabbat."

  Hearing this began to free the Beast, the collar around its neck loosening, weakening. Anastasia's fangs slid into her mouth, and she felt their sharpness next to her tongue.

  "And if [ refuse?" she whispered, trying to sound cowed when she wanted to loose her hate on the Sabbat bitch.

  "Your Sofie will be made glad to join us. and be our cute plaything for a time until we stake her for the sun You remember what I do with playthings, don't you Ana? Or perhaps you have been neglecting that side of you, as well? Selena's voice was like frozen diamonds,

  Anastasia shuddered The Beast began to howl against its collar, the leash slipping out of her hands. She watched her fingernails change into talons. "Yes. I remember,"

  "Very well then I hope you won't be offended, but I have taken the liberty of preparing an initiation rite for you Tomorrow evening, when the moon is new, we will perform it We will welcome either you, or a newly Embraced Sofie, into our brood, [f you wish to join us, you'll be there. The church on Beacon Street. But I'm sure you already know that, you being such the clever girl. And so well behaved!"

  Her voice was rasping, irritating, provoking. She knew what she was doing, and Anastasia was power­less to prevent the Frenzy she was provoking.

  "I will be there, Selena," Anastasia said. Her hand shook as she put the phone down on the cradle. She moved to the vase on the fireplace, picked it up, looked at it, considering. Her palsy got worse, her taloned nails scraped against the fine porcelain, and then the vase slipped from her hands. It shattered on the hearth.

  Looking down, her eyes clouded with red, she saw the parchment with her blood pact written on it. Her monstrous claws caressed the paper, and she felt a twinge of pain as she saw Sofie's signature in blood there on the page. Her powers, her old life, her old self was waiting, contained in the words of the pact, waiting to be released. And it could only be released one way: through fire, pure cleansing fire. That would make the pact null and void. She thought a moment of Sofie—how she would be alone, terrified, weak, helpless to resist the powers of the vampiress who held her. Her head felt numb, dull, cloudy. She couldn't think straight. She knew that if she took this step she would be breaking a solemn oath, one that she had made in all serious dedication. But Sofie was in danger, a heartbeat away from living life as one of the Damned.

  Her claws parted the stiff parchment of the pact with ease, It shredded into long, narrow strips with one pass. They fluttered to the ftoor Ana felt her power returning, slowly, being freed as it was bit by bit. Without a word, she summoned fire from her blood magic, fire from her own hand to destroy the pact that she had signed

  It burst into flame, another tie gone, another step taken.

  Then the Beast struggled again, and this time caught Anastasia unaware. It slipped loose its chain and ran free, blood hunger driving it onward, on to the Hunt.

  Time blurred. Ana ran through the streets, her pow­ers cloaking her, her bloodthirst driving her every step. Turning down an alley, she fell upon another kind of hunter and his prey. She fell upon the unlucky rapist, tearing the man apart and feasting on his blood as it welled out of the wounds, rending his flesh as she fed It wasn't long before the man's heart beat its, and the world was free of one less foulness. But it had been so long since she had fed, and she was so thirsty, and the Beast demanded more. Her will was like a feeble reed in a torrent of floodwater, and the Beast set her upon the hapless victim as well.

  The woman started to flee, but in her Frenzy she caught her as well, and could not stop herself from draining the victim, the fear and pain in the victims blood changing to ecstasy as she drained the last drop, desperately, unthinkingly. Then the cloud of blood-fire lifted, and she realized what she had done, and she held the empty corpse of the woman and cried blood tears over it, having taken one more step closer to her old life.
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br />   It was as if the stench and foulness of the city rose up around her to coat her in corruption, to make her its own, to Embrace her again, Standing up to leave, she looked at her blood-soaked hands and realized that she had taken another step down the path away from the light she had shared with Sofie.

  "Aren't y'all gonna take care of that little messiness before you go?" A coarse female voice whispered in the dark. Anastasia whirled, her Beast still near the surface, and her night vision revealed a harlot step­ping from the shadows.

  The harlot looked at her, up and down. "You must be a new lick in town, I'm Princess Victoria. Pleased to meet you." The harlot smiled for a brief moment, and Anastasias senses flared around the woman, telling her that she was Kindred—as welt as a man in whore's costume.

  Anastasia waved her hand and the two corpses burst into flames. "Does that satisfy my lady?" she said, her eyes narrowing. She was used to more respect from other Kindred But that had been long ago.

  The Princess immediately reacted to her power, stepping back, "Ah, ah'm terribly sorry ma'am ... I had no idea that one of the Tray-mare would be stalkin' about my part o' town. I didn't mean no disre­spect, you understand .. ."

  "I see. Well, then, you can go about your business then. And say nothing to anyone about this."

  "That's what I was gonna say, ma'am. That i wasn't gonna say anything But. you see. the Prince, his name's Vannevar, he's a wonderful man He asked us to tell him if any new licks come into town. And. well, ma'am. I feel kinda obliged to tell him. Unless you were just on your way to see him. You know, to pre­sent yourself .. ,"

  Anastasia's eyes narrowed to slits, and she reached out with her long-unused powers of domination. "Listen to me, you false strumpet. I'll do as I please, and you'll forget that you saw any of this! Do you understand me?"

  The Princess's eyes blurred, her body went lax, and she nodded. "Yes ma'am. I do. Thank you, ma'am,"

  "Very well. Walk north until you reach the street, and awaken to yourself there. Begone!"