Lillian Holmes and the Leaping Man (3 page)

But now, without such a following, those who had lived such solitary lives were at extreme risk, as Houses grew in numbers and powers, spreading quickly through America and God knew where else. And George, perhaps, was at the greatest risk of all, having brushed up against a Queen with a voracious appetite and taste for power and revenge.

“Won’t Phillip be surprised,” George whispered to the hissing fireplace.

And,
Won’t he hate you for breaking your agreement? Won’t he try to kill you to protect his lovely new bride?
His brother would die in any such attempt to destroy his maker, but he would likely sacrifice himself nonetheless. Phillip tended toward heroics. They were as night and day. For as sure as the sun would set in a few moments, George knew that Phillip had allowed his sweet little Kitty Twamley to remain human, flesh and untainted blood, while he feasted alone on the criminal element of Baltimore.

So noble, so naïve, George thought as he pulled on his pipe. When the pretty lass started to age, when her flesh sagged and wrinkled, Phillip would regret his decision. How many mortal women had they buried through the centuries? How many had they left to rot where they lay? How many had they brought into the fold? They should have kept a journal, he mused.

George watched the last finger of light shorten its reach on the carpet and recede into twilight; then he pulled the heavy curtain back a fraction to ensure darkness had indeed fallen and it was safe to draw wider so he could spy on his neighbors. While Phillip seemed to take after their mother and was unaffected by daylight, George, like most of their kind, grew weak with extended exposure to the sun.

Three days, and no sign of Phillip or Kitty. He’d seen familiar figures enough: the tiresome Langhan sisters on some social jaunt each evening. The fruit vendor—hadn’t he done in his brother? Or was that the butcher? The city’s slow-witted policemen didn’t have time or inclination to solve the murders of the lower classes, and George snickered. They were still licking their wounds after allowing the mayor’s murder. Or, as most still believed, suicide.

Where
is
he?
It wouldn’t do for his enemy or one of her lieutenants to find him before he had a chance to elicit allegiance from Phillip.

Had the pair married already and honeymooned abroad? Subtle inquiries suggested Phillip still resided in the mansion he and George shared before Kitty stumbled into their lives. Perhaps his brother was avoiding him, having tasted a year free of the bond of his maker. Or, emotional chap that he was, perhaps he’d actually missed George. George would have to ascertain which, quickly, to know how to play best on Phillip’s intense romanticism.

George’s attention was drawn to a tall, slender, raven-haired woman who emerged from a house a few doors down the street. Her carriage was striking, her figure curvaceous enough to bring his lust to life. How old was she? He imagined her twenties, given her simple but stylish dress. Her face shielded a bit by her wide hat, she fretted with her gloves and bag and stopped for a moment.

Why so nervous, lovely lady?
Did she step out to meet a lover?

A pack of little ruffians, none older than twelve or so, materialized as if from thin air and circled her, giggling and pulling at her hand.

“She’ll be robbed, stupid girl!” He laughed at the simple tricks of the rapscallions. He’d separated enough women from their jewels and purses as a youth, using his charm and captivating mortal good looks.

But no, she laughed with them and scooped the youngest up into her arms. One held an oversized hound by a rope, although the dog seemed to be leading the boy.

George shrugged and turned away. Another insipid girl in an uninteresting century, in a most uninteresting city. But as she turned to speak to the children, he caught a glimpse of her face and froze. The woman from last night! Hadn’t she looked quite different with the moonlight shining on her long silky hair, her arms barely concealing her breasts, her gently rounded hips visible above that window ledge? What had she thought, seeing him jump two stories to the street? She must have believed she was dreaming. Had he not been in a euphoric state from the blood of the young chap he’d devoured, he’d likely have taken her too.

George smiled, making a mental note of a potentially enjoyable meal. Didn’t she know the streets were not safe at night?

He brushed his hands over his face, thinking for a moment of the days when a beautiful woman was a different kind of meal, quenched a different thirst. He would murder, but he wasn’t a rapist, and he didn’t have time or interest in courting such a lady of society. God, but this era was tiresome, with table legs wrapped in cloth against impropriety. Peeling the layers of clothing off a woman like that would take weeks, possibly months… No, he’d have to settle with the whores of Fell’s Point.

He jumped at the knock on his door, and as he approached it, he sensed that his brother had found him first. And he felt Phillip’s anger.

“It’s all right, Georgy, let me in,” his brother called.

George drew his power up in a breath and opened the door, then nonchalantly turned his back on his sibling and retrieved his pipe. He stared out the window, waiting for Phillip to speak first, but the room remained silent. Finally he turned, finding the eyes of the first person he’d made immortal. His only ally, willing or not.

“I despise you for making me hide out in this dreadful place. Where have you been?”

“You said you’d stay away until Kitty’s natural life came to an end. You promised, George. Of course, I am once again the fool for believing you.”

“Yes, I love you too. Now, where have you been?”

“What does it matter?”

George tilted his head and sent the force of his will into Phillip’s chest. Yes, the connection remained.

“New Orleans, damn you to hell.”

“Too much competition in that city.”

“We were there so Kitty could paint a portrait. A handsome commission, too. I care not about the New Orleans House. A more pompous, egotistical society I never encountered. You would fit in nicely.”

“And does our long-lost cousin still run that House? Do we still find favor among his brood? I recall he made you a handsome offer some decades ago?”

“Looking for a post are you, George? You want to be Jean’s errand-boy? I find that quite amusing.”

“I simply like to keep up on the latest comings and goings.”

“I felt you as soon as I returned.” His brother shook his head morosely and sat. “I thought our bond fully broken when you left for London.”

“You thought you’d be completely free of me—at least for many years.” George had expected his brother’s disappointment, but not that it would hurt his pride. “The maker bond is as strong as ever, isn’t it? I feel it to be so.”

“And now you will strengthen it, and I’ll be at your mercy again. Sadly enough, part of me welcomes it. I’m so used to fighting you at every turn, trying to undo the havoc you wreak; I’ve barely known what to do with myself with all my free time.”

“Sarcasm is not your strong point.”

“At least now I’ll have you to blame for all of my own mistakes as well.” Phillip loosened his cravat and leaned back into the cushions.

“Like Kitty?” George held his hand up to ward off the coming attack. “Ah, old habits die hard. Kitty is not a mistake in your eyes. But I know the temptation to take her blood must be overwhelming at times. How does she fare?”

“She is well, as if you care. But you are not here for her, so tell me what brings you back. We had a bargain.”

“I don’t mind Kitty that much. Although she might be in the way now.”

“
You
are in the way. She is to be my wife.”

George paced in front of the fireplace, now only embers. “Madam Lucifer is at it again. Marie de Bourbon is unalive, well, and on a new crusade against me.”

Phillip laughed. “Oh, bloody hell, George. Is that all? My ex-wife threatened you? Did you call her portly again?”

“It’s not funny. She has a long memory.”

“Yes, well, it’s a little hard to forget that your brother-in-law turned your husband into a vampire. She was somewhat fond of me. At least, I think she was. Didn’t like either of us much after you drained her, too.”

“I was a bit relentless in those first weeks.”

“You were quite insane, as I’ve not seen since in any House. You killed for sport, it seemed.”

George spun away from Phillip and rubbed at his chin.
Don’t lose your temper just yet. Let him get a few digs in.
“I concur. It was not my finest moment. In any case, I released Marie’s bond centuries ago in a moment of weakness. I should have killed her when I had the chance.”

“So kill her now, what do I care? She’s loathsome and would certainly take me down with you, along with my Kitty. You’d be doing us all a favor. What can I do about any of this? If she’s too strong for you, then she’s far too strong for me.”

George spun on his heel to face his brother.
Don’t scare him away.
“She’s amassed an enormous following, Phillip. If I stepped foot in France or England, her Houses would be on me in an instant. It was dreadful in London. You’ve been away too long. It’s a veritable war. Her, Mother—”

“Mother? You saw her?”

That was a low blow, George admitted, but it was the one card he had up his sleeve. Phillip always softened at the mention of her. Their mother had wanted little to do with George since in a moment of weakness he’d become his brother’s maker. Still, she had little room to talk, didn’t she? George himself had been
her
first meal.

“She can take care of herself. But she won’t help me, and we both know why. So Madam Lucifer continues her hunt unimpeded. I have no allies. Evidently I do not inspire devotion. I cannot imagine why.”

He sniffed out a laugh, but Phillip remained stone-faced. “Why hide here? Go to some exotic outpost, to the Orient or the western frontier of America! Why involve me in your mess?”

George turned away. So, there it was. He would have to use force. Phillip would cover the same familiar ground, and how could George blame him? He’d destroyed his brother’s soul in one frenzied moment of hunger, need, and loneliness. His first taste of mortal blood.

“Marie may listen to you. I’m sure there’s some affection left in those icy veins. You are the father of her child. We think. Tell her, Phillip, ask her, beg her to let us stay in the dark alleyways of small unappealing towns. Tell her we are no threat.”

“If she has amassed the following you claim, you do indeed pose no threat. She was strong from the first day. Do you suspect her of attacking her own children?”

“There can be no doubt of it! She rules through fear. You must try to dissuade her, plea on my behalf, tell her that we are at peace!”

“Are we at peace, George? Truly? Now that you are in Baltimore, I must look over my shoulder constantly, wondering who you will strike next. I come home from New Orleans to learn my young neighbor died of an apparent suicide. The
mayor
also died of his own hand a few days before that, knife drawn across his throat and then cast aside in the same manner. Does no one own a pistol in this town? Baltimoreans evidently choose to slice their own throats when they can no longer stand to live. Can I expect my beautiful fiancée to slit her throat if I should go away for a night? The law might not have made the connection, but I certainly saw your modus operandi in those deaths. How are we at peace when I cannot trust you to be in the same city as my beloved?”

“You can trust me not to harm Kitty. Of course you can. I cannot undo what has been done, brother. I cannot give your short human life back, your funeral procession, and a grave in Saint-Denis. Don’t you think I’ve lived with regret?” George smelled the guilt wafting from Phillip. This tactic had always worked, and it would work now. “It is the one true shame of my life.”

Phillip held up his hand for silence. “I am sorry. I promised myself years ago not to lord it over you. I know your regret. We were young and you were weak and nearly insane with isolation, with betrayal over mother’s act. It was your way of hurting her; we both know that. But what of our bargain? What am I to do now? You would bring a vampire-eater down on me as well?”

He pushed his hand through his hair and paced the length of the room. “Kitty will turn you in if you continue to slaughter innocents. Her moral compass shows one direction only—goodness. She gives me leeway, as you know, only because I hunt the already damned. If you see her as a threat, you will kill her, I know it. Your loyalty to me does not outweigh your wanton desires. What would you have me do, George!”

“I’ve had time to think this through. I have weighed everything. I know Kitty loathes me. If I could change her mind, would you then help me?”

“Change her mind? Not a chance of it.”

“If I were to become like the man she loves, how could she not love me? If I were to haunt the docks and alleys, feasting only on criminals or their victims? What would she think then?”

“You could not do it, would not even try. This is a trick, and not so clever a one that she won’t see through it as well.”

“I can, and I will. If you swear you will help should Marie track me down, to help me gather allies in this godforsaken region of this godforsaken country, I will swear to be an upstanding citizen of this fair city.”

“Ridiculous.”

“Give me one week, Phillip. You will see.” But his plea came with a dose of command, and he saw his brother grimace with pain.

“How will I convince her? God, you are so frustrating!”

“Splendid!” George nodded at his sibling’s acquiescence. “You won’t need to convince her, she’ll see for herself. Do tell her I’m about, though, darling. Don’t want to scare her to death.”

“If you make one false move, George, one hint of a false move, I will not hesitate to help Madam Lucifer take you down. Am I clear?”

“Nonsense. You wouldn’t know how to begin.”

“But Marie de Bourbon would.”

“Touché. So, when will you get me out of this damned hotel? I would have my old rooms back.”