Sex and the Single Vampire (11 page)

I looked around me. “Okay, so … how do I go about
making a keeper? I’ll take a few notes now and make some up later tonight.”

“Allie, I would suggest you think about this before you take such a radical action. You don’t really know this hermit woman. I am quite happy to stay invisible for however long you desire, and I can assure you that both Mr. Woogums and I will be no trouble as you go about your day. Now I think on it, I can see a benefit to you in having us along with you, a great benefit. I will be able to offer you such advice as you may need when you next meet Christian. I know you are very nervous about your date tonight, and I would be happy to act as a chaperon if it will make you feel more comfortable. I shan’t leave you alone for a minute.”

I pulled a fuzzy bobble off my sweater. “Now,” I said to the hermit in a tone of voice that had her raising her eyebrows. “Tell me how to do it right now!”

She showed me the wards to trace over the keeper, followed by the words of binding. During the whole time I was preparing the keeper, Esme first pleaded with me not to do such a cruel thing, then threatened to make herself visible if I didn’t stop. I rushed through the last few words as the air over the chair started to thicken, growing milky white and solidifying into a familiar form, then hastily cleared my mind and visualized the sweater bobble trapping Esme’s spirit.

“I’m warning you, Allie, I’ll not be treated like some sort of spectral good luck chaaaa
aaaaaaaaaa—”

The bobble trembled in my hand for a moment, glowed with an inner light that is not normally found in a yarn bobble, then settled back into normal, albeit slightly tingly, bobbleness.

“Whew! That was close. Thank you for your help. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

The hermit accepted my thanks with a nod, then
glanced at her watch. “I must be leaving; I have an herbal to translate. Do not leave your keepers lying about; they should be carried with you at all times.”

I looked at the bobble resting on the table. “Oh? Why is that?”

“Possession of the keeper grants control over the spirit within. If it is destroyed or damaged, the spirit is destroyed with it.”

“Oh, yeah, I suppose that isn’t too good.”

“Good?” She stood up and gathered up an expensive-looking briefcase. “Such an event would rend your soul in two. As the Summoner of a spirit, your soul is bound with it. To destroy the spirit’s soul is—”

“—to destroy mine,” I finished, feeling a little sick as I carefully tucked the bobble away in my inner coat pocket. “Gotcha. Thanks again. Once I can convince you-know-who to be Released, I’ll let you know if your suggestions help.”

She traced a protection ward on my forehead, and left with a brisk good-bye. I sat at the table, feeling a bit drained by the creation of the keeper, not to mention all the worry that Esme’s unexpected appearance caused. I made notes on the keeper process, and half an hour later limped out to find a taxi to take me to Jamaica House, where Joy and her fiancé lived in a top-floor flat.

Luckily it had an elevator, so I could stand composed and dignified as I rang the bell, rather than gasping for breath and clutching my bad leg.

“Oh, it’s you. She’s heeeeeeere,” Roxy bellowed over her shoulder, grabbing my wrist and pulling me inside. “Did you have any trouble finding the place? It’s a bit out of the way, huh? I told Raphael and Joy that, but they like it. It’s an historic building, you know. Used to be some sort of a coffee shop, one of the old-timey ones, not a modern one. Johnson and his dictionary and all that. I
wonder if it has any ghosts. Hey, maybe you could look around and see? Here, let me take your coat.”

Roxy started tugging my coat off just as Joy and an extremely large man with yellowish eyes (no wonder she didn’t find my eyes that strange) emerged from a sitting room.

“Allie, how nice to see you again. This is Raphael, my husband-to-be. Roxy, let her get her arm out of the coat before you take it.”

Somehow—and I swear that someone who shall be nameless had a hand in this—as I was reaching to shake Raphael’s hand, Roxy jerked my coat from my left arm, and the Esme’d bobble bounced onto the floor. Roxy started forward toward a coat stand. I shrieked.

“Oh, my God, stop! You’ll crush Esme!”

A name has power, thus the ability to Release, bind, and enchant a spirit by means of the entity’s name. As I had seen in the British Library restaurant, speaking the name of a spirit bound to me had the effect of calling that spirit forward, bringing it to wherever I was. Hence the need, the hermit had explained, for sealing a spirit to a location if one did not want it to come running everytime its name was spoken.

True to form, the second Esme’s name left my lips she was released from the bobble, just a scant nanosecond before Roxy trod upon it.

The appearance of a middle-aged ghost in a bathrobe, holding a three-legged cat, did much to stop conversation. In fact, it was a pretty fair bet to say that you could have heard an individual atom of oxygen hit the floor.

I closed my eyes for a second and wondered why I couldn’t have a nice, normal life with nice, normal ghosts.

“Good afternoon, everyone. Allie, you didn’t tell me we were going to pay calls. I’m all at sixes and sevens today. Is that scones I smell? I haven’t had scones in
years!
I do hope you make the kind with dates in them, not sultanas. Sultanas give me the wind. Just let me freshen up a bit and I’ll be ready for a nice little chat.”

Three pairs of extremely surprised eyes turned to look at me. I did my utmost to rally a smile. “Are we early?”

“I know there’s nothing she can eat, but I feel terribly rude not even offering her a cup of tea,” Joy said a few minutes later, after we had survived the introductions. Raphael, on his way out to do some work with the security firm he owned, looked more than a bit startled, but all in all, everyone took Esme’s presence pretty well.

Roxy was in seventh heaven, sitting next to Esme on the couch, grilling her as to what life after death meant. Esme had met her match in Roxy—for every morsel of helpful advice that was offered (“Petite women should never wear horizontal stripes; it makes you look like a munchkin”), Roxy parried with yet another pointed question about the afterlife.

“What was the first moment you knew you were dead? How come you look like you did shortly before you died, rather than at the moment of death? I mean, if you burned to death, shouldn’t you be all smoldering, blackened flesh and gooky stuff? Did you see a light at the end of a tunnel? And what’s the deal with angels—are they real, or is it all just a bunch of hooey?”

I turned away from Roxy and Esme and made an apologetic face at Joy. “I’m really sorry about this. I realize you thought you were just getting me when you invited me to tea. If Esme makes you uncomfortable, I’ll just turn another bobble into a keeper and tuck her away.”

Joy, sitting with her hands resting on her ample stomach, eyed my sweater. “You keep your ghosts in sweater bobbles?”

“Sometimes,” I said cautiously. “But really only in cases of emergency. Not to change the subject, but could you tell me what this step business is that you and Roxy mentioned last night? I meant to ask Christian about it, but what with him making snide comments at me, and then there was Esme and the two of them ganged up on me … well, it just kind of got pushed aside.”

Joy’s mouth hung open for a minute before she snapped it shut. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’m sure it’s going to make a fascinating tale. The steps, oh …” She looked over at Roxy, who was sweeping her hands through Esme’s midsection, much to the latter’s delight. “Well, the steps are part of the Joining. Do you know anything at all about Moravians?”

“Other than that they are not quite vampires, no.”

Joy leaned toward me a little. “You know, you really should read Christian’s books. Much of what he writes about is actual Dark One lore, although, of course, he presents it as fiction. I will be happy to lend you my copies.”

I gnawed on my lower lip. “I’m not really much of one for romances,” I said carefully.

She smiled, her eyes dancing with inner laughter. “Trust me, you’ll like these. And anything you don’t understand, you can ask Christian about. Now, the steps … we were talking about that. Let’s see … well, each Dark One is born having one true love, his Beloved. That’s Beloved with a capital B, by the way. Anyhoodles, a Dark One’s Beloved is his soul mate, the woman who was born to redeem his soul and balance his life. We had thought that there was only one Beloved for each Dark One, but …”

She looked uncomfortable. I couldn’t tell if the baby was dancing on her bladder, or if it was something she was about to say, but I suspected the latter.

“It’s really not important in the least. I don’t want you thinking that it is, because it isn’t, not truly.”

I blinked. “Okay.”

“And I don’t want you thinking that there’s anything between Christian and me, because I love Raphael more than anything on this earth, and I always will. Christian was just a little confused about me for a short while, and took things a bit hard, but in the end it all worked out well, even though Raphael did get fired, and he does have a scar, but at least the tattoo is safe, so that’s good.”

I opened my mouth to say something, then thought better of it.

“But I did promise Christian, you see. I swore to him that I’d help him find his Beloved, and then Roxy had this crazy idea about writing a book to draw her out, and I knew that wouldn’t work, but I thought if Christian did a book tour to a number of countries, that might stand a fair chance of working, and Roxy came over just for the book signing because she said Miranda—that’s a Wiccan friend of ours—Miranda said the goddess told her that Rox was needed in London. And it worked, because here you are!”

Finally, something I could understand. “Wait a minute, if you’re talking about my being Christian’s main squeeze, I have to correct that misimpression. I talked to him about this last night, and he himself told me that I wasn’t his Beloved. He said he would break the news to you.” I took in her crestfallen expression and gentled my words. “I see that he didn’t bother to do that.”

“I haven’t seen Christian since he saw us home after the book signing,” Joy said, pinching worriedly at a ginger cookie. She frowned for a minute; then her face cleared. “No, he’s wrong, that’s all.”

“Who’s wrong?” Roxy asked as she scooted forward to snag a handful of cookies.

“Christian. He told Allie she wasn’t his Beloved.”

“Oh, is that all. Sure, he’s wrong. He was wrong about you being his Beloved; makes sense he’d be wrong about her, too. Poor man is a bit stunted in the Beloved-recognition department,” she told Esme in a confidential tone of voice.

“Really? And he seemed so nice.”

“Wait a minute.” I held up my hand, feeling like the conversation was getting beyond my control. “Can we back up a minute? Christian thought
you
were his Beloved? Is that what all that ‘I don’t want you to think it’s important’ business was about?”

Everyone started talking at the same time, Roxy to tell me that although Christian was a pussycat and she loved him dearly (in a purely platonic way, since she had a husband she adored), he was still a man, and everyone knew men were idiots, Esme to inform me that girdles worked wonders where nothing else could; and Joy to add that Christian had been just a little confused, but that was all straightened out now.

I let them all talk, sitting back and closing my ears to the noise while I mulled it over.

Christian had thought Joy was his Beloved. She clearly was in love with the big man named Raphael, but just as clearly Christian was a very dear friend of hers. I suspected from the warmth that lit the edges of his eyes when he spoke of her that the feeling was returned.

The question was, did his feelings for her go beyond those of a close friend? Was he hiding a broken heart behind a façade of friendship? Or worse, was he on the rebound, willing to cling to any warm body to ease the pain of his unrequited love? I didn’t know enough about the Dark Ones to know just how this whole Beloved thing worked, but I gathered that it was a pretty serious matter, and Christian thinking Joy was the woman meant to redeem
his soul had to mean he had some pretty strong feelings for her.

That said, why did that thought bother me so much?

“Okay, enough, I get the idea,” I said, trying to bring some order to the chaos around me. “Now maybe one of you can explain these steps. What exactly is a Joining? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that.”

Joy looked worried, and absentmindedly ate six cookies. “The steps are steps to Joining. A Dark One Joins with his Beloved—that is, they have to complete the seven steps, and then they are Joined.”

I had a horrible suspicion I knew what she was driving at. “You’re talking about sex, right?”

Joy choked on her cookie. Roxy reached over and pounded on her back a few times until Joy stopped sputtering and coughing.

“If you wouldn’t be such a pig, you wouldn’t have this problem. Sex is the fifth step, but the others don’t have anything to do with it,” Roxy said. “Well, the third step does, but that’s just kissing, so I don’t count that.”

I rubbed a weary hand over my forehead. I felt more than a little like Alice in the company of people who spoke only in riddles. “What exactly are the steps? Maybe if I know what they are, I’ll understand this Joining better.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Roxy answered, counting off her fingers. “First step: the Dark One marks his Beloved. I assume Christian’s already done that with you, yes?”

I gnawed on my lip. “Marked how?”

“Have you had any visions recently?” Joy asked. “Any times when you felt as if your mind had merged with Christian’s?”

I smiled a grim little smile. “No one gets into my mind without my permission. Guarding my mind from others was the first thing I learned.”

“Really?” Joy looked at Roxy. Roxy looked back at Joy. Esme looked at her cat. Mr. Woogums licked his butt. “Well, I don’t know what to say in that case. With me, everything Christian felt and saw, I felt and saw. And … er … likewise.”