The Vampire Queen's Servant (20 page)

"Why would vampires want
food? Or care about it at all?" Jacob asked.

The butcher-block kitchen table
had more space than the center island, but Jacob discovered Bran tended to get
bored and plant his huge front paws on the table's surface, dragging everything
on it to the floor. He wondered if Lyssa had ever had the same urge he had, to
tie the animal's ears in a painful knot. Or ended up as he had, in a wrestling
match with Bran for one of the cookbooks, laughing at them both. It turned out
the island was more comfortable for Jacob's long legs anyway, and easier to
circle and examine the various items he'd spread out over the counter.

Catering catalogs, cookbooks,
several legal pads and pens. When she'd joined him about an hour ago, he'd seen
her glance over the three proposed menus he'd already laid out, including
appetizers, salad, soup, main course, dessert, and wine selections. He'd made
notes in the margins on other household issues. The dogs' schedule, where the
switchboxes were, flashlights, a list of things he hadn't found he might have
to get at the hardware store. He hadn't let her curt dismissal rattle him,
hadn't spent his time sulking. He hoped that had impressed her. Or maybe
annoyed her just a little bit. He couldn't tell, but it cheered him to imagine
either one.

"Vampires like food,"
she responded. "We can't digest it in great quantities, but we love the
taste, the aroma. The main purpose of having a five-course meal is to delight
them with different flavors and scents."

"So why don't we choose a
mixture of flavors they haven't experienced before, together with things they
have, so they can enjoy the new and familiar together? Like fresh brownies,
with a side of raspberry cream sauce. A salad made out of fresh produce from
local farmers. Nothing smells as good as a garden tomato that's never seen the
inside of a refrigerator." He made a notation. In the corner of his eye,
he noted she appeared fascinated by the way he held a pen. He was left-handed,
so he had an awkward scribble barely legible to himself. "Will there be
any politics to deal with?" he asked.

"Are we both
breathing?"

Jacob glanced up in time to see
a look of amusement cross her face. It helped ease the ball of apprehension he
was carrying in his gut, anticipating that any moment she was going to do
something else to test his limits. The way he felt around her was worse than it
had been with his high school history teacher who'd loved surprise pop quizzes.
In the microcosm of totalitarianism that could only exist in a classroom, to
fail on even one of the tests would be 25 percent of the student's grade for
the semester. A passing grade on the test was simply discarded, proof he was
paying attention. He was finding some definite correlations between Lyssa and Mr.
Winstead.

He'd had mixed feelings about
the way she'd shut the door in his face. Thomas had helped her far more with
her morning toilette than she'd allowed him to do this morning. Her dismissal
rankled, but on the other hand, he was realizing how difficult it was to
maintain self-control around a woman who kept him in a near constant state of
wanting. She looked at him one moment with naked desire glittering in her eyes,
her body trembling at his briefest touch. A blink later, she shoved him away,
shut him out. Now here she was in a pair of tailored brown slacks and a soft
cream sweater he supposed she thought of as simple and demure. Still, he longed
to close his hands over the band of the sweater on her hips, pet the curve of
her breasts. She'd pulled her dark, fine hair back with a barrette so it lay on
her shoulder blades. Spun silk he'd had the pleasure of touching, so just
looking at it made his fingers itch.

"The purpose of the dinner
is to mark a new vampire for my Region. Thomas explained the structure of our
holdings, I assume?"

He had. The vampire world was
divided into Regions, groupings of territories won through battle or influence
during the formation of the current vampire society, before the Council had
been appointed. The heads of those Regions were known as Master vampires. A
vampire who accumulated enough wealth and influence might be awarded an
overlord title and a territory inside a Region by the Council, preferably with
the consent of the Region Master. Vampires lacking the power or experience to
be an overlord applied to reside in a territory. The overlord then put them in
charge of different business interests. In return the vampires gave the
overlord a percentage for his protection and backing. The overlords served the
Region Master.

Jacob remembered asking Thomas
if it was similar to racketeering. He'd earned an affectionate smack with the
book the monk was reading, Thomas knowing when his student was yanking his
chain. Understanding the class-conscious formality of vampire society, Jacob
thought it made perfect sense they'd chosen a feudal structure.

She was the southern Master. The
southern states were hers, everything from Virginia to Texas.

At Jacob's nod, Lyssa continued.
"Brian Morris, my guest of honor, is a scientist. He's a born vampire
who's petitioned his Regional Master, who also happens to be his natural
father, to immigrate to the States to continue his research. The facility is in
my Alabama territory. The overlord of that territory is actually a couple, Lady
Tara and Lord Richard. They'll be invited to the dinner to witness the marking
and accept responsibility for his protection."

"What would have happened
if he'd moved out of his territory without permission?"

She paged through one of the
cookbooks, stopping on a lasagna dish. As she followed the lines of text with
the unpolished finger, it reminded him he owed her a manicure.

"Well, since he's the
Region Master's son, it would have been handled a bit differently. However, in
a normal case, you either serve a vampire or you're a loner, and vampires don't
tolerate a loner. The point of the system we have is to ensure protection,
prosperity, secrecy and a support network for our activities. Any vampire in a
territory may appeal a decision to the Region Master if they feel they're being
treated unfairly by the overlord. There are different management styles,"
she acknowledged with a tilt of her head. "Some are more brutal than
others. If a vampire can't find resolution, he or she might seek refuge in
another Region, but if that Master isn't willing to offer asylum, the vampire
would be considered rogue. Welcome in no territory, his original Master or
overlord would quickly catch up to him. The most common punishment is interring
him in a sealed container as punishment or warning to others."

"But you said you don't
need air."

She nodded. "A vampire can
live that way for eternity, with great suffering. Most vampires have strengths
of value, so the Master or overlord would likely only prolong the lesson a
month or two."

"Have you…" Jacob
swallowed, wondering if he really wanted an answer to the question.

When she met his gaze, he
noticed she'd chosen tiny gold hoop earrings and small diamond studs for her
ears. With their healing abilities, vampires pierced their ears anew each time
they chose to wear them. Other than his knowledge of that fact, to all
appearances she could have been standing at the head of a board meeting,
discussing a change in stock prices. "How would it make you feel about me?
If those who have displeased me are screaming hopelessly underground for a
release that will only come at my pleasure?"

Jacob sat back, crossed his
arms. "You've never done it, my lady. Thomas would never have served you
if you had such cruelty."

"A lot can happen between
two people on a journey through life together." Her dark eyes dwelled on
his face, intent and unwavering. "By the end, there were many things
Thomas did without thought he wouldn't have considered before we met. In my
world, it's a delicate balance, fear and respect, obedience and free will. No
vampire respects compassion if he interprets it as weakness. If you find the
right balance, you'll command the loyalty of those in your territory. If you're
too brutal, you push them into hatred. That is not my way."

Jacob wryly noticed it was not a
direct yes or no, but something to help him sleep at night. Or day, as the case
might be. Regardless, he'd no doubt she'd calculated her answer that way.

"You have the largest
Region. But you're not part of the Council. Thomas said that was your
choice."

She nodded. "I have three
hundred vampires in my area. I helped form the Council and the rules that
govern our world, but I'm the last queen of the Far East clan. While that
doesn't mean a great deal anymore, symbolically it means enough to tip the
scales of power adversely if I sat on the Council. You'll get to meet them
later this year. All the overlords and Masters meet once every five years to
pay them our respects. What else did Thomas tell you about the vampires in my
Region?"

Though her voice was flat, her
eyes were still intently focused. He knew what she was asking as if it had been
whispered in his ear. "That there are thirty-nine fugitives you've granted
asylum."

She studied him for a moment
more. "There are fifty now. When a vampire is accepted into my Region, I
mark him or her so I know their whereabouts at all times. That's what I'll be
doing with Brian. With the fugitives, it also gives them a limited ability to
let me know if they're in distress and who is causing that distress. I may not
get there in time, but I will hunt down the perpetrator and make him regret his
actions. As long as my reputation holds, they are safe here."

A sixth of the vampires in her
Region were fugitives and yet no overlord or Region Master dared challenge her
asylum for them. Jacob was starting to pick up on the reason for her reticence
about her illness.
I cannot ever show weakness before my enemies, Jacob. It
is the first rule of my world
.

"Any new territory disputes
I should be aware of?"

"None right now. When Rex
died, I had to prove I could defend my Region alone. That process is never
quite over, but I've had several decisive and somewhat brutal victories
recently." When she tilted her head, considering some dust on the light
fixture, he saw the hint of red deep in her irises, like crimson silt at the
bottom of an emerald sea. "It's been quiet," she commented.

It stirred a memory Thomas had
given him. Of a time when several vampires, including one of her own overlords,
had trapped her in an alley. Or so they'd thought. Three bodies had been left
behind, and hers had not been one of them. In fact, after making a brief stop
to freshen up, she'd met Rex as planned for a theater production of
Peter
Pan
and seemed to thoroughly enjoy the play.

"You've had a pretty big
jump in fugitive numbers since Thomas left. So the conflict between the made
and born vampires is getting worse?"

"You're paying
attention," she observed. "Yes." She spread out her hands, the
long nails making it a graceful motion, though it conveyed tension. "As
Thomas probably told you, the number of born vampires has dwindled over the
past several centuries. To balance that, the Council has allowed more vampires
to be made. Unfortunately, these vampires often lack the perspective a born vampire
has. They tend to be more resistant to our laws. It's not a popular opinion,
but I believe that made vampires have genetic weaknesses, specifically poorer
impulse control and a greater level of bloodlust, not a good combination."

"Almost as though making a
vampire is incestuous."

"You also catch on
quickly." The compliment warmed him, but she didn't raise her attention
from the cookbook she was studying again. "There are some, including
myself, who have suggested it would be best to stop making vampires altogether
until we can better understand why." She snorted. "We are shouted
down. It is apparently better to let rabid dogs loose on the populace than to
be perceived as politically incorrect. Most of the Region Masters and not
enough of the overlords understand the world works best if humans believe we're
the product of overactive imaginations in filmmaking. Sometimes it seems the
more 'civilized' we get, the more immature and childish we are. We think we are
somehow owed whatever we wish, rather than needing to impose limits on our own
behavior. The truth becomes relative to our own experience only."

There were shadows in her eyes
now, telling him the subject had taken a personal and perhaps painful turn for
her. "At least there are strict rules on siring a vampire," she
continued. "If you make a vampire without consent, your life is forfeit.
The fledgling is spared, but fledglings often die without the sire to watch
over them in the first decade. Vampires are not generally nurturing to children
not their own. Of course, there is no restriction on trying to create a born
vampire." She allowed herself a tight smile. "Otherwise known as
trying to conceive a child."

Vampires did not use birth
control. Becoming pregnant with a vampire child was rare, and treasured. Lyssa
had never conceived, but Thomas had sometimes sensed she would have liked to
have been a mother. While the monk had been thankful it had not occurred with
Rex, and based on what Jacob knew of his lady's husband at this point, he had
to agree, he thought he heard a wistful note in her voice. He wondered if she'd
ever hoped…