Ravenous

Chapter 25

No need for invitation barred Alessandro from Holly's home. He had been there before, and now he was her master. Not even the magic of the house was a barrier. Magic was shaped and given power with will, and he had drunk down Holly's will with her blood.

Like all those bitten for the first time, Holly had collapsed moments after he had finished. She would sleep it off and wake up begging for more. It would be easy to convince her to give her aid to the queen.

He carried Holly into the house, using the key he found in her backpack to unlock the door.

Monster. Murderer. His bite possessed his victim. There was nothing Holly could do but serve his every wish. He hadn't asked for this kind of mastery. He didn't want it. It was vile.

But it was his.

The bedroom was dark. The last time he had been there she had lit a candle with a spell. The memory would have made him sad, but his soul was already gray with grief.

He laid her on the bed, her small form curling onto her side. Then he reached over, clicking on the bedside lamp to comfort her should she wake. The tip of a tail flashed in his vision as Holly's cat crept from the room, its body hunkered close to the floor.

The cat knew something was amiss.

Holly trusted me to keep her safe. I failed. In the end I betrayed her trust.

The price of failure was staggering for him as well as her. If there was such a thing as the Chosen, there was no way she could Choose him now. Only those with free will could save a vampire with their love. He had sacrificed that chance for liberty from the blood hunger.

But I had to save her. I couldn't let her fall to Geneva's evil.

Holly stirred in her sleep. Strands of her hair were scattered over the counterpane, framing her profile like a dark sun. Alessandro sat on the bed, smoothing stray locks into place. His hands wound into the softness, feeling the precious warmth of her skin.

He would make it up to her as best he could. Holly's days would be an idyll of pleasure. Everything he had was hers to enjoy, and he had much. Wealth. Property. Knowledge gleaned from centuries of experience and experimentation. But sooner or later the venom addiction would take her over. Now that he had tasted her, he would not have the strength to deny her. No vampire could resist their human lover's blood forever.

I will have to leave her. Once the demon is gone, I must go, too. The thought washed over him, a fresh agony. Omara knew just how to punish me for having someone else in my heart. She makes me destroy the woman I love, or else abandon her forever. But wasn't his bite the antidote for the Dark Larceny? What else could he have done?

Did I accept this as the only solution because it indulged my own gluttony?

No. I spared her when we made love. I have the strength. I did it to save her.

His thoughts swung back and forth, persistent as a clock's pendulum. He did not know the truth, or whether it was all just different views of reality. He was death and a cure both. What have I done?

Bending over Holly, he inhaled the scent of her skin, sweet as wild honey. He had tasted the demon in her blood tonight, faint but present. Omara was right: Macmillan's kiss had been eroding her already.

But now the scent of the demon had faded, the mark of Alessandro's venom taking ascendancy. She is wholly mine now. A rush of appetite flooded through him, filling his mouth with saliva. He touched the soft, soft curve of her cheek with his lips. My own.

An ache of regret and loss caught under his ribs, all the worse because he knew it changed nothing. I love her. There has to be a way out of this. If I have to I will walk away, but please, please let there be another way.

Holly came to life, turning beneath him. Blinking sleepily, she wound her arms around his neck. "You're here."

"Of course." Guilt crowded behind the words, the first he had spoken since taking her.

"I'm glad. Don't ever leave." She pulled him down, taking his mouth for a long, breathless moment. "I want us to lie here forever."

That's the venom talking. Alessandro forced a smile. "I'm a terrible conversationalist once the sun comes up."

"I didn't mean we'd be swapping gossip."

Oh, Holly, he thought sadly.

He let her pull him down beside her, his weight jostling the big bed. Holly straddled him, grabbing the waistband of his jeans. "You drove last night. This time I get the car keys, and you enjoy the ride."

Despite himself, Alessandro felt his muscles go slack with pure male delight. Oh, yes.

Then sanity bobbed to the surface. She was riding high on the dregs of his last bite. Maybe part of her enthusiasm was real, but part was also chemical.

"Are you sure this is—"

She put her mouth to his ear, the silky curve of her shoulder brushing his chin. "Stop fretting. What does it matter? What can you do that hasn't already been done?"

With a single motion she stripped off her shirt, tossing it over the side of the bed. A black satin bra scalloped the edges of her full breasts, the lace edging cut low enough to show her nipples jutting hard against the net.

How could he resist? His body's response was instant and emphatic, man and vampire on full alert. The blood beneath that fine white skin was so rich with power. A witch tasted heavy and thick, tingling with magic like fine champagne.

He wanted it. And he wanted those breasts in his hands, those legs wrapped around his waist. His fingers hooked under one thin black bra strap and slid it over her shoulder, pressing his lips where it had dented the flesh beneath. As she shifted against him, his tongue found the hollow above her collarbone.

Then air separated them. Her hands had been busy with his jeans, releasing his hot and aching member from imprisoning cloth. Holly's fingers were clever enough, but at the touch of her hot, wet mouth—sucking, licking, teasing him to readiness—his heart thumped suddenly to life. A rush of heat filled him, the energy from the blood he had already consumed sparking a mounting spiral of need.

He shouldn't let her do this. Not twice in one night.

But their clothes went away all the same.

Then Holly was under him.

He filled himself with the taste of her breasts, suckling with a skill that already had her writhing under him. A touch to the dark curls between her legs found her swollen and wet. He slid experimental fingers inside, seeking just the right spot to caress.

Holly moaned. The sound speared him, making him even harder. Working as slowly as he could, he drew out her pleasure with the patience of a craftsman. She dug her heels into the sheets, her neck straining as he stroked and circled her inside and out. Then, with a kiss to her most intimate place, he brought Holly to a hot, slippery, helpless climax.

It pleased Alessandro that he could do that without his bite. Some human skills were well worth preserving.

But that was just the starter course. He allowed a moment for the appetite to recover.

He cuddled her, stroking, coaxing her limbs back to life and kindling new fires of sexual hunger. She slid her leg over his body, the flesh of her thigh petal-smooth. She settled over his erection with ease, gently, slowly, drawing him tight inside the blessed warmth of her body. They rocked gently, building energy with steady, relentless friction.

Now his hungers began to demand their due. Holly arched her back, the light painting the architecture of her body in golden relief, the globes of her breasts moving in rhythm with their bodies. She was making little noises, leaning forward now, shifting to get just the right angle, stroking longer and harder.

The visuals were dazzling.

Her mouth fell open, eyes closed with concentration. He could see the mounting tension, beautiful and wild, taking shape in her features. She found release with a cry.

The leash of his own needs slipped, but he relentlessly caught it, holding on. A rush of wetness cascaded inside her, the convulsions caressing him. She found his mouth, her lips against his in a communion of sex and bliss. A torrent of energy, feminine and witchy, tingled over his skin in beguiling waves.

Ah, there were limits to even his control. He rolled her to her back, bracing himself for maximum thrust. His mouth ached with the need to taste her.

First he had to bury himself inside again and again. Her breasts shuddered with each driving plunge. He was past mere pleasure. His hunger fought loose, male need driving out all thought but taking her for his own. She panted under him, driven again to the brink of madness, the scent of her arousal only lashing him on. He heard a feral noise that must have been him, and then a final paroxysm shattered his body.

He felt his seed spill as a sharp, choking hunger tore him from within. Suddenly it was impossible to draw breath. Orgasm became a sharp new desire as human impulse fell away, senseless and satiated.

All that was left was the vampire. The beast.

That did not mean he was not tender. He slid down, cupping one arm under her shoulders. He kissed her, kissed the place where he had already plundered her life, licked the wounds open with the savoring caress of a connoisseur.

She arched her throat, giving him access as he bit down.

He shuddered, hardening again as her life flooded into him, sliding down his throat with all the potency of strong liquor. A storm of pleasure took him, leaving him gasping, heavy and drugged with pleasure.

He throbbed, all of him, aching for more, his stamina barely tapped. There were good things about being a vampire.

The night was young, and the banquet had just begun.

When Holly woke it was to an afternoon light. The question was which afternoon, which day.

She was spooned against Alessandro, one of his arms a heavy weight across her side. She expected to feel pain, but did not.

What she did feel was the mix of their powers woven like a cord between them, twining through their sex, through their blood. Her magic had somehow blended with his vampire energy, fused in a crucible of lust. Above that, his venom sang in her veins, a barely banked wash of heady desire. Venom. I'm trapped. Oh, Goddess.

But, strangely, she wasn't afraid. Is that the venom lulling me? Or do I really have nothing to fear? Holly had never felt so thoroughly sated. She wriggled under the weight of Alessandro's arm, turning so she could face him. He was in the deep, deep rest of the Undead, pale but peaceful, his hair a tangled mass on the pillow.

Strange clarity pushed away the fog of sleep and sex. She had lost blood, but she felt strong. She knew she was under his influence, but she felt oddly free. What's happened to me?

Was it just the outstanding sex? They said it was the bite that trapped a person, ruined them for human lovers, but she was willing to vote for vampire endurance. After that kind of lovemaking, how could anything else compete? She subsided onto her back, snuggling beneath Alessandro's arm. Energy hummed between them, mildly erotic.

Goddess, she was relaxed.

At times, when she was deep in meditation, she could see the webwork of the house's magic. She could see it now, shining ribbons of power bright in her mind's eye. It flowed like a tangle of roots, branching and branching again, a myriad of tiny golden threads of energy. Holly let her mind float along and through them, aimless, drifting. Comfortable.

There was an unexpected lurch of disconnection, so sudden there was no time to struggle. While Holly's body stayed behind, her soul slid into the darkness like the slow drip of molasses out of a cold bottle.

What's going on? Hello?

For a moment it felt as if she floated backward out of her skull, rising higher and higher into an airless void. The house, the bed faded from sight, melting into a swirling gray soup with no horizon. Holly's stomach rolled, reminding her of late-night drinking sessions and bad seafood. Should I be panicking?

Holly's eyes snapped open. She was standing upstairs on the same floor as the nursery, but was down the hall near the back bedrooms.

How did I get here? Wait a minute.…

The doors to the rooms were open, early evening sunshine slanting at a low angle through the dust motes. But it was afternoon a moment ago.

A hamper stood in the hall, overflowing with laundry awaiting attention. Strains of teeny-bopper radio sugared the air. Automatically Holly picked up one of the shirts that had missed the hamper. Familiar pink-and-white cotton draped over her hand, limp with too many wearings. Years and years ago it had been her favorite.

Fear flooded her mouth with a metallic tang. Those rooms had been shut up since she was a child That shirt had fallen apart and been cut up for rags. I'm in the past.

This early summer evening, with the sun just like that, was one of the last things she remembered before the hole in her memory. Her hands began to shake. She stuffed the shirt in the hamper and crept into her old room. The sight of the baby-aspirin pink walls set the hair on her neck crawling with apprehension.

I was here right before the terrible thing happened.

It all looked so mundane. Magazines and more clothes littered the shaggy throw rug. Unicorn posters were taped to the closet doors. A math workbook was open on the faux-French provincial desk, the pages held open by a plush bear. Holly remembered, with a pang for her lost younger self, wishing Teddy knew how to do fractions. Problems had been simpler then.

She found the source of the saccharine pop music—her old clock radio—and switched it off.

"Holly? Hol?"

Her hand froze on the radio button, her whole body clammy with dread.

"Holly? C'mere."

She tried to swallow, but the frantic beating of her heart interfered. "Ashe?" she said, but the reply was no louder than a whisper.

This night, the one about to start. She had forgotten it, forced it away, buried it, but it was still there, etched deep inside like the serial number of her soul. Turning toward the door, she followed the sound of her sister's voice.

"Ashe?" she said again, stronger this time. The sight line through her sister's doorway was blocked by a blue dresser piled with feminine detritus. There were posters of heavy metal bands on her ceiling—men writhing in explosions of artistically lit sweat.

"I need your help," Ashe said in her pseudo-adult voice, the words confident and clipped.

"It'll cost you ten bucks." Holly's words came out automatically. It was what she had said the first time this scene had unrolled.

"Holllleeeee," Ashe wheedled, a momentary lapse into the little girl she had been a summer or two past. "Please. I'll give you five."

"What do you want?" Holly rounded the corner of the dresser. Part of her already knew what Ashe would ask, but the details floated just outside her conscious grasp.

Whatever it was, it was something to do with big-M magic.

Ashe was kneeling on the floor, facing Holly. She had spread out a white cloth on the hardwood, as if setting out a picnic. Pretty china candlesticks sat in the center, their white tapers already lit. Feathers. Salt. Their mother's hairbrush. One of their father's ties. A dish of incense that smelled like the sweet, stale crumbs from the bottom of a chocolate box. She was planning a ritual. Ashe Carver was a talented worker of magic.

She looked up, not seeming to notice Holly's grown-up body. At this moment in time Ashe was sixteen; Holly was eight.

Girl-slim and long-legged, Ashe wore a sundress and mauve plastic sandals. Her hair was blonder than Holly's, ironed straight, with wispy bangs. She had too much makeup around her huge green eyes, a sure sign she was meeting her boyfriend later.

"I need to go out, Hoi," she said, smoothing a corner of the cloth. "I just have to. Glen's got tickets to Blue Murder."

Did something so small, so petty, cause everything that came after?

Holly's reply came, sulky and petulant. "You can't leave. You're supposed to stay here with me until Mom and Dad get home." Grandma, she remembered, had been visiting family in Halifax.

"This is more important." Ashe flicked some of the incense smoke around the room with a feather. "You're a big girl. You can manage."

Holly felt a glob of nausea working its way up her throat. No, no, don't do this. The next line in the script left her tongue. "They'll kill you."

Ashe gave Holly a look of green-eyed contempt. "Not if they don't find out. I just need to delay them until the concert's over."

"They'll be home long before that. You'll be toast," Holly said with gory, kid-sister satisfaction.

"Not if they have a flat tire."

She turned and picked up a white shoe box. Blithely she pulled off the lid. "Remember these?"

Sweet Hecate. Holly remembered everything.

A wave of heat seared through her, followed instantly by cold sweat. Holly scrambled out of Ashe's room and down the hall to the bathroom. Barely making it, she threw up in of the old pedestal sink. She vomited over and over until her ribs ached with it and nothing came up but scalding bile.

Last time Ashe had opened the box, Holly's soul was innocent. She had known no terrors. Now she saw it all with adult eyes. After a long moment she washed out her mouth, her skin taut with drying perspiration. Outside the open window, a robin chirruped in the apple tree.

Ashe stood in the doorway. "Are you okay?" Her face held a mix of concern, both for her sister and for the disruption of her plans. "You got the flu?"

Holly dried her face with a towel that smelled like kids' toothpaste. "You're making a terrible mistake."

Ashe's eyebrows drew together. "You're afraid. What for? We do this stuff all the time."

"I know what's going to happen."

Ashe fixed Holly with dizzying peridot eyes, their depths full of youth's desire for freedom and rebellion. As a girl Holly had adored her. Ashe was older, sophisticated, wise in the ways of the adult world.

"You're going to help me make that car trouble happen," she said. "The spell takes two. I need you. I'll be in your debt."

Holly met her fiery gaze for a long, difficult moment. "Damn you. I'm not going to let you seduce me for five bucks. Not last time. Not this time."

"What are you talking about?" Her lip curled in contempt and just a twinge of fear.

Holly flung herself out of the bathroom and stormed back down the hall. In Ashe's room the shoe box sat on the floor, open on the edge of the ritual cloth. It was filled with plastic animals, junk jewelry, and toy cars. Kid stuff. Ashe had taken the box from Holly's closet.

Ashe came up behind Holly. Just as Ashe had years before, she pulled out a miniature blue sedan, perfect in every die cast detail. It looked just like their parents' car. "What's going to happen? What do you see?" Ashe asked, her manner now more that of an equal than a big sister.

Holly turned her eyes from the blue toy car, the sight of it filling her with fresh nausea. "You're going to perform the ritual, but I'm going to help, even though you offer me five dollars. You'll go out with Glen and see the concert."

"So what's bad about that?" She turned the car over in her hand.

Holly's answer was cold and perfectly level. It was that or hysteria. "You're doing two-person magic by yourself. The spell won't go as expected. The car will go off the road by the golf course and over the railing. Mom and Dad will burn to death on the beach, just feet from the ocean."

Ashe said nothing, but twin tears slid with slow delicacy over her cheeks. "So I killed them."

"If I had helped, maybe it would have worked right. Maybe they would have lived."

Ashe looked at the car with the same horror Holly felt, and set it gingerly in the white box. Finally she said what Holly had needed her to say all these years: "It was my ritual. My magic. You were wiser, even though you were just a kid. It wasn't your fault."

Holly thought of what misery lay in Ashe's future, and in her own, and began to quake with tears. She had never wanted to face this. She felt so angry, and hurt, and guilty.

And there was the answer to so much. She had buried both the memory and the larger part of her magic from view, punishing herself with pain whenever she tried to use it.

"Stop hurting yourself. It was up to me to look out for you, not the other way around." Ashe put her hands on Holly's shoulders, one of her favorite gestures. Ashe suddenly looked small and very young, not at all the omnipotent goddess Holly's child-self had perceived. Tears washed over her huge green eyes.

Holly put a hand over hers, feeling warmth toward her sister for the first time since she was a child. "How can I change the past?"

Ashe shook her head. "You can't, Holly. You just have to go on and fight. Forgive yourself for refusing to help me do something that was wrong."

Holly squeezed her sister's fingers. "What about you?"

"Me?" That intense gaze searched Holly's face. "I'm only your memory. The real Ashe has to find her own way here."

Holly wanted to embrace her, but the world went dark.

Her first thought was that she had fainted, but then she saw a field of stars on all sides. Ashe, or Holly's memory of her, was gone.