Crimson Night Part 23

"Aye."

"Please sit with me," Simon said and extended the chair on the other side of the ornate stone fireplace.

"I find myself in need of a restorative. Do you take food and drink?"

"I like whiskey, my lord."

Simon turned from the sideboard, curiosity reflected in his gold stare. "Why do you address me as though I were your superior? Surely my n.o.ble t.i.tle is something a creature like you scoffs at."

"I do not scoff at humans, my lord. I respect the manners of your world and my place in it. I am merely a musician while you are an earl."

"What are you called?" Simon asked, handing his strange guest the peat whiskey while he drank a large portion from his own goblet.

"Vampire, my lord."

Simon frowned where had he heard that strange but somehow compelling word before? He cudgeled his memory and recalled his lovely Caucasian slave girl, Katya. She once told him a story of such creatures vampyr, they were called in her mountain village. Supposedly, they flew into homes after midnight and drank the blood of sleeping children, so frightened peasant mothers wrapped amulets of garlic and holy water around their infants' necks to keep them safe.

"I do not drink from children."

Simon reseated himself, ready to seize the upper hand in this bizarre encounter.

"Master Aermville, you tell me that you respect my world but you seem to have little respect for me if you would glance at my mind so impudently. I cannot converse with anyone that does not respect my right to keep my own counsel."

The creature flushed and bowed its head. "My lord, you are entirely in the right. My master would be most disappointed if he knew I attempted to break the privacy of your thoughts. Henceforth, I shall not pry."

"This is a power you can extinguish at will, Master Aermville?"

"Please call me Nicholas." He gave Simon a wan smile. "I must extinguish the power to hear thoughts else become unhinged. Tonight alone would you wish to have a hundred thoughts rushing at you?"

Callow sodomite, Simon thought with all his will, and Nicholas did not even blink. Either he was keeping his vow not to look at Simon's mind or he was deceiving him by not reacting. Simon decided the prudent course was to think as little as possible in the presence of this creature.

"May I inquire as to how you came by this marvelous power, Nicholas?"

"It is not marvelous," Nicholas cried and once again his eyes glistened with tears. "It is horrible! I am an outcast a wretched, lonely thing that must constantly observe the world yet never partic.i.p.ate fully."

Simon had to work hard to suppress his disgust at seeing this man (or something that resembled a man) weep like a young maiden. "Why are you outcast? Are there not others of your kind you could align yourself with? You just mentioned a master."

"My master is in the New World," Nicholas explained and accepted the linen cloth Simon gave him to clean his face. "His kin, they are kind but their life is one of piety and prayer. I still seek worldly delights like music and fetes and love."

"Love?" Simon questioned, remembering the musician's adoring gaze at the party. "Is that why you come to me?"

"You are a comely man, my lord. I know you enjoy the attentions of many beautiful women and I know my suit repulses your natural inclinations. But I thought if I gave you that which you most desire an escape from the miserable death of the pox you might consider accepting me."

"I am aware that I am well favored," Simon said dryly. "But I cannot believe you would give me immortality on the basis of my handsome face."

"It is your character that fascinates me," Nicholas said softly. Simon saw the musician looking at his hands, seeming to want to take one and hold it as a lover, but Nicholas wisely held back. "I've seen much of you most no doubt things you'd never want anyone to know but I cannot help thoughts flowing to me. When I used to tutor your stepson, you'd come and listen to me play, remember? Many times, your thoughts would come to me. I know of your wife, that you forced her into marriage once your brother was dead. I know of what you do downstairs and I know nothing stands in the way of your ambition."

"And these are all things you admire?" "No!" Nicholas cried, seeming horrified by the thought. "I feel that under the hard sh.e.l.l you've encased yourself in there is a man capable of great tenderness. I saw how you held young Michael on your lap and tonight your grief for him pierced me. The calm you felt as I played? That too is part of my gift I can bring comfort to tormented minds. I know that although you play sordid games with wh.o.r.es and beat your wife frequently, you've displayed kindness to your n.o.ble mistresses. I think if you had my gift, in time you would let go of your hateful side and come to be a man of vast gentleness."

Only by a fierce effort was Simon able to keep his mind blank at the flowery, sentimental speech. "Allow me to see if I understand you. We shall become lovers and in return you will give me your gifts for my own?"

"Yes. It is called transformation, my lord." Transformation Simon reflected that the word wasn't far apart from trans.m.u.tation, the alchemical process he'd been performing so diligently over the past few years.

Simon poured more whiskey, refilling Nicholas's cup also. "I would ask more questions before committing myself."

"Of course. Ask me anything, my lord."

"Explain this transformation to me. Tell me how you came to these great gifts I do not care that you see them as a curse. To me they are a great boon."

"You are a wise man, my lord. You were not wrong to focus on blood when you chased the philosophers' stone. Blood is the secret to us. We do not know how but at some point beings like us came into existence creatures that carried a special humor to their blood. We make others of our kind by draining them of their mortal blood and infusing them with the blood from our veins."

"So I would drink your blood as you must have done to some creature?"

"I was transformed in 1410," Nicholas explained. "I encountered another minstrel in my travels and he made me as I appear before you. He drank of me for some nights and then, when I felt myself near death, he put his wrist to my mouth and I drank. I will not dissemble, my lord. It is you have never known such suffering. I will say no more but if you decide to join me I shall do all I can to keep you comfortable during your transformation. Also, after you transform, you'll have a ferocious need to drink and I'll make sure mortals are available to you. Of course, you must not kill them."

Simon frowned. "I am to let them live so they tell everyone they meet of the evil earl with unnatural teeth? It can only be a matter of time before I'm dragged to the stake."

"G.o.d has endowed us with gifts to allow us to feed and not harm. You will find that you merely have to think a command and it is obeyed. You will tell anyone you drink from to forget the experience and before they turn from you it will be as you command." Nicholas glanced at the lightening sky. "My lord, I must depart."

"Yes," Simon ruminated. "I'd forgotten you avoid the day. Why is that?"

"For all you gain in return life everlasting in the beautiful body you have now, abilities to make the deadliest sorcerer tremble before you there is one thing you must give up and that is the sun. You must make sure you are thoroughly shielded from the sun during the day as the smallest spark of sunlight can cause great damage to you. If your body were exposed to the sun at its zenith, you would be consumed in flames. Now, I must take leave. May I return after sunset this evening and ask if you are ready to receive my gift?"

From the lovesick expression in the creature's eyes, Simon had an idea the gift wouldn't be the only thing he received but he smiled and said, "I shall welcome you into my home. You say you must beat the sun home? Do you need my carriage to get you to your dark place?"

"You remember when I vanished? I may do that and reappear in any spot within thirty miles. Good day to you, my lord." Before Simon could say anything, Nicholas leaned over to kiss him full on the lips and then disappeared from sight.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Swan Inn

May 16, 1592

Simon sat by the small, filthy window of Nicholas's bedroom, concentrating all his attention on the rushing stream outside. Strange but even with the window shut and a distance of nearly twenty feet he could hear the roar of the water as clearly as though he were sitting on the riverbanks.

He felt a mouth kiss his neck but by this time he'd become practiced in not shuddering, didn't even have to dig his nails into his palm to suppress his true emotions.

Nicholas, wearing naught but a cream silk shirt, moved to a small wood table by the fireplace and poured a goblet of light, golden wine, adding a small sprig of rosemary before he extended it to Simon.

"A loving cup," he said and leaned over to kiss Simon before they drank from the cup at the same time.

He accepted the embrace and drank deeply to suppress his desire to gag.

Another glance out the window showed him the sky was beginning to lighten. It seemed that in that one moment between pitch-black night and the sky changing to violet, Nicholas's skin went from snow-white perfection to the dull, unhealthy look of an invalid in his last throes of illness. His eyes lost their spark and deep black circles appeared beneath them. Would the creature undergo any further metamorphosis, as the dawn grew closer?

"I must begin my rest," Nicholas said, his voice labored and uneven. "Please take me to the cabinet, lover."

Wondering what Nicholas meant to do, Simon grabbed him about the waist and took him to the small wooden cabinet where he stored his clothing.

"Remove some of the clothing," the creature whispered, feeling like dead weight in Simon's arms.

Simon opened the top of the cabinet and removed a half dozen lawn shirts before turning back to Nicholas.

"Put me in inside and co cover me "

Simon could surmise the rest. He found himself straining when he lifted Nicholas's weight the creature had drained him considerably throughout the night.

Simon had deep gashes in his neck and both wrists, as well as wounds on the more intimate parts of his body that he'd rather not remember.

He placed Nicholas's body in the cabinet and concealed his presence with the shirts but before he could slam the top shut, a halting voice spoke from beneath the clothing. "I am I can normally get myself hidden but tarried too late.

Stay use bed talk, tonight love you "

Simon brought the top down with a bang that reverberated throughout the small room and ran to the fireplace, chamber pot in hand. He gobbled up the ash from the fireplace and then shoved his finger down his throat, emptying his stomach into the chamber pot.

Loving cup, Simon thought with a sneer. No doubt the wine was drugged so he'd spend the daylight hours in a stupor, waking up just in time to service that No! He would not think of what he'd done with Nicholas during the night all he would do is give thanks that the sodomite had not violated him. It accepted his explanation that loving a man was new to him and seemed content with the kissing and cuddling young couples engaged in before they wed.

Still, even that left Simon cold and shaking, feeling acutely the loss Dr. Dee had foretold. To gain the gift of immortality, he'd had to prost.i.tute his body to a sodomite. His flesh crawled at the thought of that that thing touching him. It would pay dearly for all he'd had to do that long night once he no longer needed it.

Simon had much to do during the day if his plans were to succeed, but before he could do anything, he must find some equilibrium, restore some semblance of calm to his spirit.

He stalked to the door of the rooms Nicholas rented and grabbed the arm of a plump serving wench pa.s.sing by. "You! Fetch me a bath."

"Ain't no one allowed in them rooms during the day, milord."

"Not even for five gold pieces?"

The girl's berry-brown eyes widened and she dashed down the stairs, returning several minutes later with three burly footmen carrying a large oak tub filled with steaming water.

Simon gave each man a silver piece and then turned to the little serving wench.

"What is your name, girl?"

"Molly, milord."

"Will you wash me, Molly?"

"Aye, milord!" she said, and Simon was hard put not to laugh at her enthusiastic gap-toothed smile. He leaned back and allowed the girl to soap him down. He had to wash the scent of the sodomite off his skin before he could do anything else. The bath was soothing his spirit, as was his view of Molly's magnificent t.i.ts, temptingly displayed in her low-cut blouse.

"Are you a virgin, Molly?"

"No, milord. Shall I go to the bed, then?"

"No," Simon said sharply, remembering all that he'd suffered through on that devil-d.a.m.ned bed. He gave the wench a smile to take the rebuke from his voice and stood up, smiling at her awed stare.

He laid the girl beside the fireplace on his black silk cloak and laughed when she exclaimed, "I ain't never felt such fine material."

"Have you ever felt anything so fine as this?" he said with a roguish grin and guided her hand to his c.o.c.k.

Simon took his time, savoring every inch of feminine skin with soft kisses and pets before he plunged into his willing partner. Molly may have been a mere peasant and not all that attractive with her freckles and coa.r.s.e features but after the horror of last night, the girl's touch, her wonderful soft curves all of it was like a benediction to him; the lovemaking made him feel whole again. Now he could consign the night and its filthy happenings to the most remote corner of his mind, never to think of it again.

After the girl left, Simon dressed quickly in an open-necked lawn shirt and dark hose. Rummaging about Nicholas's rooms, he found a quill and parchment and scrawled a message to John Dee, awaiting news at Simon's home, along with Dr.

Ahmed. Nicholas did have some cleverness he insisted Simon leave his home with no companions and no word of where he was going. Simon nearly laughed allowed stupid creature, thinking it could defeat Lord Baldevar by draining his blood and pressing a sleeping potion upon him.

Downstairs, he found a young lad willing to take the message back to his house in London. The Swan was in the village of Cheswick, not a far distance. With luck, Dr. Dee and Dr. Ahmed should arrive well before noon.

Simon sprawled against a venerable oak tree to await the arrival of his friends, enjoying the warm sun on his face. If everything went according to plan today, this might well be the last time he saw the day so why should he shut himself up in Nicholas's dark rooms?

Nicholas Simon's mouth turned down in contempt. If the creature was this foolish after two hundred years of life, what kind of soft-witted fool was he as a mortal boy? How could he trust Simon so blindly? No doubt the minstrel thought himself safe from harm because Simon couldn't transform without his blood.

Well, that was the last mistake Nicholas would ever have the privilege of making.

Then, if his faith in a man he barely knew wasn't enough, look at the way the creature lived! Hiding away in a chest during the day how utterly foolish. What if the inn caught on fire? What if a light-fingered maid decided to help herself to his clothes and left the cabinet open so he was exposed to the sun?

Simon would have far better defenses. He'd given the matter a great deal of thought and decided he'd return to Yorkshire and his isolated estate for this process of transformation. Remaining in London, a crowded city with no real privacy and Elizabeth's court aware of his every move, would be foolish.

Simon knew he could not remain in England indefinitely. He'd already written a letter to the queen, begging leave from the court due to illness; John Dee would deliver it into her keeping. He had to go where no one knew him or his habits.

Perhaps he'd try Italy he'd always wanted to see the magnificence of Florence.

Of course, Simon didn't think it wise to stay in one place for any length of time.

Money wasn't a problem he had gold enough to maintain a lavish lifestyle for decades. Too, he had no intention of allowing this new life to interfere in his business affairs. It should be a simple matter to hire employees to run his trade company during the day and then have them meet with him at night to report to him and receive instructions. As for his estates, he already had a competent steward in charge.

Simon thought it would be marvelously easy to hold on to his a.s.sets. If he stayed abroad, after a certain number of years, he'd simply declare himself dead and start writing letters in a new hand that of the "son" who inherited his dead father's fortune. And by traveling from place to place, he'd have new opportunities to increase his wealth. Yes, this immortality was going to be a good dung. He'd have everything he'd ever wanted unimaginable power and wealth, and never again could some disease make him quake in fear "My lord." A gentle hand on his shoulder made Simon's eyes fly open.

Dr. Ahmed stood over him. "My lord, I believe the suffering that Master Aermville mentioned has started. You are feverish and your skin is clammy to the touch. I have brought medication but are you sure you can handle the tasks before you?"

"I must handle them," Simon said and accepted his physician's help to rise off the ground. When he stood up, the world spun around him and he vomited again.

Dr. Ahmed guided him to the small stream and after tasting the water to a.s.sure himself it wasn't overly polluted, he spooned some into his patient's mouth.

After a few sips of cool water, Simon felt somewhat restored, though he needed to lean on his physician as they walked back to the inn. "Think you I need blood already?"

"We brought a small amount of chicken's blood." Once they got to Nicholas's suite, Dr. Ahmed handed him a small brown flask and Simon drank thirstily, surprised to find the pounding in his head abated when he finished drinking the blood.