Author: C. E. Murphy
Category: Vampires
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“They would see me coming. You’re human. I can never be.” A familiar argument there, too, and having seen the vampire’s grace up close, Susannah could read its echo in the way Fina moved. They were not human, neither of the self-proclaimed Old Races, though she would never have noticed their unusual fluidity without Fina there to train her eye to it. “Humans,” Fina muttered, “are dealt with, when they hunt the Old Races, but there’s admiration for your daring. I would not be admired.”
“So they must imagine I’ve hunted, bound, and burned them. Me. An ordinary human woman. Does this admiration reach so far as to include clemency for murdering your people?”
“You will not be caught.” Fina shook off her own moodiness and came to Susannah, crouching to catch her hands. The dragon’s fingers were unexpectedly cool, serpent-like, though Susannah had no doubt of the flame that burned within. “I’ve told you, my dear. We will take them one at a time, every night, until we’ve found the one we need. They hunt alone, so there’s no risk that your scent will grow familiar to them, and they haven’t the imagination to fear a woman. Those who have hunted us have ever been men. Stay bold, dear heart. One success
begets more.”
“And wisely or not, I’m long since committed anyway.” Susannah tipped her head back against the wall, eyes closed. Without vision, Fina’s presence was a comforting warmth, though her hands remained cool. That grasp steadied Susannah, reminding her that Fina was extraordinary even without the secret Susannah held. Everything about her, most especially her heated gaze, was alluring and dangerous. The former was more compelling, which was no doubt how she had earned her name and place as Chicago’s dark lady. But that was among men: Susannah would have thought herself immune to Fina’s beauty and wit.
But not her strength. That , the utter certainty in self, the confidence with which she’d offered adventure which women were rarely permitted; that was as irresistible now as it had been weeks earlier when Fina had demanded her help at the Pinkerton offices.
She had learned, in the past weeks, to use a gun. To kick and strike out, and to trust in physical strength she hadn’t known she possessed. Women were smaller than men, yes, but not as much the weaker sex as she’d always been told. She was surprised at how strong her legs were, and more surprised at the changes in her body that had come over six weeks of hard training at Fina’s hands. The independence she’d sought as an employed woman faded in comparison to the trust she’d developed in herself. Her uncle, she thought, wouldn’t be able to defeat a vampire.
Or accept a dragon’s existence. Susannah opened her eyes, studying the dark-eyed woman crouched before her. She was a gift, an answer to impossible dreams. If she could be, then nothing Susannah wanted lay outside the bounds of possibility. “Would you still eat me, if I walked away?”
Fina arched an eyebrow. “Is there any danger you would?”
Humor blossomed deep in Susannah’s chest. “That’s not what I asked.” She squeezed Fina’s hands, and the other woman stood, drawing Susannah to her feet.
“I would not,” Fina murmured. “But neither, I think, would you.”
Susannah ducked her head close enough to breathe in Fina’s scent. Earthy flame, not the rich sharpness of wood smoke, but something deeper and more subtle. It was nearly a flavor, something to be supped on and filled by, and it, as much as her own growing strength, bolstered her surety. “Not with another vampire to hunt tonight.”
***
October 1871
Not until the tenth night did anything go wrong.
He was one of them, so unquestionably one of them, now that Susannah knew what to look for. Taller than most, with a slim build and dark red hair, he moved with a gentleman’s grace. More than a gentleman’s grace, but in strictly mortal terms, there was no better way to describe him. He was better dressed than most, too, his fine-cut suit and waistcoat’s splendor only rivaled by the first vampire she’d trapped. Even so, that unfortunate looked something of a country cousin compared to the red-haired man.
Unlike the others, she found him at the theatre. Not to watch the women on stage as though they were delectable, but to fold a knuckle over his mouth as he smiled or frowned, entirely taken with the story unfolding before him. When he applauded after the show, his enthusiasm seemed genuine; the others had been poorer actors, too intent on the hunt to become so nearly disguised by humanity.
She lingered after the performance, making much of a pebble lodged in her shoe. Making much of being alone, and insisting to those few men who stopped to offer assistance that her escort would be at her side in moments.
And he was, heralding his arrival with a murmured, “But you arrived alone,” and a smile when she looked up in half-real surprise. “Don’t look so startled, my dear. Of course I noticed a beautiful woman attending the theatre alone. Especially when her attention is less for the stage than my own august person. But then, I am splendid, am I not?” He made an act of showing the cut of his coat, of his trousers, then offered an extravagant bow that made his hair, unfashionably unslicked, fall into astonishing jade eyes.
A trill of laughter escaped her, surprising her further: none of the others had made her laugh. “You are, sir. Very splendid.”
“For pity’s sake, no, my dear. You mustn’t call me sir. I shall think myself positively antediluvian if you do. My name is Janx.” He caught her fingers to kiss them, then held her hand quite captive as he murmured, “And you are Susannah Stacey, and you must stop what you are doing.”
***
There was no escape: he held her hand too firmly for that. Terror made her heart leap and she cast a single panicked glance toward the sky: Fina was up there somewhere, her only hope of rescue from a deadly creature who knew who Susannah was and what she was doing.
Janx’s gaze followed hers to the sky, then came back with the weight of ages in it. “No, Fina won’t come, not until she hears the clang of your iron cage. Even if you should scream, I’m afraid she has the sense to keep away. You, discovered alone hunting vampires, would be—
forgiven,” he decided archly. “She would not be.”
“She said I would die.” Susannah’s whisper was an edged accusation, meant to direct her fear elsewhere. It almost worked. It was something, at least, a show of bravado that might do a man proud. Her uncle had told her where boldness was pretended, it often followed, and she would need every inch of bravery she could eke out of herself in order to survive. The cage wasn’t so far away, and the wooden stake was safe in her sleeve. She’d never yet fought a vampire who knew her purpose, but she had trained with Fina night after night, and the dragon had never pretended to be caught unawares.
Interest, perhaps admiration, quirked Janx’s eyebrow upward. “How unusually forthright of her. She is, of course, correct. You would be forgiven in that it might be expected for a human who learned of our existence to hunt us, but that forgiveness would come in the form of execution.” He smiled, the same long-canined smile that Fina often showed, then unexpectedly offered her his elbow. “Fina, however, would not be forgiven, and so this must stop now.”
“She would rather die.” The words sounded childish with defiance the moment they were spoken, but curiosity twitched Janx’s eyebrow again.
“You’re only mortal, my dear Miss Stacey, so I’m afraid you can’t appreciate what Fina would lose if she were to be discovered in this madness. We do not hunt one another.” His voice dropped, turning silky but overlaying steel. “We cannot afford it. There are too few of us as it is, and far too many of you. Nothing at all is worth such insanity, and I know better than you what she now has to protect, and therefore stands to lose.”
“You know nothing.” Susannah’s fear receded into sharpness. “And why should you care? Why not kill me and try to kill her instead of trying to dissuade either of us? It’s your kind we’re hunting, after all.”
Janx slowed, then chuckled. “Ah. No, my dear, it’s my kind I’m protecting. Fina’s of my people, rather than
me being one of Daisani’s.”
“Daisani?”
“A vampire, and not one of any relevance right now, though Heaven forbid he should hear me say that. Miss Stacey, I can’t imagine what’s set Fina on this vendetta, beyond Chicago being her claimed territory and the vampires running amok through it, but believe me when I say she has too much to lose to continue this game. I’ll stop her myself, if necessary, but I would prefer she ended it herself.”
“You know nothing of what she’s lost.” Ice, as pure as the silken warmth of Janx’s voice, edged Susannah’s. “If you’re one of her kind, why aren’t you talking to her instead of me?”
A hint of impatience flickered in Janx’s eyes. “Because we dragons do not share territory gladly, Miss Stacey. I’m here without Fina’s express permission, and would prefer not to exacerbate that. Intervening with you not only alerts her of my presence, but if I’m fortunate and you’ve any sense, also means I’ll be on the next train out of town. It’s ideal for everyone.” He paused, looking down at her, then sighed theatrically. “Well, not for me, perhaps, as I’ll be unable to pursue this courtship beyond the end of this lane, if I must go so quickly.”
Aggravating humor bubbled up again, though Susannah took care not to let it through. He was relentlessly charming, this dragon, though perhaps not quite as irresistible as he imagined himself. “There is no courtship here, sir, and I can assure you you’re wasting your time. Fina won’t stop.”
“Well, why ever not ?” Janx demanded petulantly. “She knows this is insanity. She knows the cost. And she’s involved you in it, which is unkind. Why did you agree?”
Susannah, thoughtlessly, said, “Because she’s beautiful,” and frowned at Janx’s answering laugh.
“That she is, but there must be more, my dear, because no one in their right mind accepts a commission from a dragon unless they have nothing else to lose.” Silence broke, loud and considerate, before he said, “Ah. You’re unmarried, then. No children. I suppose I knew that, else you’d not be a Pinkerton, but what a delightful surprise for me. Married women are often easier to seduce, but spinsters are much more interesting.”
“I’m not—” Not a Pinkerton was the protest on her lips; the other, the matter of spinsterhood, was an unassailable argument. At twenty-eight, it was unlikely she would ever marry, even if it had been her inclination. And she could not, by law and by virtue of her sex, be a Pinkerton.
Yet if not a Pinkerton, what? A hunter, but of such extraordinary creatures she could never define herself as such to another mortal. To be a Pinkerton was strictly impossible, but outrageous as the idea was, it was a name she could take for herself. Something people would understand, even as they disapproved.
Disapproval, Susannah had found, became easier to bear with each year that passed beneath its burden.
Janx was waiting on her, interest dancing in his too-green gaze. She could leave him dangling for whole minutes, she thought: he was too taken with what she might say to prompt her and possibly change the words she decided on. The city around them was remarkably quiet, as if it, too, waited on her, or as if Janx had commanded it lie still and not disturb her while she considered her thoughts.
Though if that was a talent the Old Races commanded, she was happier not knowing it. “I’m not here to entertain you, sirrah. I have no interest in your games of seduction. I’ll tell Fina you’re here. I’ll even pass on your warning, though it will do no good. But don’t imagine your handsome face and smooth tongue will win me to your side.”
“My dear Miss Stacey.” Janx caught her hand and bowed over it, eyes bright. “You’ve had no experience at all with the smoothness of my tongue as yet. I assure you it would be my delight, as well as yours, to share its talents with you.”
Incomprehension left her hand in his a moment too long, before a furious blush belittled her attempt to withdraw coldly. Janx’s smile broadened and he let her go merrily. “Here we are at the end of the lane, Miss Stacey, but if you’re so certain of Fina’s refusal, then it’s my pleasure to believe this isn’t yet the end of our relationship.” His voice softened as his humor faded. “I’m staying at the Hotel Sherman, my dear, under my own name. Fina will be able to find me, and find me she must. This cannot be allowed to continue.”
Embarrassment fled before impatience. “So you’ve said.”
A twitch of interest wrinkled Janx’s forehead. “You’re not afraid of me at all, are you?”
Susannah lifted her chin, defiance startling her with its inherent conviction. “Vampires can die. I’m sure dragons can, too, Master Janx.”
“Of course.” Janx touched a fingertip to his lips, shaping a smile around it. “Ask Fina how, when you give her my greetings.”
***
“With almost as much difficulty as a vampire.”
It was the answer Susannah had expected. It still made her smile, though she kept the expression hidden as Fina stalked around her parlor. They were no longer hidden beneath the city, not when there’d been no successful hunt, no potential pursuit to lead astray. Instead they had retreated to Fina’s enormous home, near in distance but far in society terms to the self-same streets where Fina ran whores and gambling dens.
It had been easy enough to call Fina to her; it had only taken the clang of the iron cage’s door to send the dragon swooping into the alley. Fina had been surprised enough at the cage’s lack of contents that she’d transformed then and there, human features better suited to expressing astonishment than her serpentine form. Astonishment only, though, no anger: that was good, as anger might well have spelled Susannah’s own doom. Fina had even waited on explanations until they’d reached the privacy of her home, though the way her countenance had darkened at Janx’s name suggested she’d have been happier in the sewers, where she might have vented her anger.
“He’s old,” Fina had said, when pressed. “Very old, and flaunts the same laws he would have me abide by. Not hunting,” she added reluctantly, at Susannah’s startled sound. “But he walks with humans as though he’s one of them, and I know he’s given our secrets away in the past. He’s also the child’s father.”
Shock seized Susannah’s heart, turning her breath cold. “Then all you have to do is explain—!”
“Dragons,” Fina had said, almost wryly, “don’t listen well.”
Susannah dropped her face into her hands, then asked the question Janx had told her to. Had gotten the answer she expected, and when she glanced up again, watched Fina storm about the room in agitation. She wore the crimson-shot black she favored, the color reminiscent of her dragon form, and within the confines of her parlor looked like a caged thing eager to be set free.
“We’re too big,” she said abruptly. “We’re simply too large to kill easily. Of all the Old Races, the gargoyles are most dangerous to us for their strength alone. The vampires and their speed are nothing, and the others less than that. It’s only you humans who manage to murder my people, and even that rarely enough. The first dragon your George slew was in human form when he died. We revert,” she explained bitterly. “When we die, we transform to our true selves, or he never would have known we existed so he might hunt more of us down.”
Astonishment made Susannah’s voice small. “But people must have seen that, then. We should all know you do exist.”
“You do know it.” Fina turned to her with a smile, but not a gentle one. “In dark tales, in stories of the night, in legends and fables, we are there. And you dismiss us as just that: stories. But you keep telling them, Susannah. You keep sharing them, and you always look carefully when there’s a sound in the darkness. We’re there, buried in your hearts and minds, and none of you wants to admit we still survive.”
Susannah shivered. The warmth in Fina’s voice was dangerous, like water coming to the boil around her. “But there must be proof. If Saint George killed a dragon—”
“We know when one of our own dies. We come for the body, and bury it in the volcanoes. Return it to the fire fro
m whence we’re born. There’s nothing for your people to find except whispers and fear.”
“…do you hate us?”
Fina said, “Yes,” without remorse, then sighed. “And no. You in specific, no, Susannah.” She came to join Susannah on the couch, tucking up against her as though she were much smaller and younger than she really was. “You’re so foolishly bold, as a species. So eager to explore. So curious. It’s impossible to hate that, even as you encroach on our lands, take away our territory, hunt and hound us to sewers and caves. The only way we can survive in your world is to pretend to be you, and it chafes, my dear. Oh, how it chafes. And yet I find the alternative unthinkable,” she murmured. “To hide away beneath the mountains in the world’s fires until I rot. To sleep until your people are grown enough to accept us, or until the plague of humanity runs itself out and the world is left to us again. No. I would rather play at being you, and grasp all the risk it entails, than wait an eternity for something that may never come.”
“Do some of you?”
“Wait?” Fina lifted her head to catch Susannah’s expression, then nestled down again, pressing her cheek against Susannah’s shoulder, cat-like. Her hands, her skin, were always cool, snake-like, but curled against Susannah’s side, she was a source of heat and comfort. Like coals were banked within her, Susannah thought, waiting until they were uncovered and her true self revealed. “Yes. More of us than not sleep now, waiting for a tomorrow that’s little more than a dream. We don’t share territory willingly, and there are so few places we can hide. A few dozen of us, perhaps, still walk the world in waking hours.”