K. R. Treadway
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Blood and Lace: Chapter 12
🕑 Added 2024-03-03 16:00:04 +0000 UTC
She'd smiled at him.
It was gone almost before Nicholas registered it, but that small signal of amusement had set off fireworks in his chest. He had kept himself talking, almost babbling, so she wouldn’t see how a simple curve of her lips had nearly undone him. Despite this awful night, despite Jessie and his own humiliating confession, Della was still…an ally. He wouldn't go further than that. He wouldn't dare. An ally was enough. It would have to be.
“What are you talking about?” Della said.
Nicholas scrambled to pick up the thread of their conversation. “Oh, uh, just that I had an idea depending on if your…” He trailed off, then gave an apologetic smile. “Look, would you mind if we got out of here? Maybe took a walk?” He swallowed at Della’s non-response. “It just feels like the walls are closing in a bit. Maybe we would both enjoy some fresh air.”
At this Della pursed her lips. “It would give your apartment a chance to air out.”
“It stinks?” he asked uneasily.
“Your…friend’s…perfume possesses a distinct odor.”
Damn it, there was the heat rising up his neck again. He stood. “That settles it. Let’s go. I know a place without much foot traffic. We can discuss our options. Have a walk-and-talk.”
Della pushed away from the counter and followed him into the living room, her eyes narrowed. “Why do you say it like that?”
“What, walk-and-talk?” Nicholas pulled on his most comfortable coat, a light jacket in black cotton. “It’s like the TV trope. You know, West Wing, Sports Night?” Della responded with the slightest shake of her head. “Oh. Okay…really stupid question: do vampires watch TV?”
Her mouth tightened. “No, Nicholas, your advanced human technology frightens us.”
Nicholas nodded seriously then froze. An amazed laugh burst forth. “Sarcasm and a sense of humor.”
“Well done. Another secret of our race laid bare.”
Nicholas's smile turned rueful. “Sorry. It took me by surprise—but in the best way. I don’t know why, but I had this…impression you’d be witty once you were feeling better. And you are.” He cleared his throat. “That is…you seem better.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Are there any more tricks you’d like to see me perform?”
He joined her near the door. “Yes. I mean, of course. Any you’d like to show me.”
“Gods…you thought I was serious.”
Suddenly flustered, Nicholas opened the door and waved her through, eyes on the floor. She's not a toy, Nicholas. Stop acting like a moron.
He locked up and led her down the stairs to the parking lot. Above them an overcast sky seemed to faintly glow from the reflected lights of the city. The air was crisp and cold, and he exhaled in satisfaction, seeing his breath bloom. After a moment’s hesitation, he turned to Della. She watched him evenly. He waited.
“What?” she asked, and he saw the wisp of her own breath. He gave a sheepish grin and shook his head. “There’s a walking path this way.” He led her around the corner of his building, away from the parking lot.
You can see a vampire’s breath in the cold! It made sense, of course. Their body temperatures were lower, but they were still warm blooded. It was just…neat. Nicholas had to suppress another goofy smile. Then he sobered: he was still acting like a moron, wasn't he?
They arrived at a paved path running alongside a row of tall, bushy evergreens. Nicholas turned to Della with a pained expression.
“Uh, I feel like I should apologize.”
“There’s no need to rehash it,” she replied cooly. She began walking down the path and Nicholas followed.
“Not the—earlier. God no, I’m happy to never talk about that again.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I meant being so eager when you mentioned performing tricks. It’s sort of…one of my irritating traits.”
“Which one?” Della gave him a sidelong glance. “You’ll have to be more specific.” Despite the words, her tone wasn’t unkind. It even brought a smile to his face.
“My whole life—short as it is by your standards—I’ve had this endless thirst for knowledge. I know it’s natural for all children to ask ‘why,’ but my childhood curiosity was on a whole other level. My mom got tired of my questions pretty quickly, and then I got tired of hearing her say, ’because I said so.’ ” He chuckled. “Which likely made my problem even worse. I can be…inquisitive…to the point of being rude. Sorry if I’ve been irritating you.”
“You haven’t,” she said in a matter-of-fact way.
“Good.” He could hear the relief in his voice. “I’m known to get on people’s nerves. My mother still isn’t a big fan of my questions. Jessie used to say I enter ‘dork mode’ when I get too enthusiastic.”
Della released her breath in a huff of scorn. “Curiosity is a trait to be prized, not mocked. In my experience, it’s one of the first things scoured away by a long life.”
Nicholas digested this is silence, feeling obscurely gratified.
“Do you get along with your mother?” There was something in Della’s tone he hadn't heard before, the slightest trace of wistfulness.
“I love my mother,” Nicholas replied automatically.
She looked at him sidelong. “A careful response.”
“It pays to be careful with her.”
The walking trail stopped at a two-lane blacktop. He pointed across the street to where it continued, disappearing into a black tunnel of forest. “This is a great jogging path in daylight,” he explained, “but an electrical storm knocked out the lights a few years ago and the city never fixed it. The path heads down a hill and eventually ends up in a picnic area, but until the leaves fall this stretch is pitch black. To humans,” he added quickly.
Della started across the street. “I’ll make sure you don’t walk into any trees.”
“Okay.” He started after her. “But if someone tries to mug us, I’ll keep you safe…ly in front of me so you can deal with them.” He grinned.
She stepped up on the opposite curb and gave him that barely-there smile he cherished. “Finally, the human learns his place.”
Were they flirting?
Bantering, his mind insisted. We’re just bantering. And it’s nice.
The path sloped down sharply into the forest. Della vanished into the gloom ahead of him, strolling like it was high noon. Nicholas slowed his pace to a crawl, picking his steps carefully. He remembered that one side of the path was a steep drop-off down to a creek. If he went over it his back would probably walk off the job permanently.
After a minute, he realized he couldn’t hear Della. Just wind in the leaves, the whoosh of a car passing on the road behind him, and the soothing trickle of water from the distant creek.
“Della?” he whispered.
“Nicholas?” she whispered back, right in his ear.
He jumped to the side with a shout of surprise, stumbled, and barely managed to stay on his feet. For an instant he could feel his heart pounding—and then he laughed in sheer delight. Della had played a trick! An astounding vampire trick. Fueled by adrenaline and the release of long-held tension, Nicholas kept laughing until his back complained, but it felt too good to stop. He thought he might have even heard a single low giggle come from Della’s direction.
“That was good,” he said, still chuckling, “that was very very good.” The shock had spiked his heartbeat, but what happened next shot it even higher.
She took his hand.
Her fingers were delicate, but obviously strong, and they interlaced with his in a kind of effortless grace. Her touch even felt warm, and he realized it was because his own hands were freezing. “Come,” she murmured, “I want to get there before dawn. Walk beside me and I’ll keep you on the path.”
It was all Nicholas could do to act normal. He didn’t trust himself to speak. So instead he just walked beside her, hand-in-hand, not always managing to keep the besotted smile off his face. And she was kind enough not to make a comment about his racing heart.
“I actually do watch television,” she said after a while. “I like programs about houses. Like on HGTV. The ones about buying and selling them, not the renovation shows; my tastes differ from current styles. I also like mysteries. Poirot on Masterpiece theater.”
“Thank you for sharing that,” Nicholas said sincerely. “You already know some of my dubious tastes.”
“Somewhat…” She paused. “What is a Goonie?”
Nicholas turned to her, forgetting he couldn’t see a thing, and only succeeded in stumbling a second time. “Oh, um, you mean my poster? It’s an eighties movie. A Goonie is like a…a member of a club? Like there’s this club of kids who are misfits. They only fit in with each other. And they find a treasure map and there’s this quest to get the treasure so they can save their homes—God, I’m nerding out. It’s a classic. At least to me. I can show you sometime, if you want.” Was her night vision good enough to reveal how sweaty and nervous he was?
“Perhaps,” she said, and then pulled her hand from his. Yup, awkward dork-mode Nicholas had struck again. “You can see now, correct?” she asked.
Nicholas blinked. Oh. He could, in fact, see light reflecting off of leaves just ahead, outlining the path’s exit from the forest. That’s why she had let go. Probably. “Sure can,” he said in a tone of forced cheer. “Thanks for the help.”
They walked in silence back under the open sky and into a wide gap running straight as an arrow through the forest. It had once been a greenway for power lines, but the towers had been disassembled years ago. The cut was filled with tall grass and scrub brush stretching to the left and right as far as the eye could see.
“It’s just up here,” he said.
The path curved to follow the cut. Just after the turn they came upon an unimpressive picnic table set onto a concrete slab. The path’s light posts started working fifty yards further down, providing just enough illumination for him to see Della—though he couldn’t make out much more than a silhouette and an occasional highlight off glossy tresses.
Bracing his back, Nicholas used his other hand to sit down at the table. He rested his shoulder blades against the tabletop and tried not to make noises of discomfort. Della seemed to be watching him carefully.
“Your injury appears quite debilitating.”
“It’s just stiffened up,” Nicholas answered, trying to keep the pain out of his voice. “Doc says I’ll be good as new in a few days. Besides, it’s the golden ticket that freed up my schedule.
“So that you can ‘help’ me?”
He winced at the mocking tone of the word. “I hope so.” He stared at her profile, the lack of detail only emphasizing her preternatural stillness. “You don't like asking for help, do you? Or needing it.”
Her head raised up, and he saw light briefly reflect off bared teeth. “I have no desire for further help.”
“I'm sure that’s true,” Nicholas said evenly, “but I’d still like to offer it.”
Della was silent for some time, eventually turning to stare along the darkened cut; with her aristocratic bearing she resembled one of those old silhouette drawings. “You said you had an idea,” she murmured.
“More like a notion,” Nicholas answered, “but you’d have to trust me.”
He saw the wisp of her breath in a puff that may have been Della’s version of a derisive laugh. “You’re a vampire hunter, Nicholas.”
“Among other things,” he said, then continued in a gentler tone. “Della…that night when I found you, I made a choice. Whatever I am—and these days I’m not too sure—I am your ally. I want to be your…friend. If you’ll let me.” He licked his lips, which were getting chapped in the cold. “However little it might mean to you, I give you my word: you can trust me.”
Della looked at him. At some point during his appeal she had brought her arms around her torso. She remained silent.
Best to just forge ahead and hope.
“You mentioned your sanctuaries earlier,” he said carefully. “Have they been destroyed?”
“No.”
“Taken over?”
She gave the smallest of nods.
“By other vampires? The same ones who put you in that dress and left you to be—” The sudden bloom of anger surprised him with its vehemence, leaving him momentarily speechless. He had considered this conversation for some time, coached himself to be cool and neutral, to absorb Della’s agitation. Instead he was letting the thought of her in that stuffy room, helpless and humiliated, stoke a long-simmering fury.
Della tilted her head, watching him as if she sensed the turn of his emotions.
Don’t feed the flame. They needed a plan, not more wrath. He closed his eyes, took a deep centering breath, and opened them. Della was still watching him, her face completely hidden in shadow. Motionless.
“Were your sanctuaries taken over by other vampires?” he said, more level this time.
“I need to stop talking about this.” There was something coiled in her voice, a danger that sounded a warning in his head, but he was so close to getting her to open up. The best course was to push through the resistance.
Trust me, Della. Just trust me. “Vampires?” he repeated.
“Yes.” Her voice was low. “Stop. I don’t want to…” she trailed off, the words quavering with strong emotions.
Nicholas nodded encouragingly. “It’s all right. What was it? Some kind of a squabble over turf? Related to, like, feeding rights?”
Something subtle but profound altered in Della’s stance.
“A squabble over turf,” she echoed. Her arms slowly lifted off of her abdomen and away from her body. The motion made Nicholas think of swords being drawn, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He had said something gravely wrong.
“No, I just—”
“Squabble. Over. Turf.” Her voice had become almost mechanical, cold as ice—a thin sheet that was about to shatter and plunge him to a frozen death. In an instant Della had become unrecognizable.
“Wait. I didn’t mean—”
In the space between two heartbeats she was beside him, her body rigid with the threat of violence. She reared back with her fist before Nicholas could even get his head to turn.
There was a deafening crack like a gunshot.
The metal frame of the picnic table shuddered and he felt hot stings—splinters—peppering the side of his face. He barely registered that Della had gouged a hole right through the wood of the table before she wrenched a thick plank loose with a guttural yell.
The vampire raised it effortlessly over her head, its ponderous size incongruous with the slender person wielding it. Nicholas had just enough time to wonder if she was about to decapitate him when she swung. The board whooshed past the top of his head with a whistling sound, its slipstream flattening his hair. Della flung it away. He watched, jaw gaping, as the massive plank spun into the dark and crashed into distant trees a hundred yards away.
Then he was being lifted by the lapels of his jacket.
Della raised him to the full height of her outstretched arms as easily as a rag doll, the seams of his coat cutting lines of fire under his arms.
“Della—” he gasped.
With a sound like a sob she slammed him onto the intact boards of the picnic table, silencing his brief cry in an explosion of agony. The wind was knocked out of him and the world grew fuzzy. Amidst the pain he blearily became aware of two sharp empty circles above him, the only thing that seemed to be in focus.
Her eyes…
The distant light was reflecting off the border of Della’s irises, creating two hoops of glowing silver. Another gleam flashed off her extended fangs as she leaned close. “Listen carefully, you useless sheep.” She punctuated the last word with a violent shove and he groaned. “What you describe as some animal function—predators fighting over territory—was a war of principle. We fought to save this city from monsters. You understand nothing of me!” She violently shook him again.
“Sorry…” he gasped. Don’t black out…got to stay awake…
“And I…I was stupid enough to fight for you.” She slammed his shoulders against the wood. “You ungrateful rabbits and your loud, stinking warren! Now four of my dearest and closest friends, each of them worth a multitude of your paltry lifetimes, are dead! They're dead! All…dead…” Her voice trailed off into a shuddering breath. “Because of me they’re…” Silence.
Plip. A single tear hit Nicholas’s cheek. He could smell the blood in it. Fragments of words, of thoughts, battered the walls of his mind but gained no purchase amidst the roiling pain.
He wanted to hug Della. He wanted to throw her into a tree. Scream at her. Cry his own tears. But all he could do was tremble and try to keep his consciousness from being swamped by the successive waves of torment wracking his body.
It was quite a while before he realized she was gone.
