Bitten to Death

“I’ll manage,” he said. Though his voice was low, almost sarcastic, his longing for the outdoors pierced so deeply I nearly staggered.

No windows in this room, his suffering stare told me.

The ones in mine are all covered, I silently replied.

“What are you two communing about?” Vayl asked sharply.

When I turned my head to look at him I felt like I was moving in slow motion. Trayton’s pain overwhelmed me, making it hard to breathe. It wasn’t just that, of course. It never is. Everything builds on the blocks that are already in place until they all threaten to tumble down around you. Like this monstrous villa, my issues couldn’t be contained in any sensible sort of structure anymore. Which meant I didn’t even know how to tackle them. I gazed at Vayl. I don’t think I spoke out loud. Being his avhar, I didn’t have to.

He strode to me, reached up as if to take me by the arms. “I am getting you out of here.”

I stepped back. If he touched me I’d lose it completely. Holding up my hands, I said, “I’ll be okay. It’s just . . . been a long day.” My eyes went to my empty ring finger. I clenched my hands into fists and hid them behind me. Vayl, his eyes suddenly lighting to amber, stepped even closer.

“Jasmine—”

Both Trayton and I suddenly looked at the hall door at the same time and breathed, “Vampire.”

Niall hesitated. “No time to access the secret exit,” he whispered. “Here.”

He produced a set of keys from his front pocket and unlocked the door to the adjoining room. Vayl picked Trayton up off the bed, covers and all, and the three of us rushed out of the bedroom. As soon as we were clear, Niall shoved the door closed and called out, “Come in!”

I recognized Rastus speaking, his tone ragged, frustrated. But I couldn’t make out the words. Then my focus turned to the woman who sat in the center of the room we’d entered, playing softly at the shining black grand piano. It matched her hair, which swung forward to hide her face as she rocked into the keys, as if she could somehow dive into the song.

Did she play any of the other instruments that surrounded her? One corner held a harp. It made such a bold statement with its elegant shape and fine, golden frame that it worked simply as sculpture. A couple of violins, a viola, and a cello stood on stands against one darkly paneled wall, as if any minute now a string quartet planned to swing by and start practicing.

More modern instruments had been added to the mix as well. A drum set. A Clavinova digital piano. Enough brass to satisfy a blues band. All of it lovingly preserved.

Without looking up, even as she continued playing, the woman whispered, “Why are you here?”

Vayl froze, holding Trayton against him like a sick child. I stepped forward, but stopped when she held up a long-nailed hand that commanded me to. In the lowest voice I could manage I said, “Niall didn’t want his visitors to know he was harboring a healing werewolf and a couple of unwanted guests.”

“Which are you?” she asked.

“My name’s Lucille. The werewolf, Trayton, is by the door, being held by Vayl. If you’ve been here any length of time you probably—”

“Yes, I remember my old friend,” she said, finally looking up from the keyboard.

“Holy shit!” I breathed, desperate not to be heard by the vampires on the other side of the door, in dire need of a scream.

It had hit me again. Like in the closet, only worse this time. Because the woman had no face. None at all. It’s Aine, said the prim little librarian in my head, who seemed to be shocked by nothing because she felt sure it could all be cataloged. Remember Blas describing the fight—

Of course I do! I was there, wasn’t I? Shut the hell up!

Vayl staggered forward, ramming against me, knocking us both off balance so that we did a little whoops-are- we-gonna-fall dance before regaining our centers. I heard Trayton whimper softly as he beheld the empty cavity that should’ve held eyes, nose, and mouth.

I think I’m going to be sick, and that’s so impolite. It’s not her fault, I thought as I backed up. I didn’t stop until my shoulders brushed the door. Since I’d wrapped both hands around Vayl’s right arm, I pulled him and Trayton with me. Vayl dropped the Were to his feet between us, and we stood there for a second like a group of coeds about to be shredded by a serial killer.

Luckily my curiosity is a ravenous and unsleeping monster. So I had to know before I repeated my closet collapse, “How is it that you can talk to us?”

She’d never stopped playing. Now the melody changed. “I speak through the song. It was once my cantrantia to bend humans to my will through the quiver of a piano wire, or the pluck of a harp string. But once I lost the ability to speak with my own tongue, the music filled the empty spaces.”

I couldn’t look at her anymore. Any other injury, no problem. Take off her arm, her leg, rip a chunk out of her side, I could deal. But Jesus, this injury hit me like stories of the Holocaust. The horror I felt when I looked on her nonface was so overwhelming I was almost paralyzed by it.

“Listen,” I said, staring down at the hardwood floor. I’d made this offer to Blas, not realizing he probably deserved his fate. Well, maybe Aine was no different. I hadn’t heard Niall’s version of events to know for sure. Still. “We might be able to find you a plastic surgeon. I don’t know if there’s any chance to help. It’s probably never been tried on vamps. But—”

“No.”

“No?”

“I am simply waiting for the moment.”