Chapter Thirty-One: The Morning After

When Vera awoke, it was to a panoply of competing emotions. The first thing she remembered, of course, was squirming in pleasure beneath a very capable Erasmus Moody, followed by the fact that she'd divulged at least some compromising information. How much? She couldn't quite remember - her memories of the night were mostly a haze of arousal, venom-induced delirium, and the fleeting effects of half a dozen other intoxicants. But it can't have been too bad, because she and Lisa were still alive and curled up in the too-big, too-soft poster bed in one of Moody's guest suites. She still smelled faintly of sex and of Moody's cologne. And so did Lisa - which meant, presumably, that she'd 1) fucked Moody… the master vampire wouldn't have been able to help himself… and 2) been dosed with crimson venom. It only made sense.

As Vera rolled over she gazed upon Lisa's still-sleeping form, beatific and beautiful in the mid-morning sunlight, her hair shining like burnished gold, smooth skin flawless and still peachy from the blush of blood-satiety. Vera paused to reflect upon that - mid-morning sun. Sun. Vera rolled to get out of bed, and then rolled twice more to get to the edge of the huge mattress. Great golden shafts of sunlight streamed through the east-facing window, little motes of dust dancing in the beams, and she felt not a prickle of sun damage. Given her vampire eyes, the daylight was unreasonably bright. It hurt to look at, but it wasn't doing any damage. She padded over to the window and threw open the sash, squinting to take in the miles of plantation beyond.

Moody must have had some sort of film on the window - Vera's keen eyes could pick it out at a slight distortion against the pane of the glass. She almost laughed out loud at seeing the day so freely. As bright as it was, her eyesight gradually adjusted to it, and she found herself picking out a crew of workers fussing over the engine of a big, green cotton-picker a mile or so away. She could pick up the gleam of sweat off of their burnished skin, could see the smudges of oil on their hands and of the grease rags dangling out of their tawny coveralls. They made a final adjustment, the vehicle roared into action, and Vera could hear that, too, muffled through the glass. She could hear nearly everything in the house, from the footsteps of Moody's many servants to the churning gears of the grandfather clock near the entryway.

"What time is it?" Lisa yawned, hopping out of bed.

Vera glanced to the grandfather clock. "Quarter past ten," she said.

Lisa eased up beside her, looking upon Vera for a minute before planting a kiss on her cheek and turning her attention to the outside. "We have to get some of these windows. I wonder how much they are?"

"It's a film. Maybe we can ask Moody where he got it."

Lisa bit her lip, seemingly remembering at that moment what had transpired the night before. Vera nodded knowingly and tried not to cast judgment - whatever relationship indiscretion Lisa was guilty of, Vera had breached it first. Lisa shrugged. Vampire relationships were going to be difficult waters to navigate but, for the moment, they were navigating them together. She was about to speak again when they heard distant voices in the mansion.

 "I'd like to hear it for myself," someone said - it sounded like Carrie. "Why don't we dose them again and ask more questions?"

"Because, alas, the crimson venom loses a bit of potency each time, Miss Carrie," another voice said - it didn't take much guesswork to figure out who that was. "I'll not have you wasting it on a wild goose chase."

"I don't need your permission."

"Maybe not... but don't you think you ought to get it, all the same?" They were in the outer hallway four or five doors down. "Look... Carrie, cherie, whatever the problem, we'll root it out. I know you're 'tight' with your little 'crew' and I'm no fan of our people dying if Abaddon hasn't willed it so. And that he has not. So we'll find 'em, and if they aren't hale as a harvest heifer, you can help me dismember the culprits however slowly you like."

"Slowly. Very slowly," Carrie growled. "Fine, Master Erasmus. You've been at this game a while. We'll do it your way."

"Music to my ears, Miss Carrie. We'll keep a tight ship for now... I wouldn't mind another nocturne with our two newest nubile neophytes..."

By this point, Vera and Lisa had crept closer to the door to better listen in - even with preternatural hearing, there were enough distracting noises to warrant a closer listen. They were silent enough that she heard the sounds of Lisa's plodding heart beat over their footsteps. At Erasmus's proclamation, they shared a frown.

"We can hear you, you know," Lisa said.

"Oh?" Erasmus chuckled. "Mercy me. I had no idea!  For your information, Miss Lisa, vampire etiquette would have you pretend you cannot hear what's transpiring in different rooms. Two vampires who aren't as sneaky as they think creeping up to the door, for instance. Why don't you two make yourselves presentable - though I must do some great rumination to imagine you not presentable - and join us for a nice brunch à la Nosferatu?"

+++++

Brunch à la Nosferatu turned out to be a bite of blood - not a lot, but enough to take a vampire from mild bloodlust to being able to taste 'real' food. That food would, of course, eventually pass out as a slime that looked and smelled exactly like a mushed up version of the same food but, all things considered, Vera supposed it was actually less unpleasant than taking a mortal-style dump.

Lisa, being far more attuned to fashion sensibilities, quickly laid claim to the breezy summer dress. That didn't leave room for much - their ensembles from the night before were in the wash. That left Vera with a tee shirt and lululemon yoga pants which, quite honestly, were just about the most comfortable clothes she'd ever worn. She'd have to consider ditching sweats entirely. They ambled after a servant, which wasn't really necessary. They could have just fallowed the wafting smell of food - shrimp grits, buttermilk biscuits and gravy, and crispy applewood bacon.

They arrived at an open, airy room just south of the entry hall, where Erasmus Moody had set up a little portable grille. He was busy over it, vampire speed on display as he managed to perfectly butter-grill a dozen biscuits simultaneously before dishing them onto plates and slathering them with oozy, clumpy sausage gravy. He wore a chef's apron that read: Warning: Chef May Bite! He looked up lazily, his blood-red eyes taking them in.

"This was my mammie's recipe," Erasmus said. "I don't trust nobody else to get it right. Not my actual mother, mind you - I doubt she cooked a dozen meals in her life. So… have some fresh blood if you like and dig in."

As she lapped from a familiar's wrist and then dug into the human food, Vera realized that she could easily get used to this. She could get used to being waited upon hand and foot, to an easy life with familiars at their beck, always ready to loose a vein for her consumption. And, more importantly, she realized that she couldn't do that. Polite, persuasive, pernicious Erasmus Moody ran a Twenty-First Century slave plantation, stolid servants standing at the ready, uncomplaining and ready to serve. It was evil. Vera smiled and bit into a strip of crispy bacon, savoring the taste as its applewood aroma wafted into her supernatural sinuses. Evil and delicious. It was a slippery slope.

"I hope you'll excuse the other night, ladies. You were the last of our little club to see those two boys, so we had to rule you out. And, I daresay, I hope it was still enjoyable. I can only speak for myself, but I had a delectable night."

"These grits are amazing!" Lisa gushed.

"Mammie's recipe, too, rest her bones. But don't eat too much now - there's always a price to pay for mortal food and I don’t want the bathroom smelling like brunch for days."

Carrie stalked in, sidled up to the table, and was served a plate within a vampire's heartbeat. She glared at Vera and Lisa until Erasmus cleared his throat and her expression softened. They chatted idly for a few minutes, and Vera very nearly forgot that she was exactly one damning piece of evidence away from being slowly dismembered by the Youngbloods' leader. But she didn't forget - her heart would have skipped a beat (if it could have) when Ebony strutted into the room, divesting herself of a dozen dark garments swaddling her from the sun.

Ebony was a biochemist and very nearly had a molecular biology doctorate, so it didn't especially surprise Vera to learn that she'd been called in to the case. If she was disturbed at setting foot onto Moody's plantation, she didn't show it. She acknowledged Moody with a nod and helped herself to the last remaining spot on the table, waving off the plate of still-steaming brunch when it was presented.

"We found one," she stated.

"One?" Carrie asked. "Which one?"

"That weird biddy Tasmin. She was holed up in Myrtle Beach and forgot to tell her people she was down there. You know how codger vamps are."

"Is that what we're calling them now?" Moody said. "Oh my."

Ebony looked at him flatly. "Master Moody, do you have an iPhone or an Android?"

Moody slicked his mustache and glanced to his butler, who shrugged. The man looked fifty and was probably north of a century, himself. "One of them, I'm sure," he said. "Point taken. Continue, Miss Ebony."

"Like I said, she turned up after a bit of a bender in Myrtle. No news of our boys Carlos and Matt, though. I suspect Tasmin is separate from our Youngbloods missing - though we can't rule anything out yet."

"We've got another lead," Suleiman said. He was the final member of their vampire assemblage, a dark and dashingly-handsome man of some Persian or Arabian ancestry. He carried the traces of his native tongue over an Eaton accent. "I was about to give it a look by my lonesome, but you're welcome to come with if you're amiable. I expect I'll leave in an hour or so."

"A lead? Where?"

"Brushland Presbyterian Church," Vera said - there wasn't much point in hiding what they already knew. "Carlos owned the place, and Lisa and I went there with him and Matt a few nights ago. When we left, they were still there and, as far as we can tell, that was the last that anybody saw of the two of them in the flesh."

"Ah." Ebony looked Vera up and down with a skeptical squint. "Then yes, I'd very much like to accompany. I'll be waiting in an hour."

"Splendid," Suleiman said. "One more mimosa and I'll ready my things."

+++++

"Jesus, it's a good thing it's my day off… otherwise, I'd have to call in sick after three days back on the job," Vera said.

They'd spent most of the morning exploring Chapel House. There was plenty to explore - most of it was accessible, with a few notable exceptions, such as Moody's 'sanctum' and a little reliquiary of Moody family artifacts for the master vampire's eyes only. But they were otherwise free to explore - albeit not too covertly, as there was never a servant far away. Usually more than one.

"Do you think we'll be out by tomorrow?" Lisa asked.

"Shit, you're right. I have no idea." That was a problem - they were essentially captive at Moody's place until he gave them leave to depart. Or until he found out they (or, well, Vera) had participated in the killings. That hung over her head like a Damoclean blade.

They strolled into the little botanical gardens, the windows beaded with humidity, the UV-free sunlight rendered suffuse. It was warm and smelled of vegetation and cloying earth, probably close to a hundred degrees, but Vera didn't sweat a drop - vampires didn't do sweating. She sniffed beneath her lululemon shirt - no sweat, but she still smelled of sex and cologne… multiple colognes. Moody's and Suleiman's both. It had, she realized, been a very busy night. She plucked a violet, sniffed it, and pressed it into the golden tresses of Lisa's hair.

"I need a bath and so do you," she said.

There were baths aplenty at Chapel House, including a piping hot tub in the steam room next to the little swimming pool in the basement. They stripped down and dipped into the water, delightfully warm, maybe even uncomfortably warm if they'd been mortals. Vera sighed as Lisa rubbed her back and made a different sigh - this time in disappointment - as Lisa brought her slim hand around to home in on a nipple. Lisa's tender touch did next to nothing.

"I'm not blood-sated, Lisa," she said. "You might as well grope a water balloon."

"Yeah… same," Lisa sighed, and resumed her scrubbing. "I guess there are downsides to the whole vampire thing…"

"I hope I'm not disturbing anything," Erasmus Moody said. He strolled in nude, his body slim and taut.

"You could hear us from three rooms over," Vera observed.

"Etiquette is important," he replied, and sank into the water. "But, that said, allow me an interjection: at a place like Chapel House you need not ever go unsated. Why, I could snap my fingers right now and we'd have familiars at the ready, and then we three could do whatever we like." He grinned and lifted his hand from the water, ready to snap.

"Please don't," Vera said.

"As you wish, Miss Vera. And don't you worry - I'm a gentleman above all else. I'd never make you do anything you didn't want to do at…" he cleared his throat… "at my 'creepy-ass slave plantation', wasn't it?"

Vera didn't know if she should be embarrassed or outraged - a bit of both, she supposed. She just stared ad Moody and then sank into the water, which muffled Moody's rambling enough that she could no longer make him out. She could have stayed under the whole time Erasmus was there, but that would be petulant, and she wouldn't be seen as a petulant child, even if Moody was a dozen times older than her. She'd be the mature one. She breached the surface and locked eyes with Moody.

"Surely, you realize that the world's changed in two centuries. What am I supposed to think about this place? In the mortal world, it just isn't acceptable, and I've been a mortal a lot longer than I've been an immortal."

Moody shrugged and splashed at the water with his fingers. "And you were a boy for a lot longer, too. You aren't acting much like a boy these days, Miss Vera. Yes, things change, but the mortal world is fleeting, just like mortals themselves. As the older, wiser race, isn't it our lot to guide them along a more productive path? Think what you will of me, I have been a loyal servant to our Lady since before your great-great grandpappy was in nappies. And when our plan comes to fruition, maybe next year and maybe in a hundred years, the notion of a free and independent humanity will seem antiquated and quaint." He traced a circle in the water. "We'll have come full circle. Shall I call you old-fashioned then?"

"I'll rejoice alongside you on that blessed day," Vera said with what she hoped was a subtle mock-Southern accent.

"Glad do hear it," Moody said. "Now… if one of you would hand me the soap, I'd be much obliged."

OvidLemma

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