Bloodsong Pt. 04

"I'm busy," Mattias said as the doors of the elevator rattled open, revealing the dingy little office he'd used for the past century. Behind his desk, rain battered against an ancient window. Smoke and sound from downstairs wafted up through the warped floorboards, filling the office with a perpetual haze and muted cries of revelry.

He stood with his back to her, holding a length of measuring tape along the outstretched arm of a tall, slender woman who wore nothing but a set of white lingerie and held herself with the grace of a ballerina. The woman's hair was pulled into a tight bun, adding to the image. Her mouth fell slack as she took in Natalie's appearance.

Mattias himself wore a brocade vest in black and gold over a white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, and a charcoal jacket matching his neat slacks was draped over a nearby chair. His hair was shorter than when she'd last seen him, brushed back in fluffy brown curls.

"It's Natalie Stoia, master," said a young man to her left with a well kept mustache and hair shaved on the sides in what Natalie assumed was a trendy fashion.

The man, Mattias' familiar, sat cross-legged on a red velvet sofa pushed against the wall, scribbling away in a leather bound notebook while his master took measurements. Across the room, the sofa's twin was covered in a messy stack of newspapers.

Mattias turned. "You look like shit."

Natalie hadn't trusted herself near Paige after losing so much blood, so she'd flown here without changing. Flight was a risky venture in this day and age, but the winter storm outside made for good cover. Thunder clapped, reverberating through the building.

"Why do you still operate out of this dump?" Natalie tossed her ruined boots aside where they clattered to the floor, earning a frown from the familiar.

"I'm sentimental. Not all of us are as heartless as you." Mattias turned his attention to his familiar and said, "Forty seven."

"What was the exact measurement?" he replied without looking up.

"Just write the number down, Joseph."

The familiar, Joseph, raised his gaze and fixed his master with a hard stare. Mattias' tolerance for such disobedience had always baffled her. She'd known him for centuries, and had a begrudging respect for his talent and discretion, but he'd always treated his familiars as partners. Not quite equals, but more friend than servant.

"Forty six, and six eighths centimeters." Mattias answered dramatically.

Joseph began to write.

"You can put your arm down." Mattias said to the woman who did as she was told. "What can I do for you, Ms. Stoia?"

Mattias didn't seem concerned about the woman's presence and now that she'd recovered from the initial shock of Natalie's arrival, her face remained impassive.

She knew, then. A courtesan.

Natalie hungrily drank in the woman's body. She didn't much resemble Paige, but she might still make an acceptable substitute. In her fevered state, Natalie suspected anyone would. It had been a long time since she'd lost this much blood.

"I need to feed." she said.

The woman's pulse accelerated, but Mattias laid a hand on her shoulder and said, "Don't worry dear. I think Ms. Stoia is a little too hungry to turn her loose on you. Joseph, would you mind?"

"Yes, master." Joseph said.

Natalie turned her attention to the familiar as he snapped the notebook shut, leaving it on the sofa and moving to stand before her.

He took in her clothes, now soaked through and semi-transparent in addition to the damage from Paige's attack. After a deep breath, he turned away from her, sank to his knees, and unbuttoned his shirt. He lowered it enough to expose his neck and upper back and waited, perfectly composed. Only his scent gave him away.

It was taboo to harm another kin's familiar. Mattias' meaning was clear: Don't lose control.

Natalie crouched, resting her hands against Joseph's shoulder blades, and bit into the firm flesh where neck met shoulder. The muscles in his back tightened beneath her hands as she drank.

Blood was pure vitality. Life itself. Joseph tasted like sunlight and pine. Pipe tobacco and jasmine tea. Natalie preferred the piquant flavor of her pets, but she understood why Mattias' kept the boy around.

"What does it feel like?" the courtesan asked in a whisper as though Natalie was asleep, and she was afraid to wake her.

"It's painful at first," Joseph answered, "but quite pleasant once the burning fades."

Joseph relaxed, clearly used to being fed upon. Natalie wished he would fight back. It felt wrong, somehow, for a human not to recognize their peril. Not to struggle. Mattias' parlor had allowed generations of kin to delude themselves into denying what they were, and his courtesans had grown comfortable among them.

Natalie ached to show this new girl the true face of her clientele. Her hands drifted up to Joseph's shoulders where her claws dug into his skin, and a delicious tang of fear seeped into the boy's blood.

"The bite itself isn't what you need to worry about dear. It's the blood loss if a client doesn't know when to stop," Mattias said.

Natalie begrudgingly, and with considerable effort, tore herself away from Joseph. Sated, but not satisfied. She met Mattias' eyes as she pricked her thumb against her fang and rubbed the blood into Joseph's wounds. They began to knit.

"I take it you killed my man at the elevator?" Mattias asked as she stood.

"He tried to stop me." Natalie said with a shrug, quietly relishing the courtesan's gasp.

The fledgeling vampire guarding the entrance to Mattias' office hadn't recognized her and she didn't have the patience to educate him. It had been nearly a decade since she'd last visited Claret Street, but there were still too many new faces. Too much young blood. The court had grown lax in their duties.

It's no longer your problem, Natalie reminded herself.

"Joseph, take Dahlia to the the changing rooms...and deal with Ms. Stoia's mess downstairs." Mattias said, clearly exasperated.

The familiar snatched up Natalie's dripping boots and ignored her as he passed. Dahlia hurriedly wrapped herself in a robe and gave Natalie as wide a berth as was possible in the cramped office as she shuffled past.

Mattias threw himself down on the sofa with the newspapers and they crumpled beneath him. A few stray pages drifted to the floor. He propped himself up on one arm and faced her, exuding boyish curiosity.

"Why are you really here Natalie?" Mattias asked, using her first name now that they were alone.

"There's been a problem."

Natalie fished Paige's ID and cell phone from her pockets and tossed them to Mattias, then began to strip. She peeled away the tattered clothing, leaving it in a wet pile, and arranged herself across the empty sofa where Joseph had sat. It was still warm.

"Paige Clarke." Mattias read aloud, "She's pretty. More so than your usual fare. I can see why you slipped up."

"I didn't slip up," Natalie grumbled, "There were extenuating circumstances."

"So you need me to what? Find this girl? Did she get away from you or..."

"No. She's locked in the basement."

"Oh." Mattias turned, taking in her naked form with a distant appreciation. Like he was sizing up a prospective hire. "Then what's the issue? If it's the usual background check I can get back to you in a week or so." Slyness crept into his voice as he continued, "But if that was all you needed you wouldn't be here in person. Would you?"

"I wasn't planning to take her at all, but..." Natalie threw an arm across her face, burying her eyes in the crook of her elbow. "It just kind of happened."

"Violently, judging from your appearance."

Natalie felt herself smile. "Yes."

"So what's your plan now? The usual?"

"I don't want to tame her."

"Wow. She must be special."

"No." Natalie snapped. She forced the frustration out of her voice and continued, "No, she's not. That's the point. I was only planning to let her stay for a while, then send her along and be done with it."

"That seems out of character. May I ask why?"

Natalie let her arm fall away, dangling off the edge of the sofa. "The fucking Bloodsong."

Mattias broke into laughter. As she knew he would. She stared at the ceiling, listening to the rain and watching motes of dust drift aimlessly through the haze until he quieted.

"Are you done?" She turned to face him. He was watching her, lips pulled up into a mischievous smile.

"Apologies. It's just so like you, to turn the best part of being kin into a crucible."

"I like being in control."

"You like to suffer."

Natalie rose to a sitting position, hugging her knees. "Careful, Mattias. Our history only affords you so much."

"We both know I'm too valuable for you to kill over a tiff."

Natalie grunted and allowed herself to fall back down.

"The Bloodsong is a gift. I don't understand why you won't indulge. You're not usually one for holding back."

Natalie scoffed. Everything was a gift to other kin. The Bloodsong, the power, the immortality. It was even the name by which they referred to being turned. It was --all of it-- simply 'the gift'.

Gifts don't come with a price.

"Sometimes I worry that we're just vessels for the hunger." Natalie said. "That it's really in control, wearing us like skins. The Bloodsong makes it feel like it's alive. Like it's speaking to me. Ordering me."

"Does it matter?" Mattias asked, "If giving in makes you happy?"

So carefree.

"Happiness breeds complacency." she said.

"It really doesn't have to."

They grew quiet, and perhaps sensing that he'd exhausted her philosophical mood, Mattias returned to business. "So if you don't want to kill her, and you can't let her go, then why not make her your familiar?"

"I'd rather not."

Natalie had a familiar once. A handmaiden, when she was young. She couldn't remember the woman's name, or what task she had failed to earn her mother's wrath. But she would never forget the sound of the woman's neck as her mother snapped it like a twig.

"Then what do you need from me?" Mattias asked.

Natalie steeled herself. "You seem to get along well with humans. I've never had any talent for it, but I was wondering..."

Mattias leaned forward, his eyes twinkled. "Natalie Stoia. Are you asking me for advice?!"

"I suppose?"

Mattias clapped his hands together, looking absolutely giddy. "Then you want to win the girl over?"

"...Yes." Natalie admitted after a handful of seconds.

"In that case. Step one, I should think, would be damage control. How badly did you hurt her?"

"I didn't. She got the best of me. Stabbed me in the throat." Natalie explained, then added, "Twice."

"Only you could make getting stabbed sound like a treat." Mattias said flatly.

"I did use a geas on her. I had to give her my blood for it to stick though."

"Impressive on her part. Though I doubt she appreciated that. Humans tend to dislike being drugged and taken advantage of."

She wanted to protest, but although she disliked the phrasing, Mattias was right. In Paige's eyes, Natalie was hardly different than the vulturous men who had spiked her drink. Force feeding Paige her blood had been an act of desperation. Natalie needed the girl confined so she could leave while she still had her wits about her.

"I did it for her own good. She'll see that."

"Will she?" Mattias asked.

"I'll make her."

"You're hopeless."

"Could you at least pass some advice along with your judgment?" Natalie complained.

"Fine," he began. "She already knows what you are, and reading between the lines, I suspect she's aware of how dangerous that makes you. Pretending otherwise is probably a lost cause. So instead you tell her the truth, and give her an assurance of safety. For at least long enough to earn her trust."

A logical course of action. The problem was that even if the girl believed such assurances, which was doubtful, Natalie wasn't sure she could hold herself to them. Not with the Bloodsong bearing down on her.

She said as much to Mattias.

"There is one way," he replied, "To ensure you stay true to your word."

A pact.

"No," Natalie spat. "Absolutely not."

"You wanted my advice? This is it: It's easiest to convince someone of something when it's the truth. You want the girl to trust you? Give up some of your precious control in exchange."

*****

It took an hour for the smoldering heat to cool enough to think clearly, and another to dissipate entirely. During that time Paige searched the basement for some means of escape, struggling the whole time to push through the fog and focus on the task at hand. It was like her head was filled with thick perfume that coiled around her thoughts and squeezed until they came apart at the seams.

She found herself constantly losing track of what she was doing, drawn instead to the bedroom, and the freshly made bed inside that Natalie had suggested she use. The room smelled like bleach, and the queen sized mattress was new. Manufactured this year, according to the tag. Next to the bed was a small metal nightstand. The only other furniture in the room.

In addition to the spartan bedroom, there was a small bathroom with a sage bath mat and matching shower curtain; and a large open living space with a pull out sofa, television, and one corner devoted to a kitchenette. All of it pristine.

There were no windows, no phone lines, and the door at the top of the stairs was locked so tightly that Paige couldn't even manage to rattle it. She didn't bother screaming. The houses were too far apart, and she had no doubt the basement was soundproofed.

Natalie had been thorough.

The television wasn't a smart model, and had no internet connection. The bathroom had a fan for ventilation, but it was far too small for her to climb into. The kitchen had no stove or dishwasher. Nothing with a gas line or a heating coil she could use to start a fire. She suspected there might be something inside the refrigerator that would work to that end, but she had neither the knowledge nor the tools to disassemble it.

Satisfied that she was well at truly fucked, Paige threw herself across a paisley pull-out in the living room and stared at the ceiling. It was spackled. She rolled onto her side and screamed into the cushion.

Now that the blood had worn off she felt cold. Empty. Like her body had already grown used to the poison of Natalie's blood and wanted it back. Without its calming influence the reality of her situation was setting in.

She was trapped.

Again.

Terror clawed its way up her throat, making it difficult to breathe. The basement felt too small. She began to sweat despite the chill, and her nails dug into the skin of her palms as she squeezed them to stop her hands from shaking. Her eyes burned.

No. Now wasn't the time to panic.

Paige forced herself to breathe, letting the numbness wash over her. She wasn't trapped, she was safe and untouchable in the void. Watching her predicament from far, far away. It was another Paige's peril. She was only a spectator.

Natalie wasn't perfect. Eventually she would make a mistake. Paige just needed to be ready to capitalize on it when she did. That meant staying calm and collected.

Muffled steps sounded above her and the numb detachment shattered. Her blood ran cold, and without thinking, she hurled herself off the sofa and fled to the bathroom, locking herself inside and listening with bated breath.

The basement door swished open, and the stairs began to creak. Paige crept backwards and hunched on the toilet like a gargoyle.

She needed a weapon. Something to defend herself with, or at least to distract Natalie while she made another break for it, but all she could do was hug her knees and try not to sob as Natalie reached the carpeted floor of the living room and her steps became silent.

Paige's body refused to obey, and the numbness wouldn't come.

So she just waited.

"Paige?" Natalie's voice called softly from the other side of the bathroom door.

Paige held her breath, her entire body was one enormous knot of tension. Her jaw ached from clenching.

"I just want to talk. Come upstairs with me?"

This was it. An opportunity to flee. To fight. To do something. The blood was no longer in her system, so why couldn't she say anything?

When Paige failed to reply Natalie continued, "Fine. We'll speak tomorrow night once you've calmed down. I left a meal on the counter."

With that, she left.

Paige listened, still holding her breath, as Natalie returned upstairs, locked the door and her footsteps faded to nothing.

She gasped for air. The room spun and black spots filled the edges of her vision.

What the fuck was that?!

A chance to escape, or at least to try, and she'd wasted it. Paige was no stranger to monsters, even if they weren't usually the literal kind. She was strong. She was a survivor. So why was she hiding like a child?

For the first time since running away, she regretted her decision to leave. Curtis was awful, but even being trapped with him would be better than this.

Paige hated herself for the thought.

She slammed her fist into the wall next to her as hard as she could, and a foot away a chunk of white tile fell away and cracked in two as it hit the floor. The vibration must have knocked it loose. She hissed, clutching her hand as it began to throb, and crouched down to examine the wall.

Where the tile had been was a small chiseled out hollow.

Inside Paige found a silver necklace with a cross, and about a dozen pieces of folded paper. The sheets were long and narrow, from the grocery list pinned at the top of the stairs, she realized. She unfolded them and read the first page.

To whoever reads this: my name is Kim Garret,

and I've been seduced and captured by an

agent of the devil.

I am ashamed to admit that her beauty

transfixed me and I turned from the path of

righteousness to which I was raised.

When she locked me away she took my things.

My phone, my purse, my wallet. But she left

my necklace. The one with the cross.

If you find this, and you have also strayed

then pray.

God will forgive us.

God will save us.

Paige doubted that.

A date in the top right corner read October third. Almost exactly a month ago. A diary, she realized. Paige skipped to the final entry, written in an even, steady hand that contrasted starkly with the unsteady scrawl of the first page.

My master is going to kill me.

Perhaps I should run, but strangely I find that

I don't want to.

Death is a fair price for the ecstasy she's

shown me.

My body is hers.

My blood is hers.

My life is hers.

I am hers, and you will be too.

Rejoice.

November first. Last night.

Hairs raised along her arms as she recalled Natalie's words: I might have a place for you to stay, but it won't be free until tomorrow.

She'd been referring to killing this woman.

Paige held up the necklace, a silver chain with a small cross that twinkled as it caught the light. She'd never been religious, and faith didn't seem to have done much for Kim, but she pocketed the cross anyway.

When she left the bathroom she found the food Natalie had left her on the kitchen counter, a box of takeout that contained a veggie sandwich and fries. Paige was tempted to hurl it across the room, but decided against wasting food. Instead she brought it to the bedroom where she dragged the comforter off the bed and pulled it into the closet.

She curled up against the wall, bundled herself in the blanket, and popped a fry into her mouth. The smaller space felt less oppressive than the bleach scented bedroom, and more secure than the living room with the door upstairs.