The Scarlet Deep
Page 5
The young man nodded happily. “I will, sir.”
“And Ronald?”
“Yes, boss?”
Murphy tossed him one more smile before he walked toward the two girls. “You’re right. The rumors about me are true.”
And with a hearty roar from his lads, Murphy left the club with a heavier wallet and a matched set.
Chapter Two
ANNE O’DEA NODDED, jotting down a few sentences in the small notebook she kept by her easy chair.
“That’s very interesting, Alexander. But how did it make you feel?”
“Feel?” His public school accent was clipped with annoyance.
“Yes. Remember, part of this therapy is learning how to rediscover your connection with your emotions.”
“I’m not sure I want that.” The Englishman glanced at her notebook. “You… don’t use names, do you?”
Anne tried not to sigh audibly. It was only Alexander’s second visit, and wind vampires were typically paranoid. She shouldn’t have been surprised, even if her new patient had been discreetly referred by a mutual acquaintance.
“As I have said, I never use names. And these notes are for my eyes only.”
She saw the vampire’s eyes narrow. “I wouldn’t want my visits here to become known.”
Anne let her fangs drop. “I hope you’re not threatening me, Alexander. We both know that wouldn’t be wise.”
The wind vampire shrank back into his seat. “Of course not.”
Anne’s eyes flicked to a dark stain on the floor near the couch where her clients most often sat. It was only partially covered by a rug. It wouldn’t do to let the more… volatile patients forget she was as much a predator as they were. For while the human world might see a quiet, sweet-faced woman in her late twenties with a generous figure and vivid sea-green eyes, her patients would see weakness.
And weakness in her world got you killed quickly.
“Now,” she said, resuming her notes. “Let’s continue talking about your sire.”
He droned on, as typical a case of ennui as she’d ever seen. Alexander didn’t seem a bad sort. He treated his human employees fairly, he only killed when necessary, and he mostly kept to himself. His sudden struggle to avoid the sun was likely a symptom of age.
When most of your patients lived hundreds of years, weariness was a common malady. Oh, there were fancier names for it. And narcissism inevitably crept in on many of her kind. But Anne had known for years that their state—immortality—was simply not a natural one. There was a reason most of the planet kicked off after seventy or eighty years. Most of them happily. It took a particular kind of personality to survive forever with mental health intact.
Alexander, she suspected, did not have that kind of verve. He was three hundred years old, from what he said, which likely meant he was closer to her own age, two hundred and some. He had only one child, whom he was estranged from, and more money than friends. Plus he was a wind vampire, which meant he eschewed the roots needed for a long and happy life. In her experience, long-lived wind vampires had either established a very loyal networks of friends or were sociopaths.
Sometimes both.
“Your son,” she said. “Tell me about him.”
She saw her patient tense, but he didn’t make the mistake of letting his hackles rise again. “He has his own life.”
“Is he mated? Does he have any children of his own?”
She thought he might not answer for a time.
“He… has a partner. I don’t like her.”
“Why not?”
“She’s an earth vampire.”
“Ah.”
Anne wasn’t surprised. Prejudice based on sex or ethnicity was uncommon in older immortals, who had usually seen too much of the world to be narrow-minded. But prejudice against other elements… that was more expected.
“Do you feel as if she limits him? Has she stifled his nature by asking him to settle?”
“No. And yet he doesn’t roam as often as he once did. She has changed him.”
“I see.” And change was always difficult. Immortals may look young, but Anne knew the truth better than most of her kind.
Vampires were—by and large—very attractive old people. And like most of the elderly, change was difficult.
In the past twenty years, the rapid rate of change in the human world had left many of their kind floundering. Water vampires, with their innate curiosity and adaptability, and earth vampires, who lived “off the grid” and had stronger family ties, tended to be the best adapted to the modern world. Wind vampires, whose roaming nature and tendency toward paranoia was exacerbated by human technology, had a much harder time adjusting.
And fire vampires, the rarest of their kind?
In Anne’s opinion, every one of them needed to be in therapy.
“Alexander, I’m going to suggest you try to reconnect with your son. Did you have any kind of falling out? Any arguments?”
“No. We simply went our separate ways. It’s the nature of things, and he was well provided for.”
“I’m sure he was, but I think reconnecting with him might be beneficial to you both.”
His shoulders stiffened. “I don’t need him.”
“None of us is meant to be alone,” she said soothingly. “And your human staff is obviously devoted. But they are mortal. How old is your butler?”
“Eighty?” Alexander shrugged. “Ninety? I’m not sure.”
“And Ronald?”
“Yes, boss?”
Murphy tossed him one more smile before he walked toward the two girls. “You’re right. The rumors about me are true.”
And with a hearty roar from his lads, Murphy left the club with a heavier wallet and a matched set.
Chapter Two
ANNE O’DEA NODDED, jotting down a few sentences in the small notebook she kept by her easy chair.
“That’s very interesting, Alexander. But how did it make you feel?”
“Feel?” His public school accent was clipped with annoyance.
“Yes. Remember, part of this therapy is learning how to rediscover your connection with your emotions.”
“I’m not sure I want that.” The Englishman glanced at her notebook. “You… don’t use names, do you?”
Anne tried not to sigh audibly. It was only Alexander’s second visit, and wind vampires were typically paranoid. She shouldn’t have been surprised, even if her new patient had been discreetly referred by a mutual acquaintance.
“As I have said, I never use names. And these notes are for my eyes only.”
She saw the vampire’s eyes narrow. “I wouldn’t want my visits here to become known.”
Anne let her fangs drop. “I hope you’re not threatening me, Alexander. We both know that wouldn’t be wise.”
The wind vampire shrank back into his seat. “Of course not.”
Anne’s eyes flicked to a dark stain on the floor near the couch where her clients most often sat. It was only partially covered by a rug. It wouldn’t do to let the more… volatile patients forget she was as much a predator as they were. For while the human world might see a quiet, sweet-faced woman in her late twenties with a generous figure and vivid sea-green eyes, her patients would see weakness.
And weakness in her world got you killed quickly.
“Now,” she said, resuming her notes. “Let’s continue talking about your sire.”
He droned on, as typical a case of ennui as she’d ever seen. Alexander didn’t seem a bad sort. He treated his human employees fairly, he only killed when necessary, and he mostly kept to himself. His sudden struggle to avoid the sun was likely a symptom of age.
When most of your patients lived hundreds of years, weariness was a common malady. Oh, there were fancier names for it. And narcissism inevitably crept in on many of her kind. But Anne had known for years that their state—immortality—was simply not a natural one. There was a reason most of the planet kicked off after seventy or eighty years. Most of them happily. It took a particular kind of personality to survive forever with mental health intact.
Alexander, she suspected, did not have that kind of verve. He was three hundred years old, from what he said, which likely meant he was closer to her own age, two hundred and some. He had only one child, whom he was estranged from, and more money than friends. Plus he was a wind vampire, which meant he eschewed the roots needed for a long and happy life. In her experience, long-lived wind vampires had either established a very loyal networks of friends or were sociopaths.
Sometimes both.
“Your son,” she said. “Tell me about him.”
She saw her patient tense, but he didn’t make the mistake of letting his hackles rise again. “He has his own life.”
“Is he mated? Does he have any children of his own?”
She thought he might not answer for a time.
“He… has a partner. I don’t like her.”
“Why not?”
“She’s an earth vampire.”
“Ah.”
Anne wasn’t surprised. Prejudice based on sex or ethnicity was uncommon in older immortals, who had usually seen too much of the world to be narrow-minded. But prejudice against other elements… that was more expected.
“Do you feel as if she limits him? Has she stifled his nature by asking him to settle?”
“No. And yet he doesn’t roam as often as he once did. She has changed him.”
“I see.” And change was always difficult. Immortals may look young, but Anne knew the truth better than most of her kind.
Vampires were—by and large—very attractive old people. And like most of the elderly, change was difficult.
In the past twenty years, the rapid rate of change in the human world had left many of their kind floundering. Water vampires, with their innate curiosity and adaptability, and earth vampires, who lived “off the grid” and had stronger family ties, tended to be the best adapted to the modern world. Wind vampires, whose roaming nature and tendency toward paranoia was exacerbated by human technology, had a much harder time adjusting.
And fire vampires, the rarest of their kind?
In Anne’s opinion, every one of them needed to be in therapy.
“Alexander, I’m going to suggest you try to reconnect with your son. Did you have any kind of falling out? Any arguments?”
“No. We simply went our separate ways. It’s the nature of things, and he was well provided for.”
“I’m sure he was, but I think reconnecting with him might be beneficial to you both.”
His shoulders stiffened. “I don’t need him.”
“None of us is meant to be alone,” she said soothingly. “And your human staff is obviously devoted. But they are mortal. How old is your butler?”
“Eighty?” Alexander shrugged. “Ninety? I’m not sure.”
