Vampyre: Desire Immortal

Chapter 15

The Fool's Bargain

The sun shines, enflaming pallid skin to painful scarlet. It is better to hide from its burning rays and rest where prying eyes will never peer.

*****

There was nothing more to be done. Perdix crawled into a dark corner of his workroom and plumped up the sack of straw where he would sleep.

His shoulders ached. His feet were sore. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Scite," he shouted, furiously.

The bedbugs were feeding on him like ravenous wolves. He clawed and pinched and finally got up from his bed. His body screamed for sleep, but it would evade him tonight. He gathered his things and went to the chambers of the princess.

One look at her told him his worst fears were true. By candlelight, he examined her neck. There were two tiny puncture wounds, deepest maroon surrounded by circles of dusky blue. She was pale, feverish, and, Perdix was sure, a member of the clan of Ichor.

None of his ointments, salves, or elixirs on his shelves would help her. He must come up with the answer. He told Gilia to keep the girl locked in her room, but he doubted that even the hawkeyed handmaid was up to the task.

"It is not hopeless," he told Gilia, "but the situation is very grave. I will work on a solution. The best we can do right now is pray."

For the old alchemist, there was nothing left to do but go back to his work bench. He lit a candle and sat down. Deep into the night, the dim glow from his window could be seen by the castle guards.

*****

I put on my best silk gown. I bathe with scented water. The first time, Wolfstan caught me by surprise. But I will be ready for him.

Gilia says I am unrecognizable. What am I doing to blossom so quickly? It must be thoughts of marriage, she says. Little does she know!

I hop into bed, pulling the covers to my chin. I think it lends a more dramatic flair to hide my coming surprise. The footsteps outside my door grow louder.

"It is I," Wolfstan says.

Gilia will hear him. But he does not care. She will wait a moment or two, and when I utter not a sound, she will go on about her business.

There is no scandal now. The ceremony is but days away.

"Ava."

The running sores all over his face have dried a little. Still, anyone with half a brain can see he is not well. He hobbles toward my bed, unable to resist the lust that incinerates his loins.

I fling the covers back, just as he is ready to devour me.

He stops, his eyes round orbs. A wicked smile spreads across his face. He laughs with glee.

"You are so beautiful," he says softly. "How can it be that such a child should grow so fair so soon?"

I lower my head and look up at him with eyes half-closed. This works like a siren's charm. I see his liver-colored tongue move slowly across his lips. His eyes are fiery coals. I smell his sweat, each pore so flooded with desire, and watch as passion swallows him completely.

"Ava."

His voice is thick and low. His breath comes in short bursts. His heart is racing.

"Come," I say. "I will soon be yours, anyway."

"They say you are barely thirteen," he says. "They lie. What black sorcery has turned the slug into the butterfly?"

"Unmask yourself, Wolfstan. You see me as I am on the day that I was born. Will you not extend to me that same courtesy to see you? Take off the sack, and let my eyes feast upon that which is soon mine till death doth part us."

He hesitates.

"The stories of your conquests, I have heard from many mouths," I said.

My words were like a trance, and in that trance, he disrobes before me.

What a pitiful sight. What a wretched specimen of manhood, diseased and filthy. He stands before me. I remained quiet, in shock to think this creature is my betrothed.

"Ava," he says, and I note the slightest whimper in his voice.

I look at him and laugh. He is confused, unsure, trying hard to figure out what to do to regain the upper hand.

"I am overjoyed," I say. "Overjoyed at the prospect of our union and the many offspring we will soon be having."

He still says nothing.

"It is alright," I murmur, much like a soothing mother to a wounded child.

I pat the covers.

"Come. I will take the curse and lift it far from you."

He staggers, not believing my words.

"You do not speak, Wolfstan, but your body talks for you."

His jolly stick engorged with blood.

"Quick," I say, "before the spindle faints and passion dies."