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(It's time for my annual-adjacent dusting off of my blog to share something for the holidays. The Hunt was inspired by a prompt from a post on the Small but Mighty MM Romance Group on Facebook. I hope you'll have as much fun with it as I did. It's a vampire's Christmas!! Hope you all have a wonderful holiday, however you choose to celebrate.)
The Hunt
I’ve been celebrating Christmas since the time when we
killed a wren and burned a log for twelve days; since the child born that night
was called Mithras; and since the Wild Hunt rode.
The Hunt still has a role to play, but in this world where
electric lights turn night into day and telegraphs transmit words around the
globe as fast as thought, the ghosts of the past have been reduced to mere
shadows.
I, too, am a ghost from the past, albeit a more corporeal
specter. So long as I taste human blood and avoid the sun, I will carry on. Why?
Because I can and because someone must. As long as one soul remembers the old
ways, they will live on.
I’d settled on the Cornish coast, where blustery winds
caress the moors and the sea crashes into jagged rock. My home had once been a
knight’s stronghold. Its battlements appealed to me, a fearsome face to guard
the comforts within.
And this is a most comfortable space. My companions – they’d
been with me so long they were more than hired help – have seen to every
detail. Terese brought the role of housekeeper to unimagined heights, while Dom’s
ability to make magic out of wood and nails had served me more than well.
But, as these things go, Dom had passed on. I sent his
grieving widow to their daughter’s house for a time. That left me alone,
rattling around this pile of stone, albeit one with electric lights and running
water and a library fit for a king. I’d tried to send Duke with her, the hound
who’d followed Dom like a four-legged shadow, but she’d insisted the dog stay
with me.
I could manage on my own for a few days, well, me and Duke together,
and when it came time for Dom to join the Hunt, I would be here to wish him
well.
I rose at sunset and, after a cursory bath, I settled in my
study. I had invested many hours transcribing notes left by the alchemist Mary
the Hebrew from their original Arabic into something modern scholars could comprehend.
It bothered me no end to allow knowledge to fade into obscurity, and tasks like
this gave me something with which to fill the endless hours of the night.
My study had a single electric lamp and a pair of oil sconces
on the wall behind my desk. A bookcase held only such resources as would be required
for this project, and Duke lay curled on the woolen rug nearby. Pens and a vial
of ink sat at my right hand, and a sheath of good quality paper at my left. The
document I worked from was an ancient parchment, obtained through channels I’d spent
years cultivating. I did not begrudge the ink stains on my fingers, nor the knot
growing between my shoulders. The work was all the more satisfying for being
difficult. On this night of all nights, it gave meaning to my very existence.
Duke and I noticed the change at the same time. A whiff of
something new, some note of freshness mingled with the metallic scent of ink. I
lifted my head even as the dog lifted his, and I let go of the phrase I’d been
parsing, allowing my mind to drift. There. A noise. The dog shuffled to
his feet.
“What is it?”
Duke glanced at me over his shoulder, a quick reassurance
before he went off to explore. He’d never treat me with the affection he gave
Dom and Terese, but we’d reached an accord. For a dog of few words, his big
brown eyes could be eloquent.
His nails clicked on the mahogany floor and I returned my
attention to the parchment. He’d alert me to anything amiss.
Untangling the next phrase absorbed me completely. A sharp woof
from Duke, however, made me jump to my feet, sending a spray of ink from my
pen. Without taking the time to blot the ink, I followed the dog.
My study was on the ground floor, a small room off the great
hall. The enormous room was lit by electric bulbs concealed in ornate sconces.
I stood in the center of the floor, puzzled by a steady thump echoing off the dramatically
high ceiling.
Thumping? What on earth?
I followed the noise, curiosity overriding everything else.
I wasn’t afraid; it would take more than an odd noise to trigger fear in such
as me.
Following the sound to the rear of the room, I ducked
through the small servant’s door. The thumping continued, and I moved across
the flagstones, as silent as a shadow.
I found the source of the sound in the kitchen. A young man
knelt midst the shelves of crockery and the cold cast-iron stove. Duke sat in
front of him, accepting pats and scratches, his tail beating a steady rhythm on
the floor.
For a moment I did nothing except to draw a curtain of
shadow around myself. The young man was maybe five and twenty years, and he had
the look of one who’d been sleeping rough. His clothing was worn and dirty, the
cap on his head doing a poor job of hiding a riot of curls. His spirit, though,
sent an aura of clear light around him. And the warm, earthy, scent of his
blood made my mouth water.
While I didn’t celebrate the holiday in the modern sense, it
occurred to me that I’d rarely been given such a lovely gift.
At my age, I had little need to feed. Dom and Terese between
them had more than satisfied me, but we’d lost Dom and Terese was sure to
follow him soon. Perhaps it was time to expand our household once more.
No, I was getting ahead of myself. I knew nothing of this young
soul, except for the angelic curve of his cheek and the kiss of gold in the scruff
on his unshaven face. The affection with which he handled Duke made it clear
they’d met before. Who was he, this soiled cherubim?
Who was he, and why was he in my kitchen?
Releasing the shadows, I cleared my throat. The man froze,
though Duke’s tail kept up its steady cadence.
“Who’s there?” His voice was richer and deeper than I expected,
as intriguing as the rest of him.
I stepped forward, allowing myself to be seen. “I am.” Should
I introduce myself? Perhaps, but Lord Randolph Paget, Marquess of Reading felt
like such a mouthful. “You can call me Rand.”
The man rose to his feet. Duke bumped his leg and he reached
down, resting his hand on the dog’s head. “I didn’t know anyone would be here.
Tessa said…”
“Hmm?”
He blinked, shaking his head. I could easily trap him with my
gaze, but I hadn’t made the attempt. Interesting.
“You know Tessa? The housekeeper? I’ve helped her with a few
things since her husband passed on, and she said…”
Again his voice drifted off, making me stifle a smile.
Terese had indeed intended to give me a gift. My heart warmed at the thought. “What’s
your name?”
Some of the color faded from his face. “Jones. William Jones.
I go by Bill.”
“Well, William, it’s lovely to make your acquaintance. May I
ask after your intention in coming here?”
He rubbed a palm over his mouth. “Nothing like what you’re
thinking. I just”—he nodded in the direction of the stove—“thought I’d start a
bit of a fire.” He lifted a bag I hadn’t yet noticed. “Would you like some rabbit
stew?”
His spirit was too clear, too pure to be harboring ill
intent. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to partake.” I allowed my gaze to wander
down his body. His boots were as worn and dirty as the rest of him, though his
pantalons did a lovely job of showing off his thick thighs.
He didn’t flinch. If anything, his breathing quickened. Oh
Terese, you’ve given me a gift indeed.
“But please, make yourself at home. I have plenty of space
and would be grateful of the company.”
“Oh, I couldn’t…” He backed up a step, clutching his bag.
I fought the urge to command him. A gift must be freely
given. “You couldn’t let me show you to one of our guest rooms, where you could
take a proper bath and perhaps borrow a change of clothes?”
He shook his head. “No. Thank you, but I’m not fit for your
hospitality.”
“Where have you been sleeping?”
He dropped his gaze, this time ignoring Duke’s request for affection.
“Your barn. The horses keep it warm enough.”
The urge to compel him grew stronger. Still, I resisted. “Where
are you from? Surely you haven’t been living in my barn for long.”
“Look, I appreciate your…”
I allowed the pause to go on a heartbeat too long. “If you
can’t tell me what it is you appreciate, I think you should stay until you
figure it out. Besides, the wild hunt rides tonight. Stay with me.”
“They say I killed a man.” He met my gaze with a sudden
frankness, as if inviting my rejection.
“Did you?”
His jaw tightened, the muscles in his angelic cheeks
working. “I’m not sure.”
I crossed the distance between us faster than he could
possibly have seen. The touch of my finger on his chin made his eyes go wide
enough to show the whites. “You did not. I’m sure of that, although it wouldn’t
matter either way.” I ran my thumb over his lower lip, boldly, rudely, and was
gratified when his nostrils flared. “I’ve killed many men, although none recently.”
His intoxicating mix of desire and fear threatened my
control. I stepped back, keeping my posture relaxed, amiable. “Now, leave the rabbit
here and let me show you to your room.”
Wordlessly, he set the bag on the nearest counter. Duke
whined, scratching the cupboard beneath it. I laughed, and after a moment, so
did William.
“I’ll just put this higher,” he said, moving the bag to a
shelf at eye level.
My smile may well have shown a hint of fang. “This way,
please.”
I gave him the room closest to mine. Silly, really. I could
have given him any room, knowing full well I had every intention of bringing
him to my own bed before the night was through. I’d never taken a lover while
the Wild Hunt rode. The idea filled me with more excitement than I’d felt in years.
Hell, I hadn’t taken a lover of any kind in years. I had no
preference; men and women pleased me equally. Dom and Terese had taken care of
all my needs, at least until time slowed them to the point of disinterest. Dom became
too frail, and while I still loved Terese’s body, softened as it was by time
and age, laying with me caused her more discomfort than pleasure.
This man, though, this William Jones who was called Bill? He’d
give me what I craved.
I showed him the bathroom, standing silently behind the door
while water splashed into the tub. He’d set the lock with a soft click. I
smiled and closed my eyes, allowing my mind to fill in what I could not see. Without
those rags, his shoulders would be broad, his chest firm. A scattering of golden
hair would make a trail from his chest to the darker curls around his manhood. Would
he be cut, or would his prick still have its soft hood of skin? My mouth
watered.
I should go back to the study while he bathed. I’d left the
ink uncapped, the page I’d been writing now spoiled. But I couldn’t bring
myself to leave.
With endless nights to fill, I could always start over on
the translation.
Using my power over the shadows, I obscured the door from
his gaze and slipped inside the bathroom. He sighed, as if that tub full of
warm water had taken him to heaven. Snatching up his trousers and shirt, I left
one of Dom’s older suits as a replacement. The old-fashioned garments were well-made
and would fit his broad frame. My excitement grew stronger.
A splash and a gurgle told me he’d risen from the water and
was draining the tub. I guessed that his sharp intake of breath meant he’d seen
Dom’s suit. Water splashed in the sink, and a very soft scrape hinted that he
was shaving. Oh, to be able to watch!
He caught me in a swoon, still standing in front of the door
when he flung it open. “The boots don’t fit.” He held them out to me, his
expression unreadable.
They were a fine pair of kid boots with buttons up the side.
Dom had rarely worn them, as he preferred sturdier fare. “Too small? Wait, I’ll
find another pair.”
This time I brought him an older pair, one Dom preferred for
dressier occasions. The black leather uppers laced up. Wordlessly I handed them
to William. His expression still carefully blank, he thanked me and went into
his room.
Whereupon I stood where he left me, inhaling his warm, soapy
scent. He might have tried to brush his hair back from his face, but his curls had
already begun to escape. They framed his face in a soft golden halo.
When he didn’t reappear immediately, I ducked into my own room.
I’d dressed for a night in the study, so with quick and practiced movements, I
changed my collar and tied a fresh cravat. Instead of my plain waistcoat, I put
on blue silk shot with silver threads. I tossed my ordinary jacket aside and
put on one of fine wool. Regarding myself in the mirror, I gave a satisfied
nod.
I would do.
I was still fastening my cufflinks on my way out the door.
They were gold and pearl, and I almost dropped one when I found William waiting
in the hall.
“Let me,” he said, gently clasping a hand around my wrist.
Neither of us spoke while he slipped the peg through the holes in my cuff and
screwed the back into place.
“The other?” He took my hand, but that cufflink was already
in place. Still, I intertwined my fingers with his for the briefest moment.
“Sadly,” my voice was surprisingly gruff, “Terese isn’t here
to prepare your rabbit stew.”
He gestured toward himself. “I probably should have dressed
the rabbit before I dressed myself.”
We shared a smile. “I wonder if she left something in the
ice box.”
“I shouldn’t make myself any more beholden to you than I am
already.”
I gave a fairly inelegant snort. “Come with me.” Taking him
by the elbow, I led him down the carpeted hall to the grand staircase that led
to the great room. We’d come up straight from the kitchen, so he hadn’t seen my
home at its best.
With a snap of my fingers, the enormous fireplace came to
life. A single log had been burning slowly for the last several days, so it
took just a little nudge to bring it to a flame. A pair of overstuffed chairs
were positioned close to the hearth, a table set between them. Duke already lay
curled on the rug, the tip of his tail wagging at our approach.
After encouraging William to sit, I left him only long
enough to commandeer a bottle of wine and a pair of glasses. As I’d guessed,
Terese had left a pot pie in the icebox, so I added that to my tray. He’d have
to eat it cold, because setting it on the hearth to warm would tax Duke’s sense
of obedience.
Returning, I set my prizes on the table between us. Now the
seduction would truly begin, though from the guarded expression in William’s
eyes, it would not be easy. He played with one of the buttons on his waistcoat,
a small hint that his mind might be in turmoil.
“Why are you doing all this, Rand?”
His question was more open, more honest, and more obvious
than I’d expected. I could only reply in kind. “Because I want to.”
“But…” He frowned at the fire. “It makes no sense. Tessa
told me she meant to spend the holiday with her daughter’s family and that I could
use the kitchen if I wanted. I had no idea she’d leave you here alone.”
Interesting. He knew of my existence. “I’m capable of taking
care of myself.”
“Of course. I didn’t mean to imply—”
My laughter cut him off. “And she’s left the icebox well
stocked. I shall not starve.” Not with such a beautiful man within my reach. “Now
here.” I poured us each a glass of wine. “Let us drink a toast.”
I raised my glass and after a moment’s hesitation, so did
he. “To the peace of this night and our hopes for the new year.”
Our glasses clinked together and we both took a sip. Duke woofed,
shifting his position, and the fire sent up a spray of sparks.
“Tell me more about yourself, William Jones. How did you
come to be sleeping in my barn?” I could have asked him to recite the alphabet.
Anything to hear that beautiful voice again.
He stared darkly into his wineglass. “I’m from around Devoran.”
He gave it the Cornish pronunciation, Deveryon. “I wasn’t much for mining. I’d
rather read than dig, honestly.”
I all but rubbed my hands with glee. “You must see my
library, then.”
“Could I?” He glanced at me, those dark eyes brightening.
“Of course. After our wine.”
He took a good deep swallow while I stifled my grin.
“My Da managed to scrape together the pennies for me to join
the priesthood. I liked it well enough, until…” Whatever he’d been about to say
was lost in his moody gaze.
“Until?”
He gave me a tight smile. “Let’s just say I’m not cut out to
be a priest.”
“I’ve never had much use for religion.”
“Oh, it has its place.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “This
is good, by the way. Thank you.”
I refreshed our glasses. “You’re very welcome.”
We sat in silence for several moments, each busy with our
own thoughts. I wondered if the man he might have killed had something to do
with why he left the seminary. Though curious, I didn’t pry. That would be a
story for another time.
At my insistence, he cut into the pot pie and served himself
a healthy slice. “You won’t have any?” he asked.
I simply smiled. “Not now.” Later. Later I would feed,
and it was all I could do to keep from drooling.
He was so lovely.
We talked of many things. He’d made a brief sojourn to the Continent,
traveling as far as Rome. I’d wandered the same roads, though many years ago. He’d
visited churches and libraries. I’d visited gaming hells and brothels. Still,
we found common ground, and by the end of his meal, his cheeks were flushed and
he’d shown off a lovely sweet smile.
When he was finished eating, I piled everything on the
serving tray and poured us each another glass of wine. “Come,” I said. “We’ll
take this back to the kitchen and then I’ll show you the library.”
With Duke following behind us, we traversed a short hall
lined with windows. They gave us a view of the formal garden, now frosted white
with snow. Similar windows lined one wall in the library, so we’d be able to
watch the Hunt as they rode past.
He paused in front of the last window before we reached the
library door. “Magical.” He murmured the word, and I had to agree.
“Just wait.” I breathed the words, leaning close enough to
feel his shiver. “Come.”
I deliberately left the electric lights off. Candlelight
would show the room off to its best advantage. Picking up the heavy candlestick
Terese left for me, I lit it with a flick of my fingers. I slowly circled the
room, lighting candles as I went, gratified by William’s gasp of surprise.
“This is…amazing.” He stood in the center of the room,
turning to follow my progress. Bookshelves lined the walls. Some were set
perpendicular, to fit more shelves in. A large, upholstered chair took up
valuable floor space near the windows and I’d begrudgingly allowed a desk to
take up more.
This wasn’t a place for work as much as a place to revel in
the collected knowledge of so many, many minds. “I’m something of a collector.”
William took a tentative step toward the closest shelf, hand
lifted as if he couldn’t help but try and touch.
“Go ahead,” I said softly, the hairs on the back of my neck
rising. The Hunt was near.
William lifted a folio, allowing it to drop open. “A Midsomer
Night’s Dream.”
“There are a number of plays on that shelf.”
He ran a fingertip along the page, and I brought the candle
closer.
“This is amazing.” His grin invited me closer still.
I put a hand on his back, resisting the temptation to stroke
the curve of his arse.
He stepped away, but only long enough to set one folio down and
pick up another. “I could stay here all night.”
The thud of horses’ hooves drew my gaze to the window. “Come.”
I took his arm and drew him away from the bookshelf. “They’re here.”
The wind blew wildly, scooping up flurries of snow and spraying
them across the landscape. Duke took up a position at my side, lips bared in a
silent growl. Anyone blind to the magic of the night would see nothing more
than wind and snow.
I saw riders, fierce and furious, surrounding their queen.
She rode a white horse and her page carried a blank banner the color of snow.
William’s sharp intake of breath distracted me. “What do you
see?” I asked.
“Riders.” His deep voice sent a shiver up my spine. “Is this
it, then. Are we dying?”
Chuckling, I put an arm around him and drew him closer. “Not
us. Watch.”
A ghostly figure appeared at the edge of the garden. “Dom.” A
rider slipped away from the pack and rode toward him. The rider paused long enough
for my friend to climb aboard and disappeared into the mass.
My friend was gone. Duke whined, a final goodbye.
“I’ve always believed
that the devil dogs came for your soul,” William said.
“They do.” I tightened my hold on him, grateful for his warmth
and his quiet curiosity. “But only of those who are already dead. Besides, a
priest mustn’t put much stake in the old tales.”
His slow turn gave me time to put both my arms around him. He
rested his hands on my shoulders. “What sort of creature are you? Tessa said…”
“What?”
“She warned me that you had unconventional habits.”
I grinned, showing both fangs. “You might say.”
He tilted his head, more curious than anything else.
“You can see the hunt and you’re not afraid of me. You’d
make a very poor priest indeed.”
“I suppose.”
I traced one of his errant curls. “You are welcome here for
as long as you choose to stay. My habits are…irregular, but I don’t think you
will find them a hardship.”
If he had any doubt as to my meaning, the jab of my prick
against his thigh had to make it plain.
His smile dampened, and for a moment I worried that I’d
misread his preferences. Before I could ease myself away, he pulled me closer,
as if he’d sensed my intention.
“There may be some who are still looking for me. I would
never intentionally bring danger to anyone as kind as you.”
“Oh, William.” I rutted against him. “There’s a reason I
live in a castle. These battlements have withstood far greater threats. Now”—I flicked
a finger overhead and a cluster of mistletoe appeared—“I believe it’s time we begin
our celebration.”
He glanced at the bundle of leaves with its small white
berries. Returning his attention to me, his eyelids had grown heavy with lust. “I
agree.”
Our lips met in a sweet kiss that soon grew wild, infused with
the energy of the night, the old ways. It took little to persuade William to
return to the rug in front of the fire, although Duke did protest our choice.
There, we honored the darkness on this darkest of nights.
Honored, and celebrated, and rejoiced, until dawn brought us a new day.
The End
