The Blood is Love by Karina Halle

4

Absolon

“Mr. Stavig,”Yvonne calls out as I walk down the hall. I pause and she catches up to me, Odin trailing behind her as if he’s her dog now. “That guest you are having over for dinner tonight. Is he human or vampire?”

“Vampire,” I reply.

“So you won’t need me to make you anything?” she asks, and I catch the disappointment wafting from her. I know it must be terribly boring to be a cook for a host of vampires when we rarely ever sit down to eat food.

“I’m afraid not,” I tell her, hoping to placate her with a quick smile. “But if I do need anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

That seems to make her happy for now. She gives me a pleasant nod and scampers off toward the kitchen, Odin hot on her heels. I know I shouldn’t be insulted that he’s choosing to spend all of his time with my housekeeper, because I know she’s feeding him scraps, even though she says she’s not. She doesn’t know I can smell it when people are lying.

I can also smell it on Odin’s breath. Keeping him on a raw food diet is proving to be next to impossible in this house.

I ignore his lack of loyalty and head down the stairs toward Dark Eyes, knowing my guest, Onni, could be showing up at any minute. Punctuality isn’t a strong suit among vampires, but jetlag could mess up his schedule.

I walk through the doors, feeling the power of the protective wards brush through me, and spot Wolf closing the door to the Dark Room.

“You manage to find someone on the list?” I ask, nodding at the door.

“There’s always someone,” he says.

Even though we have designated nights for feeding, we operate off a list of trusted human volunteers. I’ll never quite understand why humans want to be fed on when they get nothing out of it, but I don’t judge their fetish either. And if it weren’t for them, the vampires wouldn’t be able to live in San Francisco. A safe place to feed means that vampires can coexist with humans without suspicion. If every vampire had to go out and kill to stay alive, a lot of dead bodies would start piling up, and fingers would start pointing. That’s happened in most cities across the world, but not in this one, thanks to me.

“Glad that his dinner is sorted then. Where’s Ezra?” I ask, adjusting my cufflinks. “Can’t entertain guests without a bartender.”

“He had to go out,” Wolf says. “You could always try your hand at it. I have a hard time believing you weren’t a bartender at some point in your life.”

He gives me his namesake grin and then heads toward the bar to make me a drink.

“You’re correct,” I tell him, following him over to the bar. “I did it briefly in Copenhagen. But only because I was trying to get close to a witch that frequented the bar. My drinks were bloody awful.”

“I have a hard time believing that too,” Wolf says, and from the damn twinkle in his eye I can tell he’s not done with me. He grabs a bottle of Lapraigh from the wall of bottles behind the bar and then grabs a glass. He pops off the cork. “See, it’s easy to do. First you take off the cork, then you pour yourself a glass.”

I stare at him, refusing to be amused. “Very funny,” I say stiffly.

He winces as he pours the scotch and pushes the glass toward me. “Wow, you’re grumpy when Lenore’s not around, you know that? I forget what you were like for hundreds of years.”

“And you’re a fucking wanker when Amethyst isn’t around,” I snipe right back, taking the scotch. Two can play this game. Lenore and Amethyst are both out tonight having a girl’s night bar crawl or something dreadful like that. I won’t deny that I’m not at my best when I don’t have Lenore around me, but he’ll deny it until the cows come home that Amethyst affects him in a similar way.

“Amethyst?” he says casually. Too casually. “I didn’t even notice she was gone. Having a girls night, are they?”

I just blink at him. He knows they are. And I’m not going to push it either. Whatever Wolf feels for Amethyst is none of my business. Heaven knows that Lenore is constantly bringing them up around me, like they’re subjects of some reality dating show and not people living in this house. She’s convinced they’re soulmates, and whenever I mention the fact that human and vampire relationships never end well, she ignores it. Turns out my half-witch is an incurable romantic.

“Yes, a girl’s night,” I say after a moment. “It’s good for Lenore to get out of the house.”

Wolf nods, pouring himself a drink. “You’re worried about her.”

I slowly turn the glass of scotch around in my hands, making the coaster with the Dark Eyes logo spin. “I don’t think she’s adapting very well.”

“You’re forgetting that she’s only a half-vampire and spent her whole life being raised as a human.”

“I’m not forgetting that,” I snap at him. “I was there. I saw her being raised.”

He raises a brow. “Then perhaps you’re forgetting that it’s a trying time for any vampire when they’re in The Becoming.” My gaze hardens but he goes on. “And yes, I know you aren’t like most of us. Believe me. But you’ve told me you don’t remember what it was like when Skarde turned you. You’ve forgotten.”

“Or I’ve blocked it out,” I say in a low voice.

“Either way, you don’t remember. But I do. It was fucking rough, even though I knew my whole life what was going to happen when I turned thirty-five. I saw the same thing happen to my sister when she turned twenty-one, then my brother and, it still didn’t prepare me. Now Lenore’s gone through that, without any warning, and neither of us know exactly how it is for her because we don’t have witch blood. I think she’s adapting as well as she can, old boy.”

I sigh. “I know. She is. But I’m still worried. Her body is adjusting but her mind…her heart. I’m not sure she’s cut out for this lifestyle. She’s too…soft.”

“She is,” he says, after he has a drink. “But that’s why you’re in love with her. Because all you’ve known are centuries of life being hard and sharp.”

And relentless. The years have been relentless.

“I love her in ways I don’t understand,” I say quietly, looking off at nothing in particular.

I feel Wolf’s eyes on me in surprise, silence falling between us. Though vampires are fairly emotional and expressive by nature, I’ve never been one to talk much, especially about something as personal as my relationship with Lenore. Perhaps her softness is rounding my edges.

I’m not sure I like it. I need to stay hard, in more ways than one.

“Well,” Wolf says after a moment, clearing his throat, “if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think love is something even humans understand, let alone us. It might be for the best to let it remain a mystery.” I finish my drink and he leans across the bar, pouring me another one. “And I wouldn’t worry about Lenore either. She’ll come into her own eventually. It just might take time.”

“I know. But then why does it feel like time is something we’re running out of?” I ask, unable to ignore the dark feeling that’s been nagging at me ever since the incident with Yanik. “I’m so painfully aware of the seconds, minutes, hours, days when I’m with her, like time is now limited, no longer infinite.”

“Maybe it’s because we don’t know how immortal she is,” he points out. “We both know that we can live forever—if we choose to, and only if we’re careful. We don’t know how it is with a half-witch, half-vampire. How much can her body handle? There are three ways to kill us, how many to kill her? And even without that, how long will she naturally live for? A hundred years? A couple hundred?”

Lenore has asked these questions herself, to which none of us have any answers. Human-vampire hybrids can live a long time, like my brother Kaleid, for example, who was the first born vampire to my father. Over time, his human side disappeared. But he’s also an exception. Most direct hybrids don’t live forever and they’re easier to kill. My brother excels because of my father’s blood. Blood that was created by the Devil himself, the same blood that runs in me.

“Maybe that’s it,” I muse. “Or maybe it’s that we’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. With my father. You know he won’t take what she did lightly.”

Wolf breaks into a grin. “Oh, to have been a fly in that room when he found out how little Lenore bested his Dark Order. In flames.” Then his brows furrow. “But you know he can’t leave his homeland.”

“Can’t? Or won’t? Two different things, Wolf. And regardless, whoever—or whatever—he sends here next will be far, far worse than Yanik.”

He shrugs. “I’ll be ready for them. So will you.”

“But will Lenore?”

“I wouldn’t underestimate her, Solon. That was your father’s mistake.”

He might be right, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying. God damnit, I’m not cut out for this sentimental shit.

Suddenly my nose fills with the smell of aniseed and Wolf gives me a sharp nod. Onni is here.

He strides across the club to the backdoor and opens it. After their first visit, vampires get a key card that will give them access through the parking lot at the back of the house, but they still have to knock to come inside. They must be invited in.

“Onni,” Wolf says, opening the door for our guest. “Come on in.”

Onni comes inside, dressed in a deep pink suit. With his dark skin tone, light eyes, and long black hair, body as thin and slight as a reed, Onni embraces the fact that he’s different, preferring to have people think he’s an eccentric as opposed to a vampire. It works for him, but because he’s so memorable, he has to change up his look every thirty years or so. The last version of him had a purple afro, which he enjoyed immensely, living in Helsinki in the 1960’s, though I think he preferred the blue powdered wig he had in France in the late 1700s, modeled after his dear friend Marie Antoinette.

“Nice party the other night,” Onni says, taking the seat beside me at the bar. “I was so enraptured with that vampire from Alaska that I forgot to say goodnight.”

Wolf holds out the scotch. “Will this do?”

“I’ll have a good red, if you don’t mind me being a pain in the ass. Anything from Bordeaux? Old?”

“How old?” I ask. There’s a wine cellar in the basement, but I’d rather not go searching for the rare vintages.

“Anything older than what I can get at the liquor store,” he says.

“I have a Cabernet Sauvignon from the 90’s, Napa,” I tell him as Wolf reaches down and pulls it out. “You’re in California now, Onni. You can get your Bordeaux in Europe.”

Wolf pours us all a glass, since it’s a terrible waste to open the bottle just for one person. “So,” I say, savoring the sip. I can practically taste the weather on the day the grapes were picked. Sunshine after a morning of fog. Supple and cool. “What brings you here, Onni? You don’t usually come without some kind of news from the homeland.”

He grins at me, teeth blindingly white. “Absolon, really. A friend can’t come say hello?”

“You don’t risk jetlag to say hello. An email would suffice.”

His smile is smaller now. He has a long, careful sip of his wine and then runs his tongue over his teeth. “This is quite good. I’d forgotten how much I like a Californian red,” he says. Then he gives me a fixed look. “There’s been some, uh, tribulations. Skarde is continuing to build his army. Whether that’s the Dark Order or something else, I’m not sure. At least, Kaleid isn’t sure.”

I straighten up, nearly snapping my teeth together at the mention of my brother’s name. “Kaleid? You’ve been in contact with him?”

Onni nods. “He’s back in Helsinki, for good. Ruling the roost. Seems he now has the same goal as you do, as we all do.”

I frown. “And what is that?”

“To kill your father.”

I almost laugh. “This is what you came all this way to tell me? Utter bullshit?”

Onni flinches at my expression, which I assume must be murderous. I’m certainly feeling murderous right now. “It’s not bullshit. He’s broken away.”

“When did this happen?” Wolf asks, also in disbelief. Kaleid, my father’s golden child, has been at Skarde’s side since his life began. The two are thick as thieves.

“A couple of years ago,” Onni says.

I shake my head, a bitter taste in my mouth overtaking the wine. “Impossible. I would have heard by now.”

“I had to make sure,” Onni says. “I’ve been in Helsinki, living in the Red World with him. He has plans to take him out. I swear to you.”

“I thought you were in Tallinn,” I grumble.

He shakes his head. “Kaleid welcomed me back.”

Helsinki, Finland, was my brother’s home base for a long time. My father lives further up north, where the Finnish and Norwegian border intersects above the arctic circle. Kaleid has spent centuries splitting his time between the two places.

“And your father has moved on,” Onni continues, perhaps picking up on my thoughts, as some of us are known to do. “He’s no longer in the village, gone north now. He’s retreated further into the Red World, so deep that even Kaleid can’t reach him through it. He knows. Skarde knows what Kaleid will do, so he’s doing everything he can to prevent that. There he can build his armies without interference from anyone but…” He trails off.

None of us know for sure who exactly Skarde made a deal with for eternal life when he became the first vampire. I assume the Devil, or some dark, all-knowing malevolent force. It’s been rumored that this dark force has been helping Skarde all this time, or that Skarde has been nothing more than a puppet for centuries upon centuries. I wouldn’t know—since my memories of my father are tinged with madness and hatred—if he’s ever had full agency or not. I suppose it’s never really mattered. My father is the de facto king that nearly all vampires defer to, regardless of who is really behind him.

“My father wouldn’t retreat,” I say slowly. “He wants to remain in control, in reach of his subjects. To go so deep into the other worlds, where not even Kaleid can get to him…he’s risking the loss of power. How does he know vampires won’t start deferring to Kaleid instead?”

Onni shrugs. “Kaleid has wondered that same thing. So it has to be for a reason. A big reason. It’s why I’m here. To convince you to come to Helsinki, so you can team up with your brother and put an end to it.”

I stare at Onni like he’s lost his bloody mind, because he can’t seriously believe the words he’s sprouting. “You can’t be serious. Team up? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

“I know, but I am serious. Look at me, Absolon, you know that I am.”

It’s hard for vampires to lie to each other. Hard, but not impossible. “You’re a good man Onni, but you’re as dumb as a fucking post. You really think I’m going to go to Finland on your word that Kaleid wants to work with me?”

Onni looks rebuffed. “You don’t trust me?”

“No,” I tell him sharply. “I don’t trust anyone. It’s why I’m still alive.” I pause, studying him for a moment. I can tell he’s telling the truth, which is the weird thing, but all it means is that he believes it. “You do realize this is a trap, right? Did Kaleid actually ask for me, or was this your idea?”

Onni looks me dead in the eye. “He asked for you. He told me to bring you to Helsinki if I could.”

My eyes narrow, hackles raising. “Bring me?” I repeat coldly. “By any means necessary?”

He gives me a wry smile. “You know that would be impossible with you. All I can do is plead his case and ask politely.”

I hesitate. “Did he mention Lenore?” I ask.

“Your little witch?” Onni asks. If I hadn’t picked up on the affection in his voice, I probably would have torn him in two for using such a condescending phrase. “No.”

Hmmm. Kaleid would know that Lenore destroyed Yanik, but if he isn’t asking for her, then at least she’s not a target. If this was a trap. Which it is.

“Well, I think you know where I stand on this,” I tell Onni, before finishing the wine and getting to my feet. “I don’t think you’re lying, but you can hardly blame me for not trusting my brother. If he truly wanted—needed—my help, he would prove it by coming here, in my domain. For me to go to Helsinki would be walking into a noose and, forgive me, but my life has just started to get interesting again. Wouldn’t want to end it so soon.”

I eye Wolf, not forgetting to be a good host. “Do you think Onni’s dinner is ready yet?”

Onni sits up straight, eyes wide with excitement, pupils turning red with hunger. “Ooh, I had almost forgotten. I can’t remember the last time I had American blood. Please tell me it’s a male. A young one.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers on a short notice,” Wolf says to him. “We have a female in her early thirties. Sorry to disappoint you.”

Onni waves him away and gets out of his seat. “No disappointment here. I’m sure she’ll taste just fine. Besides,” he gestures to the room, “it’s all part of the experience here. It’s just so…neat and tidy not having any bodies to dispose of. Sure, you lose the thrill of the kill, but I suppose consent is popular these days. You know, Absolon, but Kaleid has started to copy you.”

I raise my brow. “Copy me?”

“A little.” He squeezes his finger and thumb together in show. “He now has a den outside of the Red World. He has some humans he likes to keep around. They live with him. He feeds from them. Oh, and they want to be there, don’t worry. No different than your little volunteers here. Before, he was insatiable, perhaps to gather strength to fight your father, so much so that the Helsinki police started raising the alarm of a serial killer in the city. For a while he started importing Russians from St. Petersburg, but that got a little dicey. Guess your, er, respectable approach to feeding is rubbing off on him.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” I tell him, putting my hand on his shoulder and leading him to the donor in the Dark Room.

And I won’t be seeing it, that much I know is true.