Cassie Alexander: Moonshifted

No point in lying. “There’s a reason for that, but I can’t tell you about it. Patient privacy, et cetera.” I looked over at the stranger in my kitchen. How about some nurse privacy too? “Why’s he here?”

“Gideon’s my driver.”

“Oh.” I didn’t want to know why Anna needed a driver with a gun. Or rather, I did, but … Charles had had a point this afternoon. I wanted to ask her how she was, what had happened to her since she’d been gone, the sort of things you’d ask your friends if you hadn’t seen them for a little while. But most people’s friends weren’t vampires. I had already bought her a Christmas gift, though, just in case—

“Wait here, okay?” I asked, and left the room. I put my plunger away first and then went to my bedroom to find something to wear.

I wasn’t Christmas-coordinated enough to have a tree; there was hardly a point. When you lived alone plus worked night shift, the holidays just slid on by. But I had bought Anna a black scarf, because it seemed appropriate, and it was the kind of thing I would wear myself if I didn’t see her again.

With my hair pulled up and warmer clothing on, I returned to the living room and turned on the lights. Grandfather was still muttering at Gideon in the kitchen, who as far as I could see had put away his gun. I reached for the small pile of gifts on my kitchen countertop, and Gideon eyed me but didn’t draw. I returned to my spot on the couch. “I bought you something.”

“A gift?”

“For Christmas.” I handed her the box. She carefully opened the wrapping paper at the taped corners and straightened the creases, just like my grandmother, saving it for later. “I just realized I don’t even know if you get cold. But if you do, there you go,” I said lamely, as she parted the gift box to reveal the scarf inside.

“The winter here is nothing compared with the winters of my childhood.” She pulled the scarf out and wound it around her neck. Seeing as once upon a time she’d come from Russia, back when it was still called Russia, I believed her. She stroked the end of it and smiled at me. “I have something for you too.” She reached for a bag at her end of my couch and rummaged inside.

This was unexpected. Anna was the nicest vampire I’d met so far, but as vampires go, that was like saying she was the least alcoholic attendee at an AA meeting. I glanced over at Gideon, and there was an emotion I couldn’t name on his face—jealousy? Was he her daytimer? Why would a daytimer be jealous of me?

Anna turned back toward me, a small box on her lap. It was wooden and carved—it reminded me of the box the Evil Queen had given the hunter to put Snow White’s heart in.

“It’s not a gift, Edie. I’m sorry about that. I forgot it was Christmas,” Anna said, holding the box out.

“I kind of figured vampires didn’t go in for Christian holidays.” I took the box. It was heavy and ornate. The wood was dark, and there was a rose crest carved on the top and inlaid with gold, gold that I suspected was real, having met assorted members of the Rose Throne before. I fumbled around with the lid until I found the mechanism that slid it off. Underneath was a cream envelope of thick paper, and inside of that was a note with calligraphy so ornate as to be almost unintelligible. I tilted the card back and forth. “Just tell me where you’re registered.”

She snorted. “It’s a request for your attendance at my initiation ceremony. It’s on New Year’s Eve, at midnight.”

“Initiation into what?” I hedged. Holiday shifts were time and a half. I was in peanut-butter-sandwich mode, after having been out injured recently. Working Christmas and New Year’s were really going to help my bottom line.

“The Sanguine. They’re the the ruling council for the Rose Throne. It’s where they’ll approve me to begin my own line. I’ll be able to have my own House, under the auspices of the Rose Throne.”

“Anna—“I looked up to explain to her all the reasons why I couldn’t attend her vampire party, first and foremost being I didn’t want to be the only hors d’oeuvre in attendance. Then I saw the look on her face. “Oh, God. This is important, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so.” She pointed at what was left in the box.

I set the letter aside and reached in, finding a black velvet bag. I picked it up and a heavy object slid out.

It looked like a hunting knife. Its falling hilt made the box thump into my lap. The blade equaled the handle’s size, and it was as ornate as the letter’s calligraphy, with waves and flourishes curlicuing out, rendering it mostly useless, except for what I was sure was a very sharp tip. I picked it up gingerly. “This is one expensive party favor.”

There was a real hourglass embedded in the hilt, but instead of being filled with sand, it was filled with blood. I tapped it, and it spun end-over-end, red fluid sloshing from side to side, to fill the lower chamber once the spinning stopped. The top chamber was still stained with blood, like a shaken test tube at County’s lab. “Is this your blood?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. She nodded. “I don’t want to be a daytimer, Anna.”

The man in my kitchen gave a derisive snort.

“That’s why I’ve chosen you. Because I am part human, I have to bring a human to the ceremony with me. Not one I coerced—one I chose.” She reached over to press the knife down so I would look at her. “This knife has to stay intact until my ceremony. The temptation of my blood is a test. And you’re the only one I know who will pass it.”

My gaze went back to Gideon. If he were given a vial of Anna’s blood and she left the room, I wouldn’t bet on him managing to count to thirty before drinking its contents to acquire its power. I knew from taking care of daytimers at the hospital that all of their motives were nefarious by default. “What else does this entail?”

“Technically, when this is done you’ll belong to my court, as my Ambassador to the Sun.”

“I don’t suppose it pays?”

She snorted. “It’s only a ceremonial position, and only for one night.” She looked at me, her eyes softening. “I wouldn’t ask you if I had anyone else I could ask.”

I wondered how that made Gideon feel. I put the knife back into its bag very carefully, the bag into the box, and stared at its velvety softness. The man in my kitchen made a frustrated sound. He was hungry like all daytimers were hungry, for the power that their masters contained. Dogs on a leash, one and all.

“I know how you all fund yourselves. I won’t be a part of it.” Gambling, drugs, protection money—everything illicit trickled down into vampire pockets eventually. They were fat ticks on the neck of humanity. Anna’s seeming goodness aside, I couldn’t endorse that. I tried to hand the open box back to her, and she put up one hand to refuse it.

“Edie—you’re the only human I trust.” We’d both almost been killed recently, for the same end, by the same people. She’d rescued me then. It’d been more complicated than that, but—I looked from her to the box I held as she waited for me to decide. I wondered if she was holding her breath—if she even needed to breathe. She looked worried. Scared, even.

I couldn’t say no. Not even if I ought to. I set the box down on my own lap. “Don’t make me regret this, okay?”

“I won’t. I promise you.” She smiled at me, then stood and straightened her skirt, bending down to retrieve her hair ribbon from the ground. Minnie’s disembodied paw swatted out after it from her hiding spot beneath the couch. Gideon rounded my bar, crowding us in my small living room.

“Do I need to do anything in the meantime?”

Anna shook her head. “I’ll send my driver for you at eleven that night. I’ll be in seclusion until then. Call Sike if you need anything.” Anna reached out and grabbed my hand. Her skin was soft and cool as she squeezed it. “Thank you, Edie.”