Vampire's Kiss

He settled lower in his seat, and just when I thought our exchange was over, he said, “You guess correctly—it is no secret that vampires do not relish daylight. We can be in it, yes, but it is very…fatiguing. Incómodo, no? Uncomfortable.”

“If it’s troubling, why didn’t we wait till later to leave?”

He pulled his hood even lower, but his voice cut clearly through the wind. “Because if it’s troubling to me, it will be troubling to others.”

“Ah.” While I had him talking, I almost asked who the fishermen were, too, but when it came to human townsfolk, something told me that guarding my thoughts would be safest for everyone. I had to put the Isle of Night behind me.

Instead, I passed the time taking in the scenery. There was water. And more water—in a flat, gray, monochromatic palette to match the white light blanching the sky overhead. We passed the occasional island, but each was bleak, and many were more like rocks than any sort of inhabitable terrain.

The chugging and swaying of the trawler was making me dozy, and my chin bobbed down, then whipped back up again as I began to nod off.

There was a low chuckle beside me. Alcántara was watching me, an unreadable expression on his face. “To be able to sleep once more,” he mused. “To close one’s eyes to the world and melt into dreamlessness. I would trade many things for such sweet bliss.”

So, vampires didn’t sleep—another new fact under my belt. I met his eyes, waiting to see if he’d divulge more. I felt an errant pang of sympathy, because it would kind of suck never to rest again, for all eternity. “It must feel interminable sometimes,” I said carefully.

“In point of fact, querida, our lifespan is, by definition, interminable.”

Unless a stake gets in the way. But I definitely didn’t give voice to that bit.

He nodded toward the companionway stairs. “Go sleep, little one. There are thousands of islands in the North Sea, and many hours ahead of us. You will need your rest for the work ahead.”

I didn’t want to go below, but disagreeing wasn’t exactly a thing someone did with Alcántara, so I just nodded and headed down the rickety stairs in search of a small bunk where I could nap.

It became instantly clear why Alcántara bore the discomfort of brightness on deck instead of sitting below deck. The stench down there was intense enough to make my eyes tear, and the rattling of the engine was so loud, it filled me, shoving all other thoughts from my brain.

But he was right. If I intended to be at the top of my game, I needed my sleep. I curled onto a thin mattress, preferring the chill to the lone musty blanket, and miraculously passed out.

Abrupt silence woke me. I sat up, realizing the fishermen had cut the power, leaving only the sound of waves slapping against the hull. It was a blessed relief to my ears, which still hummed from the engine’s lengthy assault.

I went above to find the men approaching Alcántara. They didn’t meet his eyes. Their accents were beyond thick, and they spoke in gruff monosyllables unintelligible to me. “Aff ere, ay ya?”

Alcántara nodded and stood, and I deduced they’d said something approximating Off here, yes huh?

I looked around, wondering where we were. It was gray nothingness, with only the hint of a darker gray shadow on the horizon—land, in the distance.

The vampire read my mind. “We’ll row from here. We cannot risk being seen or heard.”

The men lowered a ratty old dinghy into the water. I’d thought the water was calm, but the small craft bobbed and tossed wildly, and I gritted my teeth, inhaling through my nose. I’d never been seasick, and I hoped this wouldn’t be the moment for that to change.

“Come, Acari.” Alcántara’s tone was sharp, brooking no hesitation.

I had no choice but to follow him, clambering down a rope ladder into the boat. He took the oars, and I sat facing him. His hood hung low over his face, and, looking at him, I felt as if I were in a Greek myth, with Alcántara rowing me to Hades across the River Styx.

As we approached shore, I was glad we’d traveled when the sun was highest in the sky. I made out the silhouette of a creepy stone building on a hill. It was stark and stout, but smaller than I’d pictured.

“So that’s the monastery?”

He shook his head. “We’d not dare to roam so close. The monastery is on the far side of the island. That is the charnel house.”

I gave him a blank look—it wasn’t often I encountered a word I didn’t know.

“Where human remains are stored,” he said.

“Oh.” I grimaced, studying it. And I’d thought our standing stones were creepy.

I glanced back at Alcántara and caught him watching me. He was pulling the oars in a strong, steady rhythm, and it was the little things like that that reminded me of his power. He gave me a smile as if he knew my thoughts—though it didn’t take a mind reader. He’d had hundreds of years in which to realize how appealing he was as a male specimen.

He looked back up the hill. Clouds were blowing in from the east, casting dramatic, moving shadows over the stone building. “It was commonplace for monks to keep a charnel house,” he explained. “Such things were used to remind them of their mortality.”

“Or to remind them of their power,” I said.

Alcántara gave me a thoughtful look. “Perhaps.”

We landed on the island. Their island. And honestly, it wasn’t so different from our island. We pulled ashore on a tiny sliver of shoreline that I imagined wasn’t even exposed during high tide.

I began to clamber out of the boat, but Alcántara was a surprising gentleman and stayed me with his hand, hopping from the boat and pulling it onto the sand so I wouldn’t get wet. He handed me down.

A low cave was barely detectable along the rock face, and spotting it, I said, “Very Batman.”

Alcántara gave me a blank look.

“Never mind.” I was nervous now, more than I wanted to admit. It didn’t escape my notice that he’d held on to my hand a little longer than necessary.

We didn’t have to wait long before Alcántara’s inside man arrived. We dragged the boat into the cave, flipped it bottom up on a rock, turned around, and there he was.

When Alcántara told me he had a spy on the inside, I hadn’t expected this. This guy was young, not much older than a Trainee. He was loose and broad shouldered, as if he’d played pro ball and was now considering a career as a bartender. The guy’s real name didn’t suit him one bit, and in my head I’d instantly dubbed him Buddy.

The two exchanged greetings, and I was surprised to hear his accent was American. Though why wouldn’t it be? So many of our Trainees were from the United States—they had to end up somewhere.

Buddy gave me a once-over, his eyes lingering in a way that made me want to punch him. “This little thing is going to find him?”

I scowled. It was such a Buddy thing to say.

“Yes,” I answered before Alcántara had a chance to. “This little thing will do her job.”

He laughed a goofy, chortling laugh, and it reaffirmed my instant dislike. I wondered what kind of dirt he had on Alcántara, or Alcántara on him, that kept him alive and stationed on an enemy island. Too bad I wouldn’t have time to ask that story.

He stood hands on hips, looking more like he was in a locker room than on an island crawling with malevolent undead. “So, Master Al gave you the rundown?”

Master Al? I nodded, mesmerized by his not having full-grown fangs.

“Servants keep their eyes down around here,” he continued. “So just play dumb, lie low, and listen.”

I’d grown up keeping my eyes down—lying low was second nature to me. “Check, check, and check.”

“Find out where Carden is,” Alcántara said, taking over the conversation. “That is all. Do not do anything yourself. Do not call attention to yourself. If they discover you, they will destroy McCloud.”

And slice and dice me into Drew-kabobs, but I seemed to be the only one concerned by that point. “I understand.”

But Mr. Football didn’t sound convinced. He slid a backpack from his shoulder and tossed it to me. “Here’s your uniform.”

I peeked inside. It was a dress. I frowned. “I guess I can holster my stars under this.”

Buddy tsked. “No, chica. You’ve gotta nail this without your toys. These vamps may not be into electric lights or heat, but they sure do have metal detectors all over the damned place.”

“I can do my job without weapons,” I said with more bravado than real courage.

“You’d better. You’re our only chance. We won’t get another shot like this any time soon.”

I did not like being on the receiving end of Buddy’s attitude. “What about you? Why can’t you find McCloud? Seems like you have an in.”

Alcántara answered for him. “It’s impossible for those who are Vampire to roam through the monastery undetected. Like senses like. They would sniff him out, and once discovered, he’d only raise suspicion. Trainee Lee isn’t powerful enough to be a party to the Synod’s proceedings.”

Trainee Lee. I bit my cheek not to snicker at the lame name. Buddy was much better.

“Anyway,” Buddy Lee said with a dopey shrug, “I’m only a Trainee. We’re like mushrooms, you know—kept in the dark and fed shit.”

I raised my brows, wondering where they’d found this one. “Classy.”

I could tell by Alcántara’s pursed mouth he agreed with me. But I guess Buddy was too valuable to scold. I was dying to know that story.

But, instead, I went deeper into the cave, so deep I could barely see in the dark, to change into my disguise. Alcántara was old-fashioned, but still, there were two of them and one of me, and I felt vulnerable and exposed. Not to mention cold. It was freezing, with the wind gusting off the water. I stripped and dressed as quickly as I could, my hands trembling with cold and their clumsily rapid movements.