I had to determine whether you were truly an innocent, or Lilith’s willing minion.”
“It’s okay.” I caught a flash of movement at the front window; my dad, quietly keeping an eye on us from behind the curtain. I didn’t think he’d be wild about the idea of me heading out for a spot of bloodletting. I nudged Ebon, tilting my head meaningfully. “If we want to avoid a long argument, we’d better get moving.”
“Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission?” he murmured, following my gaze. “I quite agree.” He offered me his hand. “If you would do me the honor?”
I fell into step with him. His hand clasped my own as if we were dancing together, and our feet skimmed the ground as easily as seagulls across the sky. Streetlamps flashed past in a blur of strobe light. Rather than stick to the roads, Ebon took us out into open farmland. We leaped through the fields, hurdling the occasional hedgerow like steeplechasers.
I waited about ten minutes before asking, “Is there some reason why we’re going so slowly?”
Ebon missed a step. “You … call this slow?”
We couldn’t be doing more than about thirty miles per hour. I’d done at least double that trying to catch the van driver. “Well, yeah. You don’t have to hold back for me, Ebon. I can keep up.”
“Perhaps you would care to set the pace— aaaaugh! ”
“Sorry,” I said, jogging back to his doubled-over form. “Are you okay?”
“I believe I have a dislocated shoulder. I was … not expecting you to accelerate quite so rapidly.” He straightened, giving me a pained smile. “No matter. It will heal in two minutes or so.”
“Wow, you heal slowly too? Are you weak from lack of blood or something?” Ebon was staring at me again. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, taking my hand again—with his other hand, this time. “But I am becoming extremely interested in talking with your sire.”
We set off again, with me carefully shortening my strides to match his. Lancing dwindled to a small scattering of lights behind us. Cars rumbled distantly off to our left, marking the main road, while the rolling hills of the South Downs rose to our right. “So,” I said. Neither of us needed breath to run, so we might as well talk. “Why Lorraine?”
“Because the Elders require us to minimize the number of people we bite. Every time we feed, we run the risk of passing on the gift of the Blood.” I opened my mouth, but he’d already anticipated my next question. “No, it does not matter if we use knives or needles or our own sharp teeth. It is simply the act of taking their blood within us, transmuting it to Blood, that may form the connection.”
It was my turn to miss a step. “Are you saying that I may already have made Lorraine into a vampire?”
“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “If you had fed her your own blood, she would definitely become one of us, but merely feeding from her may have given her the gift.”
I could not be Lorraine’s sire. The possibility wastoo horrible to contemplate. Lorraine, able to borrow my senses whenever she wanted? Lorraine , in my blood?
I looked again at that third Bloodline, though I didn’t try going down it. “Ebon? Let’s say, hypothetically speaking, that I have turned Lorraine. Would I feel, um, some sort of connection to her?”
“Yes,” Ebon said with a raised eyebrow at my look of horror. He continued, “But you might regardless, whether she has been infected or not. Depending on how much blood we consume, we can form weak, temporary mental links with anyone we feed from. It’s not comparable to a full Bloodline connection, and they fade very rapidly, but with practice we can use them to perform minor acts of influence. Another reason to return to your earlier victim—I can demonstrate how to glamour her into forgetfulness.”
“Huh.” My strange third link was stronger than the others, not weaker. And I couldn’t think of any reason why Lilith would want to protect
“It’s okay.” I caught a flash of movement at the front window; my dad, quietly keeping an eye on us from behind the curtain. I didn’t think he’d be wild about the idea of me heading out for a spot of bloodletting. I nudged Ebon, tilting my head meaningfully. “If we want to avoid a long argument, we’d better get moving.”
“Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission?” he murmured, following my gaze. “I quite agree.” He offered me his hand. “If you would do me the honor?”
I fell into step with him. His hand clasped my own as if we were dancing together, and our feet skimmed the ground as easily as seagulls across the sky. Streetlamps flashed past in a blur of strobe light. Rather than stick to the roads, Ebon took us out into open farmland. We leaped through the fields, hurdling the occasional hedgerow like steeplechasers.
I waited about ten minutes before asking, “Is there some reason why we’re going so slowly?”
Ebon missed a step. “You … call this slow?”
We couldn’t be doing more than about thirty miles per hour. I’d done at least double that trying to catch the van driver. “Well, yeah. You don’t have to hold back for me, Ebon. I can keep up.”
“Perhaps you would care to set the pace— aaaaugh! ”
“Sorry,” I said, jogging back to his doubled-over form. “Are you okay?”
“I believe I have a dislocated shoulder. I was … not expecting you to accelerate quite so rapidly.” He straightened, giving me a pained smile. “No matter. It will heal in two minutes or so.”
“Wow, you heal slowly too? Are you weak from lack of blood or something?” Ebon was staring at me again. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, taking my hand again—with his other hand, this time. “But I am becoming extremely interested in talking with your sire.”
We set off again, with me carefully shortening my strides to match his. Lancing dwindled to a small scattering of lights behind us. Cars rumbled distantly off to our left, marking the main road, while the rolling hills of the South Downs rose to our right. “So,” I said. Neither of us needed breath to run, so we might as well talk. “Why Lorraine?”
“Because the Elders require us to minimize the number of people we bite. Every time we feed, we run the risk of passing on the gift of the Blood.” I opened my mouth, but he’d already anticipated my next question. “No, it does not matter if we use knives or needles or our own sharp teeth. It is simply the act of taking their blood within us, transmuting it to Blood, that may form the connection.”
It was my turn to miss a step. “Are you saying that I may already have made Lorraine into a vampire?”
“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “If you had fed her your own blood, she would definitely become one of us, but merely feeding from her may have given her the gift.”
I could not be Lorraine’s sire. The possibility wastoo horrible to contemplate. Lorraine, able to borrow my senses whenever she wanted? Lorraine , in my blood?
I looked again at that third Bloodline, though I didn’t try going down it. “Ebon? Let’s say, hypothetically speaking, that I have turned Lorraine. Would I feel, um, some sort of connection to her?”
“Yes,” Ebon said with a raised eyebrow at my look of horror. He continued, “But you might regardless, whether she has been infected or not. Depending on how much blood we consume, we can form weak, temporary mental links with anyone we feed from. It’s not comparable to a full Bloodline connection, and they fade very rapidly, but with practice we can use them to perform minor acts of influence. Another reason to return to your earlier victim—I can demonstrate how to glamour her into forgetfulness.”
“Huh.” My strange third link was stronger than the others, not weaker. And I couldn’t think of any reason why Lilith would want to protect
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