Ascension (Demon's Grail Book 1) Page 2

  “I'm really sorry,” I tell him. He seems nice, genuinely concerned, but after a moment I turn toward Emilia Hargreaves, who's waiting at the door. “Sorry,” I continue, “I just -”

  Suddenly I feel it.

  Emilia is staring straight at me, her unblinking eyes fixed on me with startling intensity. I want to say something, to make some hurried excuse so I can keep walking, but for the first time in my life I feel as if I'm in the company of a creature that I really don't understand. The sense of power is undeniable, and after a moment she starts to smile, as if she senses my unease and finds it amusing. In the blink of an eye, I realize that not only is she definitely not human, she's also unlike any other creature I've ever encountered before. She's sure as hell not a vampire.

  “Well,” Senator McAllister says, “so long as you're okay...”

  “I'm fine,” I whisper, still unable to keep from staring at Emilia. I need her to look away first, but it's almost as if she's enjoying having this power over me. She knows what I am, that much is clear, but I still haven't got her figured out. I don't like being at a disadvantage.

  “You don't need a cab to get home?” McAllister continues.

  “I...” I stare at Emilia for a moment longer, before turning to him. “I'm sorry, what?”

  “A cab,” he says again. “Do you need one?”

  “Oh...” I look back toward Emilia, but she's already heading inside now and I watch for a moment as she makes her way across the lobby. “No,” I continue, turning back to McAllister, “really, I'm fine, just...” I pause, realizing that I need to get as much information as possible. “I hope you don't mind the question, but... Was that the Emilia Hargreaves?”

  “Yes it was,” he replies with a faint, proud smile. “She's quite something, huh?”

  “She is,” I mutter, taking a step back. “I'm really sorry again, I hope I didn't disturb your evening too much.”

  “Not at all,” he continues. “Please, think nothing of it, and make sure you go straight home.”

  I watch as he heads into the building, and then I look up at the windows above. I still don't know who Emilia Hargreaves is, but she's not human and she's not a vampire. Whatever she is, her mere presence was enough to make the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

  Emilia

  “Are you okay, my dear?” Joseph asks as he follows me into the apartment. “You've seemed a little quiet ever since we got out of the car.”

  “Have I?” Stopping at the desk in the hallway, I carefully remove the black velvet gloves I've been wearing all evening. I take a moment to stretch my fingers, admiring the immaculate red polish on the nails. Such needless vanity. “I suppose I must have a lot on my mind.”

  “You were pretty talkative in the car,” he continues, stepping up behind me and putting his hands on my waist, before pulling me back until I can feel him pressing against me through the front of his trousers. “Maybe we oughta find a way to loosen you up again.”

  “Maybe,” I whisper, staring at my reflection in the mirror. A shudder passes through my body as I realize that the moment has finally come.

  It was her.

  I looked right into her eyes.

  That woman outside was Abby Hart.

  “Now how do you suppose we oughta get started?” Joseph asks, slipping his hands around my hips and then onto my belly, and then down toward my crotch, his fingertips running against the tight emerald fabric of my dress. “I've gotta say, Emilia, you're looking particularly gorgeous tonight. Did you see how everyone was staring at you while we were out? Jesus Christ, everyone with a pulse was ogling you at that party.” He kisses the back of my neck. “Of course, not everyone at a party like that has a pulse. I swear, some of those old party donors must be a hundred if they're a day. Still, so long as they keep writing checks, I've gotta shake their sweaty hands. It's just the price of politics, but don't you worry your pretty head about that.”

  Still staring at my reflection, I feel a sense of great calm in my chest. I knew this day would arrive eventually, I knew Abby would come to me, and I have prepared. I'm not scared at all.

  “Did you hear what I said?” Joseph continues, running his hands up over my belly and then clasping them over my breasts, giving me a good squeeze. Humans are such filthy mammals sometimes. “I said not everyone at the party has a pulse. It was a joke, get it?” He squeezes again. “Like, half the senators and congressmen in that room might as well not have a pulse, for all the good it'd do 'em.” He slips a hand inside my dress and then inside my bra, running his rough fingers against my right nipple. “What's wrong, Emilia? You're not laughing at many of my jokes tonight. Am I not on my usual form?”

  “I'm laughing on the inside,” I reply, still looking at my reflection, watching my eyes for a moment before casting my glance down to my chest and watching as Joseph's hand continues to grope me.

  He's a little drunk.

  “How shall we start?” I ask, slipping his hand out and then turning to him. He immediately puts his hands back on my chest, as if he can't get enough, and his gaze is fixed on my cleavage. I've learned during my time in the city that most human males, and a lot of females too, react very favorably to the excessive promotion of the feminine form. In fact, it's almost a kind of hypnosis. “You want to get me out of this dress, don't you?” I continue, allowing myself a faint smile as Joseph kisses the bare skin over my collarbone.

  “How did you guess?” he asks, pressing the front of his trousers against my leg.

  “Why don't we start slow tonight?” I whisper, placing a hand on the side of his face and forcing him to look into my eyes. “You had fun at the party, didn't you? I saw you running around, you must have shaken a thousand hands after dinner alone.”

  “Fun's not the right word,” he replies, “but it'll pay off on election night. Let me give you some advice, Emilia, something I've learned in all my years on the political scene. The world is divided into two groups. There's people who are useful to you, and people who aren't. Life can be a tough game, but that's all that matters. You shove 'em on one pile or the other, and that way you know what's what. No need to get sentimental.”

  “Really?” I can't help but frown at such a simplistic view of the world.

  “Really,” he says with a smile. He seems proud of himself.

  “Surely there's one more group,” I whisper, leaning a little closer but not quite kissing him, not yet.

  “And what's that?” he asks.

  I tilt my head slightly to one side, my lips ready to touch his.

  “The third group,” I continue, “consists of people who were useful at one time, but who now...” I put my arms around his waist, holding him tight. “But who now are not.”

  He laughs. “Well, maybe you got that right after -”

  Without giving him a chance to finish, I lean closer and kiss him, letting my soft, painted lips press against his leathery old flesh. His tongue, which has always seemed a little too large, slips forcefully into my mouth, rooting about as if it's looking for something; I respond by pulling him even closer and letting my tongue slip around his, curling and twitching as I feel his saliva entering my mouth. He's an enthusiastic old man, I'll give him that, although enthusiasm doesn't really make up for his other faults; I feel sure that a human's mouth shouldn't be quite so cold and slobbery, and that it shouldn't taste so foul. I can even detect particles of food stuck to his tongue as it continues to probe me. The whole experience of kissing Joseph is, as ever, rather foul, and I know I won't miss him once he's gone.

  If he didn't have his tongue in my mouth, I'd use this moment to say goodbye.

  Instead, I pull him closer.

  Further down my body, the front of my dress starts to shift and stretch as my chelicerae unfold from my belly, quickly tearing through the fabric and digging into Joseph's soft, pudgy stomach. He tries to pull away, but I hold him tight and continue to kiss his face while my real mouth chews through his shirt and the fang portion of my chelicera
e injects venom into his body. As he puts his hands on my shoulders and tries to push me away, he lets out a muffled cry, but I continue to kiss him while, further down my body, my jaws reach out from my belly and I inject a little more venom, just to make sure that I don't have to deal with any struggles. I can already feel the poor fool becoming limp, and finally I can't help smiling as I see his horrified face pressed close to mine.

  Keeping hold of his shoulders, I get to work. Down below, I've already begun to eat him, drawing in as much blood as possible while also devouring some of his meat. The fangs in my belly dig and burrow through his gut, keeping clear of his intestines and instead going for the juicier parts such as his liver and kidneys. After all, I don't want his death to be a complete waste, and I am hungry. Finally I break the kiss and move my human head back, and I can't help but smile as I see the look of pure shock in his eyes; slowly he looks down at his belly, where we're still joined and where my real mouth is reaching out from just below my breasts and chewing on him, with my fangs already pulling his enlarged, alcohol-soaked liver out through his abdomen.

  My real kiss.

  “I'm sorry, Joseph,” I say calmly, as I see the life fading from his eyes, “but...” I pause for a moment. “Well, actually I'm not sorry. Unfortunately, you were only useful to me until the moment Abby Hart showed up. Like you said, life's a tough game sometimes. Don't get sentimental.”

  There's a faint gurgle from his lips, but after a moment I realize that he's not trying to say anything; it's simply a little air, forcing its way up through his dead throat as I continue to feast on his belly.

  Abby Hart

  “What the hell are you?” I whisper, turning to another page in the Book of Gothos. Damn it, I wish this thing had an index. Better yet, the whole thing should be digitized so that -

  “Problem?”

  Almost jumping out of my skin, I leap up from the bed and back against the wall. On the other side of the dark bedroom, there's a figure standing in the doorway, and it takes a moment before I realize that it's only Absalom.

  “Don't you ever knock before popping up in someone's apartment?” I ask. “You might have walked in on me at a bad moment. You might have caught me, I don't know, sucking my own blood.”

  “I got your message,” he continues, stepping closer. “You sounded agitated.”

  “It's my new default mood,” I tell him. “Emilia Hargreaves. Who is she?”

  “Emilia Hargreaves?” He frowns. “Isn't she that woman who's been hanging off the arm of some dumb little senator for the past few months? I've seen her on a few gossip sites.”

  “I met her tonight.”

  “Did you get an autograph?”

  “She's not human.”

  He frowns, and I can tell that I've finally got his attention. “Is she -”

  “She's not a vampire, either.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I'm sure.”

  Sighing, he heads to the window and looks out at the city for a moment. “Don't take this the wrong way, Abby, but you're still quite new to all of this, your senses are untrained and a little chaotic. Some vampires are harder to detect than -”

  “She's not a vampire,” I say firmly.

  He turns to me. “Okay, then what is she?”

  “That's what I've been trying to find out,” I reply, heading back to the bed and picking up the Book of Gothos, “but this thing isn't exactly helping.”

  “It's not an encyclopedia.”

  “No, but it's all I have right now!”

  “Did you get a sample?”

  “Of what?”

  “Anything. With some of her D.N.A., you could -”

  “Sorry,” I reply, interrupting him, “but the opportunity didn't come up.”

  “Pity. So did you consider killing her?”

  “Killing her?” I pause for a moment, shocked by the suggestion. “Why would I kill her?”

  “Sometimes that's a good way to deal with unknown things,” he replies. “If you don't know what you're dealing with, but you think it might turn out to cause a problem at some later point, just kill it while you've got the chance. Problem solved.” He stares at me, and I can tell he finds my predicament faintly amusing. “Perhaps you should learn to be a little more clinical, Abby. Your father certainly would have approved of such an approach.”

  “I'm not my father.”

  “Evidently. Emilia Hargreaves would be dead by now if you were.”

  “I've sensed vampires before,” I explain, flicking through the book again before realizing that there's no point. Everything in the Book of Gothos is about a time long gone. Setting it down, I turn to him. “Not just vampires, either. You know what New York's like, other creatures show up here from time to time. Werewolves, Golvs, Tenderlings, Lumbar Drones... This was different. I didn't just sense something coming from Emilia Hargreaves when I got close to her, I felt it in my bones. It's like every fiber of my body was tingling and vibrating, just from being in her vicinity.”

  “Well, she is an attractive woman...”

  “I don't mean like that,” I say firmly, starting to feel irritated by the fact that he's not taking this seriously. “It was something primal, like part of me reacted physically to her presence with...” I try to find the right word, before realizing that I already know exactly which one to use. “Fear,” I admit reluctantly. “It was as if she drove pure fear into my soul. The worst part is, I think she knew. When she looked at me, she understood exactly what effect she was having on me.” I wait for him to answer. “So I'm back at square one. I need to know what she is.”

  “There aren't many creatures that could have such a profound effect on a vampire,” he replies. “Like I said, Abby, you're new to all of this -”

  “Don't -”

  “But you're also good at it,” he adds. “Your instincts make up for your lack of formal training, at least to some degree, so I'm inclined to consider your fears. I certainly haven't heard of anything serious stirring in the city, but I can ask around. If this Emilia Hargreaves woman is something to worry about, she can't have passed unnoticed. I know people, I can check to see if anyone else has come across her.”

  “What if they haven't?” I ask.

  He frowns.

  “What if it's just me?” I continue. “What if...” Sighing, I realize that I'm in danger of sounding self-centered, but at the same time I keep replaying the moment I caught Emilia's gaze, and I feel certain that she recognized me. “What if she's someone who knew my father?” I ask. “What if he did something to her and she wants revenge? Now that he's dead, she might have decided to come after me instead!”

  “It's possible. Patrick did annoy a lot of people.”

  “Or what if it's something else? What if it's whoever was behind the Tor Cliff set-up? Or someone who's connected to the Valkyries? Or someone from the Cult of Arridian? Or -”

  “Point taken,” he replies, interrupting me. “Evidently you've annoyed a lot of people too, Abby. Just like your -”

  “Don't say it.”

  He smiles as he turns and heads to the door. “You were right to call me. I'll get in touch with my contacts and find out what's going on. Hopefully this Emilia Hargreaves woman is just some passing creature from the Underworld. I still think that if there's any doubt at all, you should probably just kill her. If nothing else, it'd be good for you to get some practice in. Since you came back from Tor Cliff, you've been keeping a low profile.”

  “I only kill in self-defense,” I point out.

  “What about for blood?”

  I shake my head.

  “Have you found a new supplier?” he asks. “I heard that Ragoth went out of business.”

  “I get by.”

  He stares at me. “You're in pain.”

  I shake my head.

  “You need fresh blood, Abby. You need it as much as you need oxygen. More, even.”

  “I have my sources.”

  “Such as?”

&nbs
p; “Such as none of your business.”

  “I thought we were friends.”

  “No, we're just...” I pause, aware that I still need Absalom on my side. “You're useful to me,” I continue, “and before you go getting offended, I'm useful to you in return. That's the only reason we ever talk.”

  “It is?”

  “Go to your contacts,” I continue, as my phone starts ringing on the desk next to my bed. “Find out who Emilia Hargreaves is, and what she is. I'm telling you, there's definitely something going on with her.”

  “Aren't you going to answer that?” he asks.

  “No,” I reply, glancing at the phone, “not until after you've -”

  Seeing that Mark's calling, I realize I really need to speak to him, but at the same time I don't want Absalom to overhear our conversation. I've been careful so far to keep the different aspects of my life separate from one another, and I'd like to keep it that way.

  “Go on,” he says after a moment, smiling as if once again he can sense my discomfort. “It's your boyfriend, isn't it? Are you going to ignore him?”

  “He's not my boyfriend,” I say firmly.

  “Whatever, just -”

  The phone stops ringing.

  “Pity,” he adds, as a moment later I hear a beep to indicate that a message has arrived. “I honestly don't know why you involve yourself with the mundane events of the human world, Abby. You're a vampire, you could be out there with the rest of us but instead you choose to have a job working with humans, for humans, among humans...”

  “I'm half human, remember?” I mutter, grabbing my phone.

  “You don't belong among these people.”

  “I don't belong anywhere.”

  “Maybe among your own kind.”

  “I don't like the sound of that,” I reply as I check the message from Mark. “I'm just as much human as I am vampire, the last thing I want is to lose touch with -”

  Stopping suddenly, I read the message again, then a third time, trying to take in the information. For a moment I'm so shocked, I can't even process what Mark is telling me.