.
The head vampire’s sight darkened. Or also between the other masters in Benedikte’s brotherhood.
As Sorin surveyed the decadent room, his words were silent. I would have guessed Dawn Madison to have simpler tastes.
At her name, Benedikte’s vision cleared. He took in the chambers he’d designed just for her: a bed fit for adventure and peaceful dreaming, walls adorned with peacock feathers, an urnlike fountain dribbling water. But he’d also addressed her more aggressive side, including gymnastics equipment artistically built into the walls so she could amuse herself.
Benedikte didn’t bother using his Awareness, preferring to speak out loud. His recent activities Above—pretending to be “human” in order to perform spy work—had given him a taste for life as it used to be. “Dawn doesn’t really know what she wants yet, Sorin. She might not dress in silk now, but once she joins us down here, she’ll admit to desiring prettier things.”
“You know her well enough to be certain.” His son sounded doubtful.
Benedikte finally looked at Sorin: shoulder-length brown hair, a haughty bearing revealing a handsome contempt usually reserved for his siblings, the Elites, who weren’t as pure-blooded as he was. Since the other high-level vampires received a once-a-month dose of the Master’s blood to maintain themselves, Sorin believed he was superior since he’d been born from merely one bite over three hundred years ago. He didn’t like knowing that Dawn would be receiving the same treatment when she finally arrived.
“I suppose I would know what Dawn wants,” Benedikte said.
In a playful mood, he decided to taunt his favorite son by shifting shape. He melded into the body of a Servant, Matt Lonigan, a visage he’d recently been using to seduce the unknowing Dawn to their side, to extract information from her—unsuccessfully, until last night.
Sorin glanced away to register his protest for this dangerous charade. For security’s sake, he believed Benedikte should stay shielded Underground, safe until absolutely needed to fight Jonah Limpet when they finally lured him to their territory, where they would destroy him through greater numbers, power, and strength.
“I do not understand the reason you insist upon wearing that body, Master. A mere PI is not worthy of you.”
“But she likes it.” Benedikte peered into a mirror slanted to reflect the bed. There, he saw the pale blue eyes of a tough face he would’ve never considered attractive, himself.
Sorin remained still. The Master didn’t need Awareness to know that his son believed Benedikte was taking an obsession too far. That he was transferring the love he once had for Eva Claremont and lavishing it on her daughter now. Vengeful love. But the old vampire knew it was more than just that. No, he’d finally found acceptance in Matt Lonigan’s body. He was finally the object of a deep, romantic passion, just like in the movies he’d studied for decades.
“Ironic,” Sorin said, wandering down to the bed and carelessly reaching out to test its filmy netting between his fingers. “It is so very strange, as well as insulting, that you would choose to masquerade in the body of a human who has never even expressed the willingness to become one of us.”
“I know Matt Lonigan, and I understand why he wants to keep being a human. He has heavy commitment problems, Sorin. We know from TV and all the stories we hear that children of divorce usually feel that way.”
“I do not trust anyone who refuses to pay the ultimate price of admission.”
“You don’t trust much.” Benedikte went to Sorin and patted his head. “That’s why you’re my second, my most trusted.”
As Sorin glowed with contentment, a perverse need seized the Master. He glanced up at a different mirror, this one poised over the bed, and caught sight of his “human” Matt Lonigan body next to the vampire Sorin. The difference in image was almost enough to make
The head vampire’s sight darkened. Or also between the other masters in Benedikte’s brotherhood.
As Sorin surveyed the decadent room, his words were silent. I would have guessed Dawn Madison to have simpler tastes.
At her name, Benedikte’s vision cleared. He took in the chambers he’d designed just for her: a bed fit for adventure and peaceful dreaming, walls adorned with peacock feathers, an urnlike fountain dribbling water. But he’d also addressed her more aggressive side, including gymnastics equipment artistically built into the walls so she could amuse herself.
Benedikte didn’t bother using his Awareness, preferring to speak out loud. His recent activities Above—pretending to be “human” in order to perform spy work—had given him a taste for life as it used to be. “Dawn doesn’t really know what she wants yet, Sorin. She might not dress in silk now, but once she joins us down here, she’ll admit to desiring prettier things.”
“You know her well enough to be certain.” His son sounded doubtful.
Benedikte finally looked at Sorin: shoulder-length brown hair, a haughty bearing revealing a handsome contempt usually reserved for his siblings, the Elites, who weren’t as pure-blooded as he was. Since the other high-level vampires received a once-a-month dose of the Master’s blood to maintain themselves, Sorin believed he was superior since he’d been born from merely one bite over three hundred years ago. He didn’t like knowing that Dawn would be receiving the same treatment when she finally arrived.
“I suppose I would know what Dawn wants,” Benedikte said.
In a playful mood, he decided to taunt his favorite son by shifting shape. He melded into the body of a Servant, Matt Lonigan, a visage he’d recently been using to seduce the unknowing Dawn to their side, to extract information from her—unsuccessfully, until last night.
Sorin glanced away to register his protest for this dangerous charade. For security’s sake, he believed Benedikte should stay shielded Underground, safe until absolutely needed to fight Jonah Limpet when they finally lured him to their territory, where they would destroy him through greater numbers, power, and strength.
“I do not understand the reason you insist upon wearing that body, Master. A mere PI is not worthy of you.”
“But she likes it.” Benedikte peered into a mirror slanted to reflect the bed. There, he saw the pale blue eyes of a tough face he would’ve never considered attractive, himself.
Sorin remained still. The Master didn’t need Awareness to know that his son believed Benedikte was taking an obsession too far. That he was transferring the love he once had for Eva Claremont and lavishing it on her daughter now. Vengeful love. But the old vampire knew it was more than just that. No, he’d finally found acceptance in Matt Lonigan’s body. He was finally the object of a deep, romantic passion, just like in the movies he’d studied for decades.
“Ironic,” Sorin said, wandering down to the bed and carelessly reaching out to test its filmy netting between his fingers. “It is so very strange, as well as insulting, that you would choose to masquerade in the body of a human who has never even expressed the willingness to become one of us.”
“I know Matt Lonigan, and I understand why he wants to keep being a human. He has heavy commitment problems, Sorin. We know from TV and all the stories we hear that children of divorce usually feel that way.”
“I do not trust anyone who refuses to pay the ultimate price of admission.”
“You don’t trust much.” Benedikte went to Sorin and patted his head. “That’s why you’re my second, my most trusted.”
As Sorin glowed with contentment, a perverse need seized the Master. He glanced up at a different mirror, this one poised over the bed, and caught sight of his “human” Matt Lonigan body next to the vampire Sorin. The difference in image was almost enough to make
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