The Blood That Bonds by Christopher Buecheler Page B

to the taste, grudgingly released it.
    A gleam at the far corner. Eyes.
    “ Handsome, handsome boy,”
said Abraham, and Two could barely perceive a slight shaking of the
head. “Why do you insist on looking such? Why cut your beautiful
hair? Why dress in these ridiculous clothes?”
    “ Those who do not change
wither. Those who do not change die, ”
Theroen recited.
    “ Speak not such things to
me!” Abraham leapt forward suddenly, slightly further into the
light, leaning over his massive wooden desk, white-knuckled grip on
the far edge, powerful shoulders supporting his torso as he stared
in fury at Theroen. Two shrank back, managing to hold in her cry
this time. The light helped. Theroen’s apparent fearlessness in the
face of a being multitudes more powerful than himself helped
more.
    “ Speak not in such a
manner, from the scrolls of Eresh, to him who has given you everything !”
    “ Everything and nothing,
father. Ashes and dust. Life in death.”
    “ Impertinence in youth,”
Abraham grumbled. He sat back down, and Two found that she could
barely recall his image, as if her mind had blotted it out. She
remembered a heavy head of hair, complemented by large eyebrows and
a beard. Had he been young? Old? She couldn’t tell. Only that he
was huge. Taller and broader than Theroen, thick through the
shoulders, muscular. A dangerous man even as a human, let alone
what he had become.
    “ I speak only what you have
taught, father,” Theroen said. He took a step forward into the
room, gently pulling Two with him. Abraham chuckled. The sound was
bitter, cynical. There was no humor in it.
    “ Ahh. ‘ My first thought was, he lied in every
word .’ It does not suit you,
Theroen.”
    “ I am no liar, father. No
cripple.”
    “ Oh, yes? Well. No cripple,
anyway, as well you prove out there, traipsing about in the mortal
world, driving your fast cars, laying with your women in patches of
grass.” He looked at Two with a raised eyebrow. Two made an effort
to return the gaze, succeeded. The vampire laughed
again.
    “ So brave,” his voice was
quiet, contemplative. “Why is she not finished?”
    Thereon paused a moment, and Two sensed that
the next few moments were critical.
    “ Her previous … employer.
He forced things upon her against her will. Many things, one of
which was a drug.”
    “ She is impure?”
    “ The change will cleanse
her.”
    “ And what drug is
this?”
    “ Heroin, father. Do you
know it?”
    “ Opium, yes?”
    “ Processed chemically, but
yes.”
    “ She is
unclean.”
    “ She is pure in heart,
father. She is pure in soul. The blood will strip her of mortal
needs, mortal addictions, mortal weaknesses.”
    “ So sure?” There was dark
humor in the old vampire’s voice.
    Theroen said nothing.
    “ No, you are not sure. Not
sure at all, my impetuous fledgling. Yet you do not answer my
question. Why is she not finished?”
    “ I did not know we were
susceptible to such things. The drug is still too recent in her
veins. It … It made me quite ill.”
    The elder vampire screamed laughter at this,
rocking back in his chair. Two wanted to cover her ears with her
hands. The sound went on and on, madness and hate and anger
disguised as humor, as anything so remotely human.
    And then, abruptly, stopped.
    “ Oh, my. ‘Quite ill’
indeed, I’ve no doubt. That drug, Theroen, more than any other, is
poison to our kind. It would likely have killed a lesser creation.
You are Eresh-Chen , though. You seem to have recovered.”
    Theroen nodded.
    Abraham turned his attention to Two, caught
her in his eyes. “Come to me, my dear.”
    Two felt her feet moving, almost against her
own will. She heard Theroen draw in a breath, but he said nothing.
Two understood now that Theroen felt no fear for himself, held no
question of his own safety, but that he feared for hers very
greatly. The final moment of the interview had come, judgment was
to be handed down, and what Abraham might deem proper was