Seer: Thrall (12 page)

"I'll come back and sit with you," she said. "Climb into bed and I'll dim the lights."

So I did that, adjusting the bed and rolling onto my side. Solange moved around the room, dealing with the lights, and then she moved to the door. She had it open, then stopped.

"Sidney."

"Solange."

"You're not going to like hearing this. I'm sorry. I doubt I'm ever going to be able to let you go."

I thought about that and didn't say anything.

"It's not fear," she added. "You'll have your freedom. But you're mine. You don't understand what that means."

"Possessive?"

"Terribly, but it's more than that. If you don't fight me, I'll treat you exceedingly well."

"You know we're going to fight, Solange."

"There are fights, and then there's warfare."

"Oh. I see." I paused. "For now, I remain here. I know I agreed I was yours while your fangs were in my neck, but I'm not sure I consider that a binding agreement."

She scoffed. She wasn't too lost to whatever was eating at her.

"We have a war to prevent, Solange. That's the only warfare that matters right now. Go calm down, then come talk to me."

* * * *

"Hey," I said. Solange was sitting beside my bed when I opened my eyes. The lights were dim, but I could see her clearly. "Got yourself under control, I see."

"For now. We should avoid certain topics tonight."

"All right. Tomorrow night."

"Dolores will arrive for dinner. You will be napping when she arrives. She'll wake you up, but then we'll move downstairs. We'll play a few hands before dinner and then maybe another hour or two afterwards. Once you start to droop, she'll kiss you good night and head home. And Sidney, you will not hide your fatigue from me or I will be angry."

"That's going to be a difficult order for me, Solange."

"What do you recommend?"

"Ask me how I'm doing and I'll answer honestly."

"All right," she said. "Yes. There are no prizes tomorrow, and I do not expect you to play as well as you are accustomed."

I thought about the implications. "Was there brain damage, Solange?"

"No, but your ability to think as powerfully as you usually do is tied to your physical energy. Your body is using the available energy to become stronger, not to drive your more complex brain activity. Your intellect is fully intact, but right now it's a little subdued."

"Did you just call me stupid?"

"No. I told you that you're healing."

"It sounded like you were calling me stupid."

She cocked her head. "Are you upset or giving me a hard time?"

"Giving you a hard time while worried about what else you aren't telling me."

"You're going to be fine, Sidney. Entirely your old self."

"How not my old self am I? Is this why you wanted to make my decisions? Am I incompetent?"

"Sidney, relax. You are not incompetent. I wanted to make your decisions because it removed a source of stress from you, and you needed as little stress as could be managed. You still do, and that will continue for a few more months. Not forever. You are going to be fine."

I sighed. "You didn't answer my question."

"Play for fun tomorrow night, Sidney. Don't try to count cards."

I closed my eyes and rolled away. "Fuck."

"You probably can," she added, "but you'll wear yourself out. Our brains require energy to work at their peak, and your body is spending the available energy on growing muscles. Tomorrow is a relaxing evening with friends, not a competition."

"All right," I said. "Maybe I'll focus on flirting with Dolores."

She paused before answering. "I would rather you didn't."

"I was teasing."

"Don't tease tomorrow."

"Oh, we both know I'm not letting you make that decision."

She scoffed. I felt her hand on my shoulder, and when she tugged me back to face her, I let her. "Time to sleep."

"I was sleeping," I said. "I want you to do something."

"Oh? I thought I was making your decisions."

"Try to give me a dream from your past. Just offer a hint, enough for my mind to latch onto, but not enough to have any details. Make it something you remember well."

She smiled. "All right. Something pleasant. A ball."

"Yes, please," I said.

"Look into my eyes." She began talking.

* * * *

I was dancing.

I knew right away it had worked. The immediate details were vivid, but everything else was in a fog.

I was wearing an elaborate dress with hips that felt like they were six feet wide. I could feel the weight of the supporting structure. My stomach and chest were constricted in a corset, and my head felt particularly heavy, as if I were wearing a large, ornate hat.

The steps of the dance seemed memorized and choreographed. When Solange mentioned a ball, I had expected a waltz or something, but this reminded me more of a country dance I'd learned in grade school. And I didn't dance in a dance embrace with my partner, but instead we stepped apart and came back together as called for by the particulars of the dance.

The view floated away like a camera in a movie, taking a different position. The view rotated to face me, and I saw myself.

Solange looked so young.

The dress was, well, amazing, but if this is what they wore when she was young, I could understand why she wasn't willing to wear it at Halloween. The dress was white with some sort of floral pattern repeated periodically. My breasts were lifted and pushed together, showing décolletage-adorned cleavage. And if the hips weren't six feet wide, they had to be at least four. Could she even get through a doorway like this?

I thought it looked ridiculous, but perhaps not any worse than a hoop skirt would have been.

But our hair was the most shocking. Our black hair was powdered. I expected it to be white, but instead the powder made it grey. But most shocking was the way my hair was pulled up from my head in an elaborate display. I wondered if they'd used shellac to hold it all. And embedded in the hair were the most outrageous things. Was that a bird's nest? I hoped at least it was clean. I wondered what the hygiene habits were like back then. Did they even know what it meant to be clean and free of vermin?

I tried not to think about that too hard.

The view shifted again as the dance ended. My dance partner took my arm and began pulling me to the edge of the room. He turned me to him and leaned far too closely as he continued to tell some inane story of his latest conquest. The stench was overwhelming, and I didn't care for the way he spoke to my chest.

"Ah, but Solange, you seem quite flushed. Perhaps the excitement is too much. You should lie down for a while." He began trying to pull me from the room."

"Monsieur," I replied. "You are far too forward."

"Oh, you play the coquette, Solange," he said. He shielded view of me from the rest of the room and groped my chest. "Come. Women vie for my affections."

"Oh, I cannot," I replied. "My patron is watching, and you know his reputation for dueling." I smiled. "Perhaps we could meet later. There is a path through the woods behind the church."

And then the dream faded, and I woke.

I opened my eyes, and Solange was watching me intently.

"Who was that odious creature?" I asked. "Tell me you didn't meet with him later!"

She began to smile. "What did you see?"

I tried to describe the man. She didn't place him. Then I described the dress. "Was that a bird's nest in your hair?" I asked.

"I don't remember," she said. "It very well could have been." She looked away, and I could tell she was remembering. She looked back. "How wide were the panniers?"

"The what?"

"The hips of the dress."

"Oh, I don't know. You looked like a truck." I uncovered myself and indicated on my own hips.

"And the hair?"

"Up to here," I said. "Wait, I don't think I can reach high enough. It was powdered white. Was that shellac?"

"What language were we speaking?"

"You called him Monsieur."

"That doesn't mean anything," she said. "I kept French mannerisms even when I moved elsewhere." She pouted. "Well, the style sounds seventeenth century in France, especially the hair."

"This must have been earlier," I said. "You were so young, maybe twenty. It's from when you were still...um..."

"No," she said. "I was poor, Sidney. We were peasants. I would never have worn clothing like that. But I control my apparent age. It would take quite a bit of blood, but I can appear very young, perhaps as young as fourteen."

"If so, why do you look upper thirties?"

"Who is going to respect a twenty-year-old lawyer?"

"Oh. Right."

"And I prefer social connections that are more mature," she added. "What did you mean, I didn't meet him later?"

I described the conversation. Her eyes widened. "The forest behind the church?" I nodded. "That odious creature!" She exclaimed.

"Those were my words, I believe," I said. "You let him grope you?"

"He was powerful, and I was just a woman. No, I didn't meet him later." She paused. "Sidney, I was still a monster then, a complete monster."

"What did you do?"

"My maker was still alive. I gave that worm to my maker as a present." She paused. "Good riddance, too. He represented the worst of the French nobility. It was people like him who oppressed the ninety-nine percent of the people who weren't nobility. It was people like him who led to the revolution a hundred years later."

"Nowadays, he'd land in your blood bank?"

"My blood bank?" She cocked her head. "Oh. Right. No. My maker came back looking a little ill. Apparently the man's blood was as odious as his stench." She paused. "Sidney, I'm sorry. I tried to send you to a ball in Boston in 1831. It would have been far more pleasant."

But then we stared at each other, coming to the same conclusion. "It worked," we said together. Solange nodded in emphasis, grinning broadly.

"Give me another one," I added.

"Not tonight, Sidney," she said. "You must have normal sleep now. It is very late."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes," she agreed. "Think about what you want to see."

"Did you know anyone famous?"

"A few," she said with a smile. I thought perhaps it was more than a few. "Ada Lovelace was a personal friend for many years."

"Really?" I asked. Ada Lovelace had assisted Charles Babbage with his analytical engine, a precursor to modern computers. She is considered the world's first programmer. Most people have no idea who she was. "Were you lovers?"

"Oh no," she said. "Friends only. I'll try to introduce you, so to speak. We'll see if it works."

"You didn't, um... eat her, did you?"

"No. Sometimes our conversations could grow spirited, but there are no startling memories of her." She frowned. "Sidney, I don't eat people. Why do you insist on saying it that way?"

"Because it bugs you," I replied. "And I can either make a joke about it or run, screaming in terror."

"So you make me a mockery to counteract your fear?"

"Pet sharks are still sharks, Solange," I said. I smiled to remove the sting. "I didn't think you would find it a mockery. I thought you'd consider it dark humor. I'm sorry. I'll stop. What do you want me to say instead?" I cocked my head. "Solange, did you sup on Ms. Lovelace?"

She glared at me.

"Solange," I asked, "Did you break your fast on Ada Lovelace?"

"Sidney," she growled.

"Solange, was Ada a fine vintage?"

She growled again, but her lips quivered a little. I thought she was trying to avoid encouraging me.

I cocked my head the other way. "Solange, did you dine on the neck of Ada Lovelace?"

"Okay, that's just over the top," she complained.

"Solange-"

"Sidney!"

"Did Ada Lovelace know
you suck
?"

"I do not suck!"

"Slurp? Did you slurp at her neck like a mewling kitten does a bowl of milk?"

"Sidney!" She looked vexed. "I did not feed on Ada Lovelace!"

"Well, that's not a very poetic way to put it," I complained. "You should say, I did not dine on the life essence of the indomitable Mrs. Lovelace. Isn't that how all you ancient vampires talk, like something out of a poorly written historical romance? Except you should say it in French. Go on. What would that sound like in French?"

"I am never teaching you the phrase, 'dine on the life essence'," she declared hotly.

"That's okay; I'll get Aubree to teach me."

"Aubree will do no such thing."

My eyes widened. "Solange, did Ada Lovelace know that Aubree sucks?"