Better in the dark by Yarbro Chelsea Quinn 1942-

Author:Yarbro, Chelsea Quinn, 1942-
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Saint-Germain, comte de, d. 1784, Vampires
Publisher: New York : TOR
Published: 1993-04-14T16:00:00+00:00

Saint-Germanius they will no longer be necessary, and their jealousy would be difficult. They would be unwilling to permit him to take me away from here, and they might try to claim me for themselves. I never want that to happen. If they killed each other I would leave you the offering of my gold ring." It was the most valuable thing she owned, the gift given her by her father when she married. To part with it was unthinkable. "I will tie it here, with red wool, and the red will be from blood."

Satisfied that her offer was as handsome as any of the old gods could wish, she moved back, reverencing the carved tokens flanking the roots. She rubbed her face to brush off the sand, and tossed her head so that her two long braids once again fell down her back. "I want a sign from you, a sign that Saint-Germanius will surrender. I want him to kiss me, not the kiss of peace, or the kiss of allegiance, but the kiss of lovers. I want that now. I want it before the sun sets tomorrow." She backed out of the cove, all but stumbling in the sand.

As she ran along the edge of the trees she cursed the villagers for all they had cut down, for they had eliminated the cover she had used for so long in going from the fortress to the cove and her return. She hurried across the open stretch of cleared land, crying out once as she stepped on an abrasive low stump. She paused long enough to look at her foot and to curse the cut she saw. It would have to be bandaged, and that would require an explanation as to how she got it. She scowled as she started moving, favoring her injured foot. Now she was ungainly and slow, and that infuriated her. At least it was past midnight and no one would see her as she made her way toward the fortress. She glared at the stockade as she neared it, panting from exertion and pain. As she searched for the gap in the logs she cursed, for her foot was beginning to swell and it hurt more acutely.

She tore her chanise as she squeezed through the narrow space, and when she tumbled into the concealed entrance to the fortress, she had to collapse against the wall for a short while, sobbing with effort and frustration as well as pain. Finally she made herself stand. Her foot ached but she was able to make her way up the cramped corridor to the concealed door in the women's quarters. She pulled on the lever to swing the door down, and all but screamed in vexation as she realized she needed more strength. For a short while she stood in the darkness, whispering words to the old gods and asking them to aid her. When she was certain that they had heard her, she reached for the lever again, this time pressing on it with all her might, her breath hissing between her teeth.

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