My Beautiful Sin Read online

  “So it's completely over between you and Hilarie?” He took a sip of his drink, made a face, then put it aside.

  “Well, I'm living with another woman now. Nothing spells over like being thrown out and moving in with another woman.”

  “So now what? You stay here with your vampire sugar mommy and live happily ever after?”

  I shrugged. I hadn't really thought that far ahead. I didn't want to because then I would have started questioning my brand new relationship, which wasn't even a day old. If I thought too far ahead Robyn's words would come back to haunt me.

  “She loves me, Pete. That's all that matters, right?”

  If anyone would understand it would be Petr, the vampire connoisseur, who would have sold his own grandmother – whom he didn't like anyway – for one night with a German vampire.

  “When it comes to normal people, sure. But...” He hesitated, regarding me carefully before continuing, “Vampires are different, Lis. Living forever makes life, and love, a lot more complicated for them. When we say forever, we know time is finite; but when they say it, it's real. Now if you put those two together, it doesn't work. Vampires have to condition themselves to accept that they will outlive everyone they love. Most, instead of accepting it, just don't bother falling in love in the first place. Because, like I said, everything's forever... even heartbreak.”

  I'd never seen him so serious, so philosophical. Which was why his words hit me so hard. He was the one telling me to pursue Jean; what had changed?

  “But a few weeks ago you were all for me hooking up with her.”

  “For a bit of fun. I didn't think you would move in!”

  It sounded absurd when he said it like that. I'd known her for just over six weeks, and I'd already moved in, not just to her house, but to her bed. Einstein described insanity as doing the same thing over and over expecting different results. Had I lost my mind?

  “I want to be with her though. What am I supposed to do?” I asked, tossing my hands in the air hopelessly.

  “Just be careful, don't get too attached.”

  That was the second person in less than twenty-four hours to tell me to be careful of Jean. If their advice was designed to make me question her intent, to second guess myself, it was succeeding.

  SEVENTEEN

  No matter how many times she had the nightmare, as nightmares do, it always ended badly. Sometimes she wouldn't open the door when they rang the bell, but then they smashed a window and climbed in anyway. Or were waiting for her upstairs. Somehow they always got in, and somehow she always got bitten.

  If she was lucky, the nightmare would end there, her with the curse. But most times she wasn't, and she would continue dreaming, the night would carry on with her infected, just as it had done all those years ago. And then the hunger would kick in...

  This time she woke up before the hunger kicked in, before she was able to take her first and only life. For that she was grateful. But she still needed a minute to catch her breath once she climbed out of her chamber. It was all too real.

  Waking from the big sleep brought an empty feeling. She gulped down two full bags from her refrigerator, as she usually did upon waking. Her supply was running low; soon she would need Robyn to restock.

  There were no stop offs on the way upstairs to her bedroom. She'd already spent fourteen hours away from Lissa, and she couldn't bear to be away even a minute longer.

  She was sleeping when Jean crept into the room. Sleeping on her side, her head resting on her hands, she looked almost angelic, with her long, heavy eyelashes and her little button nose.

  Jean knelt in front of the bed and watched her sleeping, smiling to herself at how peacefully she slept, how steady her breathing was. It delighted her to know that in her home, in her bed, the girl could finally sleep well. When it all went up in smoke, as she was certain it would one day, at least she would have this memory.

  She kissed her on the cheek and then on the nose, and her eyes slowly fluttered open.

  “Hello,” Jean whispered.

  Lissa smiled tiredly. “Hi.” She pulled Jean's face closer and kissed her on the lips, as though they had been apart for a hundred years. “I missed you.”

  “I'm here now,” Jean said, climbing onto the bed beside her. “What did you do today?”

  They lay facing each other, resting on their elbows.

  “Nothing special. Slept late, then Petr stopped by, then we went for ice cream. I came back and fell asleep.” She screwed up her face. “He found my ripped underwear in the studio...”

  Jean smiled. “I knew there was something we forgot to pick up.”

  “And Robyn came here earlier too.”

  Jean's smile vanished because Lissa's one did. She didn't like that.

  “What did she want?” She sat up abruptly. “Did she–”

  “No, no, she didn't hit me,” Lissa said quickly.

  Jean regarded her closely. For someone who hadn't been attacked by a bad-tempered and jealous ex, Lissa sure looked upset. She cupped the girl's chin in her hand. “What did she say to you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me,” she commanded, though in as pleasant a voice as she could.

  “Nothing I haven't thought myself.” She pulled away. “How long will it be before you get bored with me?”

  “What?” Jean asked, appalled at the suggestion. “Is this what Robyn said would happen?”

  “Well it's a valid question, Jean.”

  “No, it's not, because that will never happen.”

  “It could. You'll wake up one day and realize that I'm not as educated as you, that I'm just a broke kid who grew up in a children's home, who has nothing to offer you. And then you'll drop me. Isn't that what vampires do?”

  She would have to have another little chat with Robyn, a woman who was just as good an assistant as she was a troublemaker. However, assistants, even the efficient ones, were ten a penny; true love came around once in a lifetime. If one had to go there would never be a question as to who. Lissa would always come first. Conveying it to Lissa herself, a girl with deep desertion issues, might be difficult.

  “Look at me, Lissa,” she said. When she had her attention, when the girl could see the sincerity in her eyes, she said, “I love you. Every piece of you. Every hair on your head. I love your smile. I love your laugh. I love that little birthmark you have on your hip bone. Yes, I saw it. I love your passion when you want something. I love your frankness. I love the way you love me...” Without breaking eye contact she took both of her hands. “To get bored of you is to get bored of happiness.”

  She hoped it was enough. She'd always been good with words, particularly in letter writing. Being this frank was new to her. Lissa was already rubbing off on her.

  When Lissa embraced her and kissed her, she knew that the words had gotten through.

  It had been a long time since Jean Margaret Posey had been able to say she was truly happy. She could remember the exact time, though she had spent years trying to forget it. Because the last time she'd been happy, admittedly not as happy as she was now, would always be connected to the worst day of her life, and the start of many years of despondency.

  But she was happy now, even as she kissed her sleeping lover goodbye, after making sweet love to her, and sneaked out of the house, stealing off into the night to take care of another one of her duties.

  Dread replaced any remaining peace, however, when she came to her mile-long walk from the road where she'd parked her car, came to the abandoned, isolated hovel pushed back deep in the woods, and found the cabin door wide open.

  “No,” she breathed, her heartbeat pounding in her ear, and the blood rushing to her head. She dropped the bag of food she'd brought along and dashed urgently into the cabin, a woman who suddenly felt her world crumbling around her.

  The cellar door was also open, and dim light glowed from within. She heard heavy sobbing, which quietened as she pounded down the stairs. Only one grubby face stared back at he
r from the filthy cellar floor. One face where there should have been two. The brass shackle that had once restrained Zack Lindley now lay broken and empty.

  “He left me,” Tommy said, and commenced bawling again when he realized that it was his captor, and not his friend, who had come. “The bastard left me. He said I deserved to rot for having sympathy for the girl.”

  His sobs were of someone who truly had lost every hope in the world. Crying to his captor like a pitiful fool didn't seem so despicable now.

  “How long ago did he escape?” Jean asked. She was trying to think, trying to figure out what to do next. His sobbing wasn't helping.

  “Maybe ten minutes.”

  She didn't even bother locking back the cellar or the cabin, she simply raced back into the forest, into the dark abyss. She listened for the tiniest sound of shuffling through leaves, faraway crunching of fallen branches by tired, malnourished feet, heavy, erratic breathing and gasping of a desperate man trying to flee. None of those sounds echoed in the expanse; the less she heard, the more she feared.

  She wandered aimlessly, drifting through the trees, sniffing and listening for any sign of human life, her condition giving her night vision like no other. The treacherously steep cliff at the edge of the woods came into view. Had she been a stranger to these woods, she would surely have fallen over it. And as she peered down over the edge, squinting into the abyss to make out whatever she could, gradually she felt herself become lighter with relief. Many strangers had met their end over that cliff, and seeing the body of Zack Lindley now lying still in the foliage, she realized that he, too, had joined the ranks.

  When she returned to the cellar, Tommy was still sobbing, though quieter. He wiped his gaunt face with a dirt-stained hand.

  “Well, I don't have to worry about him anymore,” Jean said.

  “Did you... did you kill him?” Tommy asked, a tremble in his voice. He only asked because he feared he would suffer the same fate.

  “No. He killed himself. He was already dead by the time I got to him.” She wasn't at all surprised to see that Tommy's expression didn't change to reflect this news that his friend was dead. After all, the little prick had left him behind.

  “I'm not sorry.”

  “I can see that,” she said. “I'm still in somewhat of a quandary, however. You see, I was prepared to hold you both here indefinitely, at least until I figured out what to do with you. But here's the thing, I believe that you're repentant; I believe that you feel genuine remorse for what you did.”

  Tommy gawked at her, his eyes hopeful.

  “I think you've suffered enough, so I'm going to make a deal with you, Tommy. I'm going to let you go. And in exchange for that, you're going to forget my face, pretend this never happened. Spin a tale if you like.”

  Tommy nodded so energetically it looked as though his head would fall off.

  “I'll do it. Anything.”

  “I'm trusting you to keep your word, Tommy,” she said as she unlocked his shackles. “I don't want us to ever meet again.”

  “I won't tell a soul,” he swore. He didn't have to add anything else, because he was already free, but he said, “Not because I'm afraid – though I am – but because I'm ashamed. I'm ashamed of what I did.” He did, however, think the length and conditions of his punishment had been extreme, but he wasn't going to admit that to her.

  He ate and drank what she had brought, then she blindfolded him as she had done when she'd brought them there, and together they walked the mile to her car. She drove for half an hour with him lying in the back. When she came to a deserted open road, she helped him out of the car.

  “When you hear the car drive off, then you can remove your blindfold,” she instructed.

  “Thank you,” he said to the darkness.

  When he finally removed his blindfold, the car was long gone, and he was standing in the middle of nowhere. But he was free.

  EIGHTEEN

  “...the Wat Phra Kaew, which is really awe-inspiring. It's like this amazing temple that makes you want to convert to Buddhism. Oh, sis, you would adore it, you know 'cause you paint and stuff...”

  The concept of a two-way conversation was lost on my sister April. I hadn't been able to get a word in edgeways since I'd picked up the phone and said hello fifteen minutes ago! Still, hearing her voice, her talkative, over-excited rambling about the wondrous time she was having on her gap-year in Thailand, brought the cheesiest smile to my face. I loved knowing that she was happy, that at least one of us had been given the life our father had wanted for us.

  April and I saw each other two or three times a year, mostly around birthdays and major public holidays. We spoke on the phone once every couple of months, when her schedule permitted. As children, once her adoption went through, her new family brought her down from Wisconsin to see me a few times a year, as the agreement stipulated. I fully suspect they would have cut off all contact between her and me had they been able. They loved her, I knew that, but they didn't like me very much. The damaged kid, remember? When she spoke fondly of them I usually had to grin and bear it, while silently calling them assholes.

  “...you would hate the temperature here though. Too hot, clammy and stuffy. I'm always tempted to sleep naked, but I have like two other people in the room with me...”

  “...I've seen ladyboys, Lissa! Real ladyboys. I took a bunch of pictures. Can't wait to show you...”

  Her stories were always so colorful, instantly transporting me to wherever she was. In comparison, I never had anything interesting to tell her. Until now.

  “How's Hilarie?”

  Quite shockingly, April had always liked Hilarie. I could never understand that connection, but whenever she came to visit they got on like a house on fire. They had about as much in common as me and Hilarie – which was not much; April flighty, Hilarie serious. Yet they gelled well together. It almost worried me to tell her that we were no more.

  “Hilarie and I broke up a few days ago,” I said.

  “What? No! How could you? She's great. I thought you guys were heading for the altar.”

  “I'm sure she'll make a great wife for some lucky woman,” I said, not sure of it at all. Whoever she married would inevitably end up being undermined and belittled.

  “She was too good for you anyway, sis,” she joked, though I wondered how much she actually believed it. “So where are you staying now, assuming you're not still living with her and reaping the benefits, hint, hint.”

  I bit my lip. “I'm living with someone... someone new.”

  “You've already met someone? Hmm, were you cheating on Hilarie, because if you were–”

  “I wasn't cheating on her.”

  “So who's the new woman? It is a woman, right?”

  “Of course it's a woman!” I said, outraged.

  “Come on, then, spill. But be quick, my minutes are running low.”

  Maybe I should have waited until our next conversation two months later to tell her about Jean. By then I would be sure where we were going, though in my heart of hearts I knew she was the one. But I doubted the conversation would have been any easier to have no matter how long I waited. When you had done a complete 180, going against everything you believed, dating someone from a species both you and your sister hated in equal measure, for the same reason, it was never just a matter of 'spilling'.

  “She's older than me, she's beautiful, she owns a jazz bar, she lives in a big house... and she's... she's a vampire.”

  April's raucous laughter was so unexpected it made me jump a little.

  “Good one, sis. As if you would ever date one of those. No, who is she really? Older, I can believe that. Beautiful, sure, you always seem to attract the pretty ones–”

  “April, her name is Jean Posey, and she's a vampire. I'm being serious.”

  There was a sudden, deafening silence, which was far more troubling than the laughter. It went on for the longest beat, and I thought she had hung up on me.

  “Are you sti
ll there?”

  “Yes,” she said finally, all signs of laughter and amusement gone from her voice.

  “Say something would you.”

  “What do you want me to say to you? You're dating a vampire. What are you looking for, congratulations?”

  “No, I...” I didn't know what. The indignation in her voice astounded me. I knew she would be angry, just not this much. Would I have reacted the same in her situation, given our family history? “I just... I don't know, April. I know it must be a shock–”

  “Gee, ya think!”

  “But it's not like that. Jean's... she's different. She's loving and caring and... I love her. I really do. She loves me too.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Can't you be a little happier for me?” I knew it was a lot to ask; but we were sisters, the only blood relation we had left.

  “I don't get you, Lissa. Anyone else, anything else, sure, I would give you my full blessing. But a vampire? It's not fair to expect me to okay it. Not after what they did.”

  “But she didn't do it. You can't blame all of them for what one bad seed did.”

  “They're vampires, Lissa! They're all bad seeds.”

  I got up off the bed; I didn't feel in control of the situation sitting down. I didn't want to be having this conversation in Jean's house, even though I knew she wouldn't be awake for several hours. The sun beamed in through the window, hitting me in the face and adding to my foul mood.

  “Jean isn't. She doesn't kill people. She doesn't take without permission.”

  “Oh my God, listen to yourself. You're actually defending those creatures. They're monsters, Lissa. Wake the fuck up before you get yourself killed!”

  She swore at me! I couldn't believe it; she'd never done that before. The shock of it, coupled with her tone, made my eyes water, and before I knew it I was blinking back tears.

  Maybe she heard my sniffling as I tried not to make a sound, because her tone lost some of its brusqueness. “You're all I've got left from my old life, Lissa. I don't want to live in fear that some crazy, thousand-year-old vampire takes it too far, or has a bad day and bleeds you dry.”