The Black Swan

“You’re quite attractive for a barbarian,” the owner of the shadow murmured. And while the voice was feminine, French, cultivated—the grip was as powerful as any man’s. “Shall I make you even more so, my pet? Would you like to belong to me forever?” She didn’t give him the chance to say no. She twisted his head and the pain came as a shock as she sank her fangs into his throat.

He’d heard of these creatures of the night. Even the Tuscaroras, who had raised him for a time after his parents had been killed by renegade white men, had tales of them.

Gabe had always been able to depend on his body. Now he was frightened by how easily she seemed to overpower him. He couldn’t even cry out for help.

He felt her draining the blood from his body, and he knew the best he could hope for was to die. The worst was for her to complete what she was doing and have him return as one of the undead.

“Stop!”

Gabe would have whimpered in relief, but not a single sound could get past his lips.

The suction at his throat ceased, but the woman didn’t remove her fangs. It hurt.

“You know we have need of him as a spy. Will you make him your childe?” This voice was male and was equally cultivated, although it was British.

The woman withdrew her fangs but her lips remained fastened to his throat and she stroked her tongue over the wounds she’d made in his neck. In spite of himself, Gabe felt his prick harden. Oh God, what was wrong with him?

She raised her head. “A colonist? A Yankee? No.” Scorn filled her words, and she tossed him aside. “Besides, his blood isn’t in the least what I would want to sample again.”

“Did you hurt him? I told you I needed—” The Redcoat spat out a curse, and Gabe realized the woman must have left. “Stupid Frenchwoman, wasting food. Just like her queen.”

Gabe had the impression the man objected more to her nationality than to her sex.

The man cut his wrist. “I don’t have time for the entire procedure, little Yankee. This will have to suffice. Drink.”

Gabe didn’t know what the man was talking about, but the scent of blood was intoxicating. He latched onto the wrist that was offered to him and began to work the wound to obtain what he needed.

“I know you were General Washington’s spy.” The man chuckled and stroked Gabe’s hair with his free hand. “You’ll spy for me now, won’t you, little Yankee?”

Gabe froze. “What?”

“Washington won’t want you—no normal person will. You’re too dangerous. He won’t be able to trust you around his men. But I? I’ll give you free rein—feed from all the Yankee soldiers you’d like. You’ve stopped drinking.” There was a frown in his voice. “Continue. Once this melding is complete, you’ll belong to me. You’ll do whatever I ask of you.”

“And that includes betraying my country?”

“You’re British.”

“I’m American.”

“Don’t be tiresome.” He nudged Gabe’s lips with his wrist. “Do as I say.”

“I won’t.” Gabe shoved aside the arm and spat out the blood.

“Then die, foolish Yankee.” The voice had grown so cold, Gabe couldn’t prevent a shiver from running down his spine. The Englishman tossed Gabe aside much as the Frenchwoman had, and then Gabe was alone in the forest.

He wanted to weep. He’d failed in his mission. Soon it would be sunrise; he was going to die. From what he had learned, he knew the sun’s rays would melt the flesh from his bones. He sank back onto the bed of leaves and felt his heart stutter and slow. But he was a loyal American. He would not feed on men who trusted him—trusted that he’d find the information that would get them through another battle.

He prepared to meet his Maker…

No, goddammit, he wasn’t going to lie down and die like a… a Macaroni. He could hear the faint scrabbling of some small creature—possibly a squirrel or a raccoon. He’d find it and drink its blood.

He launched himself at it and only succeeded in hitting his head against the tree.

Face it, Gabe. You were born under an unlucky star. Except when it came to having a good friend like Remember Littlebury. And thank God, Remember wasn’t here. Vampyres could be unpredictable, and did they even recall who their friends were? Could Gabe trust himself not to attack Remember? No, this was for the best. Gabe was ready to die if he must, but being unable to say goodbye to Remember… It sorrowed him greatly.

Well, if he was going to die, he’d die recalling a perfect memory—the first time he had kissed Remember Littlebury.

The day had started out beautiful. The sun was shining, the air was soft with the hint of spring, and it was just too nice a day to work the fields. He hobbled Mule so he could graze but not wander far and raced to the adjoining farm.

“Remember.”

“Gabriel? What are you doing here?”

“Let’s go fishing.” If he brought home some fish, Uncle Zeke wouldn’t whale the tar out of him for not walking behind Mule all day, plowing the rows between the potato plants.

Remember’s eyes lit up. His pa was as dirt poor as Uncle Zeke, so Remember had chores to do as well, but the Littleburys had so many children, Remember wouldn’t be punished for not doing them.

They ran to the stream that separated the two farms, cut some branches to make fishing poles and a couple of vines to fashion into lines. Thorns were their hooks, and Gabe had a bit of bacon Uncle Zeke had given him for his lunch; they’d use that for bait.

Gabe caught the first fish. “That’s ’cause the bait’s mine!” he crowed.

“Ha.” Remember pulled up the next fish.

By the time the sun hid behind the clouds, the air chilled, and they knew the skies were about to open up, they’d caught a dozen black crappy and a couple of catfish.

“We’ll never make it home in time,” Remember said. “Let’s leave the fish in the stream.” He took off at a run, and Gabe knew immediately where he was heading—to a pine whose low-hanging branches made a nice shelter.

“That was close.” Gabe stared out between the branches and watched as the rain sheeted down.

Remember sat back against the trunk and patted the dirt beside him. “Tell me again about when you lived with the Indians.”

So Gabe did. “They were good to me.”

“They saved you after your folks had been killed.”

“Aye.” Gabe had told the story so many times before, Remember could probably recite it by rote.

“Did they kill the men who had done it?”

“They never talked much about it, but I think so.”

“Good.”

Gabe leaned his head against Remember’s shoulder and stared into his friend’s blue eyes. “You always ask me that, and you always say Good when I tell you I think they may have.”

“Well, it was good. I’m just sorry that missionary took you away from them.”

“I’m not,” Gabe murmured. “I met you.” He watched, fascinated, as a tide of red ran from Remember’s chin up to his forehead.

And he found himself pressing a kiss to the corner of Remember’s mouth.

Remember went very still.

Oh, no. What had he done? Sometimes Gabe forgot white men frowned on men kissing other men. He didn’t understand it, since a couple of warriors of the tribe that had raised him lived with male spouses. No one thought anything of it other than that it brought good fortune to the tribe.

But Gabe lived in Virginia now, and he didn’t want to lose his friend. He opened his mouth to say he was sorry. Remember turned his head at the same time.

Remember’s lips were soft and warm, and Gabe couldn’t stop the moan that whispered from his mouth into his friend’s.

“I’ve waited so long for this, Gabriel.” Remember wrapped his arms around Gabe and pulled him hard against his body. It felt good, better than anything Gabe could recall.

“Well, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought it would ruin our friendship. Is it going to?”

“No. No, it isn’t.” Gabe had never kissed anyone like this before. When Remember parted his lips on a slight gasp, Gabe nipped his lower lip and then touched the small hurt with his tongue.

Remember mumbled something Gabe couldn’t understand, and he started to ask what his friend had said, but then Remember slipped his tongue into Gabe’s mouth. Beyond another moan, that effectively shut him up.

They spent the hour or so until the rain stopped kissing and exploring each other with gentle fingers.

Gabe’s lips tingled as if Remember was here kissing him. “All right, God. I’m ready to go now.” He sighed and began to sink into a stupor, barely registering the sound of footsteps rustling the leaves.

“Bloody hell, Gabriel. What’s happened to you? There’s blood all over you.” Someone ran his fingers over the front of Gabe’s shirt.

Could it be…? “Remember?”

“Aye. I knew you’d need a friend to watch your back.”

“You’d better get away from me. I’ve… I’ve been bit by a vampyre.” Gabe half-expected Remember to mock him. It had been more than a century since the witch trials, and no one believed in the existence of vampyres.

“If you’re just lying here, whoever did it didn’t complete the transference.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain later. Right now you need help.” He pulled the big knife from his belt and nicked the vein in his wrist, much as the Englishman had done. “Okay, friend. Drink.”

“I don’t want to turn you into one such as I.”

“Have no fear. That would take a bite to the throat and a complete draining. This won’t do any harm to either of us.”

“You’re a good friend, Remember.”

“I’ve always been your friend.” He lowered his voice, but for some reason, Gabe was still able to distinguish his words. “I wish I could have been so much more.”

There had been a time… Gabe shook himself. But then had come their women. Kissing Mary was… all right, but it was nothing like kissing Remember. And while he and Remember had never gone further than using hands and mouths on their pricks, Gabe was able to make love to Mary only by closing his eyes and thinking of his friend.

The scent of Remember’s blood—sweet and rich—distracted him, drew him. He swallowed heavily, but he couldn’t resist. He seized his friend’s wrist and brought it to his mouth.

He’d taken no more than a couple of mouthfuls when he heard the sound of mounted men approaching. Tearing his mouth from the blood that still oozed out was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. But there was one thing more he had to do. Gabe licked the cut Remember had made. He was surprised when the bleeding stopped, but he couldn’t give it any thought; he had to get his friend away.

“You’d better leave. It won’t be safe for you. The British are coming. With any luck, they’ll hang me before the sun comes up.”

Remember was as good a spy as Gabe. He’d gather the intelligence that General Washington had sent Gabe out for, and he’d get it back without doing something as stupid as getting bit by a vampyre.

“Do you want to die?”

“Of course not, but with this…” He touched the wounds on his neck. “I’m as good as dead. And it might buy you enough time to get away.”

“It’s almost daylight, Gabriel.” Remember stroked his hair, and Gabe could have wept at the tenderness. “Come. I found a cave nearby when I was scouting earlier. I’ll hide you there, then spend the day learning what I can.”

“If they discover you—”

“They won’t. You know I can make them think I’m a halfwit. I’ll be safe enough and will return before it grows dark, I promise you. I’ll get you back to the general’s camp tonight after moonrise.”

Remember slipped an arm around Gabe’s upper body, hoisted him up onto his feet, and somehow managed to get him into the cave before Gabe collapsed and became a dead weight.