Blood Rites Read Free Page A

its site—one morning the city would wake and it would be in place without any fanfare when the design was announced or the bid accepted, without any need for the crowd and the wine and the music.
    —But this is your night, beloved,—Elizabeth purred in his mind. —And for the rest of it you dance with me.—

    Paul slept until the sun rose painting the room in sea mist and rainbows through the patterned emerald skylight. Then, in spite of his lack of sleep, he woke at his usual time and looked down at Elizabeth. Though her eyes were closed and her mind locked in the deep sleep of dawn, she smiled like a child full of mischief.
    Yes, yes , Paul thought as he lay awake and waited for the newsboy’s light knock on the outside door. The Austras knew the ultimate secret . . . not merely eternity but eternal youth !

    When he heard the signal that his papers had come, he went into the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffiie. Only after he had a cup poured and had positioned his chair so the sunshine from the eastern windows would fall across his stiff knees, did he open the newspapers and read the reports of last night’s reception, a columnist’s review of The Arboretum that accompanied it. He’d expected the praise for both, that had been clear last night, but he was more concerned with the damage. It was always there, but this time it didn’t seem too glaring. Two brief, and glowing, mentions were made of Laurence Austra’s playing, none of his choice of music.
    And none of Elizabeth.
    He expected the last for no one ever mentioned her, but he wondered how they could avoid doing so since she dominated every room she entered. He sometimes thought she had the gift of making herself invisible, like the legendary vampires who could not be seen in a mirror. Yet people had not stared curiously when he had danced at the reception, so the crowd must have noticed a woman—nothing more—in his arms.
    She had the power to deal with them, just as she had the power to give him confidence and strength. And health, he mentally added, as he reached into the covered porcelain dish on the table, pulling out an iron pill and two of the long grey vitamin capsules Elizabeth mixed for him. Their relationship made demands on his body, demands that Elizabeth had centuries to learn how to meet. Indeed, though he should have been anemic and prone to illness, he hadn’t seen a doctor in years. Sometimes he wondered if he even needed one.
    Paul laid the papers aside, the reviews that mentioned Laurence’s playing on top of the stack so Laurence could read them when he woke. He had just pushed himself to his feet, intending to rejoin Elizabeth in bed, when he heard Laurence cry out from the guest room, his own bedroom door open. In a moment Elizabeth stood in the kitchen doorway, her expression one of sharp and sudden misery. “What’s wrong, Elizabeth?” he asked.
    She didn’t answer, only pressed against him, trembling.
    “Is it Stephen?” Paul asked, with more concern.
    Laurence joined them as Paul had been speaking, his expression mirroring his cousin’s as he answered for her, “My father is dead.”
    Charles Austra dead! Unlike Elizabeth and Laurence who thought of themselves and their family as immortal, Paul had a human perspective. Though he had only known Charles Austra for a few weeks, he had somehow always expected to hear this news. And though it had been over ten years since he and Laurence had last seen Charles Austra, he did not question how the two, with their psychic family bond, could know he was gone.
    “And something else has happened. Something so wonderful I feel it even through my grief.” Elizabeth pushed back, gripping Paul’s arms. “Your work here can be postponed for a little while, oui ? Please, beloved, we must go home. Come with us.”
    He hugged her again, sharing her sadness, certain she was not the only one who would need him now. “Of course, Elizabeth,” he said.

PART TWO
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