A Game of Chess, Ch. 16 (PG-13)
Posted: Fri Nov 04, 2011 2:47 am
Disclaimer: Gosh, I know the updates have been slow coming. But come they do…
No infringement is intended. Honest.
A Game of Chess
Chapter 16
The lantern flickered, and Josef glared at it in exasperation. He’d do better opening the curtains to the night air, and working by moonlight, he thought until he glanced at the clock on the mantel. After four a.m.; the moon would be down by now, or at least low enough in the sky to be obscured by the buildings of the city. He had nothing against cities, but there was something to be said for limitless expanses of wilderness. He let his mind remember the forests of his youth for a moment, then grimaced. It was frustration with endless paperwork that caused him to wax nostalgic about a simpler time, no doubt.
Well, the world moved on, and so must he. Which meant going over these bills of lading and contracts again, until he spotted the flaw.
Still, he’d been reading for hours. Surely he deserved a few minutes break. He rose and poured himself a drink from the sideboard, and sank into his leather easy chair. After a long sip of his whiskey, he spoke.
“You can come in now.”
By his reckoning, the human lurking in the hallway outside his study had been waiting for his summons for over an hour. He’d been avoiding this particular interview, but he supposed it was time to get it over with.
Tessa had stood, barely daring to breathe, afraid to come in without invitation, yet determined in her course of action. And now that he had called, she hesitated for a long moment with her hand poised near the door handle, before finally grasping it.
Josef watched as the door opened and Tessa slipped quietly inside the room, her soft slippers noiseless on the carpet. She had come to him in her nightdress, a white shawl thrown around her shoulders over the thin linen that covered her from neck to wrist to floor. Her dark hair floated free, tumbling to her waist, and Josef thought it a pity that the styles of the day decreed she must normally bind and braid it up.
She crossed the room, not looking up at the shadowed figure of the vampire, backlit from the lamp on the desk behind him.
“You’re up late, Tessa,” he said, his tone easy. “What brings you to me at this hour?”
She had rehearsed what she planned to say, gone over it in her head more times than she could count. Now, the words trembled on her lips, but refused to spill out. She sank silently to the floor, and leaned her head against Josef’s knee, and began to sob.
He looked down at her, perplexed. They’d never talked about what had happened between them, the night he’d let down his guard, and slipped inside hers, as well. His first instinct in dealing with a distraught female was to pull her close, comfort her with touch, but seeing that was what had gotten them to this pass, he thought such a course of action—unwise. Inadvisable.
He laid a hand on her head, though, feeling the silken texture of her hair against his fingers, remembering too late that it was with his hand in her hair that their last folly had begun.
Unbidden, the image of his other resident swallow popped into his head. He would never be in this situation with Ned, simply because the boy understood that he was food. His service was uncomplicated by emotion, by—by carnal desires.
“Tessa,” Josef said, hoping repetition of her name would substitute in some way for the physical intimacy he had no wish to re-initiate. “I think Madame Thorne made a mistake, sending you to me.”
She responded by throwing her arms around his legs. “Please,” she said in a low voice, roughened by tears, “please forgive me.”
At that, he closed his eyes in frustration, and stroked her head. “You misunderstand.”
“Please don’t—send me away.” Her breath burned through the thin fabric of his trousers, reminding him uncomfortably of the warmth he’d taken such unscrupulous advantage of a few short summer nights ago. He was not going to repeat that indiscretion. Not tonight.
“I have no intention—” he stopped. What were his intentions, here? Using her as a swallow, yes. Her blood was very fine, and he had found he liked having her and the boy, both, around the house. It reminded him pleasantly of households he’d maintained in the past. He pulled in a deep breath and let it out, pondering. “Tessa,” he said abruptly, “I’m not—” he searched his memory for the name she had called, in her release, “—Joshua.”
“I know that,” she whispered, and he could hear the misery in her voice. “Joshua left me. You won’t—leave me, will you?”
“I might,” he replied. “But not in the way he did. I don’t leave my swallows unprotected.”
Tessa began to pleat the linen of her gown nervously with one hand, staring down at it. “Joshua left me with nowhere to go,” she said, half to herself. Then she looked up into Josef’s face. “He said he loved me, you say you don’t. Why are you kind?”
Josef didn’t answer at once. He disliked these sorts of conversations, and sometimes wondered how they’d gotten to be so inevitable. “You know, it may be that—Joshua—didn’t mean to leave you. Maybe he was—unable to return.”
“You mean--?” Her eyes filled with tears again.
“It happens. And Tessa?”
“Yes?”
“I’m not kind, I’m expedient.” Which might, he thought, be a more reliable emotion to depend upon.
She looked down again, the shawl slipping unheeded from her shoulders to pool around her hips. Josef listened as her heartbeat gradually steadied, slowing to a resting state. The turmoil in her veins tired him; this distress was not the sort of excitement that appealed to his vampire senses, and he was relieved that their conversation had been no more painful than necessary.
He leaned forward a little, skimming a finger over her cheek, the fine texture of her skin a delight to his cool touch. “Tessa?” he asked softly. “A drink to—seal our deal?”
She nodded, and rose to come into his embrace. If her blood still bore traces of the bitterness of sorrow and tears, it was acceptable to him.
A few minutes later, she sighed, nestled closer as he pressed a last kiss against the small wounds in her throat, and slipped from his lap. Giving him a gentle, melancholy smile, she left the room as quietly as she’d entered.
Josef watched her go, then twisted his mouth wryly. Dawn was coming. Time to get back to work.
No infringement is intended. Honest.
A Game of Chess
Chapter 16
The lantern flickered, and Josef glared at it in exasperation. He’d do better opening the curtains to the night air, and working by moonlight, he thought until he glanced at the clock on the mantel. After four a.m.; the moon would be down by now, or at least low enough in the sky to be obscured by the buildings of the city. He had nothing against cities, but there was something to be said for limitless expanses of wilderness. He let his mind remember the forests of his youth for a moment, then grimaced. It was frustration with endless paperwork that caused him to wax nostalgic about a simpler time, no doubt.
Well, the world moved on, and so must he. Which meant going over these bills of lading and contracts again, until he spotted the flaw.
Still, he’d been reading for hours. Surely he deserved a few minutes break. He rose and poured himself a drink from the sideboard, and sank into his leather easy chair. After a long sip of his whiskey, he spoke.
“You can come in now.”
By his reckoning, the human lurking in the hallway outside his study had been waiting for his summons for over an hour. He’d been avoiding this particular interview, but he supposed it was time to get it over with.
Tessa had stood, barely daring to breathe, afraid to come in without invitation, yet determined in her course of action. And now that he had called, she hesitated for a long moment with her hand poised near the door handle, before finally grasping it.
Josef watched as the door opened and Tessa slipped quietly inside the room, her soft slippers noiseless on the carpet. She had come to him in her nightdress, a white shawl thrown around her shoulders over the thin linen that covered her from neck to wrist to floor. Her dark hair floated free, tumbling to her waist, and Josef thought it a pity that the styles of the day decreed she must normally bind and braid it up.
She crossed the room, not looking up at the shadowed figure of the vampire, backlit from the lamp on the desk behind him.
“You’re up late, Tessa,” he said, his tone easy. “What brings you to me at this hour?”
She had rehearsed what she planned to say, gone over it in her head more times than she could count. Now, the words trembled on her lips, but refused to spill out. She sank silently to the floor, and leaned her head against Josef’s knee, and began to sob.
He looked down at her, perplexed. They’d never talked about what had happened between them, the night he’d let down his guard, and slipped inside hers, as well. His first instinct in dealing with a distraught female was to pull her close, comfort her with touch, but seeing that was what had gotten them to this pass, he thought such a course of action—unwise. Inadvisable.
He laid a hand on her head, though, feeling the silken texture of her hair against his fingers, remembering too late that it was with his hand in her hair that their last folly had begun.
Unbidden, the image of his other resident swallow popped into his head. He would never be in this situation with Ned, simply because the boy understood that he was food. His service was uncomplicated by emotion, by—by carnal desires.
“Tessa,” Josef said, hoping repetition of her name would substitute in some way for the physical intimacy he had no wish to re-initiate. “I think Madame Thorne made a mistake, sending you to me.”
She responded by throwing her arms around his legs. “Please,” she said in a low voice, roughened by tears, “please forgive me.”
At that, he closed his eyes in frustration, and stroked her head. “You misunderstand.”
“Please don’t—send me away.” Her breath burned through the thin fabric of his trousers, reminding him uncomfortably of the warmth he’d taken such unscrupulous advantage of a few short summer nights ago. He was not going to repeat that indiscretion. Not tonight.
“I have no intention—” he stopped. What were his intentions, here? Using her as a swallow, yes. Her blood was very fine, and he had found he liked having her and the boy, both, around the house. It reminded him pleasantly of households he’d maintained in the past. He pulled in a deep breath and let it out, pondering. “Tessa,” he said abruptly, “I’m not—” he searched his memory for the name she had called, in her release, “—Joshua.”
“I know that,” she whispered, and he could hear the misery in her voice. “Joshua left me. You won’t—leave me, will you?”
“I might,” he replied. “But not in the way he did. I don’t leave my swallows unprotected.”
Tessa began to pleat the linen of her gown nervously with one hand, staring down at it. “Joshua left me with nowhere to go,” she said, half to herself. Then she looked up into Josef’s face. “He said he loved me, you say you don’t. Why are you kind?”
Josef didn’t answer at once. He disliked these sorts of conversations, and sometimes wondered how they’d gotten to be so inevitable. “You know, it may be that—Joshua—didn’t mean to leave you. Maybe he was—unable to return.”
“You mean--?” Her eyes filled with tears again.
“It happens. And Tessa?”
“Yes?”
“I’m not kind, I’m expedient.” Which might, he thought, be a more reliable emotion to depend upon.
She looked down again, the shawl slipping unheeded from her shoulders to pool around her hips. Josef listened as her heartbeat gradually steadied, slowing to a resting state. The turmoil in her veins tired him; this distress was not the sort of excitement that appealed to his vampire senses, and he was relieved that their conversation had been no more painful than necessary.
He leaned forward a little, skimming a finger over her cheek, the fine texture of her skin a delight to his cool touch. “Tessa?” he asked softly. “A drink to—seal our deal?”
She nodded, and rose to come into his embrace. If her blood still bore traces of the bitterness of sorrow and tears, it was acceptable to him.
A few minutes later, she sighed, nestled closer as he pressed a last kiss against the small wounds in her throat, and slipped from his lap. Giving him a gentle, melancholy smile, she left the room as quietly as she’d entered.
Josef watched her go, then twisted his mouth wryly. Dawn was coming. Time to get back to work.