Black Blood - 22. Chapter 22

22

Their wine had been served in tall crystal flutes. Its color was amber, and it tasted citrusy and sweet. She could also taste some strong alcohol in there. It wasn’t bad, but she sipped at it moderately. Blake stalled the conversation by telling her that he had met the lovely young lady who had handcrafted the very glasses they were drinking in, and that she was quite talented. Apparently she had her own little stand in the city center, and merchants from all across the continent bought several items from her when they stopped to Payan.

“Not to be rude Blake,” said Skylar sharply, “but I don’t care about the lady that makes crystal glasses.”

He simply smiled, lowering his dark gaze and flicking a sleek brown lock out of his face. “All right.”

“What do you mean you want to switch sides?”

“I miss you.” He had that amused glint in his eyes that made it so she could never be sure whether he was serious.

“You’d let all the vampires die?”

“Yes,” he said steadily.

“You’d let Mayrin and Airi capture Charisma so she can be brought back to their world and locked up?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” she leaned closer on the table.

Blake took a sip of wine, before admiring the crystal of the glass.

“It sounds like you don’t believe me.”

“Maybe because I don’t. You’re a liar, Blake. I can tell even though my magic doesn’t work on you. It doesn’t matter because I don’t even need it.”

“How can you tell then?” he smiled. “Am I a bad liar?”

Her lips twitched. She hated him. “Let’s call it feminine intuition, aka knowing when the person sitting in front of you is a complete jerk.”

The wind was getting stronger outside. It blew in through the open windows, making the flames of the candles set on each table flicker.

“Can’t we still call a truce?” Blake sounded almost vulnerable for a moment, though it didn’t last. “Look, the play is over. They’re going to play music now.”

Intrigued despite herself, Skylar looked over at the stage. The artists were bowing and some people in the establishment were applauding and cheering—not very many though. The dark-skinned girl in the beige and blue dress came back to refill their wine glasses, and she did the same for several other patrons. The conversations started again while the people on stage busied themselves gathering some instruments. There were flutes, violins, guitars, and even a harp.

“I’ve never asked you if you played any instrument.”

Skylar brought her attention back to Blake. He was drinking wine again, and as he put down the glass he smoothed the black sleeves of his slim tunic.

“Oh, no, I don’t. I’m more into fine arts and writing. You?”

“I’ve never had the patience to learn. I don’t have a natural talent for it, so I just gave up. I love to listen though. And dance. I like the intensity of it.”

“You never even told me what it’s like, where you’re from.” Her fingers rested on the bottom of her glass.

“Well like I said I enjoyed the dances. We live in the North, and we hold these outdoors events, even in the winter. Some play music, some dance. We wear very little, to feel like we’re one with nature. We have no choice but to keep moving to stay warm. The music is always very fast-paced. My favorite instrument is the violin. We bought them from humans – or stole them, I’m not entirely sure.”

“But what did you do, Blake? I mean, all I know is that you’ve dated Mayrin. And then what, a hundred years later, you met Charisma and all this crap happened. Oh, and now I know you liked to dance.”

His smile was elusive. He tugged at his black collar a bit, unlacing the strings as if he felt too warm.

“Well, what do you want to know? I did many things; sailor, warrior, blacksmith, teacher.”

Skylar shook her head. “What? Teacher?” She couldn’t really picture it.

“I only taught fighting—hand to hand combat, sparring, and magic.”

“Ah, yes,” she said between two sips of wine, “your magic is rather… intense.” She remembered, back in that underground club, seeing him attack Viko without even touching him, flinging him against a wall so hard that he had been knocked out.

“Look who’s talking.”

She shrugged one shoulder modestly.

“So what did you like best?”

He spoke in a wistful tone. “All of it. I never did anything I didn’t like. I was always a warrior, but when we weren’t at war I needed other jobs. I liked working on the ships. I liked the freedom, and the danger of crossing the ocean. Not everyone made it back.”

Skylar remembered the map Mayrin had drawn for her. “So you went to Europe, I mean, the equivalent of Europe in my world?”

He nodded. “To trade with them. One of my travels’ objectives was to select and bring back some quality horses.”

“What did you do for fun? I mean, other than dancing.”

He smirked. “I’ll let you take a wild guess.”

“Oh, wow. That much, huh? So then after Mayrin broke your heart you decided to just move on to having sex with all the Malkye girls?”

He took a swig of wine. “Pretty much.”

She remembered something Charisma had said the first time she had met her, back at her apartment. “Why were you so miserable then, when Charisma found you? Your life seemed like fun.”

A shadow crossed his eyes. He glanced at the stage, but the artists were taking a little break right now. Some people had left the restaurant to go home; it was getting late. More or less fifty people remained, sitting around tables in groups and talking while drinking either beer or wine. Skylar’s gaze lingered on the walls where some floor to ceiling paintings depicted landscapes with animals or dragons being hunted down. It reminded her of those hunters with the crossbows. She hoped Micah’s injury would be fine.

Blake cleared his throat slightly. His voice sounded a bit strained. “The last time I travelled overseas, I chose a horse for myself. It was a magnificent black stallion, no less. The biggest one I had ever seen. I spent all the money I was assigned to pay for it. But I didn’t care. I really liked that horse. And I think he liked me, because he didn’t let anyone but me tame him. How could I not insist on buying him? Anyway, when I got back home, some people weren’t too happy about what I’d done. Most of them got over it, though.”

Skylar wondered if this story was going anywhere. “Well, what about the ones who didn’t get over it?”

“A bunch of jealous guys,” Blake said darkly. “One of them used to be my good friend, too. We would fight side by side whenever we were at war. He’s the one that killed my horse. I didn’t know. One night, we were eating at the tavern. They had made me drink and smoke a lot, so I wasn’t really paying attention to what I was eating.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah. He told me after. I had eaten my own horse. He thought it was hilarious. The other guys were laughing, too.”

Skylar felt sick. She ran her fingers through her hair nervously. “What did you do?”

“I killed them. All of them. I didn’t even bother using magic. I just grabbed my sword and I fought like I had never fought before in my long life. I drove the blade through their hearts. I beheaded the one who used to be my best friend. You have no idea how messed up I was. First my son, then this. It was just too much. Of course,” he sighed shakily, averting his gaze, “everyone hated me after that. So they exiled me. They said they didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. The only one that had ever truly cared about me was Mylani’s mother, and she had killed herself. So no one had any objections to my exile. That is why,” Blake finished, “I was rather, I think the word you used was miserable, when I met Charisma.”

She felt so little, so useless, so pained. What could she possibly say after hearing that story? It was pretty heavy stuff. She felt a bit light-headed from that wine, too, so her emotions were amplified.

But then she forced herself to remember that Blake had been an accomplice to the murder of very many people by letting Charisma create so many vampires. All those vampires needed to drink human blood every night to survive. Just how many deaths would ensue? And Blake didn’t even care.

“Was this story meant to sway me?” It had worked, but she wouldn’t admit it. “Was it meant to make me feel sorry for you?”

“No,” he said flatly, “you’re the one who asked all those questions. I was just answering them.”

“Right.” Her cheeks flushed slightly. It was that alcohol’s fault.

Thankfully, Blake didn’t notice; he was glancing at the stage again. The artists were now ready to play some music. They sat on wooden stools, grabbing their respective instruments. The ones playing guitar were tuning them.

Skylar remembered that Viko had asked her to distract Blake. Why did she feel like it was the other way around?

Blake was looking at her again. With those dark eyes. “We should dance," he said.