Bite Of The Past (The Black Fan Book 1) Read online

  "I don't think I understand your world," Benedict admits.

  A sad smile crosses my lips. "I don't expect you to," I whisper.

  Not wanting to continue the conversation, I turn to him, pushing our bodies together. I shouldn't want to distract him from the important conversation, but right now, I can't face it.

  Our lips meet, and I lose myself in a kiss I've felt thousands of times before, and yet is nothing like anything I've experienced.

  We break away from one another, but the spell isn't broken. I doubt it ever can be.

  "I know what you're doing, Catherine," he whispers, his breath fanning against my lips.

  "Is it working?" I tease.

  "Definitely." He drops another kiss against my lips. "But you can't escape serious conversations forever."

  "I know."

  His eyes search mine. Whatever he finds there convinces him to let it go for now.

  And I'm grateful. I want to lose myself in him and forget everything about the world around us. Not forever. Just for the moment. When I'm with him, I can pretend the innocent dreams I had as a young girl are still possible, even if I know better now.

  * * *

  When he kisses me again, I don't let anything break through the magic between us.

  Chapter Nine

  I hum to myself as I set up the room for the group of clients who are coming to check out the Black Fan. We don't hold open days like this very often, we don't need to. For the most part, we find clients at parties, like Mills. That way, they're already vetted by Mayor Reese, and my job is that bit easier. No one becomes part of the elite in this city without knowing how to keep their mouths shut, or how to grease palms. And, while I don't accept bribes of any kind, I do like to know who does. Those are folks who can't be trusted.

  "Is that everything, Lady Catherine?" Sonia asks as she puts the finishing touches to the welcome packet we'll be giving to everyone who comes. I don't need them redesigning, but she's been taking an advertising course at one of the local colleges, and I want her to feel as if her talents are valued.

  I set down the red roses I'm trimming and walk over to her. She turns the tablet so I can scan over what she's designed. I nod to myself as I read. This may not have needed an update, but I can already tell it's better for one.

  "This is good," I tell her, knowing it's up to me to make my staff shine. The more I praise and support them, the better they feel, and the better job they do. It's a simple way to a stronger business.

  "Thank you," she murmurs, glancing away to hide the blush rising to her cheeks.

  It'll take more than that to hide it from me, though. I'm an old vampire schooled in the courtly arts, whereas Sonia is still shy of a century old. They don't teach things the way they used to. Covering up emotions is a thing left in the past. And perhaps it's better that way. I'd say there's a little less deceit in the world, but that's wrong. If anything, this city goes to show that there's more than ever.

  "The only thing you need to change is the bit about the rates. We should take it off for now. If any of them show enough promise, we'll talk to them about what the next step is," I tell her.

  "Oh. How come?" she asks.

  A small smile spreads over my face at her question. When she first arrived, I wasn't sure she'd last. But she's been coming into her own recently, and this question clinches it. She can shine here. Perhaps not as one of the girls upstairs, but as someone behind the scenes doing the organising. I'm always in search of people like that.

  "Because it's a way we can stop the wrong people from becoming clients. If we talk to someone who we don't think is a good fit, then we can mark them on our tablets and not invite them back. If there's price list information available already, then the conversation may be a bit more awkward down the line," I explain. There's a bit more to it, including that prices vary too much for an official list. That, and I don't think it looks very classy to talk about money so early in the client vetting process.

  Sonia nods. "I'll make that change, then send it off to the printers?"

  "That sounds good to me." I flash her a reassuring smile, hoping it can make her feel as if I'm not merely humouring her by letting her do this.

  Uncertainty flits over her face as she hesitates.

  "Is there something else?" I prompt, hoping she'll tell me. Most of the time, when I see that face, it means someone is about to ask for something. Usually, it's for some time off, which I always grant. I suppose if someone wants a raise they'd look the same, but I already pay way over what most of the brothels in the city do, and they all know it.

  "I'm worried about Madison," she blurts.

  I raise an eyebrow and wait for her to continue.

  Before she can, the bell from the front door sounds. I groan inwardly. Not only are we not ready for any of the clients yet, but it's too early.

  "Catherine?" Benedict calls.

  My shoulders sag with relief. It's only him.

  "I'll be a moment," I shout back, then turn my attention to Sonia again. "Worried about her how?" I prompt softly.

  She bites her bottom lip, a pearly fang showing over the top of it. That can happen when we're agitated sometimes.

  "I can't put my finger on it," she admits. "But she's been acting...different...over the past couple of days."

  "Hmm." I haven't seen much of her, so can't comment on that. But it's something that's worth paying attention to. Perhaps I'll take her to the next party the Mayor has, and the two of us can talk away from the Black Fan. "Thank you, Sonia. I'll talk to her."

  The other woman nods. "I'll go see to this." She holds up the tablet, then scurries away before I can say anything else.

  It's just as well. Benedict is waiting for me, and I don't want to leave him by himself for too long.

  "I'm in the backroom," I call out to him. "Come through."

  I head back to my roses while he gets here, knowing they can't be out of the water for too long.

  "Oh, wow," he mutters as he enters the room. "This place looks different."

  "That's the idea," I respond brightly, sticking the last flower into the vase, and shuffling them about so they look good. Or as good as I can make them. Flower arranging never really was my kind of thing.

  "What's happening here?" he asks.

  "An event tonight for some potential new clients." I turn around just in time to see a look of distaste flash across his face.

  It's gone in a moment, so I let it go. He's had less time than I have to get used to my new reality, and it would be cruel to force it on him before he's ready.

  "Do you need more clients?" He strolls through the room, touching things as he goes, as if they'll give him the answers he's looking for.

  "We always need new clients," I admit. "Being one of the richest and most powerful vampires in this city means certain death. The only question is how long it's going to take for it to come."

  "Hmm."

  My jaw clenches. He's said a lot in that sound, and none of it is good.

  "Why do you do this?" he blurts.

  "It's my job."

  "But why this job? Aren't you above being a whore?" It's mostly pain in his voice, but I don't miss the hint of disgust.

  "Because this has been what my life has been since I was eighteen," I say as calmly as possible. I've been expecting this ever since our conversation the other day. He doesn't like what I do. Which makes sense. I didn't like it to start with either. And I'm not sure saying I like it is accurate either. But I do want to provide a safer environment for my staff than the one I had when I was thrown out of court.

  "Surely it's time to stop?" he almost pleads.

  I bite the inside of my cheek, not wanting to snap at him. I have to remember he's not used to this yet. That I have to be the bigger person and stay reasonable.

  "No. It isn't."

  "You're better than this, Catherine," he counters, his anger starting to rise.

  Which makes two of us.

  "No, Benedict, I'm not,"
I say firmly. "This is my life. I'm here to protect the few people I can. Without me, they'd be at the mercy of some of the other Madams in the city, and let me assure you, they aren't nice."

  "You would say that, they're your competition," he spits.

  A bitter laugh bursts from me. "I'm not just saying it. Every word is true. And the reason I know is because up until a couple of hundred years ago, I was working for Madams like them."

  "You should have quit," he mumbles.

  Rage flares up inside me. Who does he think he is to tell me that?

  "I didn't quit because it wasn't an option," I seethe. "It wasn't only men telling me what my body was worth, but Madams too. They sold me between them. I didn't see a penny from what I was doing until a few hundred years in because they all say I owed them for clothes, food, accommodation, anything they could think of to ensure they could take advantage of me. I had to buy my freedom. And it took until seventeen-fifty-nine. Do you understand what that means?"

  I'm on a roll now, and the horrified look on Benedict's face isn't enough to convince me to stop.

  "I spent over two hundred years being sold. Not just as a whore, as you so kindly put it, but as actual property. Which I suppose isn't that different from what Father wanted anyway. By the time I was free, the only thing I knew how to do was this. And because I didn't want to do things the same way, I went about trying to set up this place. It took a long time. And then the stupid City Of Blood was founded right when I was finally getting to grips with it all." I need to be careful. The walls have ears in this city, and if anyone finds out what I just said, it'll likely mean my death. And that'll leave my staff without anyone to protect them.

  "Catherine, I..." Benedict starts, but the words catch in his throat.

  "Don't bother," I snap. "Get out of here."

  "But..."

  "Now," I cut him off, narrowing my eyes into daggers. I need time to myself to process what he's said. And to work out whether or not I can forgive him.

  It isn't his fault this is where I ended up, though I suppose he could have tried harder to find me. But that doesn't mean I should take it out on him. On the other hand, his accusations cut to the bone. Mostly because, at one point in my life, I did believe I was better than this.

  And now I don't.

  He opens his mouth to argue, but then decides better of it, and disappears out of the door. The bell rings, announcing that he's left the building.

  I resist the urge to curl up in a corner and cry. I can't let my staff, or my clients, down because things have become complicated in my personal life. The only way to prove this is something worthy of me, is to keep doing it. I want to make a difference to people's lives, and this is how I've tried to do that.

  I suppose the biggest question is if this is enough, and I'm scared to search too deep within myself for the answer.

  Chapter Ten

  I toss and turn, unable to find the right position for truly deep sleep. And no matter what I do, my argument with Benedict keeps playing around my mind. Along with his accusations.

  After what feels like an age, my mind begins to drift. The edges of my thoughts begin to get haze over, and there's nothing I can do to stop them as they start to take on the shapes of some of my memories. There's no slowing things down as I catch flashes of my life at court, and the day I met Benedict, including the giddy sensation of love I'd felt at the time.

  How I long to have that innocence back once more.

  Eventually, my sleepy mind settles on a memory I'd rather not relive, even if it does make the most sense after the conversation earlier.

  Approximately five hundred years ago...

  I stare down at the three gold coins in my hand and sigh loudly. What am I doing with my life?

  Oh, right, yes. I've been thrown out of my den with nothing more than the clothes on my back and these coins and nowhere to go.

  And the dawn coming soon. That's not good. If I'm caught in the sun, my skin will burn, and that'll be it for me. Dead. Gone. No chance at redemption. Maybe in a couple of hundred years, the other vampires will forget I fell in love with the wrong person.

  I lift my skirts, narrowly avoiding dragging them through a filthy puddle. I'm going to be a mess by the time I get to Madame Veronica's. Hopefully, she'll take me in still. I don't know what I have to do to get her to make me one of her regular girls, but at the moment, she's refusing to.

  The sky lightens above me, and I try not to let panic seep in as I hasten my pace.

  Water sloshes against my boots, breaking through the holes and reminding me I need to buy new ones. Not that I can afford them. It's all I can do to keep myself in food. Blood I'm having to get where I can scrounge it from drunk humans in the street. Every time I do it, I lose myself a little more. One day, I'll try and make a difference in the world and make up for the wrong I'm doing now. It shouldn't be this difficult to get blood from an ethical source.

  The imposing wooden door is in front of me before I'm ready for it. But also not a moment too soon. I'm cutting it closer to dawn than any sane vampire should.

  I raise my fist and rap quickly.

  It swings open to reveal a portly woman in an expensive dress. She raises her eyebrows and takes me in.

  "You are late," she says stiffly.

  "My apologies," I mutter. "One of my clients needed more time..."

  She tuts. "Get inside. There's something I want to talk to you about."

  "Thank you." I hurry past her and into the safety of the brothel. Relief doesn't hit until the moment the door closes tightly behind me, and the encroaching sun is left behind. Nothing can compare to the moment of knowing I'm safe. It's one I imagine most vampires around the world will know and recognise.

  "Sit down," Veronica barks, pointing to a chair by the fire.

  I do as she says, stealthily putting out my feet so my boots can have a chance to dry. I can't take them off until I'm alone, but at least this is something for now.

  "We've had an opening," she announces, taking the seat across from mine and watching me with distaste.

  I sit up straight, a little horrified to be caught lounging. Mother will have a fit if she ever finds out...

  No. Wait. Mother doesn't care what I do any more. I've already disgraced the family and been cast out. She probably doesn't even think my name now. Father will demand complete obedience from her in that matter, just like he always does.

  "Who has left?" I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me. It doesn't matter which girl it is, so long as I get her room and her place in the brothel.

  I almost laugh aloud at that. A few months ago, if someone had told me I'd be pleased to potentially have a place and a job at a brothel, then I'd have laughed them out of the room, and with good reason. I'm a Knoylls. Or I was, before my family disowned me for falling in love. But desperate times call for desperate measures. I need food, blood, and a roof over my head during the day, more than I need my dignity.

  "Tiffany. She had a...difference of opinion." She smiles crookedly, revealing that there may be more to it than that.

  But I don't ask. I never will. It's safer not to.

  "And I can have her room?" I shuffle forward on my seat, eager to hear every word.

  "Yes." She eyes me again. "There's a contract."

  I nod. As there should be. I'm coming to work for her, after all.

  She produces a piece of parchment. I take it, scanning it to make sure it is what I think it is, but not reading it properly. No matter what her terms, I'll be signing it. She has something I need, and I'm not going to be able to find it anywhere else.

  I startle awake, breathing heavily and with a thin sheen of sweat over my entire body. I wipe my forehead, but it doesn't do much. I reach out and tap my bedside lamp, letting it illuminate the room. I wish I could go outside and get some fresh air, but the sun will be up, and I can't risk it.

  I slip out from underneath the sheets and pad over to the washstand. It's a relic of long ago, and not so
mething I use for that purpose any more, but I do keep water in the jug in case I get thirsty during the night. I pour myself a glass and drink it down. When it doesn't do the trick, I repeat the motion.

  A splash of water across my face follows as I try to wash away the memory of signing my life away. I wish I'd read the contract properly, and not signed away my freedom. But at the same time, I can't blame my former self. Not when there wasn't a choice. If I hadn't done it, then I would be dead, and unable to make amends for my mistakes.

  It had taken me so long to earn my freedom, and several changes of ownership. But the worst part about the whole thing is that I know there are vampire courtesans in this very city, and no doubt elsewhere in the world too, who are still tied to the same kind of contract I had. I can't save them all, but I can do my bit to help those who reach me. And perhaps change the way things are run in this city. I know several of the Madams have adopted an approach similar to mine in the past couple of years. Without as much pay, sadly, but it's a start.

  Reminding myself of what I'm managing to achieve does the trick of calming me down.

  Finally feeling a little more settled, I return to the bed. There's a lot of hours left until dusk, and I need to sleep now if I want to make the most of them. I close my eyes and let myself drift off, hoping to dream of nothing more than silence.

  Chapter Eleven

  I push away the memories brought up by last night's dream. Benedict's words echo through my mind along with them, giving me a headache with all the back and forth. I know I haven't done anything wrong. All I've done is make the most of the situations which were handed to me. Perhaps some of my life choices err towards the less conventional side, but it's about four hundred and fifty years too late for me to do anything about that. The past is the past, and nothing short of magic that doesn't exist can change it. I'm sure somewhere, at some point, witches have tried to create some kind of time travel device, but I've never heard of one being used successfully.