While I arranged myself, he heated up some blood and fixed an ice pack and a glass of iced tea for me. He applied the ice pack himself while I lay on the couch. I thought, I was right to break the bond. And it was a relief not to know how Eric was feeling, though simultaneously I was afraid there was something wrong about my relief.
For a few minutes, we talked about little things. He brushed my hair, which was in a terrible tangle, and I brushed his. (Monkeys searched each other for salt crystals, I believed. We groomed each other.) When I’d made his hair all smooth and shiny he draped my legs over his lap. His hand ran up and down them, from the hem of my shorts to my toes, over and over.
“Has Victor said anything to you?” I wasn’t looking forward to reopening the conversation about what I’d done, though we’d opened our meeting with a bang.
“Not about the bond, so he doesn’t know yet. He would have been on the phone instantly.” Eric leaned his head against the back of the couch, his blue eyes at half mast. Postcoital relaxation.
That was a relief. “How’s Miriam? Did she recover?”
“She recovered from the drugs Victor gave her, but she’s sicker in body. Pam is as close to despair as I’ve ever seen her.”
“Did their relationship come on kind of slowly? Because I didn’t have a clue until Immanuel told me about it.”
“Pam doesn’t often care for anyone as much she cares about Miriam,” he said. His head turned slowly, and his eyes met mine. “I only found out when she asked for some time off from the club to visit Miriam in the hospital. And she gave the girl blood, too, which is the only reason Miriam’s lasted this long.”
“Vampire blood can’t cure her?”
“Our blood is good for healing open wounds,” Eric said. “For illnesses, it can offer relief, but seldom a cure.”
“I wonder why?”
Eric shrugged. “I’m sure one of your scientists would have a theory, but I don’t. And since some people go crazy when they take our blood, the risk is considerable. I was happier when the properties of our blood were secret, but I suppose that couldn’t be kept quiet for long. Victor certainly isn’t concerned about Miriam’s survival or the fact that Pam has never asked to create a child before. After all these years of service, Pam deserves to be granted the right.”
“Victor’s not letting Pam have Miriam out of sheer cussedness?”
Eric nodded. “He has a bullshit excuse about there being enough vampires in my sheriffdom, when actually my numbers are low. The truth is that Victor will block us any way he can for as long as he can, in the hope that I’ll do something injudicious enough to warrant being removed as sheriff, or killed.”
“Surely Felipe wouldn’t let that happen.”
Eric hoisted me onto his lap and held me to his cool chest. His shirt was still open. “Felipe would judge in Pam’s favor if he were on the spot, but I’m sure he wants to stay out of the situation if he can. It’s what I’d do. He’s setting up Red Rita in Arkansas and she’s never ruled, he knows Victor is sulking about being appointed regent rather than king in Louisiana, and he is busy himself in Las Vegas, which he’s running on a skeleton crew since he’s sent people out to both his new states. Consolidating this big an empire hasn’t been done in hundreds of years — and the last time it was done, the population was only a fraction of what it is today.”
“So Felipe’s still in complete control of Nevada?”
“Yes. For now.”
“That sounds kind of ominous.”
“When leaders are spread thin, the sharks gather round to see if they can take a bite.”
Unpleasant mental image.
“What sharks? Anyone we know?”
Eric looked away. “Two other monarchs in Zeus. The Queen of Oklahoma, for one. And the King of Arizona.” The vampires had split America into four territories, all named after ancient religions. Pretentious, huh? I lived in Amun Territory in the kingdom of Louisiana.
“I wish you were just an average vampire,” I said, completely out of the blue. “I wish you weren’t a sheriff, or anything.”
“You mean you wish I were like Bill.”
Ouch. “No, because he’s not average, either,” I snapped. “He’s got the whole database thing going, and he’s taught himself all about computers. He’s sort of reinvented himself. I guess I mean I wish you were more like . . . Maxwell.”
Maxwell was a businessman. He wore suits. He turned up for his duty at the club without enthusiasm, and he flashed his fangs without the drama the tourists had come to see. He was boring, and he had a stick up his ass, though from time to time I’d had a hint that his personal life was exotic. However, not interested in learning more about that.