A Quick Bite (Argeneau #1)

A Quick Bite (Argeneau #1) Page 13

"Is this Marguerite?"

Lissianna paused and glanced back up the hall to see that Greg had stopped by a portrait on the wall. Moving back, she peered at her mother in medieval dress. "Yes. My father had it commissioned as a wedding gift."

"She looks young." Greg ran a finger lightly over the ancient frame.

"Mother was fifteen when they married."

"Fifteen?" He shook his head. "Just a child."

"They married quite young back then," she pointed out. "Are there any paintings of you when you were young?" Lissianna nodded. "In the portrait room." His eyes lit up with interest. "There's a portrait room?" It didn't take the ability to read his mind to know that he'd like to see it, just as it hadn't taken the ability to read his mind for Lissianna to know that Greg's conversation with her mother had left him a little flabbergasted. When she'd entered the room, the man had been shaking his head and muttering to himself about something being a nightmare. Lissianna had no idea what had caused such a reaction, but had been so pleased her mother had decided to leave him free to roam the house, she'd merely asked if everything was all right. When he'd said yes, she'd suggested they join the others in the entertainment room for a movie.

They'd rented the movie from a rental shop next to the grocery store. It had been Thomas's idea, a way to keep the twins entertained. While they were unpacking groceries downstairs, he'd suggested they watch it once Marguerite had finished with Greg. Lissianna had thought it a good idea at the time; now, however, she decided they could give the movie a miss and detour to the portrait room instead. She was sure, though, that he'd regret asking it when he realized how many portraits there were. It was the equivalent of a family photo album, and since it started with the portrait of her mother before their marriage in 1280, and continued on until cameras came into existence in the 1800s, the number of portraits was staggering.

"Come on." Lissianna headed for the stairs. "I'll give you a quick tour before we join the others.'"

The portrait room had originally been the ballroom. When balls had gone out of fashion, they'd moved the portraits there rather than leave them in storage. There were a lot of them, and Greg seemed determined to examine every single one. He was openly fascinated by the bits of history revealed in the clothing arid surroundings.

"You have a handsome family," he commented, as they moved amongst the pictures of her brothers. Her mother had arranged the portraits in a time line, starting with one of herself and Jean Claude, painted the year they were married. It was followed by several more paintings of them; some of the couple together, some of each alone, then her brother Luc was born and joined the paintings, first as a baby, then as a boy, then as a man alone. His appearance was followed by Bastien's, then Etienne's, then herself.

"What was life like back then?" Greg asked, staring at the portrait of Lissianna that her father had commissioned for her twentieth birthday. She was seated under a tree wearing a long pale blue gown of the era.

"What was it like?" Lissianna repeated thoughtfully as memories assailed her. After a moment, she shook her head and said, "It was a time of gentility, gala balls, rides in the park--purely to be seen mind you," she added wryly, then said, "But there were no televisions, computers, or microwaves and women were as good as slaves."

"How do you mean?" Greg asked with a frown.

Lissianna shrugged. "We were allowed to possess no property or wealth and lived under the rule of our fathers until married. Females from the upper class were expected to marry well and have babies, then everything we inherited or possessed--including our very bodies and any children we produced--would became a possession of our husbands to do with as they wished."

"Hmm," Greg looked unimpressed with this news.

Lissianna smiled at his expression, then went on, "Females of every other class began working between the ages of eight and twelve. They, too, then married and everything they possessed--including their bodies and any children they produced--became their husbands', too. It's better today."

She noted his disappointment and smiled wryly. "You have the romantic view they show in movies and books. I'm afraid my view is colored by my memories and the fact that I'm a woman. It's easier to be a woman now. We needn't marry if we don't wish, and can't be forced to have children. We can get an education, have a career, own property, and possess wealth. When I was born, all we were expected or even allowed to do was be dutiful daughters, marry, and become dutiful wives and mothers."

"You didn't marry and have children," he pointed out, then tilted his head, frowned, and asked, "Did you?"

"No."

"Why? You're over two hundred."

Lissianna smiled faintly. "You make it sound like I'm an old maid. Everything is relative. When there is every likelihood you'll live a couple thousand years or longer, there's no need to rush into marriage."

"Yes, but-- Two hundred years? In that time you've never fallen in love?"

Lissianna shrugged. "It's difficult to fall in love when everyone you meet is nothing more than a pretty puppet."

Greg blinked. "I don't understand. Why a pretty puppet?"

Lissianna hesitated, then asked, "Could you love my mother?"

His expression was answer enough, but Greg said, "I'm not a control freak, but I like to at least be in control of myself in most situations. She makes me feel..."

"Inferior, like a child, nothing more than a walking, talking puppet," she suggested and Greg nodded with sudden understanding.

"I see. The relationship couldn't be balanced. Like with Meredith and me, you would always be in control."

Lissianna nodded. "And--like you--I need an equal."

They shared a smile, then Greg peered back along the pictures to the ones that included Jean Claude Argeneau. "Thomas said something about your father and control. Did it have something to do with--"

"My mother was a maid in a castle, just fifteen years old," Lissianna interrupted, peering up at a painting of her parents. ''Father could read her. He rode in on his steed; strong, handsome, and shiny as a new penny, and she was infatuated. He was like a god in her eyes and she was easily swept off her feet. Mother adored him and thought him perfect. All of which was no doubt flattering," Lissianna pointed out dryly. "He turned her and married her relatively quickly, and things were good for a short while."

"But--?"

"But, once the infatuation fell away, she saw that he wasn't perfect, and her thoughts weren't as flattering anymore." Lissianna glanced at him. "He, of course, could read the small critical thoughts as easily as he'd read the awe before it and became hurt and frustrated. He started drinking and philandering--no doubt in an attempt to bolster his flagging self-esteem."

"Could he control her like your mother does me?" Greg asked.

Lissianna nodded. "It was easier before he turned her, but afterward he could still control her. Only then she was aware when he did it. She also could then read his thoughts. At least she could when he wasn't guarding them. Father couldn't or didn't guard them when inebriated."

"She knew about his drinking and womanizing," Greg realized with horror. "And she'd know and resent it every time he controlled her."

Lissianna nodded. "Worse yet. Mother learned he'd married her because she looked like his dead wife from Atlantis, but that he was disappointed because, of course, she wasn't his dead wife and so wasn't the same. He'd made a mistake he bitterly regretted and, I think, punished her for it by deliberately not guarding his thoughts."

"It sounds like a nightmare," he said grimly. "Why didn't your mother leave?"

"It was a difficult situation. He had sired her."

?'Sired?"

"They say the turning is as painful as birth, and someone who is turned is born into a new existence, so the one who did the turning is his or her sire," she explained.

"Oh, I see." Greg considered that for a moment, then asked, "Painful, huh?"

Lissianna nodded solemnly. "I have never witnessed one myself, but it is said to be very painful."

He pursed his lips, then said, "So, she stayed because he sired her?"

Lissianna grimaced. "Well, partly. I guess you could say she felt beholden to him for it. He'd given her new life, as well as her children and all the comforts and wealth she enjoyed. Without him, Mother would have remained a maid in the castle where she was born, worked to death at a young age... which was something he reminded her of every time she seemed to be reaching the end of her patience with him."

"Manipulative," Greg said tightly. "What was the other part of why she stayed?"

Lissianna shrugged. "The same reason most women stayed in unhappy marriages back then... she had nothing. He was all-powerful, everything was his so long as he lived, and he could have punished her severely--and with the blessing of the law and society--had she left him."

They began to walk again, and she said, "Fortunately, my father bored easily and would leave for decades at a time as he romanced some woman or other. Unfortunately, he always returned. We were happiest when he was away. I suspect it was like that for Mother through most of their marriage."

"And having witnessed this for two hundred years, I

suppose you would be reluctant to subject yourself to marriage and the possibility of suffering the same way."

Lissianna stared blindly up at the next painting, his words running through her mind. She'd never considered how her parents' marriage had affected her, but in truth, she was terrified of making a mistake and being miserable for nearly seven hundred years like her mother.

"I understand her not divorcing in medieval or Victorian times, it simply wasn't done, but nowadays it's common," Greg said, distracting her. "Do you think if he'd survived, either he or Marguerite would have--"

"No," she interrupted with certainty.

"Why?"

"Divorce is not something we take lightly."

"Why?" he repeated.

Lissianna hesitated, then said, "We're allowed to sire only one individual in our lives. For most, it is their mate. That being the case, it's better to take your time and be sure it's the right one."

"You're allowed to turn only one person, ever?" Greg asked with amazement. "But what if you've chosen the wrong one?"

She shrugged. "Most stay together anyway. Those few who part are either alone, or find mates among our kind and need not turn anyone. Others part and are either alone, or spend their lives drifting from one mortal lover to the next, never able to remain more than ten years or so before the fact that, they do not age begins to show."

"What about if you sire your life mate and he dies? Can you sire another one?"

"Good God, no." Lissianna laughed at the suggestion. "Mates would suddenly be suffering accidental beheadings all over the place if that were allowed."

"I suppose." Greg nodded. "But why can you only "sire' one person anyway?"

"Population control," she answered promptly, then pointed out, "It wouldn't be good if the feeders outpopulated the hosts. It's also for that reason we're allowed to have only one child every hundred years."

Greg blew a silent whistle through his teeth. "That would make a heck of an age difference between you and each of your siblings." He paused and glanced back over the pictures they'd already looked at, then said, "So Etienne is three hundred and something."

"Etienne is three hundred and eleven, Bastien four hundred and nine, I think," she added, then said, "My oldest brother is six hundred and ten or there about."

Greg's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Six hundred and ten? Why the large gap?"

Lissianna shrugged. "Just because you can't have more than one every hundred years, doesn't mean you have to have one every hundred years," she pointed out.

"True, I suppose," Greg agreed.

"Here you are!" They both glanced at the door as the twins rushed in.

"You've missed the first movie, and it was great!" Juli gushed.

"So we thought we'd better come see if you want to see the next one before we start it," Vicki said.

"We're going to make popcorn," Juli added, trying to tempt them.

Relieved to be able to drop the unpleasant subject of her father, Lissianna smiled, and said, "That sounds good. We were pretty much done here anyway. Weren't we?" She glanced questioningly at Greg.

He smiled with amusement, but nodded, and she let out a relieved breath.

"Popcorn sounds good," he said. "What's the movie? Does it have a vampire?"

"Oh please, like we'd watch vampire movies," Vicki snorted.

"They always get it wrong," Juli complained. "And they're so stupid. I mean, look at Stoker's Dracula, he wrote that Drac had a harem of female vamps in his castle and was still chasing after Lucy and Mina. Hello! You can turn only one."

"And that business of morphing into a bat, rats, or a wolf?" Vicki asked with disgust. "Puh-lease. But what do you expect when he got his info from a drunk vamp?"

"And then there's Renfield," Juli added with a shudder. "The only way you can end up with a whacked-out bug eater like Renfield is if the council has at them."

"The council?" Greg asked with interest. "And what do you mean Stoker got his information from a drunk vampire? Did he really talk to one of you like I'm doing?"

"No, not like you're doing. We're all sober," Juli pointed out.

"There you are: We were about to start the second movie without you."

Greg glanced around with surprise at Thomas's words and saw that they'd reached the entertainment room. It was basically a large living room with a huge screen on one wall and all the furniture arranged to face it.

"Oh, hey!" Juli cried. "You made the popcorn." Conversation forgotten, she rushed forward to take the large bowl of buttered popcorn Elspeth was holding out.

"Jeanne Louise and I made it," Elspeth informed them, giving one of the two remaining bowls to Vicki and the other to Greg. "We thought it would save time. Now, sit down so we can start the movie."

Greg thanked Elspeth for the popcorn, then followed

Lissianna to one of the two couches in front of the screen. They settled on it side by side as someone switched the overhead light out and the screen lit up with the image of a movie company logo.

It was an action flick, but not a good one, and Lissianna wasn't terribly surprised when Greg leaned toward her to speak, but she was surprised by the choice of topic when he asked in a whisper, "So, about this only siring one mate and having one child per hundred years bit... Who enforces that?"

Lissianna hesitated. She wasn't used to talking of these things. Those who were of their people already knew them so had no reason to discuss it, and--except for a select few trusted individuals like her mother's maid Maria--those who were not of their people knew nothing. Even Maria and the other mortals like her did not know a lot, just that they were long-lived and strong with some special abilities. She supposed they guessed about their vampirism owing to the blood in the refrigerator, but it was never spoken of that she knew of. And there was no need for them to know about the council.

"Is it a secret?'" Greg asked.

Lissianna shook herself from her thoughts and decided there was no reason not to tell him. When Uncle Lucian finished with him, he wouldn't recall anything anyway. At least, she hoped so. The alternative should they not be able to wipe his memory was unpalatable to her.

"We have a council who make and enforce the laws," she answered quietly.

"A council?" He thought about it. "Are your mother and brothers on it?"

"No. They're too young."

His eyes widened incredulously. "Seven hundred is too young?"

Lissianna grinned. "Mother is relatively young for our people."

"I suppose," Greg allowed, and she knew he was probably recalling that her father had been much, much older.

"Uncle Lucian is head of the council."

"Your uncle?" He considered that briefly, then asked, "So what do they do if someone breaks the law and sires more than one person?"

Lissianna shifted uncomfortably, finding the subject an unpleasant one. "I have only heard of one instance where someone turned a second person," she admitted.

"And what did your uncle and his council do?" he asked.

"The individual who did the siring was... terminated."

"Geez. Terminated?" Greg sat back at this news, then asked. "How?"

"He was staked out in the open for a day to allow the sun to ravage him, then set on fire when the sun set."

"Dear God," he breathed. "Your uncle is brutal."

"This was centuries ago, everyone was brutal then," she said quickly, then added, "it was meant as a deterrent for others, to prevent anyone else breaking the law."

"Pretty persuasive," he muttered. "What happened to the person that was sired?"

Lissianna shrugged. "Nothing that I know of; she was allowed to live. I guess her life replaced her sire's."

"Hmm." Greg glanced toward Juli and Vicki, and said, "I gather twins are allowed, despite the one every hundred years rule, but what do they do if one of your women tries to have children closer together than a hundred years?"

"A little leeway is allowed there. Some have had children ninety-five years apart, but then the mother must wait the extra five years the next time to have another."

"But what if they try to have them fifty years apart, or have one right after another?""

"That is not allowed. The pregnancy has to be terminated."

"You can abort your babies?" Greg asked with surprise, and when she nodded, asked, "What about before abortions came into existence?"

Lissianna sighed. This was the sort of thing she preferred not to think about let alone discuss, but made herself answer. "Before proper abortions, the baby was either cut from the mother's stomach, or it was terminated after birth."

"I suppose they staked it out in the sun for a day and then set it on fire?" Greg suggested, sounding sharp.

"No, of course not." she said unhappily, knowing he was getting a bad impression of her people. "The council would have no reason to torture an innocent child."

He raised an eyebrow. "So how are they terminated then?"

Lissianna shrugged helplessly. "I'm not sure. I know no one who has tried to have children closer together than the allowed time. It would be foolish. A pregnancy isn't something easily hidden."

Greg let his breath out on a sigh, some of the tension leaving him. "What other laws have your council come up with?"

Lissianna pursed her lips. "We aren't allowed to murder or rob each other."

"Each other?" he asked, tone sharp again. "What about mortals?"

"Not without a good reason," she assured him.

"A good reason?" Greg gaped at her. "What exactly constitutes a good reason?"

Lissianna sighed at his reaction, knowing she should have expected it. "Well, to protect ourselves or others of our kind."

Greg grunted and gave a nod, presumably saying that he could understand that, and Lissianna relaxed a little, but then he asked, "What else?"

She bit her lip, then admitted, "To feed in the case of an emergency."

"What kind of emergency would allow one of you to murder or rob a mortal?"

"It has happened in the past that on their travels, one of our kind--through an accident or a simple mistake--has found himself injured and without a blood supply. In that case, he may rob a local blood bank--or should he be deep in the jungle or somewhere else where his only recourse is the source--he may take what he needs," she said delicately.

Greg wasn't fooled by her phrasing. "You mean, if they're flying somewhere and the plane crashes and they're injured out in the middle of nowhere with only one or two cosurvivors, they can drain them dry, right?"'

"Yes, that sort of thing," Lissianna admitted on a sigh. "But only if absolutely necessary."

Greg nodded. "Otherwise, they're only allowed to feed from the 'source' for health reasons like your phobia?"

"Yes."

"Are there any other health reasons that would allow it?"

Lissianna nodded. "Actually, there are a few. I have a cousin and an uncle who cannot survive on bagged blood. Their bodies need a specific enzyme that dies the moment the blood leaves the body. They can consume bag after bag of the bagged blood and still starve to death."

Greg whistled through his teeth. "I wouldn't think the nanos would allow such a condition to continue."

"The nanos repair damage and attack illness, they don't correct a genetic or natural state. And whatever enzyme it is that my uncle and cousin need that the rest of us don't is a genetic anomaly and natural to them."

"Ah, I see."

"Well, that was a waste of film," Thomas said with disgust.

Lissianna blinked as the lights were switched on. The movie had ended, and, judging by her cousin's comment, she hadn't missed much while talking to Greg.

"Yeah, it was pretty bad," Juli agreed. "And I'm glad it's over, I'm starved."

"How can you be starved? You just ate a huge bowl of popcorn," Elspeth said, with amazement.

"Popcorn isn't food, it's popcorn," Vicki told her with a laugh, then turned to Greg. "What do you feel like for supper? We could boil some hot dogs, or heat up one of the pizzas."

Greg suggested, "Why don't you guys grab a snack to tide you over for a bit, and I'll make chili."

"Chili, huh?" Juli considered the matter, then asked, "Over fries?"

"And with cheese," Vicki added, looking excited.

"Whatever floats your boat," Greg laughed, getting to his feet and reaching back to offer Lissianna a hand up.

"If I asked you to take me home, would you?"

Lissianna glanced up from the magazine she'd been leafing through and stared at Greg. He was stirring his chili and not looking her way, which was probably good, because if her expression reflected her feelings, it would be a mass of confusion. Her mind was awhirl with the thoughts Greg's question provoked. She'd set him free the first time out of guilt. She still felt that guilt. More so now that Uncle Lucian was being brought into the situation, making Greg's position precarious. Were he to argue his case convincingly enough, Lissianna very much feared that--despite her mother's anger and the threat he might represent to them--she could again be convinced to return him to his apartment.

"It would get me in a lot of trouble," was all she said, but the grin that immediately curved his lips suggested Greg knew she could be convinced to set him free.

"Well, don't worry, I won't ask," he said reassuringly.

His comment startled a "Why?" out of Lissianna.

Greg considered the question as he peered into the oven to check the fries. He was proving to be something of a domestic wizard. The man even knew what a whisk was for, which was fortunate, Lissianna supposed, because she was lost in the kitchen. He'd have starved if he'd had to wait for her to cook for him.

Luckily for Greg and the twins, while the Argeneau kitchen was usually bare of food, it was outfitted with all the dishes, cookware, and appliances of the usual kitchen. They did occasionally have parties that were catered, and Marguerite liked to be prepared for any eventuality.

"It's hard to explain," Greg said finally. "Finding out about your people is rather like running across friendly aliens. Who wouldn't want to find out more about you?"

Lissianna nodded slowly. She understood his reasoning and supposed she should have expected his curiosity. She didn't have the heart to tell him anything he learned would be short-lived knowledge, and her mother was hoping Uncle Lucian could wipe all memory of them from his mind.

"Why do the twins eat while the rest of you don't?"

The question was such a hop in subject, it took a moment for Lissianna's mind to make the switch, then she said, "The twins are young yet. When we're children it's necessary to eat to mature properly, but once you're mature it isn't."

"So you can eat, you just... what? Stop?" Greg asked.

"Basically," she said with a nod. "After a while, food gets to be boring and having to both eat as well as feed gets to be something of a nuisance. So, yes, most of us just stop bothering with it."

"Food? A boring nuisance?" Greg looked shocked. "Even chocolate?"

Lissianna chuckled. "Chocolate isn't food, it's manna. Chocolate never gets boring."

"Well, thank God for that," he muttered, giving his chili another stir. "Still, I find it difficult to imagine food as boring, there's so much variety; French, Italian, Mexican, Indian..." He sighed happily at the thought of the differing foods, then glanced over to ask, "When was the last time you ate chili?"

"I don't think I ever have," she admitted. "Mexico isn't somewhere I've ever wanted to go, and I actually stopped eating around my hundredth birthday. Mexican food hadn't made it up here to Canada by then."

"Why isn't Mexico somewhere you've ever wanted to go?" Greg sounded almost affronted, and it wasn't until then that Lissianna recalled he was supposed to be on vacation in Mexico right that moment.

"It's sunny," she said simply.

"Oh, right." He sighed. "So you were a hundred when you stopped eating? What happened? You just woke up one day, and said, 'That's it, no more food'?"

Lissianna laughed at his incredulity. The man obviously enjoyed his food. He certainly seemed to be struggling with the idea that she didn't. She tried to explain. "My mother and father had tired of food long before I was born--as had my brothers--so it was just Thomas and me and when he moved out, I ate alone. It started to seem a long, boring business," she said with a shrug. "So I just slowly stopped. As I said earlier, once we reach adulthood there is no real reason to continue to eat food daily, we get most of the nutrients we need from blood anyway. Now, I just eat at celebrations like the rest of my family."

Greg stopped stirring to look at her. "You eat at celebrations?"

"It's the sociable thing to do."

Greg chuckled. "So you're like social drinkers, only you're social eaters."

Lissianna cast a smile his way, then turned back to her magazine.

"Well, if you've never had chili, it might not be boring to you," Greg pointed out. "Why don't you give it a try? I need someone to taste test it anyway."

Glancing up, she saw that he'd scooped out a spoonful of chili and was carrying it carefully over to her, his free hand cupped under it in case of drips.

Lissianna had helped him make the chili, chopping the onions and mushrooms while he fried the meat. She'd also kept him company while he hovered over the pot, lovingly stirring and spicing it. The aromas that had been pouring from the pot for the last hour were delicious, but then the food her coworker Debbie brought in to work often smelled good, too, but didn't raise any hunger in her.

"I don't--" she began uncertainly.

"Come on," he coaxed. "One bite."

Lissianna gave in and reached for the spoon, but Greg tugged it out of range and shook his head. "Open up."

She let her hand drop and dutifully opened her mouth, terribly aware of his eyes on her as he slid the spoon between her lips. She closed her mouth, taking the food in as he drew the spoon out again. Lissianna let it sit on her tongue for a moment, enjoying the explosion of flavors before chewing and swallowing.

"What do you think?" Greg asked.

Lissianna smiled, and admitted, "It's good."

"There, you see." He was obviously pleased with himself and gave a shake of the head as he turned to move back to his pot. "Food... boring!" He gave a little laugh. "Not likely."

Lissianna watched him with a smile. "You wouldn't say that if you'd eaten everything at least a hundred times. It becomes a chore rather than a pleasure."

"Never," Greg protested with certainty, then asked, "Hey, do you people have to worry about your weight while you're still eating food?"

"No. The nanos would destroy any extra fat. They keep you at your ultimate fitness level."

"Damn." Greg shook his head again. "Live forever, stay young, and never worry about your weight?" He marveled. "Damn."

"Here you are." Marguerite Argeneau breezed into the room on a wave of energy, startling them both. She looked rested from her sleep and had obviously just fed; she was flush with color and beaming brightly as she glanced from one to the other. "So, how is the first therapy session going? Are you cured yet?"

Lissianna and Greg exchanged a guilty glance.