29

Alexander shifted his weight as if he planned to stretch out beside Kendra on the bed.  She put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“Wait,” she said.  “You did not answer my question, Alexander.”

She suspected it was the accusation, and not her hand, that kept him from lying next to her.

“What would you know, ever mysterious guest?”

“Has your population declined because of the witch-hunts?  It is not the Plague or the Inquisition that has caused it?”

Alexander sighed, and sat up.  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.  “How is it that you put these questions to me?  You seem to have read volumes both old and new, all of them obscure, and some very well guarded.  I can think of no one library with all such holdings.” 

He held up a hand to silence the ill-conceived explanation she began to offer.  “Permit me to say that your sources, astounding though they may be, seem to have a most noxious effect on you.  A beautiful young woman interrupts romance to speak of death.”

Kendra blushed at the compliment, but could not restrain her laughter.  Alexander looked puzzled, even a little hurt. 

“Forgive me for laughing, Alexander, but I think you will agree that a vampire who finds anything unpleasant in the combination of romance and death must be seen as a master of irony.”

Alexander smiled uncertainly.  “You speak so strangely, dear guest, in English and yet unlike any Briton I have heard.  Neither do you speak as do those Portuguese who have trained their tongues to ours.  No, your speech does most remind me of a Moor I once knew.  He assembled words in an army and sent it forth to boldly conquer new ground.”  Alexander leaned toward her once again.  “He gained nothing from me.  The Moor, brash language notwithstanding, lost every cause he put forward.”

Kendra stopped him with both hands on his chest, elbows locked to arrest his progress.

“Your words flutter playfully in my ears, sir.  They tickle my brain, and spawn intrigue wherever they land, but I will have my answer.”

Alexander sat up once more.  “I like this new play of ours, and pray you find it to your liking as well.  I find I must compose my lines in an instant.  They are more fresh than any I’ve uttered to a mortal for many centuries.  It pleases me to find that they please you too.”

Kendra stared at him, and waited.

“Very well, I can see that even should I wax poetic over your extraordinary eyes, my words will fail to parry the determined blade of your intent.

“The Plague has no effect on us, but when most in a region are ill, our feeding does become difficult.  The Holy Inquisition, as you know, has not visited England since Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth ascended to the throne after Bloody Mary died.  The Inquisitions in Malta, Rome, and Florence have killed a few of the insane vampires in those lands.  Of more import, as you suspect, the hunt for witches, inspired by the first Inquisitions in Spain, fuels the flames that have consumed more of the insane among my kind.”

“Insanity can touch those whom the Plague cannot?”

Alexander nodded.  “The oldest among us tend to madness after long solitary years, often lived in hiding.  A vampire suffering in such a way will seek the company of others, and form a coven.  If he does not accomplish his task in a timely manner, then his sanity stands forfeit.  A nest of mad ones, well,” he shrugged, “nothing they do is discreet, as you may well imagine, and you mortals never fail to fight once you recognize an attack.” 
He sighed, and traced a tantalizing, looping pattern on Kendra’s ankle.  Still sitting against the headboard with her knees drawn to her chest, her ankle, and hence his cold finger, was quite close to…other parts.  Kendra did her best to hide the shiver of pleasure that coursed through her.  Alexander noticed.

He grinned.  “While Europe hunts for witches and executes its rebels and outcasts, we vampires have little opportunity to multiply.  I suppose your supposition will prove correct, our numbers have declined.”  He shrugged.  “Tonight I find that I do not mind it o’er much.”  He grinned wickedly, and traced the pattern on her other ankle as well.

Kendra straightened her legs on the bed to keep his hand far from her most intimate region.

“Are you still a maiden, then?” he asked with a surprised laugh.

Kendra dropped her gaze and stared at her finger as it burrowed in the quilt next to her.  She was unsure how to answer.  If she admitted that she was a virgin, would he feel compelled to change that status, and if she claimed not to be, would he feel welcome where he was not…not yet anyway?  She felt her cheeks burn.

That seemed answer enough.  Alexander gently tilted her chin up and looked in her eyes.  “How comes it to be that you move me in this manner?”  He looked at her earnestly for a moment, then kissed her gently.

“Do not be afraid.  Your maidenhead remains safe tonight.  This purveyor of death and romance will take himself to the castle on the hill.  My duty as sheriff calls for me to quiet the worst of the rogues in the prison there.  For this they pay me well.  I lead a pleasant, quiet life, as you can see.”  He stood and looked down at her.

“Stay or go as you please, but for my part, I pray that you will stay.  Let me see you when the sun has set upon the morrow.”  His voice was hoarse.

Kendra’s heart pounded in her chest and nether region.  “Thank you,” was the best that she could manage.

Alexander pinched out the candle’s flame, and extinguished the lamp.  “I bid you sleep well.” 
Again, Kendra heard the words clearly in her mind, but was not sure that he had spoken aloud.  She stretched out on her side on top of the quilt, and put her head on the pillow.  She told herself that once she was sure Alexander had left the house she would get under the covers, but in the next instant, of course, she slept.