The skin underneath, p.6
The Skin Underneath, page 6
part #1 of The Skin Underneath Series
Vincent didn't move. Where did he think he was going to go? His old apartment? To kill Giselle, then what? Lilith brought him into this world and he had no plan without her. God, he hated how she knew that. But shit, she knew everything. He walked over to her and stood there at her shoulder until she turned to him and crossed her arms. She was challenging him. "Look," he said, throwing his hands up, "What do I have to do?"
"That's a good start." She turned her head and looked down at her paperwork. "I'll allow you to ride along with me tonight if you'd like."
Vincent held back a smile. He was too old to show that kind of excitement. "Where are we going?"
"Questions, questions, all these fucking questions," Lilith said, "Jesus Christ, Vincent can't you just shut up?"
He wished she'd left before he'd woken up. "Look, if this is how it's going to be tonight, I think I'll just sit this one out. Again."
But, she was giving him a look. Not a bad one, a thoughtful one. "No, I think you could use a bit more education. Get dressed."
Vincent did as he was told and put on black Armani dress pants and a black shirt. Lilith came into the bedroom to change out of her eggplant colored silk nightgown and paused in the doorway. "Do you regret making me?" He asked her, as if she'd wished him out of thin air, or he'd been made for her like Adam and Eve.
"Not for a second," she said as she walked past him into the dressing room. He didn't know if she meant it, but when he sat on the bed and she lifted the nightgown over her head he could have made love to her right there on the floor. He didn't think he'd be able to get it up though, and he knew why. It was fear.
When she was dressed in black pants, probably some designer brand he'd never heard of, black stiletto heels, and a sleeveless black turtleneck, she collected her bag and called out to him. "It's about time we get going. I suspect our driver is already out front."
"How do you pay for all this?" Vincent asked as Lilith closed the door of the apartment behind them. She continued without locking it. "From your business?"
"My work pays in accomplishment and power." The elevator door opened and they entered. Lilith pressed the button for the lobby.
"Okay, so where does all this money come from?"
She was smiling. "Vincent, when you've lived a long time and have lawyers who don't ask any questions, you can get away with pretty much anything. I was wealthy long before I came into this world." She acted as if she'd never been mortal. As if she had been born into that legacy.
***
Lilith managed to pull the door handle of her herself. She let Vincent enter first and he settled into the seat behind the driver, facing her. How had he gotten there? His old life seemed so long ago, and so simple compared to all of this. If he'd known about vampires, there wouldn't have been much sleep. He wondered if he'd ever been fed on when he was alive, but the thought gave him a panicky feeling in his stomach and he figured he'd never know for sure.
Lilith sat down and crossed her ankles. "Vincent, what do you know about heroin?"
"Heroin?" Vincent repeated. All of a sudden he felt nervous. The car pulled away from the curb and he felt trapped.
She held his eyes. "Yes, Vincent, like drugs. Illegal narcotics? What, are you hard of hearing, or are you just stalling?"
Vincent shrugged and looked out the window. He didn't want to talk about it anymore. He felt like he was being accused of something he didn't remember and he didn't know why. This was bullshit. "I don't know, Lilith. But, if you know something about me that I don't, I'd appreciate it if you'd share it with me."
Lilith looked out of the window. She didn't want to talk about it either.
Vincent wasn't able to tell where they were. Nothing looked familiar. The buildings were too nice, the streets too clean. He wondered if everyone in the houses they passed were dead as well. A vampire neighborhood. The rich may have always been blood sucking monsters for all he knew. His eyes snapped into focus, expecting to see a reflection in the window, but he didn't. His hand went up to his head and pushed his hair back. He was usually good about keeping it short, but he couldn't remember why he'd grown it out in the first place.
"I need a haircut," he said, mostly to change the subject and end the silence.
"Why?" She seemed offended by this. "It won't grow back."
He shrugged. "I don't want it to grow back. I like it short."
"I like it long."
"You know, I was thinking," he said, looking of the window and trying to act casual, "That maybe one of these days I can borrow the car." Lilith didn't respond. "Just for a little while. I'm starting to remember some things about my Mom and I wanted to maybe visit her. She doesn't have to know I'm there or anything. I just wanted to make sure she's okay."
"Vincent, I don't think you want me, or anyone I know, to find out where your mother lives, am I right?" She was powerful, she was a goddess, and Vincent was afraid that she'd jump across the seat. Before he could say anything more, the car came to a stop and the driver killed the engine. Lilith looked out of the window and Vincent followed her gaze. They were at some sort of warehouse. "She's much better off now that we don't know that information, don't you agree?" Vincent didn't answer because he felt like he could kill her. It was as simple as that. He wanted to rip out all of her hair and stomp on that beautiful face. Lilith looked at him. "Why don't you wait in the car for me." It wasn't a question.
"How long is this going to take?" Vincent asked. He was ravenous again.
"Why, do you have a date?" She snapped. She picked up her bag and glared at him.
He grabbed her wrist. "What happened to you to make you this bitter, Lilith? Did some guy fuck you over? Or maybe you just don't like dick all that much?" Here was the old Vin. He was out again, and he was about to get him into some trouble.
For a moment, Lilith didn't move and Vincent didn't either. Then she reached over and grabbed his hair at the nape of his neck. It was terrifying to be so close to her face when she was furious. "You're coming in with me," she said, and although he didn't know why it was such a threat, he knew that, he had no choice. When had he ever had a choice?
Lilith didn't let go of his hair as she stepped out of the car. She dragged him all the way inside and then shoved him up against one of those guys he'd seen that first night he'd woken up. It was the guy who'd handed him a shirt. He was wearing another black suit, and was straight faced as he clamped his hands on Vincent's upper arms. Lilith didn't say anything to the man, but it seemed understood that Vincent wasn't going anywhere. The Suit held him right behind the door, out of the way of the other two men in black suits, one of whom handed Lilith a white letter sized envelope as soon as she walked in.
It wasn't until he followed the clicking of her heels, less sharp on the concrete, that he saw a man sitting there on a lawn chair in the middle of the room, where it had been cleared of boxes. He was shirtless, sitting perfectly still and following Lilith with his eyes. As well as the man tried to hide his shaking, Vincent saw it and he was sure that Lilith saw it too. Vincent could interpret the scene immediately. This guy had made Lilith mad, and it could've easily been Vincent in that chair.
Lilith didn't speak to the man. Just walked over and looked down at him. He would've been insane to jump up and try to attack her. If she couldn't have defended herself, there were three men standing right by in case he needed to be pulled off of her. So, what chance did this man stand? None in Hell.
"I have one question for you," Lilith said, her voice normal, her stance relaxed. The man didn't even look up at her. He stared straight ahead. Smart man. They all were waiting for her. No one moved. "When is the meeting?" Lilith held up the envelope, but Vincent couldn't see it, or tell if there was more to it. There was no reply. The man was shaking, but he was a vampire and was able to control himself to the point where he'd be mistaken for a living mannequin had he been in public and not in some dusty old warehouse. It reminded Vincent of a mafia movie, something too cool, or too violent, or too sensational to be real. Lilith didn't look surprised when she didn't get an answer. She gave the man a few moments and then continued. "I will not torture you. I will not negotiate. We have two cans of gasoline." She paused for a moment and it seemed to Vincent that her speech was rehearsed. He didn't know if this was attributed to the fact that she was nervous or just did this a lot. Again, silence. But Lilith didn't look disappointed. When she turned to the man standing closest to Vincent, he saw a distinct smile on her lips. "Is he here?"
"No," he said in a voice that had less personality than a robot.
Lilith looked annoyed at that. "Well, it looks as if I'll have to do this myself. And such a waste, too."
Vincent saw it then, that it hadn't been about the information. She hadn't come there for that. She'd gone there to take out her anger. Out came cans from their sides as the two men moved towards the center of the room.
Lilith said afterward, as she walked up behind the victim, who had gasoline dripping from his hair, "I suspect that your blood would have tasted foul anyway." She lit something in her hand, which Vincent recognized as his. It was the silver lighter he'd brought from home. The light reflected on his bright finish before Lilith's hand disappeared into her pocket.
Vincent had thought himself invincible in this state, but the sound of this man's scream was enough to keep him quiet as he waited through Lilith's stops for her to feed. Then he tried, despite the nightmares, to sleep.
Company. Follow the Leader. Michael, the Prophet.
Voices broke through his twilight and when Vincent opened his eyes, he knew it was a night for visitors. Lilith was in the other room. He could hear her through the wall, but her words were too muffled to make out clearly, and usually it wasn't a problem for him. He rolled over and stepped out of bed. When he tried to stretch, he found that his neck was sore. His hand felt the familiar indentations, and he wondered if vampires could be sucked dry, too.
Vincent ran a hand through his hair, looking for a mirror that was nonexistent. Wrong life. He focused on getting dressed instead. It was black Armani again, a knit shirt and slacks. Lilith would approve. He didn't know if he missed his jeans. Were all vampires like her? He hoped to God that they weren't. No, correct that. He hoped they weren't. He needed to drop the religious undertones. It was time to lose the previous life's habits.
Vincent was walking to the door, still buckling his belt, when Lilith came in, sliding in without opening the door wide enough for him to see who her company was, brushing her body against his. She pushed him back from the door and closed it behind her. "Do not come out of this room."
"What?" It wasn't because he hadn't heard.
"Don't leave this room," she said again, pointing one finger directly in his face. Vincent felt like a puppy.
He sat down at the edge of the bed. "Why the hell not?"
Lilith seemed to really look at him for the first time. The look lasted a minute and then one side of her mouth crept up and Vincent wanted to bite that plump lip right off. "You look nice, by the way. Were you trying to impress me?" Her scent came closer. He could identify it now. It was the smell of blood. She pushed her body against his, straddled him on the bed, and Vincent felt like she surrounded him, his eyes full of gold curls. He couldn't ever remember being as turned on, even when he was alive and his only lust was women. She wiggled her hips on top of him, bared her teeth, and then she seemed surprised. "Vincent, not right now," she said, and then blushed when he pulled her harder against him. "Vincent, you're not supposed to be able to use those parts anymore." She started to pull away, but despite her strength Vincent held her there.
"I may be able to come up with some uses for it," Vincent said, and he couldn't shake his goofy grin. He wanted her.
"It'll be gone soon. I guess maybe it just takes a while for it to stop working," she said, and it was clear that she knew the words would sting. Even when flustered, she never lost control.
Vincent felt his stomach drop. He hadn't thought of that. He swallowed. "So, vampires aren't supposed to be able to get it up?"
"No," she said, shaking her head and not looking a bit sad about it. "We're creatures inhibited by the blood lust. How can you even think of anything else?" She was right. The hunger was always there. Lilith slid off of his lap and he let her go. "Don't leave this room and don't make any noise. Pretend that you don't exist."
"I'm starving," he said, although he was distracted. Despite the fact that he was currently functional, he felt impotent.
Lilith wrinkled her nose. "Well, be patient. I don't want them here anymore than you do. But I'm not going to get them out of here if I have to deal with you."
As soon as she was gone he went into the adjacent bathroom, which obviously had never been used, to test his equipment.
***
He was patient for a while, until his hunger began to become more insistent, and the voices in the other room rose to the point where he could begin to understand words like, 'don't,' 'deny,' and 'violence.' He sat up and looked at the door, tempted to just walk out. Maybe there was a party. Would he be noticed? Someone yelled "bull," but Vincent couldn't tell what the argument was about. Certain words stuck out like, 'value,' 'respect' and the phrase 'human species.' He put his ear to the door and the voices grew louder. It wouldn't surprise him to find out that the walls were soundproof. He would've given anything to see what Lilith was doing. He pressed his body against the door.
Lilith yelled at someone about respect again. His hand went to the knob, but he still didn't have enough courage to actually turn it. As soon as his flesh touched the metal, the voices stopped. Vincent felt awkward, as if everyone on the other side had felt his presence and were staring at the door, waiting for his arrival. He stood perfectly still and listened for a noise, a movement, something to tell him that things had resumed. Nothing came. Should he open the door? It had been too sudden, even for vampires, to have left the room. They were waiting for him. Vampires couldn't die again, could they? So, nothing to fear then. His mind was running a blank on any type of superstitious knowledge of vampires. It was too much pressure and every second he took, the longer sat in silence, waiting for him. Vincent turned the knob and pulled.
They were sitting on Lilith's cream colored couch, leaning forward as if they were in danger of being swallowed by it. There was no surprise on anyone's face. He was too afraid to move, too shocked to try to run because that was his first instinct, when he walked into a dangerous situation. And Lilith had been trying to save him from it, how ironic. There were four men, the first one bald, smoking a cigar in a black suit, red shirt, tie. Another man in a suit and a big nose sat in the chair next to him. Then a clean cut preppy looking guy in a blue shirt with the first button unbuttoned, blue eyes and spiky hair, sitting low with his hands on his lap. Across from him was a person on the couch, short black hair and dark eyes with a cigar on the ashtray in front of him. The oldest man had short gray hair and blue eyes. He wore a black suit, shirt and tie, like an undertaker. Not the way that Vincent looked like an undertaker. He looked like the real thing. There were glass shot glasses shaped like chalices on the glass coffee table. Tomato juice, that's what the beverages in them resembled.
Lilith stood in front of them all, giving Vincent a disappointed look.
"Nice of you to join us," the gray haired man said, after a moment of silence. "We were just debating your existence."
Vincent was distracted by the smell of blood and severe anger in the room. If he'd been able to smell it from the bedroom, he probably wouldn't have had the nerve to turn the knob.
Vincent opened his mouth, but Lilith said, "You must be kidding me. This isn't a new vampire." She sounded to Vincent like the voice of reason, or some kind of hostage negotiator.
The gray haired man and the man next to him glanced at each other. "You go from being alone, to hiding a man in your bedroom. Meanwhile, we're hearing rumors that you changed over a human and here we are," the gray haired man said, putting his arms out, "You mean to lie to my face?"
The man with spiky hair snapped forward and said in a voice that sounded like a snarl, "Are you calling her a liar?" Vincent almost took a step back. This man was fierce, and it was easy to see that he was barely under control.
Vincent was able to find his voice. "I'm not a new vampire," he said, stepping in front of Lilith. He had to be honest with himself. He'd die for her. Maybe it was one of the reasons she'd brought him back to life. He was shaking and knew it was obvious to anyone who looked at him. The vampire with the red shirt plunked his shot glass down on the table hard enough to draw everyone's attention. These were nice, expensive, and durable. All Vincent had at his house were the novelty kind from places he'd never been to. His human life had been pathetic.
The gray-haired man looked at him and then laughed. "Please. Your fangs haven't even fully grown in yet. Who are you kidding?" He waved a dismissive hand in front of Vincent and turned his attention to the angry man with spiky hair. "Get him out of my sight."
Vincent was halfway into the lunge before he realized what he was doing. Maybe he was trying to prove himself, trying to seem like a man, but the only thing on his mind was destroying the gray haired grandpa who thought he was too good to be in the same room. Lilith grabbed him, knocking his head against the marble floor before he even made contact with the man, as if she'd known what he was going to do. He saw white and then the pain subsided.
The gray haired man hadn't moved a muscle but the man with the spiky hair and pale blue eyes had his fists clenched and looked livid. Lilith stood over him and Vincent could almost see the entire length of her leg. "What's wrong with you?" Vincent was too shocked to move. "Get up," Lilith said, as if every moment he lay there added to her embarrassment. Why didn't she know that she was the world to him? It was his fault really. He hadn't stopped to consider that this was probably part of her work. His head was pounding, but Vincent got to his feet trying not to show any sign of it. "Get out of here," Lilith said, her hand on her forehead like she felt like she'd just been hit in the head with a sledgehammer, too. Vincent started walking towards the bedroom. "No," she said louder than necessary, "Out."
