Angel's Pain. Maggie Shayne
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Fuck you, Topaz.
You’re welcome.
She damn near smiled again, but she averted her face this time, just in case it showed in her eyes.
Topaz inserted the key and opened the great big, ornate, expensive doors. A vaulted foyer spread out before them like something out of a fairy tale, and they all trooped inside.
“You all want the grand tour now or later?” Topaz asked.
“I want my room and a stein of warm blood,” Briar said.
“Fine, we’ll do that. The rest of you, feel free to wander around. Pick out a bedroom, if you want. They’re all vampire-friendly.”
“How, with all these windows?” Vixen asked. She wore an excited look as her gaze took in one thing after another. The furniture, the chandelier, the fireplace, the paintings, the sculptures, the marble floor.
“They automatically darken when the sun comes up,” Topaz explained. “The tint is so dark it’s opaque. Perfect for our kind.”
“Every window in the place?” Vixen asked.
Topaz nodded, and Briar said, “Must have cost a bundle.” Then she sent Topaz a look. “My room?”
“This way. Come on, Crisa, you can come, too.” Crisa looked at Briar as if seeking permission. Briar nodded at her. “Yeah, come on. Whatever.”
The girl’s smile was bright, and the three of them moved through the foyer and started up the stairs.
But on the third step, Crisa screamed. It startled Briar so much that she damn near jumped out of her skin, but then, even as she turned to the nutcase, she felt it: a tearing, ripping pain deep inside her head. She grimaced against it. Crisa pressed her hands to her head, sobbing softly as she sank to her knees.
And then Reaper was there, right beside them, followed immediately by Roxy.
“Crisa? Crisa, what’s wrong?” Reaper demanded.
Briar held herself erect on the step just above them. “It’s the headache again,” she said, and she hoped her voice didn’t sound strained. “It’s hitting harder this time.”
“We’d best get her into a bed, Reaper,” Roxy said.
Reaper bent and scooped up the trembling, sobbing girl.
“This way,” Topaz called, trotting up the stairs more quickly now. Reaper caught up to her, while Briar and Roxy followed right behind.
Roxy put her hand on Briar’s arm. “You too, yes?”
“I’m fine.”
“The hell you are. You’re holding your jaw so tight, I’m surprised you haven’t broken a tooth.”
“If I did, it would grow back during the day sleep.”
“You’re in pain, Briar.” Roxy frowned, as they made their way up the stairs, more slowly than the trio ahead of them. “It’s not part of her…condition, then, is it?”
“What do you mean?” Briar asked.
“Whatever is happening to Crisa…is happening to you, too.”
Briar averted her eyes. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“I think it is. And I think this bond between you two is more powerful than just what would come from sharing blood. I think it’s…deeper.”
“Oh, hell, what are we, sisters separated at birth, then?”
“You know what I’m saying, Briar. For every vampire there’s one of the Chosen with whom the natural bond is even more potent. I think Crisa is that one for you, even though she’s already one of us. I think she’s your…chosen. Chosen.”
Briar grimaced. “Insightful as all hell, Roxy, but otherwise, a useless piece of speculation.”
“Maybe it’ll be worth something later. For now, I’m going to do some Reiki on you, see if I can get this to ease up a bit.”
Briar shook her head. “Work on her first.”
They’d reached the top of the endless staircase and were heading down a hallway lined with doors now, but Roxy stopped and stared at Briar.
“What?” Briar snapped.
“You care about her. You do. You care about her!”
“Oh, Jeez, don’t go breaking out the violins there, Pollyanna. If I’m feeling her pain, then the best way to end it for me is to end it for her. I’m thinking about me. Number one. Always.”
“Oh,” Roxy said softly. She started walking again, but this time, she did so with one hand touching Briar’s upper arm. Not holding it, just touching it. “Thank you for clearing that up. I’d hate to go thinking you had a heart.”
“God forbid,” Briar told her, and she sidestepped enough to break physical contact with the woman. Then she hurried the rest of the way along the hall, ignoring her own pain, and ignoring, too, the high-gleam shine of the rich hardwood on the floor, which matched that of the stairs and the curving banister. She ignored the art on the walls, probably original, in the Renaissance style she might have chosen herself. She ignored the elaborate stands, and the vases and sculptures they bore, each one echoing some image in the nearest painting, like the sculpted raven on a stand in front of The Magic Circle, by Waterhouse.
She grudgingly acknowledged that she approved of the princess’s taste, then swept through an open door and into the lap of luxury. Not that the rest of the house was anything less than luxurious, but the idea that she would be staying right here sort of rattled Briar.
Deep carpeting lined the place; it was the color of French cream, as were the sheer curtains that hung in front of the tall, narrow windows. The room held an elegant love seat, a matching overstuffed chair and ottoman and an oak rocker. Every piece had forest-green accents: the throw pillows, the cushions lining the rocker, the tiebacks on the curtains, the throw rugs on the carpet. There was a gas fireplace, its wooden mantel sporting two oil lamps that looked like antiques, and a portrait hung on the wall above.
It was of Topaz’s mother, the actress, Mirabella DuFrane. Though with her, no last name had been necessary. She’d been the stuff of legend before she’d vanished, leaving the world and her daughter to believe she’d been murdered. But she’d only become undead.
A soft, pain-filled moan drew Briar’s attention to the left, where another open door showed her a bedroom. Her body jerked her into reflexive motion without warning when she spotted Crisa in the bed, hands pressed to either side of her head, tears streaming down her face. Briar was crowding up to the bedside before she could stop herself, shoulder to shoulder with Reaper, who was leaning over the girl.
“I wish I knew what the hell to do for her,” he said, and he sounded apologetic. “It’s not like we can take her to a doctor.”
“Of course we can.”
Reaper frowned at her, and from across the bed, Topaz did the same. Roxy paid no attention. She was squeezing in between Topaz and the head of the bed, bending close and laying her hands gently over Crisa’s, on her temples.
“Well, come on,” Briar said. “Don’t tell me that out of all the vampires in the world there’s not one who was a doctor in life.”
Reaper held her gaze, and she sensed he hated like hell to burst her bubble. “None that I’ve heard of. The closest we have is the scientist Eric Marquand.”
“Then get him here,” she snapped.
Reaper’s eyes were probing hers, and she realized she was acting way too emotionally invested in the loon.
“You’re hurting, too, aren’t you?” Reaper asked.
She lowered her head quickly,