Blood Song Page 5

  “The sun’s going to be up soon. I’ll have to get onto the bus before that happens,” Elijah noted, voice as sleepy and idle as Finn felt.

  “I’ll think up some excuse as to why you had to go back early.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that you aren’t just going to tell people I needed to do it because I’m a vampire.”

  Finn gave a snort. “Maybe I should. I’m starting to think that nothing I do is going to make you kill me, is it?”

  “Nope,” Elijah answered.

  “I don’t see why. Killing me seems like the perfect solution to the whole situation for you.”

  “You do know facial recognition software’s a thing, right? Do you know how difficult my life would be if I killed someone that everybody knew I’d been spending time with? I’d have to go into hiding, and that would mean no more going to concerts for a while.”

  “Mm. True,” Finn conceded. “But I know that’s not the real answer. What’s the actual reason why you won’t?”

  Elijah readjusted his position on the pillow, staring at Finn. “You want the real reason?”

  “I just said I did, didn’t I? Come on, tell me.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, Elijah seemed to debate internally with himself before giving a small nod, clearly coming to a conclusion. “All right. Well, you already know that vampires aren’t public knowledge, but you also stand as a testament to the fact that sometimes it’s necessary for us to make exceptions to the rule.

  “Another kind of exception often happens when a newly-made vampire is reluctant to give up their ties with the friends and family who surrounded them in life.

  “You’d be surprised just how common this kind of open secret is, how many people have childhood memories of a somewhat mysterious uncle who never got older, the youthful aunt never seen before sunset. We protect the lies that we need to protect the ones who we love.

  “I was such a vampire — I was a politically active student, and a devoted son, and a caring brother, and considered all of those roles to be as absolutely intrinsic to my identity. I was a vampire, certainly, but I’d been all of those other things first.

  “For a time, I was blessed with luck. My friends and family adapted easily enough to the new mysteries and strangeness that surrounded my existence, to the questions they yearned to ask but to which they knew I would never offer a satisfactory answer.

  “I watched my siblings grow up, my parents and then my friends grow old. My brothers and sisters had children and then grandchildren, and I doted on them as much as my ‘condition’ would allow. I had lost my own humanity, yet remained right in the very thick of it, and reveled in the warmth and light of it all around me. It seemed like heaven, like it was too good to be true. And it was.

  “One of my brother’s grandsons struggled with distinguishing reality from the conjurings of his own mind. We’d probably call it schizophrenia now, or psychosis. There were other names for it then, less clinical, less compassionate names. His life was very difficult, and my presence in that life made it far harder: unreality and conspiratorial secrets become the stuff of utter nightmares when you cannot trust your own senses to tell the truth about the world.

  “I… I fear I caused an unforgivable around of harm in that young man’s life, simply because I was too selfish to abandon my place in the light after I’d been given a new one in the dark.

  “After that, I swore to limit my contact with humanity to a select few, as is the norm among my kind. But I’m something of a moth with a flame, I’m afraid — my senses are too dazzled by the brilliance for me to stay away as I should.

  “The Queen I answer to indulges me far more than she should, turning a blind eye to my transgressions. The two of us had the same sire, which in practical terms means nothing but has, for whatever reason, left her with an air of exasperated forgiveness towards me, such as a little sister might have for a misbehaving but still beloved older brother.

  “She was an only child when she was alive, and I think a small portion of loneliness from that solitary childhood remains within her even now.”

  When Elijah stopped speaking, Finn smiled. “I think the younger sister/older brother dynamic might go both ways, from the way you talk about her. Those don’t sound like observations from a subject about his Queen, they sound like the way Jessica talks about her kid brother.”

  14

  ELIJAH

  Another stretch of time alone in Finn’s bunk that day meant another opportunity to wallow in bitter self-recrimination, trapped with his own thoughts by the bright and cheerful daylight outside.

  Elijah had never felt the simple limitations of vampirism like this before. Time spent with Finn was introducing him to the bad elements of his condition, as well as the good, in all kinds of ways that Elijah had never considered before.

  This time, his self-flagellation centered largely on how open and honest he’d been about his own past when talking to Finn. He shouldn’t have talked about all that, especially not with someone as clearly bad news as Finn.

  Elijah had learned very early on in his life as a vampire that regret was a bad idea. It was too easy to get caught up in thoughts about mistakes he’d made, and the burden of those mistakes would only grow heavier with the years. Immortality offered a lot of opportunities to screw up. He wasn’t all that good at following his own advice, but he tried his best to save his regrets for the worst of his errors, at least.

  If someone else was hurt by something Elijah had done, then the guilt was worth retaining, but if the mistake had damaged his own pride more than anything else then it was probably better to just let it go.

  So he was trying not to be too cross at himself for revealing so much about his past to Finn. It had been a mistake to do it, but a largely victimless mistake. It hadn’t hurt anyone to tell Finn about the things that had happened with Elijah’s human family, it just hadn’t been a very good idea.

  Anything that strengthened his connection to Finn was a bad idea, and revealing old sorrows like that was guaranteed to make Elijah feel a little closer to the man he’d revealed them to.

  Eventually Finn and Jessica climbed aboard the bus as well, and it rumbled on towards its next location.

  Elijah could smell the cloying, sour edge of drugs in Jessica’s scent, like an acrid thread winding its way through the soft human warmth of her, a discordant note in her personal melody.

  It was bad stuff, much more malevolent and intense than the usual background hum of illicit substances that Elijah was typically aware of when he was around rock musicians for any length of time.

  The drugs that Jessica had taken at some point in the recent past were the kind of things that no vampire would have allowed their human to go anywhere near. Elijah couldn’t help the slight pang of pain that accompanied that thought, the wistfulness at the idea of being able to save Jessica from herself.

  But that was the point, wasn’t it? They weren’t his humans. They didn’t want saving, and he didn’t want the terrifying responsibility of playing such an involved role in anyone’s life, especially not anyone as fragile and fractured as Jessica and Finn.

  That was absolutely a path to unavoidable regret.

  No, Elijah never wanted to share his life with humans, no matter what the circumstances. There was no question of that.

  Finn slept through the evening, the motion of the bus a natural sedative. Elijah had had his fill of drowsing, though, and went out to sit in the more open area.

  Jessica was already there, nursing a can of Diet Coke and looking very worse for wear.

  “We can stop at some diner a little later if you want something to eat,” she told him fuzzily. “There’s nothing on the bus, which suits me fine, as I’ve decided I’m never eating again.”

  Despite himself, Elijah’s protective instincts kicked in. “You should try to get something down, even if it’s a small amount of something simple and plain. We could pick up bread at a rest stop and you could have some toast.”

&n
bsp; She gave him a hard look. “Did Finn put you up to this?”

  “No, I was just—”

  “Has he told you about Eva?”

  The name was unfamiliar; Elijah shook his head.

  Jessica gave a derisive snort. “Of course he hasn’t. You can tell Finn’s self-righteous meddling ass that if he’s keeping his own business to himself then he can damn well do the same with mine.”

  She stomped off back to the bunks.

  15

  FINN

  The next tour stop meant another round of being witty in interviews, chatting and taking photos with fans, and more conflict with the band. Through all of it, Finn would have much rather been with Elijah.

  He liked spending time with the guy, a lot more than he’d expected to.

  Finn pulled out his phone, sending a quick text to Elijah.

  I’m just going to Starbucks and then I’ll be back on the bus.

  A reply arrived quickly.

  Can you get me something too?

  Starbucks sells blood now?

  I can drink black tea and coffee. Tea preferred if available.

  For real? That’s pretty wild, Finn wrote back.

  I prefer it to blood, actually.

  Seriously? Must be pretty fucking great, then.

  Not all of us are hedonist rock stars, Elijah’s reply came. There are lots of reasons people might opt to refrain from something even if it’s pleasurable.

  Finn didn’t bother to reply for that, recognizing that they were straying into a conversation that would be a lot faster in person than over text message.

  He took their drink orders back to the bus, offering Elijah his black tea.

  “We’ve got the place to ourselves,” Elijah told him after offering thanks for the drink.

  “Nice. Even extroverts need peace and quiet sometimes,” Finn replied, taking a draught of his latte. The cream and caffeine combination made him sigh contentedly. “What were you like when you were alive? Sorry if that’s taboo to ask, or whatever. I was just wondering if people change much, because you’re a pretty chill guy now.”

  Elijah looked thoughtful for a long beat before replying. “I was… driven. First on my family’s estate, then later in student activism. I liked having things to do. That changed a lot when I became a vampire, obviously. Now I have very few ties. So I suppose the answer is yes. We change.”

  “You were a political activist?”

  “I was. These days I remain detached from human politics as much as possible.”

  “I guess vampires have their own system, so they don’t have to care about ours,” Finn observed.

  Elijah shook his head. “No, that isn’t why. I haven’t distanced myself because I no longer care about humanity, I’ve distanced myself because I care too much to meddle — and because I’m already in trouble with those more powerful than me as it is.”

  The words were coupled with an impish smile that Finn wasn’t sure was entirely truthful. But then, Elijah didn’t owe him the truth anyway. He could say whatever he liked about himself and Finn wouldn’t be able to contradict its validity.

  Finn had never noticed before how fleeting all of Elijah’s smiles were, how quickly they vanished. His laid-back attitude disguised the fact that the vampire didn’t seem especially at ease most of the time.

  The discovery made Finn want to give Elijah more reasons to smile, to conjure happy expressions on his face more often.

  “Come on,” he said, finishing his coffee. “Come watch our sound check. You can bring your tea.”

  16

  ELIJAH

  There was always something meditative about watching sound checks before shows, seeing the musicians checking the same handful of notes over and over to get the levels right on all their equipment and instruments.

  Elijah liked the rowdy, happy sounds of the early comers queuing up for the show, too. Sometimes Crystal Pulse would play a whole song through at their sound check, as a gift to those kids, but Elijah could tell that this wouldn’t be one of those evenings — despite their calm, conversational mood earlier, Finn was now looking tense, almost angry.

  “This isn’t the regular firm we use for venue security,” he snapped to one of the techs, gesturing to the security guards checking over the space. “What happened to the regular guys?”

  “I dunno, I guess they weren’t available this time. Shit happens,” Curtis answered with a shrug. “Can we please just do the fucking sound check?”

  “Do we have references on these new ones?” Finn demanded, voice growing sharper. “Does the tour manager know? Does fucking Piotr know?”

  Damien pointed over in Elijah’s direction with a glare. “Hey, you, Penny Lane. Can you talk some sense into him? Since apparently he doesn’t give a shit about what his goddamn band says anymore, maybe he’ll still listen to the groupie he’s fucking.”

  Elijah rolled his eyes at the rudeness, but did want to try calming Finn down from what seemed to be threatening to become a full-blown panic attack. He wandered up onto the stage and close to Finn, close enough that the rest of the band couldn’t hear.

  “Being this afraid of personal injury is a strange thing to see in someone who claims to be suicidal,” he joked gently.

  Finn looked puzzled for a moment, then gave a nasty laugh. “You’ve got it twisted. The security isn’t to protect me.”

  He lifted his guitar strap off over his head and handed the instrument over to one of the techs, then stormed off alone.

  Elijah followed Finn through the labyrinth of backstage rooms, catching up with him as he looked ready to punch his fist against a concrete support pillar.

  “Don’t do that, you’ll hurt your fingers. You have to play later,” Elijah reminded him. Finn grunted, but complied.

  “Before you say a word, no, I’m not going to fucking talk about it,” he muttered. “Just… keep an eye on the crowd tonight, can you? Make sure security is taking care of them.”

  Elijah stayed stage-side that night, instead of his usual position down in the audience near the bar. The energy was different from the new vantage point, unfamiliar but not unpleasant. He kept an eye on the crowd, making sure they remained happy and were treated well by the venue’s security guards.

  Crowd-watching didn’t feel like an especially important task to Elijah, but judging by the fond, grateful looks Finn shot him between songs, it was the most vital thing he could be doing with his time in that moment.

  17

  FINN

  The buzzing of his phone woke him, dragging him out of heavy sleep.

  “Finn here,” he managed to grunt, wincing at the general discomfort of being awake.

  “Hi Finn, this is Annelise from the label,” a way-too-perky voice replied. Finn barely managed to resist the urge to groan. “Piotr asked me to give you a call. His message was ‘since you’re in town, come in for a visit.’ What time should I tell him you’ll be in?”

  Finn could tell the order was non-negotiable. His heart sank. “God, two hours from now, I guess? I don’t know what time it is.”

  “Got it! See you soon.”

  Ugh. The last thing he wanted was to deal with more of Piotr’s slimy bullshit.

  Finn knew it was a cliché for things to be antagonistic between the talent and the suits for a rock band. It hadn’t always been like that for Crystal Pulse, though; when Finn first joined the band, he’d gotten along well with Piotr and the rest of the management team.

  It was only lately, since the… the last festival show, that their interests had diverged enough to create this awful tension between them.

  Now that the relationship had soured, it was as if nothing could go right anymore. Finn also knew it was an even bigger cliché for the talent to feel stifled by the business side of art, but it seemed to Finn that Piotr was intent in living in a version of the world that didn’t exist anymore, with no interest in being new or dynamic or having an eye on the future.

  Hell, Elijah was a vampire, and eve
n he seemed to have a much stronger sense on how to survive in the modern world than the record company did.

  Finn arrived early for the appointment, keen to get it over with quickly and as painlessly as possible. Just like pulling out a splinter.

  Part of him wished that the rest of the band had been summoned, too, so he didn’t have to bear the misery alone. Curtis and Damien had basically checked out of all Crystal Pulse responsibilities beyond showing up onstage to play, as if they were session musicians rather than full members of the band, and Jessica was just as out of control as Finn was. Anything he deserved to get yelled at over, they all deserved it too.

  But that was also the reason why Finn was almost glad that he was the only one who was about to get chewed out. Jess couldn’t cope with the pressure of being yelled at about her breakdown as well as the actual breakdown, and Curtis and Damien weren’t going to care about the problems facing the band no matter how pointedly Piotr threatened them.

  “Finn! Glad you could make it,” Piotr greeted him, as if Finn had ever really had a choice in the matter.

  Piotr was attractive enough, in the polished, moneyed way young executives sometimes were. The total opposite of Finn’s type, but he could appreciate it aesthetically. Too bad the guy’s personality was so obnoxious that it undercut any good looks.

  Piotr’s suits were expensive, and not in the subtle, well-tailored way that expensive suits chosen by tasteful people were expensive. Piotr’s suits were expensive in a way that made sure everyone else in the room with him knew just how powerful he was, just how much money he had, how much more important he was than any of the rest of them.

  He led Finn into his office, a box of polished chrome and huge windows that overlooked the city.

  “I’ve been hearing that you made a scene about a recent security rearrangement,” Piotr said flatly as soon as they were alone. “I need you to understand that causing trouble about that is not okay. Nor is it your responsibility.”