Roger took a step closer, fighting dizziness. A sharp glance from Volnar warned him off. "Privilege of rank?" he whispered hoa.r.s.ely.

"Yes, if I choose to exercise it," said Volnar, abstractedly caressing the girl as if in no particular hurry. "You'll find, however, that I am doing you a favor." Roger hadn't the strength to challenge his advisor; he sank into the nearest chair and watched. Volnar showed no sign of acute need. His strongest emotion, as he bent over the victim, seemed to be cool appre-ciation.

When he pierced her skin, the sharp scent of fresh blood cut through the heavy air of the bedroom. Roger's stomach con-tracted painfully. Antic.i.p.ation sent a bolt of electricity from his parched throat straight to his groin and made the cilia in his palms bristle.

The bloodl.u.s.t, though it combined both hunger and thirst, was more than either. The tormenting promise of satisfaction set his nerves thrumming.

Only two or three minutes pa.s.sed before Volnar withdrew. Roger could detect no change in him other than a slight decrease in tension and a subtle brightening of his aura. "She's well under now," he said. "There is no chance of her waking. And I believe you are thoroughly prepared."

True, watching Volnar had roused Roger's appet.i.te beyond control. As if entranced himself, he sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over the girl. Blood still trickled from the tiny incision in her neck. Ordinarily he would have spent several minutes mesmerizing the victim, to ensure that his kiss would bestow pleasure instead of pain. That work had been done for him.

Nevertheless he did linger for a few seconds, savoring the emotions that stirred in her dreaming mind and her body's unconscious response to his touch.

A few seconds were all he could endure. He lay across her, acutely aware of the warmth of her skin, even through layers of clothing. He feasted on the rich taste of blood, mingled with salt and a trace of talc.u.m. Tingling heat radiated from the point of contact, where his lips clung to her throat, through every cell. Wave after wave of sensation surged over him. He hardly noticed the sleeping girl's climax, except as an additional ripple of pleasure in the flood of ecstasy. He lay submerged in it for a timeless interval.

A firm hand on his shoulder brought him out. With a snarl he turned on Volnar, who said mildly, "Ten minutes should be quite enough." Roger became aware of discrete sensations again-the tang of blood in his mouth, the moist smoothness of the girl's flesh, the varied textures of her gown and the bed covers, the humming of insects through the open window, the breeze fluttering the ruffled curtains. He stood up-and staggered with vertigo. A natural effect of being pulled abruptly out of that warm scarlet fog.

"Sit down for a moment, and you'll soon recover," said Volnar. As usual he spoke coldly, the dispa.s.sionate diagnostician.

Roger obeyed, still feeling as if he were floating. He gradually settled back to normal and processed Volnar's remarks. "Ten minutes? Youtimed me, for G.o.d's sake?"

"You wouldn't want to drain her to the danger point, I suppose, and I had no intention of allowing you to. Do you deny that it was-adequate?"

Roger didn't have to consider that question for long. "Of course not. More than 'adequate.'"

They left just as they'd entered, Volnar closing the screen on the way out. No one lurked nearby to observe their departure, not even a police car on patrol. A cool drizzle fell as they headed back toward downtown.

"Won't she notice the wound on her neck?" Roger asked a block later. He'd wondered about this problem before but hadn't thought to discuss it with Sylvia. "Even though it's small, how will she explain it to herself? Suppose it jogs her memory about you, somehow?"

"You do worry entirely too much, young man," the elder said. "Not likely, since an enzyme in our saliva causes small bite marks to heal within a day or two and prevents infection, as well. Besides, I took the obvious precaution of commanding her not to notice."

Yes, it was obvious, and Roger felt annoyed with himself at not thinking of it before.

On the way back to the hotel Volnar didn't smoke; ap-parently tobacco served him as a subst.i.tute for the real thing. After a while he said, "Make sure you never get into that con-dition again. That is an order."

"I'd be happy to obey-sir-but how do you suggest I arrange it?"

"You seemed to have learned to manage discreetly, for the most part," Volnar said. "But on occasion you do need fully con-scious cooperation. That's what you are starved for."

"I'd think revealing our true nature to victims would be the last thing you'd approve of."

"That is not necessary," said Volnar in a tone of over-strained patience. "Have you thought of patronizing prost.i.tutes?"

Roger found the idea distasteful and said so.

"Of course, one has to be careful of tainted blood. Though you're immune to disease yourself, I daresay your scruples would balk at becoming a carrier. But you should be able to discern any traces of sickness and avoid it."

"I'm supposed to tell them I want to bite them and suck their blood? Isn't that a little too-exotic-for most ladies of the evening?"

Volnar laughed softly. "You don't have to be quite that explicit. The important thing is that they know you don't require penetration, which means less work for them. Your paid partner may not realize exactly what you're doing to her, but she'll enjoy it and get well compensated, which should silence your moral qualms."

"I'll consider it," said Roger. The cold calculation of Vol-nar's approach repelled him.Oh, exploiting patients is so much better, is it?

"Another advantage-there's no risk of emotional involvement, always a hazard when a personal relationship exists between predator and prey. That was Sylvia's downfall."

"She didn't make that clear," said Roger. "I can understand her attraction to that boy, Rico. The way she described it, his pa.s.sion must have been-incredibly seductive. But enough to keep her returning to him when it threatened her safety?"

"You really don't understand, do you? You haven't experienced that kind of obsession yet. It wasn't a purely emotional attachment; she was addicted to him. The usual consequence of returning again and again to a preferred donor. And if there's a certain psychic compatibility, one can become 'hooked' after two or three encounters." Sensing Roger's polite skepticism, he added, "Oh, it will happen to you eventually; you may as well accept that. Just try to arrange that when it does, the donor is someone you can enjoy on other levels besides the obvious."

"You talk as if arranging all these ideal conditions were as easy as-as buying a case of wine."

"Simply take the precaution of varying your targets, never using the same donor more than once or twice over a long period of time. It's a genuine physiological phenomenon, and you must not underestimate its force. You have readCarmilla , no doubt?"

Roger nodded.

"You'll recall the author's remark that 'the vampire is p.r.o.ne to be fascinated with an engrossing vehemence, resembling the pa.s.sion of love, by particular persons ... it will, in these cases, husband and protract its murderous enjoyment with the refine-ment of an epicure, and heighten it by the gradual approaches of an artful courtship.' I'm not sure where Le Fanu obtained his information, but except for the word 'murderous,' he is accurate. "I mention this," Volnar continued, "to impress upon you the perils of such an a.s.sociation. If you want to comprehend what Sylvia experienced when her young pet was killed, imagine the discomfort you were enduring earlier tonight. And imagine, further, that it can be relieved by one donor, and only one. If that donor suddenly becomes permanently inaccessible-"

No wonder Sylvia had behaved irrationally at times! "Discomfort" must be a ludicrously mild word for what she had suf-fered.

Roger wished he'd shown her more sympathy.

Volnar said, "There is another duty I must perform in order to function as your advisor. We need to establish a telepathic rap-port.

It will be for instructional purposes, not quite the same as the bond you share with Sylvia."

"Sorry, I don't quite understand," said Roger.

"You have exchanged blood with her, haven't you?" Volnar asked. "She implied so to me."

Roger had an uncomfortable feeling that the answer he had to give wasn't the one his advisor wanted. "Well-she let me drink from her."

"Youdid reciprocate?"

"She tried that, but I wouldn't allow it."

"Wouldn't allow-" Volnar was speechless for half a block, this time with anger. "Dark Powers! Have you any idea what you've done? No wonder she overindulged with that boy and got driven out of Boston! If you'd behaved with ordinary courtesy, she might still be there."

"And all those victims of hers Sandor killed, hounding her across country-" Just what he needed, a fresh load of guilt.

"The custom of our people," said Volnar icily, "to establish a bond between mentor and pupil, or to express affection, is amutual exchange of blood."

"Then why didn't Sylvia tell me?" Roger lengthened his strides, wishing he could run away from Volnar's unpleasant truths. "It's hardly something I could be expected to figure out for myself."

"Couldn't you?" said Volnar in a thoroughly unforgiving tone. "You've treated her like a victim-an inferior. I'm surprised she let it go on as long as she did. She must be fond of you; the Creator alone knows why. But she has too much pride to spell out what your presumed affection should lead you to do spontaneously."

"d.a.m.n!" After a short silence Roger said defensively, "She might at least have been clearer about what it meant to her." Again he recalled the one time he had tried to fulfill her wish. "No, that's dishonest. She practically begged, and we did attempt it-once. I couldn't go through with it."

"Why not?"

"Feeling her-inside my brain-" Roger felt as if the memory were suffocating him.

"But that's the point of it. In such an exchange you can read the thoughts, share the sensations of your bonded partner, whether vampire or human."

"Oh-then Stoker was right."

"Yes. A single encounter will suffice for you and me. There's no time to explain verbally all you need to know about your nature, so I'll have to transmit the information by osmosis, so to speak."

"What? You expect me to-" Well aware that he would be dominated in that exchange, Roger shrank from the thought of getting that close to the older vampire, even once.

"Why did you suppose I brought up the subject?" By now they had reached the hotel. In the second-floor corridor Volnar again made a brief visual, auditory, and mental scan of the area before unlocking his door. Inside, stale smoke pervaded the air despite the open window.

They sat in the twin armchairs and stared at each other for a moment. "I see you're going to be difficult," said Volnar. "You deserve punishment for exploiting Sylvia, but that's not why I am insisting on the union."

"I know-for my own good."

Volnar ignored the sarcastic tone. "Aside from the fact that it's standard policy, it really is for your own good to overcome this reluctance. Without the bond, it would be practically impossible for me to teach you the skills you need. And I certainly couldn't do it in a single night, much less in the half hour or so we actually have. Also, there will be future occasions when you'll have use for this kind of rapport, so you shouldn't be afraid to initiate it."

"I'm not afraid." Roger settled more comfortably in the uninviting chair. The contentment of satiation was catching up with him. He wished Volnar would be quiet and let him rest.

"What word would you choose? Your inability to open to anyone, even in the most limited and controlled way, hints at paranoia- to an extent dysfunctional even for us." Volnar's tone softened a degree. "Understandable, of course, in view of the iso-lation you've endured all your life." His voice seemed to fade into the distance.

"Wake up!" Volnar snapped.

"I'm listening."

"There are hours left until dawn," Volnar said. "I suppose you don't sleep properly, either. Well, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can rest."

Roger tensed, his drowsiness vanishing. "Right now?"

"The less time you have to brood on the prospect, the less you'll resist, and the easier it will be on you."

Roger sifted through what Volnar had said in the last few minutes. "You mentioned conveying skills. Sylvia is convinced I can learn to shapechange, as she does. Can you-?"

"Teach you that?" Roger felt Volnar fingering the upper-most layers of his mind. After a moment of silence, Volnar said, "No, I sense no vestige of that ability in you. You must realize, as a hybrid you inevitably have certain limitations. On the other hand, in some ways you are more flexible, less vulnerable, than the rest of us. Now, we'll proceed with your initiation."

Chapter 12

ROGER DIDN'T CARE for being shoved around like a chess piece, yet he found a certain security in the way Volnar projected an illusion of absolute control. "Very well, I'm ready."At least, I know I'll never be any readier.

"If you'd grown up among our people, we'd have forged this bond as soon as you reached adolescence," Volnar pointed out. "You are magnifying the process into something far more unpleasant than it is. I intend to show you at once-shock treatment, if you will-that what you consider the worst is nothing to fear."

He stood up, looming above Roger. "I suggest you unb.u.t.ton your collar." Having done so, Roger gripped the arms of the chair, exerting all his self-control to keep from lashing out as Volnar bent over him. Fighting would be undignified as well as useless. He made up his mind to submit to this invasion-once.

Volnar touched his neck, then drew back. "You are making this unnecessarily difficult. If you don't relax, you are likely to feel pain.

You do know how to relax?"

Roger unclenched his hands, exhaled a long breath, and deliberately forced the tension out of his muscles. Volnar leaned over him again and nipped his throat without further preparation. For an instant Roger felt as if he were being sucked down into a bottomless whirlpool. When he clutched Volnar's arms, the old vampire's hands clamped on his shoulders, immobilizing him. Roger tried to scream, but no sound came out. He felt the pressure of Volnar's mind bearing down on him. He couldn't fight that crushing weight.

He deliberately went limp, physically and mentally.

As soon as he relaxed, he realized nothing but his own terror had produced that sensation of being drawn into the abyss. Volnar's touch proved to be as cold and remote as his speech. He drank briefly, and Roger felt no loss of energy.

"You appear to have survived that," Volnar said dryly. "Now we reverse the process." He rolled up his left sleeve. "If you prefer to take from the neck, I'll allow it."

"This will be fine," said Roger. The less intimacy, the better. He sank his teeth into Volnar's arm, wishing he could inflict pain on the other man, if only for a few seconds. But Volnar didn't recoil. Roger did not expect any tangible benefit from this exchange. The interspecies polarity that enabled human blood to nourish him was not present; there wasn't even the s.e.xual polarity that had made drinking from Sylvia pleasant, if not precisely satisfying. Yet he did get something from the cool, alien flavor of Volnar's blood-a tantalizing sense of ancient power, hovering just beyond his reach, there for the taking if only he could imbibe enough.

When the old vampire would have pulled away, Roger grasped more tightly. Volnar allowed it for another minute or two.

Underlying the coolness of Volnar's flesh and the metallic taste of his blood, Roger also sensed the heat of his own lips and tongue on Volnar's skin, the tickle of his breathing on the hairs of the other man's arm.

Impossible-I'm feeling through his senses.

He felt the top layer of Volnar's mental barricade drop. Inside his skull he felt his advisor's exploratory probe, like the fingers of a surgeon preparing to make an incision. Roger struggled to cast out the invader. He might as well have tried to uproot an oak tree.

Volnar's voice spoke inside his head: "Why do you fight? The bond is complete. Neither of us can break it."

Roger felt a surge of vertigo. "Are you saying you'll be inside my brain forever?"

The ghost of a dry laugh. "Not at all. That would be equally distasteful to me. We can initiate and end communication at will, and in any case the rapport works only over short distances. A deeper union would require repeated exposure." The tone of the mental voice hardened. "Now, brace yourself. This part will be strenuous for both of us."

A tornado roared through Roger's head. He groped for an anchor, anything to help him stand against the whirlwind. He had no defense. It shattered his consciousness into a million fragments. Images crashed over him with the force of a tidal wave. Moonless nights, far from any human habitation, illuminated only by the haloes of living creatures' auras. Flying on currents of air above mountain peaks barren except for snow-swept rock. Sprinting through a chill desert night to spring on a coyote and rip out its throat. Stalking through the darkness shrouded in the illusory forms of wolf, panther, giant bat. Gazing into the eyes of an entranced woman who begged to open her veins and share her life-essence. Not one woman, but hundreds. Blood, rivers and oceans of it.

He was drowning- The overbearing presence became fainter. Roger woke to awareness of his own thoughts. Sc.r.a.ps of information whirled in his brain like autumn leaves lashed by a hurricane. He opened his eyes, realizing that his lips were still pressed to Volnar's wrist.

Volnar pulled away. "That's more than enough. This is only a token exchange, remember?"

Dizzy and nauseated, Roger bowed his head on his hands. "Whatwas that?"

"As I explained, that was the only way I could convey everything you need to know quickly enough. An information dump, so to speak."

"I don't know anything," Roger muttered. "It's all-chaotic."

Volnar laid a hand on his shoulder. "The confusion will pa.s.s quickly. The knowledge is lodged in your unconscious. The facts will sort themselves out, and when you need a piece of information, it will rise to the surface."

"Telepathy," Roger said. "Verbal transmission of thoughts. I don't believe it." He leaned back against the chair, waiting for his head to stop spinning.

"You do have a habit of skepticism, don't you? Actually, for extended conversation, telepathy is less efficient than speaking aloud.