Queen of Shadows

“God.” Miranda took a long drink from the half-empty water bottle at her elbow. “Did you love your sire?”

 

“No. I paid her. I loved the boy I changed for . . . but as it turned out, he didn’t love me, at least not for very long.” Faith sighed. “Remember how I said love wasn’t a good reason to become a vampire? I spoke from experience.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“It was a long time ago. And in the end, I was grateful. All of that misery brought me here, to the life I feel I was meant to lead. I just hope it’s easier for you.” She gave Miranda a long, searching look. “Are you sure . . .”

 

“Yes,” Miranda said, and despite the weariness in her voice there was also determination. “I never expected it to be easy. Nothing worthwhile ever is.” She took another bite of her burrito, then set the plate down, looking a little nauseated. “I know that if I do this, I’ll be where I belong . . . and everything I’ve been through will have some meaning.”

 

“Well, you’re going to need to make some arrangements—once you two decide when exactly you’re coming back, you’ll need to clear your schedule for a couple of weeks. You may have to stop performing—”

 

“No,” Miranda cut her off. “Music is the only thing that’s gotten me through all these years. My career’s just getting started. I’m not giving it up.”

 

Faith smiled at her. “You will need to take some time off, though. Even once the change is complete you’ll need time to adjust. So you might want to start talking to your manager about it now—invent some kind of surgery, maybe.”

 

“Good idea. Everyone dealt with my vanishing once. I don’t want to do that to them again.” Miranda looked thoughtful, and faintly dismayed. “I’m going to have to figure out what to tell Kat.”

 

“What cat?”

 

Miranda laughed. “Not a cat. Kat. She’s a friend of mine. I’m sure Lindsay has reported my going out with her a lot.”

 

“Oh, right—the woman with the dreadlocks. Yes, we know about her. And about the boy.”

 

“You mean Drew? I’m not so sure he’ll be coming around anymore. He probably won’t want to anyway. I think David scared the piss out of him.”

 

“I’m shocked,” Faith said wryly. “What did he do?”

 

“Threatened to kill him.”

 

“Of course,” Faith said. “How romantic. So, tell me more about this whole thing—what happened? After all that ‘I have to stay away for her own good’ bullshit, how did you two end up snacking on each other?”

 

Miranda got that dreamy look back in her eyes and pulled her knees up to her chin. “How much detail do you want?”

 

“Everything—just do me a favor and stay away from words like throbbing and turgid.”

 

She snorted. “Fine, but I will say this: Remember what you said about Hades being spectacular in bed?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well . . .” She turned bright pink. “You don’t know the half of it.”

 

 

 

Sunday evening Miranda woke all at once, with no eye-rubbing transition to wakefulness, and stared blinking at her bedroom ceiling for a full minute before she realized she could see in the dark.

 

The room was never a hundred percent black despite the heavy curtains—and layer of cardboard—she’d hung over the two windows; a little light always came in through the edges of the door. Still, she had never abandoned her nocturnal habits from the Haven, so she wanted it good and dark in her room during the day to let her sleep; usually the first thing she did once the sun was down was to snap on the bedside lamp so she didn’t have to blunder around and knock her shins on things.

 

This time, she opened her eyes to find that it was unusually bright, yet she knew nothing had changed while she slept. The light level in the room was the same as always . . . but she could see. Everything was blue and lavender and gray, but perfectly distinct.

 

She sat up and looked around, fascinated. She could read the spines of books across the room. She could read the print on the electric bill she’d tossed carelessly on her desk.

 

Her mouth went dry with momentary fear. Was this normal? Had she . . .

 

She got out of bed and walked, without stubbing her toe once, into the bathroom, where she didn’t have to turn on the light to see herself in the mirror.

 

She was still in the mirror. That was something.

 

David had said her senses would fluctuate. Was this how vampires saw? Everything was sharp and clear, and it was almost as if some things were more than three-dimensional.

 

Once she got over the newness of it and relaxed into the difference, she found she liked it. It was certainly going to come in handy reading music in dimly lit clubs.

 

She stripped off her pajamas—Mickey was getting pretty rank—and turned on the shower, and again found she was mesmerized, this time by the water raining down from the showerhead. If she concentrated, she could see individual droplets and watch the path each one took down the drain.

 

Shaking herself out of it, she got into the shower, but when she went to lather up her mesh bath sponge, the smell of her lavender body wash was so intense she nearly threw up. She capped the bottle and rummaged around in the miscellaneous half-used toiletries that cluttered her shower shelf, coming up with a travel-sized container of organic unscented soap that Kat had left when she spent the night back in January.

 

It still had a smell, but it was tolerable. She soaped herself up and, after considering her shampoo selection, used the same stuff for her hair.

 

Drowsy from the heat and steam, she wrapped herself in her bathrobe and wandered into the kitchen.

 

On the street outside a car alarm suddenly went off, and she shrieked and dove back into the hallway, hands clamped over her ears. Pain ricocheted off the inside of her skull.

 

She stared blindly into the fridge for a while. Nothing was remotely appetizing. She’d asked Faith to throw the pizza in the Dumpster when she left, and though there was technically plenty of food, she didn’t want any of it. The thought of eating made her stomach churn.

 

She settled for some saltine crackers and a bottle of Vitamin Water.

 

Her phone rang; she jumped again but this time didn’t panic. The ring wasn’t nearly as loud as the car outside had been. Her phone was where she’d left it on the table.

 

She saw who it was, and her heart leapt.

 

“Hi,” she said.

 

“How are you?” David asked.

 

“Better. But I can see in the dark.”

 

A pause. “You can?”

 

“Yeah. Everything’s blue. Is that normal?”

 

She heard him take a deep breath. “Not exactly. I think it’s another sign that we overdid it.”

 

“If you say so. I think it’s kind of neat, actually. I can’t wait to see what’s next.”

 

He laughed. “You are a rare woman.”

 

“I’m something, all right.” She sat on the couch, the sound of his voice making her toes curl, and said, “I wish you were here.”

 

“So do I.”

 

“When will you be?”

 

A sigh. “I can’t get away until Friday—perhaps I could come by after your show.”

 

“I’d like that.” Almost an entire week; she’d stand it somehow. “How are you feeling?”

 

The humor returned. “Apparently I’m giddy. The Elite are finding me rather obnoxious.”

 

“You, giddy?”

 

“Relatively speaking, I’m sure.”

 

She heard something beep, and he said, “Damn. I have to go—I’m in the middle of recalibrating part of the network, and I had a minute while it was running. I just wanted to check on you. And hear your voice.”

 

“I’m glad you called.”

 

“I’ll talk to you soon—perhaps even later tonight if you’re awake. I love you.”

 

She knew she was grinning like a fool, and she didn’t care. “I love you, too.”

 

They hung up. Miranda was thankful that the withdrawal seemed to have faded; she didn’t feel like crying this time.

 

In fact, overall, she felt fantastic. The weakness had left her body, and she wanted to get up and do something, preferably something that involved a lot of running. She didn’t have another scheduled session with Sophie until Tuesday, and she had gigs on Wednesday on through the end of the week, leaving her at loose ends at least for the night. She was pretty sure Kat would want to get together tomorrow.

 

She should go out and get something to eat. Perhaps being at a restaurant, with the smells of food around her, would stimulate her appetite; part of her resistance to eating was the idea of cooking. She could go to Kerbey and have all the pancakes she wanted.

 

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