Page 56 of Besieger
As if sensing his thoughts, Tabes tossed the magazine aside and stood up from the bed. His body started transforming as he walked towards Raffaelle. The visual of the change was unsettling—his skin seemed to liquefy and reshape, parts of the body readjusted to fit their new frame and stature. Raffaelle never grew used to the sight of the metamorphosis, no matter the end result. Every fibre of his body screamed at him to avert his eyes from the demon as its skin shed and knitted itself anew.
Tabes’ complexion deepened to a sun-warmed bronze; the hair grew longer, straighter, almost reaching his elbows. His whole form extended into a slender build with long arms and sculpted legs. The eyes, once golden and twinkling with mischief, now glittered back at Raffaelle, provoking and black as night.
“Have you been good, my pet?” Raffaelle asked, unable to stop himself.
“Always,” Tabes smiled, wearing Emerick’s face.
The voice was never quite right. The timbre was a note too low, too deep; the words missing that drawl, that musky seduction and the ever-present mocking tone of theComte. Raffaelle did not mind: after all, he had no desire toconversewhen the demon was in this form.
In this guise Tabes stood taller, looking down at him. Raffaelle loved and hated it. He had been on the receiving end of that glare from the realComte, and it always agitated him. He noticed that the clothes the demon wore now fitted perfectly on the lankier limbs, as though they had been made by a bespoke tailor; they suited him disturbingly well.
The outfit was a three-piece slim-cut suit in a shade of green so dark it appeared grey in the lamplight. The shirt and tie were black. Creeping up from the breast pocket, Raffaelle saw the embroidered snowdrops half-hidden behind a silk handkerchief. All of it looked strangely familiar.
“Where did you get this suit?” He fingered one of the waistcoat buttons, then played with the neatly ironed collar of theshirt. An alluring scent came from the demon—smoky, spicy—it made Raffaelle’s mouth water.
Tabes smiled: even his teeth had grown sharp.A near perfect mirror.
“Fromtheirrooms.”
The shock on Raffaelle’s face made Tabes laugh, breaking the illusion. There was such giddiness in the shrill sound, like a naughty child who knew they were beyond reprimands. Emerick never laughed like that.
“I stole it weeks ago. They are rarely here: I bet they do not even know what they are leaving behind. There are so many trinkets!”
He lifted his hand, palm facing Raffaelle and showed the rings adorning his fingers. Raffaelle did not know if he should be angry or pleased. He realised why the suit was familiar: hehad seenEmerick wear it on one occasion or another. Now he was touching it, deciding if, and how, to strip it off the demon.
His servant pulled away and draped himself across the bedframe, oblivious to the tangle of sheets and pillows, the tea tray and the pile of magazines just within reach. Tabes looked inviting, alluring, even, as he gazed up at Raffaelle with such naked honesty.
Raffaelle had to remind himself that the body before him was a double. The real Emerick would never be this vulnerable, this overcome with need… with adoration.
Today, however, he was too agitated and found the trick childish and distasteful. After spending hours in Dulior’s company, listening to her whine and complain about theMarquisand—
“The other one then?” Tabes chirped and his body melted into a replica of Silvio, the moment the man’s face had appeared in Raffaelle’s mind.
The shift was so sudden and fast, the voice changing last; the clothes now too tight for this form, the stitching ripped at the back and shoulders; it startled Raffaelle.
He did not know what poison and lies Dulior had fed the All Father; had it been her endless drone about the Count—her husband—that had ignited Ingenuar’s curiosity, or did he too want to have a go at breaking the man. Silvio had endured centuries confined and tethered to Dulior’s skirts. To Raffaelle, becoming a Regent was the equivalent of wearing a muzzle: it did not grant power—not with a father like ours.Silvio looked sumptuous in that muzzle, he wore it and the title with pride.
Raffaelle’s tongue twitched between his teeth. He was suddenly thirsty. He could drink Tabes dry and the demon would rise again unfazed, but it was not his blood he desired. Nor Dulior’s, for that was the blood that pumped through theMarquis’ veins. Emerick’s blood would be the cleanest, closest to Silvio’s.
Raffaelle’s smile crumbled. He knew of no other vampire Silvio might have sired; his only option was Emerick if he wanted a taste.
“I’ll make do with you, pet,” he announced, smiling despite himself, and Tabes arched an eyebrow, long since resigned to the machinations of his master’s mind, and tired of them.
“How generous,” Tabes humoured him, mouth twitching, before Raffaelle grabbed him by the chin.
He squeezed, digging his nails in, and Tabes keened, all pretence at defiance dissolving. Raffaelle liked the show of arrogance and venom in Silvio’s eyes. He wanted those viridescent eyes to fill with tears, that stoic mouth to quiver and obsecrate.
The green suit kept bothering Raffaelle. It made him wonder what Tabes did with his days when his master slept or was not there.Does he go through all the rooms, rummaging, snooping and stealing?
“Is there a room you have not been in?”
Tabes grinned mischievously. He had started to undress unprompted, stripping Rafaelle as well. If he was not careful, he might end up enjoying having theMarquisserve him.
“You are not feeding off another vampire, are you? I would hate to share my secrets with anyone you have enthralled.”
“Are those putrid thoughts meant to be a secret? Oh, Raffy, there are worse,dirtierthings in this Coven than our reveries, and your serpentine tongue.”
Later, once Tabes had served his purpose, the demon sat at the table, complaining about how cold his breakfast had grown, the coffee grounds settling at the bottom of the cup like mud. Raffaelle watched him eat while wearing Emerick’s skin. The slices of toast crunched and broke under the fangs; theComte’s double reached for the knife to spread more butter, his other hand lifted the coffee cup to his lips and drowned the espresso in one single gulp.
