Page 116 of A Shade Too Far
“Nothing,” I said hastily.
He quirked an eyebrow at me. “We both know that’s not true.”
“All right.” I finished my sake and pulled up my notes before this shot of courage disappeared.
Zev poured himself more alcohol.
“The initial story I heard about the Torquemada Gloves was that they’d been cursed by a demon and that anyone who put them on would become convinced they no longer wore their own skin. They’d go mad and eventually die clawing their skin off.”
The vampire snorted, the cup poised at his lip.
“But that didn’t make a lot of sense given your reaction when I handed them to you after stealing them from Torres.”
He startled. “What reaction?”
“You looked like you were praying.”
Once again, he downed his drink. Could vamps get drunk?
However, Zev hadn’t told me to shut up or torn out my throat, so I kept going, finding my place on the screen. “Supposedly the half circle on the gloves was the mark of the demon who’d cursed them, but then I learned of the blood libel in Avila in 1491 and Torquemada’s torture methods of skinning people alive. He’d made a book out of human skin with the same mark, which turned out was a fingerprint, and—”
“Enough.” The word was wrung out of the vampire’s deepest misery. His fingers tightened on the cup.
My magic curled into a shadowy cuff around my left wrist. I was braced for anything, even having to use my scythe against him. I didn’t want to, I realized with surprise, but I didn’t want to die even more.
“What did you learn of the demon?” he finally said.
“How he slaughtered people. The connection to a ravening wolf. The meaning of the Biblical name Ze’ev,” I said gently.
The vampire raised his cup in a salute. “You’ve put almost all of it together. It’s only fair that I fill in that final piece.” There was something reckless about him tonight, an abandonment that crackled the air around him. It sat as wrong on this always-in-control supernatural creature as people believed the cursed gloves would, and I scratched at my skin as if I already wore them.
“That’s okay. I don’t need to know.”
“Ah, Ms. Feldman, but what if I want you to?”
I’d had a friend who had shared all the details of her husband’s infidelity with me, including all her anger and hostility toward him. I’d sat with her for hours while she sobbed and talked through her emotions, but when she and her husband reconciled, she’d cut me out of her life.
I felt used and abandoned, and although I told myself that she was probably embarrassed or simply didn’t want me reminding her of the past, it took a long time for the hurt to fade.
I didn’t want to suffer Zev’s inevitable regret at baring his soul because it wouldn’t be as simple as him blocking my number, but it’s not like I had a choice. Inwardly sighing, I smiled. “I’d be honored to hear the tale.”
“I was still a rabbi back then. Human.” He paused. “Married.”
I closed my eyes briefly, really not wanting to learn more.
“Torquemada.” Zev rubbed his thumb over the rim of the sake cup. “Enough has been written of his evil, and if there is a God, then that monster is tortured a thousand times over every day for what he did to our people.” He frowned, gazing off, then shook his head. “You must understand that a Jew’s position was precarious at the best of times. My wife, Naomi?” He added the Jewish phrase “zikhronah livrakha.” May her memory be a blessing.
My cousin Goldie had often said that when speaking of my mom.
Zev cleared his throat. “Naomi was a beautiful woman and she commanded unwanted attention.”
I topped up my drink.
“But she stayed within our community, and we all made sure to keep her safe. However, when Torquemada unleashed his chosen inquisitors, it was a very different story. Both of us were rounded up and tortured, forced to confess that we’d seen the suspects commit blood libel. She…” He stared into his empty cup, then blinked. “Died. I was not so fortunate.”
There was a long silence. Yet even with the dread looping around my neck like a noose, I had to know.
“The gloves…are they…were they…”
