Free Blacker than Black by Rhi Etzweiler

I wonder who she’s addressing—another vampire, or a human lurking out of sight nearby? But one look at Garthelle makes it obvious. At the sound of his name—not his surname, not his title; what else could “Leonard” be?—a startling transformation occurs.
    It’s as though the sound of his name releases him from a spell. “The Monsieur of York” falls away, a too-large coat slipping from his shoulders. His features relax, the line of his shoulders and spine loosening. Each movement no longer measured and calculated as he steps closer. Is he embracing the freedom she offers, the comfort of stepping outside his role of ruler and host? Or is she forcing it, demanding? The blindness frustrates me.
    “Soiphe, Madame. So glad you came.”
    She holds her hand out, hovering in the space between them, amber-orange aura haloing down her forearm to extend a few inches beyond her fingers. The tendrils remind me of what I’ve seen Jhez do on occasion, except Soiphe’s aura is completely steady, still. Almost solid, ethereal become corporeal. Less an extension of aura as an extension of self.
    Garthelle doesn’t hesitate to reach out, holding his hand beside hers, palms facing but not touching. Not physically, at least. His aura—colors shifting and shimmering, pearl and platinum, gold and daffodil and the hundred shades of yellow I saw in his eyes—tangles with hers along the fringes, melding together in that one spot.
    To me he is Garthelle—vamp, john, unknown and potentially hostile entity. But here in this intimate moment, despite the slightly public venue amongst all these other vamps, he isn’t the Monsieur, the ruling vamp, or even an employer. He is simply a friend greeting a friend. So beautiful I want to cry, and at the same time it’s strange he’d let us witness this.
    “Not all resources need be expended, Madame. Surely you would agree with that sentiment.” Garthelle stares down at us, then returns his focus to the Madame. Leonard. The shift, the transformation, fascinates me. Not just that he switches roles. It’s a glimpse of what he truly is. Not the masks he wears or the roles he plays. I can’t help but watch him, follow his sharp gaze as it flicks back and forth along the length of my reclined form, over my sister’s arm draped across my chest like a shield. “Some are more valuable as assets.”
    Soiphe pins Garthelle with her dark gaze, and my breath catches in my throat as I watch her. Jhez flinches, a faint twitch that makes me conscious that I’m digging my nails into her forearm. I try to relax my grip, but the woman’s face in profile horrifies me.
    That nose, the line of brow and jaw. It’s been many years since we saw our father last. Decades. But some memories never fade. I want to deny the blatant evidence. Coincidental similarities, nothing more.
    “Do you see it?” I tilt my head back, desperately seeking the reassurance of my sister’s gaze.
    She stares down at me, eyes wide, face pale. Sneaks another quick glance at the vampire. “How could I not?” Her voice mimics mine, barely above a whisper.
    “I’m delighted you elected to attend this gathering.” Garthelle’s deep tenor slides along my frayed nerves like aloe on a burn. I watch his lips, the corners of his mouth, as he speaks with the stranger. This close, the edges of his aura tangle with mine. His awareness, his focus, diverting in my direction. It charges the mix of lust and fear in my blood. “For a while, I despaired of having your presence.”
    Soiphe offers a faint, short-lived grin. “For a while there, I had no intentions of it. Things are rather unsettled of late.”
    Just as Garthelle is about to respond, a rustle of fabric and sudden movement announce the arrival of a second strangevampire. A flawlessly attired woman flanks our employer, approaching from the left. Blindsiding him.
    Her arrival sends tension through both Garthelle and Soiphe, and I wonder what causes the disturbance. Is it how she