Death in Splendor: Wound of the Rose Trilogy, #3

By Avis Black

Death in Splendor is the third volume in the Wound of the Rose Trilogy, a gay romance and vampire tale.

How do you kill a vampire?  How do you escape the drug of a vampire bite, a blinding delight so potent no mortal flesh can withstand it?

On the quest for his missing lover Maurice Fitzpons, Seth Keane becomes a pawn in a proxy war between Ravenshaw and Lord Meath.  But Seth has learned an important piece of knowledge from the apothecary Joseph Phillips, a lesson which he hopes will allow him to escape his present slavery.  Nonetheless, everyone he holds dear is in danger as he struggles to regain his freedom.   

The lives of two men--Seth and Maurice--now hang in the balance as the vampires head for their final showdown.
 

Excerpt:

“You're dead.”  

My patient gave a polite, humorous smile.  “But obviously alive.  Do you have an explanation?  A conjecture?  A wild guess?”

I stared.  Every thought was running through my mind at once, rising on waves of logic, sinking into troughs of panic, wild, unstable.  I began to sweat.   He should be dead, utterly dead.  I’d seen him lying horribly wounded outside Lichburg Manor, death hovering only minutes away.  I’d hauled his body to the graveyard myself. I tried to mask my nervousness.  A monster was sitting on my metal examination table with his shirt off.  His bare chest looked all too normal.  I knew more about this horror than any living being, but my knowledge was still so slight.  

He was still, waiting for my diagnosis, except for a very fine, almost undetectable motion of his eyes.
I should have been frightened out of my wits, yet--  

Maurice Fitzpons wanted an answer.  He’d hunted me down to find one.

“What do you know about your condition?  What happened to you?  I need to construct a case history before I can draw any conclusions.”  It was difficult to concentrate.  The eyes of my patient were grey, never a warm color, and they were unnerving in the eyes of a vampire, more like that of some insensate animal.  “How did you become a vampire?”  

The vampire looked closely at me with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.  I kept my mind blank and stopped taking notes for fear of making him fall silent.

“I don’t remember.”  The vampire smiled slightly, obviously enjoying the perturbation this caused.

“Nothing at all?” I exclaimed.  I could not hide my disappointment.  Yet I was also relieved. 
 
“I was dead at the time,” he replied with a touch of mockery.

“But did anything happen before you--died--that you can recall?”  This was the most ticklish question, and I knew I was risking my life to ask it.

“I tried to kill your uncle.  Wasn’t certain if it worked, either.  Seen him around lately?”

Now the bright-eyed mockery was on full display.  I could not imagine how Keane had been able to bear him as a flatmate.  

“I have not seen my uncle,” I replied with fraying patience, “in two years.”

“It must have worked, then.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Slash Press
• Release date: Apr 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533719003

Avis Black

Avis Black is the author of several works of M/M romance, comedy, and erotica. She also writes under the name Monique Raimbaud.

Book preview

Death in Splendor

by

AVIS BLACK

Volume III of The Wound of the Rose Trilogy

Copyright © 2015 by Avis Black

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Cover photograph and design © 2015 by The Slash Press

PART 5

A BARGAIN WITH DEATH

CHAPTER 1

The Fight

Clara found me after she came home from work. I’d been staring into space and looked away to compose my features after she entered.

How have you been?

Her bright manner sent a frisson of revulsion along my nerves. I’m well, I replied, knowing my tone was harsh.

I was too preoccupied to initiate any sort of contact after we lay down on the bed. Baffled, she put her arms around me, and I almost pushed her away.

Seth, she said softly. You have to pull yourself together. You must.

This roused me, and I kissed her. I’ll try.

We lay there for a while, neither speaking. I could sense Clara’s melancholic wonder at my unfathomable moods.

I shut my eyes. I was seeing Clara and myself lying on a bed, but we were upside down and at a strange angle. I threw myself off the bed and bounded to the window with the absurd thought that the last thing I wanted was my ex-lover catching me with a girl.

Seth? Clara exclaimed, sitting up.

I seized the curtain and whipped it aside. A silver-haired head dropped upside down in front of my face. I was paralyzed for one long second.

The object grinned. It was Ravenshaw.

I whipped the curtain shut. Fatalistically, I’d been waiting for this.

What is it? Clara asked.

I thought I heard a prowler.

Are you certain?

I believe so. Go home to your father. Have Mrs. Carter summon a hansom. I didn’t know if Clara was in danger, but the risk was too great. Ravenshaw might leave her unharmed as long as she was ignorant of the professor’s true condition.

After Clara left, I kept vigil by the fire, unsleeping, thinking, waiting for the intruder. I stirred the fire with the poker and set it in the flames to heat red-hot.

How to fight him? There was the pistol, but you couldn’t kill a vampire with it. I viewed my fate with apathy and could scarcely be bothered to concoct a plan in my present mood. There was nothing left for me. Maurice was a monster. Clara’s love and devotion were not enough, and she deserved a better man than myself. She would be free of me if I were dead. This last thought made me strangely calm. Maybe my wild mood of the last several days had begun to burn itself out.

It was a very long night. He never came.

Cat toying with a mouse, I thought.

Your best bottle of champagne, I said to the wine merchant the next morning.

It’s twenty-five pounds.

What?! I exclaimed, suddenly my stepfather’s son again. So expensive? I glanced at the contents of my wallet. Do you have something good for five pounds?

Sweet or dry?

Whatever would appeal to someone who’s dead. Make sure it has a pronounced flavor.

The merchant gave me an odd look. If it’s for an invalid, sweet would be better. I can provide you with a nice red. Have an occasion to celebrate? he asked, his manner becoming more affable once he saw me count out my bills.

Yes. A funeral. Good day.

The walk back to Bethnal Green was a long one, for I did not care to waste my last coins on a hansom. I soon regretted the decision. As I made my brisk way through the crowds, I began to see with a strange dual sight. Wagons and carriages collided without a crash, and two different sets of pedestrians were sharing the same spots on the pavement ahead.

I glanced over my shoulder. A man wrapped in a topcoat and wearing an old-fashioned beaver hat was following me.

Ravenshaw.

I sped up even more, though I was already going fast. The professor was about ten yards behind and seemed to be in no great hurry. I willed my double vision to resolve into one. It refused to cooperate. In my rush, I collided with a lady and spouted apologies, then found myself pausing for pedestrians who weren’t there.

I made it back to Bethnal Green in this jerky fashion, praying for just a little more time to carry out my plan. I’d been up all night working on it.

My street appeared. I crossed over to Mr. Phillips’ shop and stole a look through the plate glass. Clara was alone at the counter.

A grating rattle came from behind me, and I saw a coach covered with a faded varnish in the reflection of the plate glass. On the box sat the idiot boy from Lichburg Manor. A shadowy figure was watching me from the cushions inside the vehicle.

I almost flew inside the shop.

Clara heard my order with surprise, but she sold me the bottle anyway. What do you need it for?

Scratches.

You’ve hurt yourself? Where? Let me have a look.

It’s nothing. I just need to clean the marks. One last thing, may I borrow this? I lifted her necklace in my hand. I would like its comfort.

I touched the cross to my lips in a reverent fashion. Her own lips parted in surprise at my gesture, and I was aware of our intense closeness, of me holding her neck imprisoned by the tiny gold chain. I gave her mouth a quick kiss.

She returned the kiss and removed the necklace, handing it to me. If you think it would help, she said.

I’m almost recovered, I assured her as I headed for the door.

I’ll see you after work, she called breathlessly.

I could not bring myself to reply. Ravenshaw was standing on the pavement in front of the door of my building. I braced myself