The Vampire Always Rises

by Katie MacAlister

  “What are you doing?” he asked, reeling back.

  “Climbing up front so I can talk to you rather than the back of your fat head.”

  “My head is not fat!”

  “I meant that figuratively rather than literally. Ow. Would you move your arm—ow! Stop trying to help!” I managed to get over the seat into the front without flashing too much leg. “If I’d known I was going to be doing this, I’d have worn pants rather than a sundress. Whew. OK. Now we can talk.”

  The look he gave me was one of mingled puzzlement and exasperation. “You are not at all what I expected.”

  “Since you evidently have me mistaken for someone else, I’m not surprised.” I stuck out my hand. “Let’s do this properly, shall we? Hi. I’m Tempest, and I don’t know anyone named Victor.”

  He looked at my hand for a moment, then reluctantly shook it. “I am Merrick Simon.”

  “I know.” I smiled at him, getting a good look at his face when he switched on the interior lights. He had a slightly Slavic look about him despite his Celtic accent, with high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a narrowly squared chin. I had the worst urge to reach out a hand and draw a line along that jaw, wondering if the hint of stubble felt as nice as it looked. Inner Tempest urged me to do just that, but I told her to turn off her motor, and stick to what was important—like why the vampire whom I’d fed was now kidnapping me.

  “How do you know?”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that Allie had told me all about him and his three Horsemen buddies, but remembered in time that she’d asked me not to mention it to anyone. I didn’t want to get her into trouble after she’d been so honest with me. “Um. That’s ... I can’t tell you.”

  He squinted at me. “Why not?”

  “Because I promised someone I wouldn’t. But you can take it from me that it was someone nice. That is, someone who isn’t a bad guy. Why did you kidnap me? Why didn’t you just talk to me? I mean, after what we’ve been through, you can’t think I’d yell or scream at seeing you.”

  “What we’ve been through?” He looked downright confused now, and it struck me with a blow that was almost physical that he truly had no idea who I was. He didn’t remember me! We’d shared the most profoundly important physical relationship I’d ever had, and he didn’t remember it.

  My brain whirled around trying to process this fact, and it wasn’t until he placed a finger under my chin and gently pushed upward that I realized my jaw had dropped at the realization. I blinked at him a couple of times, unsure of what to say that didn’t sound either bitchy or extremely needy.

  “I ... I ... ” I stammered, and came to a halt. “We ... uh ... we’ve met,” I finished lamely.

  “When?” He gave me a visual once-over. “I don’t remember meeting you.”

  “We have, regardless.”

  His gaze settled on my hair, an odd expression on his face. “Your hair ...”

  I touched a curl. “It’s red.”

  “Yes. There’s something ...” He closed his eyes for a few seconds, clearly trying to remember. I held my breath, waiting for him to tell me that he recognized the face of his savior, but all he did was shake his head, opening his eyes to reveal nothing but vague suspicion. “It’s not important.”

  Oh, he did not just say that, Inner Tempest gasped in horror. I fought back the desire to tell Merrick just how we’d met, but my pride had me keeping silent. It was bad enough that I wasn’t memorable enough to remember having sex with me, but I’d be horn-chicken-swoggled before I went for the pity points and told him I’d saved his life. No, I told Inner Tempest, we’ve been hurt before, and we managed to get through it. This rejection is no different than any other. We will maintain our dignity.

  Dignity can be overrated, came the thought wafting into my brain as if on the breeze.

  “What?” I asked.

  “What what?” He frowned at me.

  “Did you say something?”

  “Not right before you spoke, no.” Merrick started the car again, and swung out onto the road without another word.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, wondering if I should be worried, and then being concerned because I wasn’t the least bit disconcerted by the fact that he was taking me away from Cousin Carlo’s villa.

  Shouldn’t I be bothered? I was hurt because he didn’t remember me, but shouldn’t I be worried that he was a deranged ax-murdering rapist vampire with a fetish for Americans, even if C. J. Dante knew him? Surely wisdom decreed I should not be feeling calm and collected in this situation.

  Why not? came the question on that same sort of odd wafting breeze of thought.

  “OK, now you did talk,” I said, snapping the seat belt into place before poking him on the arm.

  “I did not.”

  “Don’t try to make me think I’m the odd one in this car, because you’re winning not only the tiara but the cape and bouquet when it comes to that.”

  He sighed a martyred sigh and muttered something under his breath in a language I didn’t know.

  “And now you’re saying things about me in a language I don’t speak, which is all shades of rude.” I crossed my arms and looked out of the window at the passing night. “I would never speak behind the back of someone I kidnapped.”

  “I apologize. Next time, I will abuse you to your face.”

  “Thank you,” I said, giving him a smile that I didn’t wholly feel he deserved, but it’s always better to give people the benefit of the doubt.

  He cast me a quick startled glance before focusing on the road. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. Wouldn’t you rather know what’s being said about you than having people hide it?”

  Sometimes, it’s best not to know.

  “Oh, I don’t buy that at all,” I told him, watching with interest as we joined a highway that led south and east.

  “You don’t buy what?”

  “That it’s best not to know.”

  He slammed on the brakes, causing the car to fishtail wildly for a couple of seconds. At the same time, he rammed his arm across my torso, keeping me from snapping myself painfully against the seat belt.

  “What on earth?” I gasped, the air having been knocked out of my lungs with the movement.

  He pulled off the road, and turned to look at me, flipping on the interior light again. “What did you say?”

  “I said ‘what on earth,’ as in what on earth do you think you’re doing?” I touched my neck where the seat belt had rubbed. “Man alive, Merrick! Could you warn me when you’re going to do that again?”

  I will, if you promise to answer a question.

  “What question?”

  He was silent, watching me with an intensity that I found equal parts exciting and worrisome.

  You ought to be worried.

  “I don’t see why ... hey. Your lips didn’t move when you said that. Are you a ventriloquist?”

  “No.”

  “How did you do that, then?”

  You can hear me.

  “Of course I can.”

  No one can hear me. Not like this. His eyes narrowed. Who are you?

  “I told you. I’m Tempest Keye.”

  Why can you hear my thoughts?

  I gasped and stared openmouthed at him for the second time in a few minutes. “Holy shish kebab! Is that what I’m doing?”

  How are you doing it?

  I don’t know.

  You must. There has to be a reason for you to be able to do this.

  I gasped again. “You heard me, too? Jeezumcrow! We can mind-read each other! I read about that in C. J. Dante’s books, but I thought it was a bit of literary license on his part. Cheese and crackers! We can mind-talk!”

  He froze solid, just like he was a block of extremely sexy vampire.

  His nostrils flared slightly. “You find me sexually attractive?”

  “Gloriana, you heard that?” I slapped a hand over first my mouth, then, when I realized tha
t didn’t make any sense, my ears, just as if that would hold in my wicked thoughts about his naked self. “Ack! Pretend I didn’t have a smutty thought about you, OK?”

  Another one of those indescribable expressions passed over his face. “I cannot help it when you project into my mind. If you don’t want me hearing them, then do not be so brazen with your thoughts.”

  I dropped my hands. “Oh, I am so not projecting! I wouldn’t know how to if I wanted to. You’re eavesdropping, that’s what it is. And eavesdroppers never prosper, so you can put that in your pipe and smoke it.”

  Now he just looked confused. “What pipe?”

  “There’s not ... it’s a saying ... oh, never mind.” I thinned my lips at him. “The point is that people who deliberately listen to other people’s thoughts about how sexy they are deserve what they get. Wait ... that came out wrong.”

  He made an exasperated noise and glanced over his shoulder, then pulled back onto the highway.

  I felt oddly deflated for a few minutes before realizing that he hadn’t responded to my comment.

  I smacked him lightly on the arm. “Don’t you know what this means?”

  “Yes. I will have to practice my mental barriers more.”

  “No, I mean what the implication of it is. Don’t you read C. J. Dante’s books? Boy, and you’re a vampire. You’d think you’d know this stuff.”

  He slammed on the brakes again, pulling over, much to the annoyance of the car directly behind us. The face he turned to me was filled with suspicion. “Who. Are. You?”

  “We’ve been over this like a dozen times,” I said, somewhat exasperated. “OK, three times, but still. I’m Tempest Keye.”

  “How do you know I’m a Dark One if you are not Victor’s woman?”

  “I can’t say. Wait, actually, I can’t discuss all of it, but I can tell you that I was at C. J. Dante’s castle and saw you there.”

  “You know Christian?”

  “Yes. Kind of. Mostly he asked me to leave, but I did see you there. For a little bit.”

  “What else did you see?” His voice was gritty, and I could tell he was trying to intimidate me.

  “Nothing. There was a conversation about you, but as I said, I can’t talk about it because I promised I wouldn’t.”

  He leaned forward, menace rolling off him. “And if I told you that I would make you sorry if you did not tell me?”

  “I’d tell you the same thing,” I said, swallowing back a little spurt of fear. Maybe I wasn’t so comfortable with him as I first thought. After all, what did I know about him other than he was a hell of a lover, and evidently on a crusade to rid the world of some bad people? “A promise is a promise.”

  He sat back after giving me a long look, and pulled back onto the road. “It is a rare woman who holds true to her word.”

  “I can only hope that’s not a slur against women, because I don’t tolerate that crap.”

  I assure you, the same applies to men.

  “Good. To answer your question—to the extent that I can—I know you’re a vampire because I had a dream about you.”

  “Dark One.”

  “Sorry?”

  “We prefer the term Dark One.”

  “Yeah, but that sounds so ...” I waved a hand around in a vague gesture. “Hollywood. ‘Vampire’ is sexy and dark and brooding and big box office, whereas ‘Dark One’ sounds kind of demonic, you know what I mean? I meant to ask C. J. Dante about it, but I didn’t get the chance. Where are we going? I don’t mind taking a little trip, but I don’t want my cousin Carlo to worry, and all my stuff is back at his house.”

  Merrick said nothing, just drove on with a grimness that was worrying.

  “So, this mind-talking thing. You are aware of how that works, right? It’s one of the steps.”

  His jaw tightened.

  “There’s seven steps that you vamps have to go through before ... glorious grapefruit! Do you know what this means?” I punched him on the arm. “It means I’m your Beloved!”

  The protest I was waiting for didn’t come, which more than a little surprised me ... and, to be honest, somewhat disappointed me. In every Dark Ones book I’d read, the vampire always protested at first that the heroine wasn’t his Beloved, before finally coming to his senses. And yet, here was a real live vampire, and he didn’t bat an eyelash at finding out that I was the woman who was put on this earth to save him.

  Me! I was a savior! My mind boggled at the serendipity of it all.

  “I don’t need saving,” he said, his attention focused on driving. “And if I did, you would not be my Beloved. As you pointed out, there are steps that must be taken.”

  “Yes, well.” I gave a little cough and ignored my warm cheeks. “As it happens, when I saw you at Dante’s castle, I might have ... there was some ... uh ... medical aid given. And we might have exchanged some body fluid.”

  “You kissed me while I was unconscious?” he asked, disbelief dripping off every word.

  “You kissed back,” I pointed out.

  He said nothing, but his jaw worked a couple of times.

  “Anyway, it all boils down to the fact that I’m your Beloved because you’re unredeemed, right? According to Dante’s books, that means you don’t have a soul, and only your Beloved can get it back for you. So that makes me your soul-finder. It’s like this was meant to be all along! Why else would my aunt give me Dante’s books if I wasn’t supposed to be here at this exact moment, poised to save your eternal self? Hoo! Sometimes life really takes your breath away, doesn’t it?”

  I sat back, my pleasure at how life had worked out fading when he didn’t say (or think at me) anything more.

  “Well?” I asked him when the silence became too much for me.

  “What do you want me to say?” he asked irritably, flashing me an annoyed glance.

  “A little excitement wouldn’t be out of order,” I said, perilously close to snapping at him. What was wrong with him that he wasn’t happy at finding me? “Out of all of the millions of people in the world, over all the years you’ve lived—wait, how old are you?”

  “Seven hundred and eighty-two.”

  I gawked at him, just let my jaw drop and gawked. “You’re not!”

  “I just said I was.” He flashed me another irritated look. “Why do you contradict me? It is annoying, and I don’t like it.”

  “You don’t look a day over seven hundred,” I told him, ignoring his bossiness. I’ve found that is the best way to deal with people who try to dominate you. “Where was I? Oh, yes, if you think about all the people in the world who’ve lived over the last seven hundred and eighty-six years—”

  “Seven hundred and eighty-two.”

  “—then it has to boggle your brain that we’ve managed to come together. According to C. J. Dante’s books, not many of you guys find your Beloveds.”

  “Not every Dark One needs a Beloved. They are a weakness, and some of us must remain strong.” He looked nobly martyred, something I wanted to point out, but decided he’d take the wrong way.

  “That’s one way of thinking about it. Here’s another: There’s strength in numbers. Two have to be stronger than one. Oh my goodness, I cannot wait to tell Ellis about you! He didn’t think vampires existed, not really. He’s going to go gaga when he finds out I have a Dark One of my own.”

  “I am not yours. I do not belong to anyone. I am utterly and wholly alone, and I wish to remain that way,” he growled.

  “Sure you are,” I said, going over just what I’d tell Ellis. “This is going to be so awesome, although I have to say, I wasn’t planning on coming to Europe to get married.”

  The look he shot me was filled with disbelief. “Did I, at some point that I’m unaware of, slip into a mental fugue or catatonic state, during which time I asked you to marry me?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then I believe I have the right to say, without you feeling spurned, that I have no intention on marrying anyone, but most of all you.” />
  “Well!” I said, miffed. “Why me most of all? I’m your Beloved.”

  “You are not my Beloved. What you are is an extremely opinionated woman who doesn’t seem to understand the world you’ve stepped into. That’s assuming you’re as innocent as you claim to be.”

  I let the miffed feeling go, having learned long ago not to hold on to negative emotions. I’d seen too much how that affected people, and had made it my personal motto to not give in to negativity. “I don’t recall telling you I was innocent.”

  He sighed heavily. “You said you are not Victor’s woman despite being in the location that I found you.”

  “That was my cousin Carlo’s house. There’s no one there by the name of Victor.”

  He gripped the steering wheel tightly, and muttered under his breath.

  “You’re doing it again,” I said conversationally. “You said you’d abuse me to my face next time, and you haven’t.”

  It took a moment for him to speak, because the muscles in his jaw kept flexing, but at last he got them unclenched. “I said that conversation with you was like talking in circles. I never know what you’re going to say next.”

  “Yes, but that’s a good thing,” I pointed out, and sat back in my seat. “It’ll keep us from getting bored over the centuries. Oh! I get to be immortal, too! Hoobah! That’s going to be a kick in the pants! Except, of course, for outliving all your friends, but we’ll have each other, and that’s what is important.”

  Silence filled the car, a pregnant sort of silence. It lasted for the count of twenty. “Now that I’m a Beloved—”

  “You are not.”

  “—I’ll have to tell Ellis.” I sighed happily. “Ellis—he’s my friend; you’ll like him—doesn’t get into the whole vampire thing, although he loved that movie with the sparkly vampires. He said they didn’t have their shirts off enough, though.”

  Merrick grimaced. “I have never understood the mortal fascination with Dark Ones. Vampire lore has permeated modern society at all levels, from gangs of women roaming the streets on the hunt for us, to movies and books and even video games extolling our virtues. Perhaps you can tell me what the attraction is, because it has escaped me.”

  “Well ...” I bit my lip and considered the matter, sensing that he was speaking the truth. He honestly was puzzled by the fact that women the world over were ready to fling their clothing off and wrestle men like him to the ground. “You guys are all dark and dangerous and sexy.”