Tall, Dark & Fangsome ib-5

by Мишель Роуэн

  Chapter 16

  I f I can explain what it feels like to be a nightwalker out in bright daylight it would be like this:

  Sheer agony.

  Multiplied by a billion.

  It might sound like an exaggeration, but I assure you, it wasn’t. Sun and nightwalkers do not go together. At all. Prolonged exposure, and we’re only really talking ten to fifteen seconds, would be enough to make me burst into flames and run around flailing my arms until I turned into the contents of a dirty ashtray to scatter over the sidewalk. And even then I’d probably still be screaming.

  So when I emerged from Darkside into the hot death sunshine, I pulled my shirt up over my head and ran like an Olympic sprinter toward the nearest subway entrance. I staggered down the stairs into the blissful darkness and tried to ignore the strange stares I was getting, for a moment, as my skin glowed red and wisps of smoke rose into the air.

  “Lady, you okay?” someone asked.

  “Fabulous,” I gasped. “Never better. Thanks so much for asking.”

  My hair was slicked to my forehead with the perspiration that poured out of me in buckets. I reached up to touch my eyebrows to make sure they hadn’t been singed off because that would really suck. They were still there. For now, anyhow. I stood in place, my back against the wall of the station until I came back down to room temperature like a sweaty soufflé that had been removed from the oven.

  Veronique was with Gideon. The thought swirled continuously through my head.

  I seriously couldn’t believe it. Sure, I knew she was selfish and self-involved, but was this what being a survivor really meant to her?

  She was so getting voted off the island, as far as I was concerned.

  And the worst thing was she hadn’t seemed to realize what she was doing was wrong.

  Well, okay. It wasn’t the worst thing.

  If I had to find one good thing about the whole situation, it was that her blood had given me some temporary control over my curse. Normally, at this point of being without my gold chain, I’d be wandering around sniffing the neck of any human that passed me trying to figure out who’d be the tastiest.

  But I wasn’t sniffing anyone. I could smell them, sure—dozens of humans brushing past me on their way to catch the subway. And it wasn’t only the disturbing scent of food they gave off. It was deeper that than. The smells helped me pinpoint their mood—if they were stressed out or scared or angry.

  It smelled… delicious.

  But my fangs didn’t lengthen at the moment. After all, I’d just had a very satisfying meal.

  God, what had happened to my life?

  Before the curse I had resented being a vampire. I always fought against the label of being a “monster.” I thought being turned into a vampire would change me, but it didn’t. I felt the same as I always had; that’s why it was so hard to understand why all of a sudden hunters wanted to kill me just because of what I was.

  But now I understood. Hunters would have been very necessary back when nightwalkers roamed the earth. This was the kind of vampire that people should be afraid of—what I was right now. Hiding from the sun, coming out at night when they were very hungry. Not being able to stop. Not wanting to stop.

  I was now the kind of vampire that deserved to be staked. An out-of-control bloodthirsty monster.

  I swallowed hard. I was in such deep shit.

  Deep.

  But it was good that I was still thinking straight. The gold chain had been great—a miracle, really—but it was gone now. Losing the chain had always been a possibility. It sucked. Hard. But it was gone and I had to make do without it.

  I could stay in control. I could.

  Dammit. Who was I trying to kid? Let’s stick with the “I’m in deep shit” direction of thinking.

  I needed to find Thierry.

  Thierry. His difficult-to-pronounce French name alone gave me courage—a teensy bit.

  I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and speed-dialed his number. It went directly to voice mail. Dammit. I shoved it back in my bag. I’d cooled off, both literally and figuratively, enough to start walking. One foot in front of the other. I got on a subway and took it to Union Station.

  Once I got back to George’s I’d deal with everything else. I wasn’t sure how I’d get all the way there, but I’d figure out a way. Without setting foot outside again. Sure.

  I’d channel the little vampire engine that could. I could do this. One thing at a time.

  I think I can, I think I can.

  I forced myself to find something good in this situation. It was hard, but I actually came up with something. Now that I’d reached Union Station, I’d entered the PATH system of downtown Toronto—sixteen miles of underground passageways that connected the transit system and a whole bunch of the buildings in the business district. It was possible to never have to go up to the surface level. Like, ever. There were shopping, theaters, and restaurants galore all below street level.

  A total nightwalker’s paradise.

  Still, the thought wasn’t much comfort. While the PATH was great to have in case of shopping and commuting emergency, it didn’t make potentially never seeing the sun again a pleasant prospect.

  I knew the PATH. I used to take it daily when I worked for an honest living. But now… everything started to look the same. My head felt foggy. I put one foot in front of the other and headed north, glancing at some people as I walked past them. They all gave me strange stares in return.

  Maybe I looked like hell. I felt like it so why shouldn’t I look like it, too?

  “Excuse me,” I asked a blond lady with a kid who looked around three years old. “Can you help me with some directions?”

  Her eyes widened and she took a step back from me. “Uh… I don’t know.”

  I looked down at the kid and smiled at him.

  The kid started to cry.

  I slapped a hand over my mouth. I’d probably just flashed him my fangs, which were longer—not to mention sharper—than normal.

  Sarah Dearly’s my name. Scaring innocent children’s my game.

  “Are you… are you wearing funny contact lenses?” the woman asked shakily.

  “Contact lenses?”

  Oh, shit. My eyes were still black. And my fangs were sharp. And I was a sweaty, skanky, runny mess. I glanced around to see that I now had the attention of several people, who looked at me like I was about to whip off my jacket and reveal a braful of dynamite.

  Then I glanced over to the wall next to us to see that it was mirrored. It reflected everyone in the vicinity of the donut store I stood in front of.

  Everyone except yours truly.

  The woman also noted this, and she began to shriek and point at me, while her kid started to howl even louder.

  I started walking again. Faster. I didn’t really care what direction I was headed in anymore as long as it was away from screaming peanut-butter-scented people. A glance over my shoulder showed that a few were tentatively following me, but I wasn’t sure if they were hunters who’d been alerted to the lost vampire or if they were simply curious onlookers. I couldn’t think straight so I couldn’t figure it out. The best thing to do was to run, which is exactly what I did.

  I turned a corner and found there was suddenly a solid figure in front of me. Tall, dark, and blurry. But familiar. And he held me in place by my shoulders, looked down at me, and stroked the stringy hair off my face.

  “Sarah,” Thierry said with concern. “Please, try to calm down.”

  I had to admit, it did take a moment.

  He pulled me into an embrace and held me there in the middle of the PATH while I slowly got hold of myself.

  “H-how did you find me?” I managed after a moment.

  “I’ve been searching for you since you hung up on me earlier,” he said. “I’m able to sense your location if I concentrate, thanks to the sire-fledgling bond we share.”

  He wasn’t my true sire but he was close enough. After my blind date from hel
l had been staked, it was Thierry’s blood that helped me not die. That sealed the deal in giving us the bond—which until now I thought only I had.

  “My chain is gone,” I said shakily. “Gideon broke it.”

  His jaw clenched. “What?”

  “And Gideon burned the grimoire.”

  “I see.”

  “Are you going to tell me you told me so? About him?”

  His expression was grim. “No.”

  “You should. I deserve it.”

  “Nothing I say will help to make this any better.”

  He was right about that.

  With an arm around my shoulders, he directed me down the corridor and we walked and walked for what felt like forever until we got to a parking garage.

  “I’ve kept this in a central downtown location in case we needed it,” he said, nodding at a white van.

  When I first discovered that I was cursed and sunlight had the potential to burn me to a crisp we’d had to use a similar van. It wasn’t a very pleasant drive, but it did the trick.

  Transport the sun-fearing nightwalker from point A to point B.

  “What am I going to do?” I asked him.

  He stroked the hair off my forehead and kissed me there softly before holding my face in his hands and gazing down into my black nightwalker eyes.

  “You’re going to get into the back of the van and we’re going to George’s.”

  “But—”

  “No. One thing at a time, Sarah.”

  “Are you going to tell me that everything’s going to be okay?”

  He tilted his head to the side. “Do you want me to say that?”

  “Only if it’s true.”

  “Then I think we should hold off any such proclamations for a while until we decide what to do next.”

  He couldn’t hide the worry that slid behind his gaze. He couldn’t convince me that all was well with the world. Out of everyone I’d known in my life, Thierry was the biggest realist.

  He’d seen a lot of years and it had definitely dampened any optimism he might have had.

  Some people saw him as Mr. Doom and Gloom, but now I knew. He was right. He didn’t put on a happy face when things were going to hell in a hand basket. He dealt with it and then he moved on.

  I had to be dealt with.

  I climbed into the back of the van. He let go of my hand and without saying another word, slammed the back door shut and I was plunged into darkness. There were no windows, no pretty view, because that would let in the sunlight.

  He’d prepared for this without telling me. He’d known this could happen—that it would happen.

  He might not be an optimist, but he definitely could have been a Boy Scout.

  I pressed my back against the cool side of the van as it started moving. From where we were, wherever we were—I’d kind of lost track—it took less than fifteen minutes to get to George’s house.

  I heard a knock on the back door, which warned me it was about to open. I scooted back and the door swung open. The light didn’t touch me but it seared my vision. Just a taste of the pain waiting for me outside the van.

  Thierry had a black blanket in his hands. A thick one. And he held it up.

  “Come,” he said. “George is waiting.”

  Summoning up what little courage I had left, I threw myself into his arms and he covered me with the blanket. We ran as fast as we could to the front door. Only twenty feet but it was not a pleasant sprint.

  From the tiny peephole I had, I could see George standing there at the threshold wringing his hands anxiously.

  “I invite you into my house, Sarah Dearly!” His voice was pinched.

  Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten. I couldn’t enter people’s private homes anymore without an invitation.

  That would be very inconvenient.

  I’d experienced hitting a threshold before, and it was like a thick glass wall. Invisible but impenetrable. Luckily George had said what he needed to and I swept right past him with

  Thierry at my side into the blissfully dark interior. All the shades had been drawn.

  I tried to ignore the smoky wisps that drifted upward from my skin. It was minus zero on the last day of February, but that didn’t seem to make a bit of difference.

  Thierry was frowning at me. “Sarah, are you well?”

  Was I well? I didn’t think I could be less well if I tried. My vision was narrowing.

  Darkening. The room spun in slow circles.

  When nightwalkers existed, they tended to sleep through the day. Best way to avoid the sunlight was to be unconscious during it.

  “She’s very pale,” George said, studying me. “Pasty is definitely not the new black.”

  Then my eyes rolled back into my head and I fainted dead away.

  Chapter 17

  A dream. It had all been just a dream. Thank God.

  “Yoo hoo, Sarah. Are you awake?” a voice penetrated through my unconsciousness.

  I opened my eyes.

  George stared down at me. He had a cool, wet cloth pressed firmly against my forehead for the second time in two days.

  Not a dream. Damn.

  “Wh-what?” I managed.

  He waved a hand over his nose. “Yikes. Hello, morning breath. And it’s not even morning anymore. Or afternoon, even.”

  “How long was I out?”

  “All day. The sun has set. I figure that’s why our little Miss Nosferatu has arisen at last.”

  I pushed up enough to see that I was in my bed fully dressed, except that my shoes and coat had been removed. “Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?”

  “We tried. You were dead to the world, and I mean that literally. You don’t breathe and you have no heartbeat. You’re lucky we didn’t embalm you.”

  I let myself collapse back onto my pillow. “Maybe you should have. It would solve a lot of problems.”

  His expression turned wary. “Now that the chain is gone, are you still feeling… normalish?”

  “Normal is a very relative term.” I swung my legs out of bed. I felt weak and shaky, but there was no immediate need to attach myself to George’s jugular like a brunette leech.

  “Where’s Thierry?”

  “He was by your side all afternoon.”

  “He was?” The thought gave my room-temperature body a little inner glow.

  George nodded. “Obviously he wasn’t aware of the morning-breath situation. Mint?” He presented me with a couple of Tic Tacs.

  I took them. I could take a hint. “Thanks.”

  “Right now he’s on the phone with Barry about Amy being missing.” His brow furrowed.

  “Did she mention anything to you about leaving our favorite little maître d’ for another man?”

  I swallowed. “Gideon has her.”

  He paled. “Any man other than that would have been okay with me.”

  “He’s going to use her to make sure I sire him tonight.”

  His jaw tightened. “That bastard.”

  “George, please give Sarah and me a moment alone.” Thierry was at the doorway looking in.

  He turned. “Gideon has Amy.”

  Thierry nodded gravely. “I heard you.”

  George looked frantic. “This is horrible. I feel completely useless just waiting around to see what’s going to happen. There has to be something I can do to help.”

  “I could use some coffee,” I said.

  He nodded. “Excellent idea. I’ll make coffee.”

  He turned and left us alone.

  “Amy’s not the only person Gideon has right now,” I said evenly. “He’s also got

  Veronique.”

  Thierry’s eyes widened a fraction. “He’s kidnapped her as well?”

  I shook my head. “She’s with him more in the mattress-testing capacity. She doesn’t seem to see that there’s anything wrong with that. He’s a powerful man and she’s a survivor.

  End of story.”

  I couldn’t read his expression, but it darken
ed significantly. “I’m very disappointed to hear that. I would have expected more from her.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I’m well aware of her selfishness, after all, I’ve known her for a very long time. But this?

  To learn that she’d rather aid a man like Gideon, whose family has been nothing but death-

  bringers to vampires for centuries…” He exhaled. “I am disappointed.”

  “She also gave me some of her blood. Gideon thought that drinking from a third master vampire like Veronique would make me an even more powerful sire for him.”

  “I fear he may be right about that.”

  I rose from the bed and moved toward him, but not too close. I was still very awkward after everything that had happened. The whole situation positively sucked. “Sucked” actually wasn’t a strong enough word.

  Really sucked.

  “Veronique’s blood was powerful enough to give me control. At least for a little while.

  I’m still thirsty… it’s like I’m always thirsty now, but I can control it at the moment. I don’t know how long this is going to last.” I turned away from him when my throat thickened up. “I’m so sorry.”

  He touched my back and the warmth sank into my cold skin. “What are you sorry about?”

  “For everything. Things haven’t gotten easier. They’ve gotten worse. And worse. And it’s all my fault. You probably wish you’d never met me.”

  “If I had never met you I would have ended my existence three months ago.”

  Oh, yeah. I forgot about that for a little while. I had a quick flashback to a tall bridge and a man in a long dark coat who felt he had lived too long. He’d wanted to find peace that night. Instead he found me.

  Maybe he should have jumped when he had the chance.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  “Please, stop apologizing.” He pulled me against him and hugged me tight to his chest.

  “You are right about many things. It hasn’t gotten any easier for us. But I don’t wish I’d never met you. I cherish the moment you entered my life.”

  I shook my head and couldn’t help but smile a little at that. “Then you’re even crazier than

  I thought you were.”