On the Trail of Darkness

by Ann Jacobs

  “Be careful what you wish for, chérie, or you may get it.” His warning punctuated her silent desire, as though he could read the thoughts she hadn’t dared put into words. Perhaps he could.

  “Can you read my mind?” she asked, more than a bit unnerved at the prospect that he’d known all the jumbled thoughts that had made their way through her mind last night . . . as well as the fantasies that had carried her away as they walked toward her car.

  “Yes. Well, not if I’m concentrating on other things.” He grinned. “Reading minds is a vampire skill that often comes in handy. Our psychic powers get stronger as we age. My nephews—who, by the way, are centuries older than I—are much better at it than I am.”

  Marisa figured she’d divulged very few secrets last night, since Claude had definitely been concentrating on other things. Such as compelling her to wish for an eternity with him, in his world, although she’d certainly revealed that wish to him just now. “I wouldn’t mind, you know. Becoming a vampire. Your vampire.”

  “You’re thinking now how you’d miss your brother. Wondering where we’d live, whether we’d have a family. Your mind’s churning with questions, but right now we need to take care of your immediate problem. Turning you would be one way to get you away from your tormentors, but it would leave your brother here to face unpleasant consequences.”

  Shame made Marisa hang her head. “You’re right, I couldn’t abandon Raul. Still . . .”

  Claude’s brow furrowed, and for what seemed a long time he focused his gaze on the waves that were edging toward the beach on a strong incoming tide. “Don’t get me wrong, chérie. I’d like nothing better than to have you forever as my dhampir lover.”

  “Dhampir?”

  “That’s what you’d be. A vampire made from a mortal by the will of a vampire born.” Claude paused a moment. “But turning you is not our only option. I can destroy your brother’s enemies if that’s what you want. Or I can try to spirit you and your brother somewhere far away, where you’ll never have to worry about the patron or his enforcers again. What do you want me to do?”

  What did she want, really? Marisa met Claude’s sober gaze, held it, imagining as she did what the rest of her life would be like if she took that fateful step into his shadowy world. Reliving in fast-forward the years that had already passed her by, her few friends and the family members who had gone to their rewards. The smaller number she’d leave behind.

  “Marisa?”

  “Oh, pardon me. I was thinking. Thinking that if I should go with you I’d leave precious little of value behind.”

  Claude smiled, slipping a hand beneath her elbow to steady her as they climbed the short set of stairs that led to the public parking lot behind the Strip. “I could tell. Now you must tell me. Do we fight or do we run?”

  Fight? Run? Those were her choices, weren’t they? One fact stood out, crystal clear: Marisa wanted an eternity with her hero, her vampire lover. He offered her freedom when all she wanted was a lifetime to serve all his needs, while he held her safe from harm. Although he might not agree to do it, she had to ask. “I want to go away. With you. I want to spend a lifetime as your lover. But I must try to get Raul away from the people who turned him from a good boy to a street punk. Could you . . .”

  Claude stroked her hand. “Let me get this right. Are you telling me you want me to turn you and Raul into vampires?”

  “Yes.” As a vampire, her brother might live for centuries. And if he were a vampire he’d have no need for cocaine. As a mortal in the barrio, he was likely to die much too soon, either by the drugs or by order of the patron.

  As though deep in thought, Claude paused and scratched his chin. “I’m not certain I can turn you. As I think I mentioned to you earlier, I’m very young as vampires go—less than a hundred years old. My powers are still developing. Perhaps it would be better if I destroyed all your brother’s enemies, and then took you and your brother to Paris, away from potential harm. I know I can do that.”

  “Oh, I want you to do that first. I want you to destroy the patron so he can never ruin another young life with his evil. Unless . . . unless by destroying them you put yourself at risk.”

  “No mortal is a match for me,” Claude said, laughing as if that idea amused him. “Guns and knives have little effect on vampires, and mortals have little or no defense against the simplest of our powers.”

  “B-but the police? Won’t they chase you to the ends of the earth if you leave a string of bodies littering Miami?” Marisa wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she caused Claude harm.

  “If you say the word, the bastards will disappear without a trace. I’d never leave bodies littering the beaches. Trust me, I will leave no trail for the police to follow should they miss these vermin, which I doubt will be the case.” He grinned, then sobered as he met her gaze. “It’s your conscience I worry about, little one. Can you live knowing you indirectly caused the deaths of these men?” Claude cupped her chin, made her look at him.

  “I don’t want to play God or ask you to do it if it’s against your own conscience,” she said slowly. “But for the past five years I’ve watched the drug peddlers destroying lives, and there seems to be very little anyone can do to stop them. Yes, I know when the patron is gone, another will come to take his place. But for a little space of time, people like my brother may be able to break free of the cycle, conquer their addictions.”

  “All right. I’ll try, however, to destroy the threat they pose without ending their miserable lives, for I sense that is what you want.”

  “Turn me first. Please let me help you.” Marisa couldn’t stand the thought of putting Claude at risk. Vampire or not, he’d be going up against not one but three men—maybe more—who had no concept of right and wrong, and no qualms about committing murder.

  “I want to, but I cannot. I told you before, I’ve never turned a mortal.” In hushed tones he told her the story of Stefan killing the woman he loved when he tried to turn her, admitting his own fear once more.

  “Do you have any older vampire friends who would turn me?”

  “Not here. If I took you to Paris . . . but no, we don’t have time for that. Your brother has such a short time left to pay up or die. Normally I could fly you both there through time and space, but I haven’t regained all my powers since I was injured.” He shook his head. “No, that would be much too risky. You don’t know . . . there are things you’d give up along with your mortality. Things you undoubtedly would miss.”

  “Yes. I’m sure I will miss some things. The kiss of the noontime sun, the taste of familiar foods, the sense of my own mortality.” The words caught in her throat, but she managed to look him in the eye and get them out in a hoarse whisper. “Not as much, though, as I would miss making love with my own vampire. Please, bind me to you for all eternity. If you want to have me as your eternal companion.”

  “I want nothing more than to take you as my mate. But you must be sure, for once I make you my dhampir lover you can never go back. Never be mortal again.” He turned her, held her, made her shiver from the chill of his body as she absorbed the slow, almost undetectable beat of his heart beneath his white polo shirt . . . the insistent pulsing of his rigid sex against her belly.

  All Marisa’s doubts disappeared. This was the man—the vampire—she wanted. “I am very certain, Claude.”

  Claude frowned, his doubt evident. “If that’s what you truly want, knowing I might fail . . .”

  “Yes. That is what I want. Turn me and I’ll spend an eternity seeing to your every pleasure. Together we’ll destroy the patron and his henchmen and spirit Raul away. He’ll be better off anywhere but—”

  “Dead? Because that’s what you will be if I try to turn you and fail. As dead as Reynard’s victims, only you’ll leave me behind, suffering because I caused your death. Or I could turn you successfully yet inadvertently kill your brother, and you’d hate me for that eternity you’re talking about us spending together. I couldn’t stan
d that.” Claude held her fast, the rising sun over the Atlantic illuminating his face, showing her the depth of his fear, his uncertainty at his ability to do as she asked.

  She recognized his dilemma . . . and her own. “Then let the blame fall on me, because I’d rather be dead than live without you. And Raul will die anyhow unless we manage to save him.” She paused, hoping . . . but he said nothing. “This is my car.”

  Her heart sinking, for he simply stared at her, she laid the key in his hand. For a moment she thought she was mistaken, that he didn’t feel as she did.

  “So be it.” Claude kissed Marisa hard, driving her fears away before opening the door of the clunker car she’d bought years ago when she first had started dancing at the Strip. “I want you to know I’m doing this because you ask. But also because it’s what I want more than anything. I know the elders of my clan would tell me no, to wait, to let you live with me as a vampire for a while before taking this final step. But I feel doing this now is right. For both of us.” He slid into the car after her, turning sideways behind the wheel to face her.

  Her heart beat faster. She laid her fears to rest when she looked into his deep green eyes, which seemed more protective now than dangerous. “I want you forever. And I trust you to carry me safely to your vampire world.”

  Slowly, his long fingers fumbling with each of the buttons, he bared her to the waist, bent and laid soft kisses along the skin he’d uncovered. “I welcome you to my world, and if I succeed you’ll never need to fear mortal evil again.”

  “Oh, yes.” The gentle scraping of his fangs on her sensitive flesh aroused her unbearably. Threading her fingers through his thick black hair, she drew him closer, encouraged him to take her, accept her as his loving mate.

  “I accept you completely. With any luck you will be my dhampir mate when you wake up. But in case I fail, I want you to know I love you. I’ve felt since before we made love that we were soul mates, fated lovers.” Turning slowly toward her, Claude positioned his hands on either side of her head, his fingers threading through her hair, baring her throat to fangs that had elongated as he prepared her for the taking.

  He clamped down on her jugular vein and began to feed. The sensation aroused her more than anything in her memory, made her lightheaded . . . dizzy. It was as though she was floating, half cognizant, somewhere between life and death, aware only of Claude drinking her blood. Making her his—forever. As her consciousness ebbed, she felt him withdrawing his fangs, cradling her limp body in his muscular arms.

  Chapter Six

  Had he followed in Stefan’s footsteps and destroyed the woman he loved? Desperate, Claude felt Marisa’s throat for a pulse, found none. No rise and fall of her chest. No heartbeat. Her skin felt cold, clammy, not vibrantly warm as it had been or cool and dry as his was—as all vampires’ skin must feel. She lay in his arms, passive, making no sound, no movement to indicate she still lived.

  Then he remembered. He didn’t breathe spontaneously. Neither did any vampire he knew. Since his heart beat so slowly his mortal lovers had often commented about it; hers might slow appreciably as well. “Wake up, my dhampir love,” he pled.

  Finally she responded, with a long sigh. And she snuggled in his arms as though seeking warmth. Marisa was alive. Incredibly relieved to know he hadn’t killed her, Claude stroked her pale skin, felt the dampness start to subside. “Hang on. I’ll take you back to the hotel.”

  • • •

  Apparently, he figured as he laid her under the covers in his bed and pulled the drapes shut to keep out the morning light, it would take her several hours before she’d recover from the changing.

  His vampire senses told him that several hours would be longer than her brother had to live. Gathering his strength, he donned his dark glasses and took to the air. His instincts guiding him, he circled Miami’s Cuban district, scanning the scene before him for . . .

  There they were. The two bastards who’d threatened his lover. Working over a skinny young kid who was no more a match for them than Marisa, they paid Claude no mind as he swooped down on them, landing a pair of stunning blows before they knew they’d been discovered. Claude kicked their unconscious bodies into a heap and fell to his knees.

  He’d thought the boy was in trouble, hurried to his side. But was he too late? Blood poured from a chest wound, gurgled out from his nose and mouth. Raul? Claude had no doubt once he got a look at the pale features that were so like Marisa’s. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

  Raul wasn’t listening. His chest heaved twice then became deathly still. There was no sign of a pulse. Claude had one choice, and he took it, not caring if someone saw him. For the second time that day he held a mortal in his arms while he drained the lifeblood from their veins. Satisfied that Raul might survive now as a vampire, Claude spirited him back to the hotel and laid him on the bed beside Marisa.

  Returning quickly to the scene of the fight, Claude found the two goons where he’d left them, apparently trying to explain to the police officers who’d just cuffed them that they’d been assaulted by some otherworldly creature. Stepping into the shadow of a crumbling storefront, he concentrated on the larger one while the cops led the weasel-faced one to a squad car.

  Humberto Majore. It came to him, straight from the reeling thug’s mind. A name for the patron who’d ruined so many lives, who’d nearly turned his soul mate into a prostitute to pay her brother’s debt. Claude concentrated harder, came up with the name of the store where the drug lord dished out his poison.

  • • •

  La Femme Fatale. A vintage clothing store by all appearances, with mannequins sporting club attire posed casually in the showcase windows. A pretty young clerk walked outside, crossed the street and entered a café with a sign in the window that said it specialized in black beans and rice.

  The man he sought would be alone inside now. Striving for a casual look, Claude strolled inside, pretending to look at colorful gowns full of feathers and lace set out for display on crowded racks in the front of the store. He saw no one, nothing out of the ordinary. Had his intuition failed him?

  He thought so until he spied a rotund man smiling from behind a counter filled with costume jewelry that had been fashionable when Claude was a child. It had to be Majore. The faceless patron of Marisa’s nightmares. Despite the almost cherubic look about the man’s expression, Claude knew. He smelled the aura of evil. Sensed it hanging heavy in the air.

  Claude opened his mind, saw ghosts of this man’s victims parading before his eyes. Innocents in death, though the corruption of this man’s filthy products had tainted them, stolen their futures, their lives. The patron would have to go.

  “How can I help you, amigo?”

  “An ounce if you please. Raul Delgado tells me I can get my supply direct from you.” Claude had to be sure, very sure, it was the right mortal’s life he was about to take.

  The angelic face turned purple. The black eyes flashed with fury. “You tell that son of a diseased whore that if he wants more stuff to sell, he gives me my money. Better yet, let your bullet-ridden body tell him.” Moving fast for one so porcine, the patron pulled a snub-nosed .32 automatic and peppered Claude with a barrage of bullets.

  They stung. But they didn’t stop Claude. Majore’s eyes bugged out when he saw Claude coming. “No. Your bullets will not stop me. Now you will experience vampire justice.” Slowly, for speed wasn’t necessary, Claude reached over the counter and snagged his victim, consumed him until his existence was a mere memory, his mortal remains a million particles of dust caught up and disseminated in a silent gust of wind.

  On the way out, Claude locked the door. The clerk who actually sold the vintage clothes might wonder what had happened to Majore, but she’d never know. Neither would the police, if she cared to involve them in the patron’s disappearance. His mission accomplished, Claude hurried back to his dhampir mate and her brother, his plans already in motion to take them home.

  • • •

  How
long she’d been out, she had no idea, for when Marisa woke she found herself in a dimly lit bedroom, its dark wood furnishings obviously priceless antiques. Claude stood over her, a worried look on his handsome face. “Raul?” she asked, her mouth feeling unfamiliar—different than it had before.

  He sat beside her and took her hand. “Your brother is recovering nicely from the turning, as are you. Just now my mother had to send out for a new supply of A positive. It seems Raul has developed quite a liking for it, more than for the finer vintages she normally stocks here in the house. Don’t worry that he’ll get in trouble here. Maman can be a stern taskmistress.”

  “How—”

  “After I turned you, you slept for a long time, much longer than I’d expected. Once I was certain you’d be all right I went to find Raul. The two goons who threatened you had him cornered, so I was forced to deal with them.”

  “They are—”

  “Quite shaken from their encounter with a vampire, I assure you. At the moment I imagine they’re cooling their heels in a Miami jail cell, thanks to the officers who came to investigate the fracas. By now they’re probably spilling all they know about the operation of this patron who wielded so much power in the barrio.”

  “I assume you changed Raul too.”

  “I had no choice. One of the goons had stabbed him, and he was practically dead. I turned him and brought him to you in my hotel room. When I finished meting out justice to the patron, I came back to the hotel and made arrangements for a charter plane to bring us home.”

  “Justice?”

  “The patron is no more. Once I realized how he’d used cocaine to enslave not only your brother but also so many other young people in the barrio, I decided he had to go.”