by M. L. Guida
“I’m not,” Jayden said, a little defensive. His eyes darkened. The new gold ring around his blue irises glowed.
Eleanor put her fingers on her lips to keep from blurting out that Desmond knew, to tell Jayden to be careful.
Jayden’s mother glanced inside the Hummer over at Eleanor. She had the same shape to her eyes as Jayden’s, but her green eyes were teary. She sniffed. “Who are you?”
“I’m Eleanor,” she whispered, but she wasn’t looking at Jayden’s mother. Her focus locked on Desmond.
“Who? I didn’t get your name.”
Eleanor cleared her throat. “Eleanor Baines.”
“Eleanor Baines?” Desmond peered through the Hummer’s window. I’ve-gotcha seeped into his eyes, and his upper lip twitched into a surly curl as if a memory pulled. He must suspect. He had to.
The tattoo on the right side of his bald head glistened from the blaring flood-lights—an open-mouthed skull with long incisors and a jeweled dagger embedded in the top of the skull. The same one that Emmet Carver wore on his bicep the night he’d brutally raped Eleanor and murdered her family. The symbol of a vampire killer.
Hate and nausea burned in her stomach. She couldn’t breathe. All the memories of friends lost and murdered flashed in her mind. But the derringer pushed back her fear. She’d blow his brains all over the snow if he made a threatening move toward Jayden or herself.
Jayden’s mother wiped her tears off her cheeks. “Desmond, you know her?”
“Only rumors,” Desmond said.
Shit! He did know her. She wanted to rip the keys out of Jayden’s hand and drive back home.
“Rumors?” Jayden’s mother said. She bunched her eyebrows and punched Jayden in the arm. “You go off and have another one-night stand with a woman and leave me worried sick? I thought you had an accident like…like…Jacob. How could you do this to me?”
“Mom, I’m—”
She held up her hands. “I don’t want to hear about it.” She brushed aside a strand of strawberry-blond hair that had come loose from her pony tail. “Come on, Desmond. Let’s go inside.” She looped her arm through Desmond’s, and he helped her trudge through the snow and climb the steps. Desmond opened the door for her. “Jayden,” she said. “Bring your newest girl inside before you both catch cold.”
Eleanor cringed at her icy and brittle voice.
Jayden put his hand on the edge of the car. “I know you’re scared. Why don’t you go home? I’ll be fine.”
“But Desmond’s a murderer,” she said, lowering her voice as if the vampire killer had super sonic hearing. “He’ll kill you.”
He threw the keys onto the leather seat. “No, he won’t. You’re whiter than the snow. I’m not afraid. Now, go home.” He shut the door, flipped up his collar, and headed toward the cabin.
Damn it! The arrogant fool. He was going to get his head sliced off.
The living room light shone on Desmond. His arms folded across his chest, he dared her to come inside. Or was he memorizing her license plate to find out where she lived? And not just him—the bastard would blow a bugle to alert vampire killers where her secret mountain sanctuary was. Tears threatened to fall. Janus had been right. Newly formed vampires could shatter your world. She didn’t want to flee to another town or see Frisco turned into a battle ground. This was her home. She refused to leave.
The front door slammed shut. She clasped the keys off the seat and shoved them into her purse. She forced her shaking legs to move and follow Jayden. She stuck the derringer inside the side pocket of her jeans where she could get to it quick. This was a mistake. The biggest mistake she’d ever made. But she wouldn’t allow Jayden to die alone. Whether he liked it or not, he needed her. He was too headstrong. Too foolish. Too vulnerable.
Chapter Four
Jayden hoped Eleanor stayed in the car where she was safe. He hadn’t decided whether he believed her about Desmond, but what if she was right? What if Desmond was a psycho vampire killer? Eleanor might have changed his life to something dark, but he was alive. He had to find the truth about Desmond. But he couldn’t do it while worrying about Eleanor.
When he came inside, his mother wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen.
Desmond held a bottle of wine in his hand and a glass. “Wine?” he asked.
Jayden whipped off his gloves and stuffed them into his pockets. He shed his coat and tossed it onto the recliner.
Boom, boom. Boom, boom. The thumping rang in Jayden’s ear and he shook his head. He inhaled something rich, smooth, and mouth-watering. Blood. Desmond’s blood. Hot. Succulent. Jayden’s fangs lengthened. He filled with lust, wanting to sink his teeth into Desmond’s flesh, satisfy his thirst.
Desmond was his best friend. What the hell was he doing?
He snatched the crystal goblet from Desmond, splashing red wine onto his mother’s hardwood floor. Desmond’s eyes dilated, but he didn’t comment. Their shoulders too close, Jayden edged away from him, afraid he’d give into the impulse. He hid behind the Christmas tree’s long branches, hoping it would offer a barrier between them. Trying to block out the tantalizing scent, he leaned closer to the tree, inhaling fresh pine as he emptied the wineglass, hoping he could stomach it.
Concentrate. Jayden swallowed hard. “Where’s my mother?” he asked.
“She’s pretty upset, buddy. You gave her quite a scare.” He narrowed his eyes at the door. “Where’s Eleanor?”
Jayden pretended to not notice the contempt and deep growl in Desmond’s voice. It was as if Eleanor’s name was now an obscenity. Jayden shrugged. “I don’t know.” He handed his glass to Desmond for a refill. “I want another drink.”
The smell of pizzelles lingered in the house. A plate of his mother’s famous cookies sat on the wooden kitchen table, and he longed to eat one, to be human again. Erratic butterflies crashed against his stomach, but if he took one bite, he’d be deathly ill.
He grabbed the glass from Desmond, who gave him a curious look. Jayden stepped away, fighting back the urge to attack his friend.
The door creaked open, and a blast of cold air washed into the room. He glanced over his shoulder. Eleanor slowly closed the door and tilted her head. Determination shone in her eyes. If she was scared, she hid it well. Snowflakes dotted her long brown hair and wet her rosy cheeks. She was a dark angel coming out of the cold.
She’d looked so vulnerable back at the house, but now, she walked into the house with confidence with her head raised high and her shoulders squared. She slid her coat off and tossed it over the back of a kitchen chair.
Jayden admired the white sweater hugging her body and the skinny jeans that lined her legs. Curvy and petite in all the right portions. At least, that part of him wasn’t dead.
The light shone in her eyes, and a gold ring outlined her violet irises. Her skin was pale, but he didn’t know if it was because she was frightened or if it was the mark of a vampire. Why hadn’t he noticed the differences before?
Did he look the same?
“Come in, Eleanor,” Desmond said, his syrupy voice menacing. He held up another glass filled with Chianti and took a step toward her. “Have some good cheer.”
With each step he took, Eleanor didn’t move. Jayden half expected her to hop out of the room to freedom. But she braced her legs apart and clenched her fists. God, was she going to knock Desmond on his ass?
Desmond smiled, but his tapered eyes betrayed the merriment in his smile. They were darker and narrower. He stared at Eleanor like a ravenous grizzly.
Jayden put his glass down on an end table and stretched out his hand. “Come on. Have a drink.”
She slowly turned the corners of her mouth into a tight smile. “I’d love one.”
Her voice was strong.
He put his hand on her lower back. She jumped as if he’d shocked her then wrapped her arms tight around her body, keeping an arm’s length between him and Desmond. It was as if she feared to be touched by him. He made a mental note to ask her
later.
“Here,” Desmond said. “My, you’re a pretty thing, aren’t you? Just as I suspected.”
Eleanor narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Just mean you’re beautiful and timeless.”
As if Desmond was a Don Juan trying to seduce her, hate flickered in Eleanor’s eyes. Jayden reached past her and took the glass that Desmond offered, before Eleanor tossed it into Desmond’s face. He handed it to Eleanor, brushing his thumb over slender fingers, wanting to warn her not to be rude, but she flinched. Was this an act? Was she hiding her fear behind a brave facade? Or was she frightened of him? The woman was a contradiction. He didn’t know if she was more afraid of Desmond or him. She might have changed Jayden into a vampire, changed his life forever, but he wouldn’t let Desmond hurt her.
“Thank you,” Eleanor mumbled.
Desmond’s cheek twitched as he poured himself a glass. “So, where have you two been hiding?”
“In a nice, cozy house,” Jayden said.
Eleanor pinched her lips tight. She slightly shook her head, as if she were afraid he’d betray her and tell Desmond where she lived. Jayden met her warning gaze, indulging in her wish to keep her home secret.
“Where in Frisco?” Desmond pursued.
Eleanor glanced at Jayden. Her violet eyes, pleading with him to keep silent.
Not wanting to betray her, Jayden shrugged. “Not in Frisco—Breckenridge.”
The tension in her lips lessoned, and she took a deep breath. He hated lying to his best friend, but the light hairs on his back tingled as if a spider was running around on his flesh. A sure sign something was amiss. He’d learned over the years to trust the sensation.
Desmond finished sipping his wine. “Breckenridge? Where?”
“Not far off Main Street.” Jayden clasped Eleanor’s stiff hand and led her into the living room, his thumb brushing over her palm. “Have a seat,” he said. She sat on the couch, and he slid next to her. She shook as if she were being jostled around by an earthquake.
“Why are you being so curious?” he asked Desmond.
Desmond followed them and sat on the recliner. “Because your mother was scared out of her freaking mind.”
Jayden tensed and clutched his wineglass tight. His mother hadn’t been herself since Jacob had died, and Jayden had thrown her into an icy hell of worry. It was his fault. He swallowed the wine in one gulp. But how could he tell her he’d changed? That he’d be dead if Eleanor hadn’t transformed him into a vampire?
Desmond rubbed his glass between his palms. “The next time you go AWOL, I’d like to know where I can find you so you don’t miss another practice.”
Eleanor clasped his knee and squeezed.
He covered her hands with his. “Don’t worry I won’t let you down,” he said. He took Eleanor’s empty glass and went into the kitchen and refilled their glasses.
When he returned, Eleanor and Desmond were engaged in a staring match, sizing each other up. Desmond rubbed his chin and leaned back in the recliner. “So, what do you do, Eleanor?”
“Do?”
“Job? Do you work?” He tilted his head. “I take it that Hummer’s yours. Cuz I know Jayden sure as hell doesn’t own it.”
“Desmond,” Jayden said. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Just worried about who you’ve gotten yourself involved with.” His grating voice burned into Jayden’s gut.
“That was rude.” He pushed his anger down to keep from slamming his fist into his mouth, terrified he’d shatter his teeth. “You know nothing about what happened last night.”
Eyes tapered, nostrils flaring, Desmond leaned forward. “Then tell me.” He cast an accusatory glare at Eleanor.
“That’s none of your business,” Jayden said.
Desmond scoffed.
Eleanor’s cheeks reddened, and she stared into the fireplace.
“You’re being crude,” Jayden said.
Desmond rolled up his sleeves and revealed the upside-down crosses on his arm.
“You have a lot of crosses on your arm,” Eleanor said. “Anything special?”
“Victories,” he said. “Each time I win, I tattoo one on my arm.”
“Victories?” she asked.
“And I never lose.” He slowly said each word, as if each were a challenge, a promise, a threat. He flashed his gaze over Eleanor, and she clutched her pants pocket. He hadn’t notice it before, but there was a slight bulge. Shit! Did she have a weapon?
Jayden stared at Desmond like he’d never seen him before. The man had been his best friend since they’d formed the band. He’d been there to help Jayden calm down when Jacob would have one of his bouts with drinking or using. Desmond’s quick wit always lightened the situation. But this was a different man. A hunter. “Desmond, what do you mean by victories?”
“I’m a hunter.”
“A hunter. You mean you get a tattoo whenever you kill a deer?”
“Something like that. So, Eleanor, what do you do?”
“I make historical costumes.”
“Really? And you can afford a Hummer?”
His IRS tone was riddled with disbelief, as if Eleanor had lied on her taxes.
“Aye,” she said. “I do quite well. I’m detailed-oriented and people appreciate my work.”
“You work out of your home in Breckenridge?”
Eleanor took a sip of her wine and didn’t answer.
“Why the secrets, Eleanor? Secrets are bad. Secrets kill people.”
Jayden had never seen Desmond like this. His usual laughter was gone, and his voice was suspicious. Enough was enough. “Since I’m back, I suggest you go.”
Desmond cocked his eyebrow. “Very well.” He stood and frowned.
Jayden followed his gaze. Within the black glass of the gas log fireplace, Desmond’s body cast a reflection, but neither he nor Eleanor did. Jayden stopped sipping his glass, and the blood drained from his face. He’d forgotten. Vampires did not cast a reflection.
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow at ten?” Desmond asked.
“For what?”
“Practice. We’ve got a gig on tomorrow night, and the band needed to practice today. I want to make sure we’re ready.”
Jayden avoided his gaze. “I can’t tomorrow.” Not unless he wanted to step into sunlight and burst into a vampire torch.
“Why not? We always practice on Saturday, especially before a gig.”
“I said I can’t,” Jayden gritted his teeth.
“But—”
“I’ll be ready.”
“Kye—”
“I said, I’ll be ready.”
Desmond studied him. He chewed on his cheek, and he patted his thigh. “You’ve changed Kye.”
The understatement of Christmas.
“If you hurt your mother…,” he warned.
“Why the hell would you say that? I’d never hurt my mother.”
“The night before last, I’d have agreed with you.” He snatched his red ski coat out of the closet and slid it on. “Anything happens, and I’ll be back. She’s a good woman and doesn’t deserve to have her heart broken.”
He opened the door and slammed it shut, shaking the pictures hanging on the wall.
“He knows,” Eleanor said. She lifted her sweater and pulled a derringer out of the side of her pants.
“Why did you bring that? Do you even know how to use it?”
“Of course, I do. I happen to be an excellent shot. I’ve seen too many of my friends rely on their vampire powers, only to find themselves dead. This gives me reassurance.”
The woman amazed him. He had no doubt that if Desmond had made a threatening move, she’d have redecorated his mother’s house in splatters of red. “Put it away.”
“Fine.” She slid the small, silver gun back into her pocket.
Jayden leaned his head on the back of the couch and stared at his father’s menacing picture. Even in death, the man seemed to douse him with
disapproval. He’d never measured up to him in life, and now, he didn’t in death. He sighed. Was Eleanor right? Was Desmond Carver a vampire killer, intent on killing him and Eleanor?
“Who knows what?”
Jayden jerked his head off the couch to find his mother standing next to the couch. Tears glistened in her redden eyes. “Where’s Desmond?”
“He had an appointment.” His voice croaked with the lie.
“At ten o’clock at night?”
“He’s has to meet with a bar owner,” he said.
“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry I’m so weepy. I’ve been so frightened. I can’t lose another son.”
Her delicate voice pierced the lump lodged in his throat. “I know,” he said. He got up and hugged his mother, and she clung to him. He wished he could tell her the truth—that her son was a vampire, and his best friend wanted to stake him through the heart.
Jayden woke on a soft, king-sized bed with a voracious hunger tearing him apart. Darkness permeated one of Eleanor’s bedrooms. Like hers, heavy drapes barred the windows, pushing out the sunlight. He missed the sun. He’d taken it for granted all his life—the kiss of warmth on his skin, the peacefulness of the setting sunsets, the cheerful reflection off Dillon Lake. Even wearing sunglasses was gone. Why would he need them? So stupid, but he loved wearing dark sunglasses. It fit his persona of being the mysterious lead singer of Nightmare.
Sitting up, he ran a shaking hand through his hair. His stomach growled, and his parched throat was rough and drier than the Death Valley Desert. He wanted blood. Lots of it. His mother had begged him to stay at her house and had cried when he’d left with Eleanor. Her tears had riddled his hardened will like bullets. But he couldn’t stay with her. He was afraid something would happen to her, afraid he’d be tempted by her blood. God, was he capable of matricide?
He rolled out of bed and headed over to the bathroom. He flicked on the light and winced. Too early. Mornings had never been his thing. Or were they evenings now?
An oval mirror hung over the sink, and he leaned his hands on the gold faucets. He splashed water onto his face and sighed. Tonight, he’d face Carver again. He hoped the bastard didn’t want to add another cross on his damn tattoo. Dying was not on Jayden’s music line up. Nor was ripping out his best friend’s throat.