Blood Kiss

by Evangeline Anderson

  The shrill ringing of the telephone on the nightstand beside the bed surprised me and nearly forced the issue. I almost dropped the mallet, then pulled it back just in time and climbed off the bed. I'm one of the few people I know who prefers a landline to a cell phone. But hey, nobody can track you with a landline—I like to remain as antonymous as possible.

  “Thanks.” Michael’s lips barely moved but I caught a flash of the sharpened points of his new fangs anyway.

  Oh, I was going to regret this, I just knew it.

  His eyes fluttered shut again and he resumed his supernaturally slow breathing.

  I grabbed for the telephone and picked up on the fourth ring.

  “Child, it is I.” That’s how The Monsignor always identifies himself. I would know that pale, whispery voice anywhere.

  “Father,” I said formally. “How can I be of service to you?” I think of him as ‘The Monsignor’, but he prefers me to call him by a more informal title. Since he’s a priest and had never told me his name, this works for both of us.

  “I know what you are about my child,” he said.

  A shiver ran down my spine. How could he know?

  The Monsignor wore a hooded cloak that was cardinal red so I had never seen his face but more than once I had suspected he had eyes in the back of his head. He always seemed to know exactly where I was and what I was doing.

  No matter how remote, or how difficult and dangerous my assignment was, he always called in a spare moment with quiet advice and affirmation. But this time I wasn’t glad to hear his whispery voice.

  This time I felt like a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie-jar.

  “I was about to stake him, Father,” I said. “I know I shouldn’t have brought him back to the house but—”

  “Do not,” he interrupted me, a note of command in his voice.

  To say I was surprised would be an understatement.

  “Don’t stake him?” I asked, stupidly. It was as though he had asked me not to breathe.

  “Bring him to me,” he said. “The usual location.”

  The usual location was a burned out Catholic church in the bad part of town where two of the confessional booths were still intact. The booths were where he gave me my assignments, as though they were penances for sins I had committed.

  “Father, he’s in the deep sleep right now,” I objected. “He probably won’t wake for another two hours or so and then he’s going to be hard to control.”

  That was an understatement. Michael would be a raving lunatic, looking for blood, but The Monsignor already knew that. It wasn’t my place to remind him.

  “Do whatever is necessary to restrain him and bring him to me within two hours of his waking. I have every faith in you, my child.”

  There was a dry click and the dial tone rang in my ear.

  I put the handset down on its cradle with a feeling of unease. Why would The Monsignor want me to bring him a fledgling vampire at five o’clock in the morning? There would be only an hour until dawn—did he intend to incinerate the new vamp as a kind of warning to the others?

  He had never to my knowledge done anything like that before. I was his hand of vengeance, or so he always told me.

  Why was he taking matters into his own hands now?

  The Monsignor had been my mentor since the horrible day I walked in and saw the carnage that was what remained of my Uncle Harry. He had banished the vamps that were ripping at my uncle’s throat with a flick of his hand. They ran in panic at the power in his soft, terrible voice.

  Then he stood over me while I grieved and held my uncle, the man who had trained me—the only man who’d ever loved me.

  I could still remember the terror and pain in Uncle Harry’s blood-stained face as The Monsignor leaned over him and gave him last rites.

  Sometimes that vivid mental image still woke me up at nights, sweating and crying with a scream lodged halfway down my throat.

  The Monsignor told me he had been my uncle’s mentor and that he would be mine as well. He started giving me assignments—sent me after the Elders of the foremost vampire families and told me how best to get at them and kill them.

  He seemed to have an endless supply of knowledge and an endless supply of money. He bankrolled all of my killing expeditions from the limitless funds of the Church which had deep pockets where eradicating evil is concerned.

  At The Monsignor’s urging I gave up my part time job as a vet tech and my dream of getting into veterinary school and devoted my life full time to slaying. Uncle Harry had always told me that I shouldn’t make killing vamps my entire life, but I told myself he would have wanted me to get vengeance for his death.

  It was the lust for vengeance that drove me so hard, kept me up at nights looking for just one more kill.

  I looked down at Michael Moran lying still and breathless on my bed—he was a beautiful shell waiting to be filled with evil. And yet my boss wanted me to bring him in, for God knew what purpose.

  So when he woke up I had to be prepared.

  Chapter Four

  The next time Michael's long lashes fluttered was about five fifteen in the morning. Most people would have been drop dead tired but I was still okay.

  I’m used to pulling all-nighters, it pretty much comes with my job.

  An hour or so after dawn, I knew I was going to crash and burn but I was pretty sure this whole mess would be resolved one way or another by then.

  His eyes opened, looking vivid in a way that had nothing to do with getting a nice nap. They had the vampire glow to them now—a kind of luminescent clarity that most humans miss because they don’t know what they’re looking at. Most of the time if they encounter a vampire and live to tell the tale, they think the person they were talking to had on some kind of colored contacts.

  Michael looked up at me, confused at first, but understanding returned to his softly glowing eyes quickly. I was waiting for him to pop off the bed and go for my jugular but instead he spoke.

  “You’re the girl from the ER. The one with the pretty face and the hard eyes. Kate.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Nice to know you remember me.”

  Actually it was a pretty fair assessment although his crack about my ‘hard eyes’ hurt a little. But if he’d seen some of the things I had, he would’ve had hard eyes too.

  Being a slayer makes you jaded in a hurry.

  “Um, do you mind not pointing that thing at me?”

  He was staring at my crossbow—a retractable kind with a flexible aluminum frame I’d had custom made to fit my grip. I could hold and fire it with one hand which left my other hand free for dishing out holy water.

  The bow was loaded with razor sharp glass tipped arrows filled with the same mixture of silver nitrate and holy water I put in the hollow points I used in my Glock. A gun is nice and the bullets will really slow a vamp down, but the arrows held more of my special mixture and were harder to get out since they were barbed.

  “Please?” Michael asked politely, nodding at the bow again.

  I lowered the crossbow a fraction of an inch and looked at him. I’d seen plenty of awakenings to darkness—sometimes down in a coven you can’t get all the new leeches before they wake up although God knows I tried.

  I had never seen a fledgling vamp talk coherently, let alone say ‘please.’

  “Aren’t you thirsty?” I asked bluntly, still keeping the bow ready.

  He coughed.

  “My throat is a little bit dry, I guess. Do you have any water? But not the kind that stings—what was in that stuff, anyway?” He frowned at me, his light brown eyebrows drawing together.

  “That was holy water. And it only stings if you’re a vampire.”

  “Oh, right. The vampire thing. Is that why you did this?” He gestured with his head at the steel and silver manacles I had around his wrists and ankles.

  I wasn’t taking any chances.

  “The vampire thing?” I looked at him warily. “Are you saying you don
’t believe me?”

  He eyed my crossbow again. “I didn’t say anything like that. I would never disbelieve a beautiful woman with a mercury filled arrow aimed at my head.”

  “It’s silver nitrate,” I said. “Mixed with holy water. So don’t try anything funny.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said dryly, and then, in a softer tone, “Look, could I at least sit up? I don’t know what’s happened to you in the past, Kate, but I would never hurt you. I’m one of the good guys, okay?”

  Not anymore you’re not, I thought, but didn’t say. I didn’t know what to make of him—he was so completely different from what I was used to.

  “You can sit up but don’t get off the bed.” I gestured warily with the bow.

  He did an impressive crunch kind of thing that flexed all his abdominal muscles in a mouth-watering way.

  I tried not to notice. There was no way I was attracted to a vampire—talk about sleeping with the enemy.

  “Could I have that glass of water now, Kate? I’m really thirsty.” He looked at me appealingly and I shook my head.

  “You really don’t believe me, do you?”

  “That I’m a vampire?” He shook his head. “Well, no. I’m sorry but I don’t see how I could be.”

  “Then how did you get here? What about the leech in the ER that ripped into your neck? How do you explain that?” I demanded.

  “Well, I don’t seem to have a wound now, do I?” He craned his neck to get a look at the area I was pointing to. It was true, the skin was whole and smooth again but that was because vamps regenerate almost immediately.

  “You’re a vampire,” I told him bluntly. “You can heal almost any wound but a stake to the heart. Except for that and direct sunlight and a few other things, you’re invulnerable.”

  “Okay,” he said, plainly humoring me.

  I ran my free hand through my hair and looked at him in disgust. “I can’t believe this,” I said. “Okay, smart guy, so what do you think happened to you? Why are you here?”

  He sighed.

  “Honestly? I think maybe I was attacked by a mentally disturbed patient but I don’t remember much about it. Afterwards I think you and I went down to Mannie’s for that coffee and pie I asked you out for. You put something in my coffee and took me home with you. Then you poured some kind of acid or something that sure as hell felt like acid all over me for some reason and I passed out. While I was out you chained me up.” He leaned forward and looked at me earnestly. “But, Kate, I’m not your enemy. Whoever hurt you in the past, I’m not like him.”

  Great, he was beginning to make me feel like a crazy woman with a persecution complex. Time to end this once and for all.

  “Let me show you something,” I said. I stalked to the bathroom and came back with a hand-held mirror I used for plucking my eyebrows.

  I’m not much for make-up but good grooming is important for a girl who’s up all night, even if I am staking vampires instead of shaking my booty.

  “Look at yourself.” I shoved the mirror in his face and Michael looked obediently for a moment.

  He looked up at me, one eyebrow raised in question.

  “So?”

  All the legends that say vamps can’t be seen in mirrors are bullshit. Otherwise they wouldn’t be nearly so well groomed as most of them are. But there are certain differences between humans and vamps that are obvious, even to the untrained eye.

  “Look at your eyes,” I told him. “How bright they are—how vivid the color is.”

  Michael frowned.

  “They don’t look much different to me.” He shrugged.

  “Open your mouth,” I said. “Look at your upper teeth.”

  He did as I asked, studying the newly formed fangs. They were small right now because, for whatever strange reason, he wasn’t lusting for blood. But they were definitely there, at least half an inch longer than the rest of his teeth and very sharp. They were right where his canine teeth used to be.

  Michael ran his tongue over the newly pointed tips and jerked, like you do when you bite your tongue.

  “Ouch!” He frowned at me. “Are these some kind of dental implants? How did you do this in such a short time? Or have I been out longer than I thought?”

  I couldn’t believe it. Not only didn’t he believe that he was a vampire, he almost had me doubting too!

  He was even breathing normally again, although I was willing to bet that was force of habit on his part. He still thought he was human so he was still acting like a human.

  I could only think of one other way to convince him.

  “Watch,” I said. Before he could protest, I drew a thin red line down his muscular bicep with the razor sharp tip of my arrow. A sluggish trickle of dark red blood oozed from the wound, then stopped almost immediately.

  “Kate—” Michael didn’t exactly jump away from me, but his eyes got wider. “Kate, please—you don’t have to hurt me because I’m not going to hurt you,” he said in his softest, most appeasing tone.

  “Were you training to be an ER doctor or a shrink?” I asked impatiently. “Stop with the psychobabble and just watch.” I nodded at his arm where the most amazing thing was happening.

  Amazing if you hadn’t seen it about a thousand times before like I had, anyway.

  As we watched, the wound sealed itself, scabbed over, and faded to a white thread of scar tissue. Soon even that disappeared and except for a few drops of dried blood, his arm looked like it had never been cut. It all happened in the space of about ten seconds or so.

  Vamps are great at regenerating—it’s one of the things that makes them so damn hard to kill.

  Michael sucked in his breath and blew it out in a soft whistle.

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, feeling oddly vindicated. “Now do you believe me?”

  He looked up at me with wide eyes.

  “I’m not sure what to believe anymore. This all seems like some kind of a bad dream.” He tried to grin. “Except I don’t usually have beautiful women in my nightmares, you know?”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere,” I told him. He might be an atypical vamp but he was still a vamp which was maybe why The Monsignor wanted to see him.

  The Monsignor! I had gotten so involved in proving to Michael that he really was a vampire, that I had almost forgotten my orders.

  I glanced at my watch. Nearly five thirty and sunrise was going to be around six fifteen.

  I always keep track of what time the sun rises—it’s saved my ass on more than one occasion.

  “Come on.” I grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet—not an easy task with such a big guy.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To see my boss.”

  “You have a boss?” He sounded surprised.

  “Yeah, I have a boss. Is that a problem?” I put my free hand on my hip.

  “Uh, no. I guess I just thought that being a vampire hunter would be more of a vigilante type job. You know, like Batman or something?” He looked around. “So where’s the Bat cave?”

  “You’re standing in it,” I said. “Now come on—we need to get there before dawn or you’re going to be one crispy critter.”

  I tried to pull him forward and he almost fell. I put down the crossbow and caught him, stumbling backwards with his weight.

  For a brief moment his face was pressed against the side of my neck.

  I stiffened, expecting to feel the needle-bright pain of his fangs sinking into my flesh but there was nothing. Nothing but his warm breath against my throat, tickling my skin and stirring my hair in a way that sent a finger of heat down the groove of my spine.

  I pushed him away from me, putting him back on his feet in a hurry.

  “Sorry,” he said apologetically. “But I can’t go anywhere trussed up like a Christmas turkey. You’re going to have to at least unchain my feet.”

  I hated to admit it, but he was right. Still, it made me nervous to give him that much mobility. He was big
ger than me and now that he’d been turned he was about a hundred times stronger as well.

  That can be a lethal combination.

  Michael seemed to sense my doubt.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Kate,” he said softly, ducking his head to look in my eyes. “I don’t know what your story is or what happened to you in the past but you have to believe me here—I’m not the kind of guy that gets off on hurting women. I heal people—I’m a doctor—that’s what I do.”

  “You’re a vampire now,” I told him. “It doesn’t matter what kind of guy you are or how nice you were when you were human. Sooner or later you’re going to get thirsty for blood and then it’s everybody out of the pool.”

  He shrugged as well as he could with his hands still manacled in front of him.

  “I can see I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this vampire thing. But if you want me to go anywhere with you, you’re going to have to unchain my feet.”

  I looked at my watch again. Almost five forty and the burned out church where I always met the Monsignor was almost ten minutes away. Even if dawn came at six fifteen we were cutting it really close. Also, he’d had a chance to bite me and hadn’t done it.

  I didn’t know any regular vamp, let alone a newly awakened one, that could have resisted ripping into my jugular when it was so close to his face.

  I made a decision.

  “Fine,” I said, taking out the key and bending down to unfasten the manacles around his ankles. “But one wrong move and you’re dead. Got it?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he murmured and I had the irritated feeling that he was humoring me again. He still didn’t really believe he was a vampire—not deep down.

  Well, he would become a believer pretty quickly if the sun hit his pretty hide. Because, luckily for the human race, along with superhuman strength and a taste for blood, vampires also develop a fatal sensitivity to sunlight when the virus turns them.

  A vamp can no more walk outside in the daylight than a human could walk on the surface of the sun. Some of the older ones—the Elders whose entire lineage depends on their survival—have developed enough immunity to be out in the pale light of dawn or sunset.