Blood Emerald

by Amber Anthony

“Really, you’re too kind,” Anna said coldly.

  He surveyed the suite. “This is a pretty fancy place. You have the dough to fly in with a dog, stay in a suite at the classiest hotel in town? I don’t get that. How does that work, exactly?”

  “I have a credit card, and a friend with a private plane. I figured once I’d sold the dirk…”

  “Ah, yes, the dirk.” Sterling rounded on her with a dangerous gleam in his eye. “My dirk. Just how did you figure you were going to sell it without me?”

  “I always intended to give you some of the money, Carl,” she lied smoothly. “I would have contacted you, but I couldn’t find you. You weren’t on a cruise as you’d said…”

  “Right.” Sterling countered sardonically. “You were going to cut me in.”

  Anna headed for a chair and sat shakily. Sterling started forward, and would have towered above her if Player hadn’t stood and placed himself between them, his lip curling warningly.

  Sterling changed course and sat in an adjacent chair. “You know I could send you to jail for grand theft. I could probably tack on another charge for stealing the dog, and I’m guessing there’s no record of you at Customs, so…”

  “I don’t understand, Carl. You want to sell the dagger, you stand to make a lot of money from it, and yet, you threaten me? So, I call off my buyer and you have no money. You do have the satisfaction of sending me to jail, but it seems like a bad deal to me.”

  “That’s just it, Annie,” Sterling sniped. “I’ve been considering this fifty-fifty split, and that seems unfair to me. If you found a buyer, chances are I could too. Maybe I’d even get more money.” Sterling’s look turned sly. “Or, maybe I’ll just keep the deal and give you a smaller cut. I think a finder’s fee of two thousand dollars would be sufficient reward. Well, that and my promise not to call the Feds.”

  Anna frowned. She repeated the number just to stall for time. How should she play this? If she gave in too quickly he might get suspicious, come on too strong and he might decide to call the cops. “I’m willing to negotiate.” She said at last. “Two thousand is way too little cash. Let’s say ten thousand, but you have to show me the dagger now.”

  “Show you the dagger?” Sterling laughed cynically. “So you can hit me over the head or poison my lunch and take it? I don’t think so. It’s in a safe place away from here. Once you introduce me to the buyer, if I like the deal, I’ll take him to it.”

  * * * *

  Rick stood in the hall, not two feet from the suite door, watching the action from his cell phone. A grin cracked his handsome face. Anna was good, man. She didn’t choke and she thought on her feet. He was proud of her. Sterling had the dagger with him, alright. Rick was sure of it. He’d been playing some version of poker for five hundred years. He knew tells when he saw them, and if Sterling wasn’t bluffing, he deserved to lose his seat at the World Series of Poker. He guessed the dirk was secreted on Sterling’s person—maybe in one of those ridiculous cowboy boots, or maybe in the rucksack. The likelier would be the boot, closer to his person, harder to steal.

  * * * *

  Anna spent the rest of the time before lunch counter-offering the amount of money she’d accept as a finder’s fee. It kept Sterling occupied. She was frustrated in her efforts to get him to produce the dagger, but she felt certain Rick would be able to get it, one way or another.

  Sterling didn’t blink an eye when Rick entered the suite wearing a hotel uniform, towel over his arm and announcing “Room Service,” in his perfectly accented Spanish. No, Sterling had been too preoccupied with threatening Anna to notice the tall, beautifully presented waiter.

  Rick displayed their lunch with style. He stood behind Anna and to her left when he was finished.

  “…then where will you be?” Sterling finished his latest round of threats. “A fifty-year-old crone straight from the slammer. Too young for social security and too tainted to work in bars. Poor little Annie.”

  “You always did have a flair for the dramatic, Carl.”

  “Yeah.” Sterling stopped talking and eyed Rick standing behind her. “Why hasn’t the waiter left?”

  “I imagine he’s waiting for a tip,” Anna sniped. “Since you’re the one with all the money now, why don’t you pay him?”

  * * * *

  Rick watched Sterling surreptitiously reach for the unsheathed dagger in his right boot. He took a large step forward as Sterling grabbed Anna’s hand and yanked it across the table, palm down.

  “It would be a shame,” Sterling gritted, poising the dagger directly over her hand, “to leave Annie with a crippled hand over a few thousand dollars, wouldn’t it?” Sterling looked up at Rick.

  “Senor…” Rick began, halting where he was.

  Sterling rose, and made the mistake of taking the dagger away from Anna’s hand as he tugged her forward. It took Rick half a second to close the distance between them. Put your hands on her? I’ll kill you!

  Anna tugged back with all her weight, hurling herself into Rick, projecting them both backward onto the floor and throwing Sterling off balance. Sterling supported his weight on his left arm, aiming the dagger at Rick.

  Rick fought the irresistible inclination to turn and let the vampire have its way. Don’t turn! Not in front of Anna. Though Anna saw his vampire-self released in passion, rage was a whole different animal, and one she might find horrifying.

  Sterling defended himself with wild gestures, slashing the air within a centimeter of Rick’s thigh, momentarily halting his advance. A bestial growl escaped Rick’s lips. Sterling jerked the blade back, sliding away from the man who’d served his lunch.

  I could kill you with a snap of your neck, Rick fantasized. Sterling spun, knees bent, with the priceless dirk held as if he were a gang member in a knife fight.

  Rick saw Anna hesitate and move toward them. “Get back, Anna,” he hissed. “Get into the bedroom and lock the door.”

  “How chivalrous,” Sterling taunted. “Protecting the little woman when your plan goes sideways.”

  Anna stepped between them, her hands outstretched, palms forward in a calming gesture.

  “God dammit, what are you doing?” Rick gritted.

  Anna’s voice was low and soothing, trying to de-escalate the situation. “If we wind up killing each other, what good is the money?”

  Rick ground his teeth and turned his attention to Sterling. Give me a reason. “That’s the best you’ve got? Gang style choreography? C’mon. You’re the one with the knife. You just gonna crouch there?” Rick jeered at him over Anna’s shoulder.

  Sterling snarled, watching Rick straighten, ready for an onslaught. “No, you want this thing so badly, you come to me, pretty boy.”

  Rick was tempted. He glanced at Anna and saw her face was a mask of concern. Not in front of Anna. There was nothing he’d love more than to finish this guy right now. His brain burned, his fangs ached to drop. Reflexively, Rick dropped his chin to his chest. Do not turn.

  Sterling began circling, thrusting, trying to back out the door. This could be over in a heartbeat, Rick reasoned. Take your time and defeat him as a human. Rick had a mental picture of the worst possible outcome in front of Anna. One moment I’m her lover, the next I’m the dead-eyed vampire, fangs bared, claws unsheathed, murdering a helpless mortal.

  “So, pretty boy,” Sterling jeered, inching around the lunch table, “too gutless? Afraid I’ll mess up that pretty face?”

  Don’t turn! Rick grimaced from the pain of repressing his nature.

  Sterling danced in Anna’s direction. Rick saw the impending strike and caught her by the shoulders, spinning her away from harm. Just one quick move. Rick narrowed his gaze in Anna’s direction, calculating. Do I have the cover? Anna crawled away from where she’d landed on the floor and Rick knew instantly he’d never be able to hide the kill-punch from her.

  In the seconds it took Rick to stay his hand from murder, Sterling jabbed repeatedly at his chest and gut, making contact but not deterring him.
He gave Rick a look of pure consternation. Kevlar vest, asshole. Don’t turn!

  Rick punched his fist into his palm, and spoke in perfect English. “For a dickhead, Sterling, I gotta say, you really piss me off!” Rick swung a pulled punch, his vampire reflexes missing Sterling by millimeters. He watched the guy’s face pale. That felt good.

  “Too bad, cuz I can do this all day!” Sterling snarled as he alternated stabbing and dodging.

  Rick could hear his labored breathing. He gave Sterling a doubtful smirk. “Really? Did you bring your inhaler, Sterling? Rick danced from one Feragamo to the other as he watched in amusement.

  Sterling barked back, “This isn’t a game, pretty boy.” His breath wheezed.

  Rick was at a breaking point. The internal fight with his vampire was more taxing than the duel with Sterling. His snarl was guttural. “You come in here, threaten my woman, dance around with my dirk?”

  “Your dirk?” Sterling pulled the dagger high and away from Rick. “I don’t think so.”

  “You try to stab me and think you’ll get away with it?” Rick lunged forward, lightning fast and slapped Sterling’s face.

  At this point, Rick had done all he could to suppress the vampire. He needed to dial this thing down to done. Sterling gasped for breath. Heart attack? Well, that would end it.

  “You want to end this alive? Drop my dirk and get the fuck out,” Rick ordered.

  Sterling clutched his chest, the dirk in his fist. Rick froze, listening for heart sounds. It’s still beating—too bad.

  Sterling grimaced, dropped to one knee, and sank toward the ground.

  “Well isn’t this convenient,” Rick chortled. “I don’t have to kick your ass, you’re gonna kick it for me.” Rick eased in, reaching for the dirk.

  Sterling countered with an upper cut. Anna shrieked as Rick felt the dirk pierce his chest under the armpit.

  Silence.

  Rick’s strangled roar shook the floor.

  “You son of a bitch!” Anna swept a marble obelisk off the end table and swung it with all her might against Sterling’s skull. He fell in a limp heap at her feet.

  She stood stock-still, hands shaking, eyes wide at the sight of Rick, panting on the floor with the dagger embedded deep in his chest. “Get…it…out…” He gasped. “Anna!” His urgency galvanized her to action. “Get it out, now!”

  “You’re not supposed to remove an object from a puncture wound,” Anna objected with her farm-learned first aid.

  “Get…it…out! I can’t do it myself.” Rick’s eyes glared wide with desperation.

  “Are you going to bleed? Will you gush?” Anna turned her head away, but found the dirk easy to dislodge. It emerged thick with black-red blood. She grimaced at the sight and gagged. Rick slid away from her, toward the wall, holding his shirttail to the open wound, trying to clean it.

  “Are you bleeding?” Anna’s words shook as hard as her shoulders.

  “It burns, it’s the silver, it hurts.” Rick grimaced as the silver burned its way into his heart.

  “Tell me how to help you.” Anna leaned over him, her hand outstretched but hesitating to touch.

  “Get away from me, Anna,” Rick directed curtly, feeling his skin chill as it paled. “Get back.” Anna stumbled a few feet away then stood gaping as Rick’s field of vision narrowed. She shifted foot to foot in indecision. “I need all the blood.” Rick repositioned, trying to evade the pain. “In the fridge....my…room, all…of…it.” Rick gestured vaguely.

  Anna fled to his room. Rick teetered on the edge of reason. If Anna couldn’t handle me sleeping on a slab, how will she deal with a dying demon?

  Anna drew up short when she returned, obviously aghast at what she saw. “Fitz, can vampires die?”

  Rick pushed himself back up the wall. “I look that bad?” He rubbed his painfully dry eyes. His claws gouged a track across his eyelid to his cheekbone. The flesh peeled back as he blinked, trying to relieve the dryness. He reached out a desperate hand for the blood.

  “Rick, you’re blue.” Anna shrank away.

  “The blood, Anna! Toss me the blood!” His reach ended in split-skinned blue claws. “Don’t come any closer…toss it, toss the blood to me.”

  Anna slid the three bags across the wooden floor.

  One greedy hand grabbed the first blood bag to his aching chest. His hands fought to remove the plug. He shook as he lifted it to his mouth.

  Anna sank to the floor leaning toward him until Rick halted her with a deep growl. He tilted the bag up and sucked it dry, “Close enough. Stay there.”

  “What?” Anna objected, even as she did as she was told.

  “Don’t make me talk,” he panted, and she was immediately contrite as she registered the pain in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Just tell me what to do to help!”

  Rick pulled the plug from the second bag and gulped it down more easily. He gasped with the last mouthful “How many left?”

  “I brought them all, there were only three.” Tears filled her eyes.

  “Not enough,” he murmured shakily. Rick pulled the plug on the last bag, in his unsteadiness, spraying precious drops everywhere. He raised his head. “Anna,” his voice was stronger, commanding with his last ounce of strength. “Take my phone.” He spun it to her. “The directory…an international number…Responders. Got that? Responders,” he enunciated. “Go to your room, tell them who I am…where we are…I’ve been poisoned…silver.”

  “What…” She picked up the phone. “Rick, no. Take it from me…”

  Rick downed the last pint, “You’re crazy!” He snarled. “Never take you. Get out…lock the door…call. Tell them…emergency. Get here…fast. I swear to God, Anna don’t make me show you…medieval…”

  He glared at the wasted blood covering him. “I need more.” Rick lowered his lips onto his forearms and hands, hungrily slurping every drop. He gritted his teeth and writhed in pain before finishing the last precious bag. “Call. Now. Get here quick…I need living blood.”

  “It’s you or him, Rick.” She looked at Sterling, still and deathly pale on the floor. She wasn’t entirely sure he contained living blood. And oh my God, what did that mean? She’d killed a man? Well, in defense of another, but… “Do what you have to do.”

  “Call,” he gasped as he slid toward the floor. Anna backed out of the room.

  * * * *

  Anna sat obediently on her bedroom’s chaise. A responder named Raquel trooped in looking for all the world like an Emergency Medical Technician.

  She leaned over Anna, professionally calm, questioning her in a soothing, accented voice. “Did you hit your head? Did you lose consciousness?” She felt Anna’s head for bumps.

  “No,” Anna gazed dully at her medic insignia. “I hit him.”

  “No, he was never here. Rick went to the meeting alone.” Raquel softly caught Anna’s face and met her gaze. “You’re feeling numb right now, Anna,” she said firmly.

  Anna’s gaze seemed to fall deep into Raquel’s unblinking ebony stare. “I’m floating.”

  Raquel held that unblinking gaze. “That’s right, you’re floating. You feel so comfortable, so relaxed, so peaceful…”

  * * * *

  “Senor, this is Senorita Moreau, please make an evening appointment for me at the bank. I’ve arrived at the Waldorf, I’m cash shy…” Veronique rolled over in the sumptuous bed and hit the button on the drapery’s remote. The Panamanian night fell and headlights on Avenida Balboa darted as spasmodically as her thoughts.

  She was a free woman. She’d paid her ‘dues’. The Vampire Council had accepted Attorney Bellamy’s offer of restitution. The billions she paid broke her financially. She did regret she hadn’t hidden Papa’s estate. Veronique’s last hope was the contents of the safety deposit box in an obscure Panamanian bank, but she was hungry and she couldn’t think straight when she was hungry…

  * * * *

  Well, that was embarrassing. The contents of the safe dep
osit box was a parcel of damned emeralds, a deed to five acres of vacant desert in Bombay Beach, California, and the spare keys to a 1999 Bentley Azure.

  The emeralds were iffy, she’d have to sell them and to sell them she’d have to deal with mortals. Uhh. The property was a joke, it was undeveloped desert. At least she could use the Bentley to perpetrate the image she exemplified.

  Everyone she trusted was gone, dead. The architects for her destruction were Matt Brenner and Richard Hiatt and she would spend eternity to exact retribution.

  * * * *

  It took three emeralds to pay the storage on the Bentley. It took more to have it shipped, which was just as well as she could not afford jet airfare. When the ship docked in Long Beach, Veronique was worse for wear. Emotionally drained, nutritionally starved and a hundred percent travel weary, Veronique impatiently tapped the toe of her last pair of Louboutins as the car was uncrated and driven before her.

  * * * *

  “Ms. Morrison, we’ve reviewed your portfolio. I have good news and bad news.” The real estate broker parsed out his words, attempting to gauge his new client’s attitude.

  Veronique hunched over a vodka martini in the country club lounge. With a sneer she raised the glass to her suicide-red lips and sighed, “Lead with the bad news, Mr. Snyder.”

  The gangly man spread out the real estate specs, “I realize you haven’t been to Los Angeles since you were a child and I’m sure your parents didn’t discuss property values…” The man edged on her last nerve.

  “Mr. Snyder, I apologize, I have a dinner date, could you be expedient?” Her nail tapped the empty martini glass in her hand. The thin man gulped and fast-forwarded.

  “Your property, Ms. Morrison, has seven to ten thousand dollars of value. Unencumbered as it is, we could acquire a mortgage and you could bank the proceeds. There is no real estate in Los Angeles within your budget.”