“Thank you, but as acting ruler, I will decide the best place to station these men,” I finally say.
“You’re going to guard that librarian, aren’t you?” Otto asks.
News travels fast in vampire land, and given recent events, which I won’t go into right now, everyone knows about her. All the more reason for around-the-clock security.
“Someone has to protect her,” I say. “So it is either them or me. And given I’ve been drafted into the leadership position, I think my time will be better spent elsewhere.” Such as dressing up in a disguise to infiltrate the enemy’s prison in order to free the council. Once I find the location.
“I mean this respectfully, Vanderhorst, but the optics are bad. Powerful families are giving up their personal guards to reinforce our armies.”
“Surely protecting one human, who can be used as leverage against me, is not an issue.”
“Your subjects will not see it that way,” Otto throws back. “As we speak, our men and women are preparing to give their lives. They take their loyalty and sacrifice very seriously. It will be seen as an insult to make them babysit your plaything.”
Plaything? Miriam is no toy. Yes, I wish things were different, but they are not. Still, our connection is almost sacred. It is a bond unlike anything I’ve ever heard of. That said, I do understand Otto’s point. If I were ordered to leave my family to be in the army, and then asked to risk my life for a leader’s human pet—not that Miriam is—I would not be pleased. Unfortunately, I cannot change reality.
“The people are simply going to have to choose,” I say. “Protect those who are important to me, or find another king.”
“You are the only person our societies will trust and follow. You’d turn your back on them for one little human?”
“She is little in size, but her personality is quite large and impressive, I assure you. Nevertheless, she is no match for a vampire, and I won’t turn my back on those who are under my protection. Not her, not Lula, not even you, Otto. And I don’t even like you.” He’s a general, but he is practically a baby—a little over a hundred years old. He served in WWI before he was turned, which means he has some experience with warfare, but not much. Still, he looks like he’s sixteen and walks around like he’s seen it all, done it all. Cocky to the core.
“No one likes me,” he retorts. “My masculinity threatens them.”
Right. Sure…
He continues, “Vanderhorst, I could understand if this human was your queen—your mate for eternity—but she’s not. She’s just a librarian.”
How dare he! If we were speaking face-to-face right now, I would rip out his throat. Books are sacred and librarians are the keepers of books, which makes them sacred, too.
“I would give my life for Miriam, just as I would give it to help our people,” I point out.
“That doesn’t mean our army will feel the same, and if you force the matter, you risk fragmenting our societies.”
Dammit, he has a point. As important as Miriam is, asking a bunch of strangers to protect her with their lives is a nonstarter. Vampires are notoriously loyal, but it’s always to their families and societies first, then to their regions. But never to a human unless that human is their blood—a wife or child from their pre-vampire days.
“This might sound outlandish, but have you considered marrying her?” Otto asks.
“Making her into a vampire? No. I will not.” She deserves to live her life in peace, to grow old and have a family. She once told me herself, during a hypothetical discussion, that life was precious because of its finality. She said becoming immortal—like the character in that Fanged Love vampire series she adores—would take away everything she cherishes about being alive. I.e., being alive. Can’t argue there. Being dead, frozen in time, is a grind.
“I didn’t say you had to make her immortal,” Otto clarifies. “She just needs to be your wife. Given how traditional vampires are, they will feel it’s their duty to protect their queen, too.”
“You mean perform the wedding ceremony with a human?” I turn to sit on my desk, the phone gripped tightly in my palm. I think Otto is onto something. In my people’s eyes, this would make her an extension of myself. Male vampires are fiercely protective of their women. The only drawback is that humans are not permitted to know about us.
I wonder if they will let it slide. At the moment, there are nastier fish to steam. Or fillet? Or…darn, I do not recall what happens to less desirable fish, but the focus will be on other things.
“Send the men,” I command. “Tell them she and I will be wed by the time they arrive.”
“Very good, sir. I will be in touch later. And please be careful.”
“You, as well.” I end the call, and a sour wave of dread mixes with excitement in my stomach. Miriam. Mine? Deep down inside, I know we are not destined to be together. She is and must always remain human. But that other part of me, the vampire, the possessive male who wants her, is elated by the thought.
The question is, which side will win? Because once I make her mine, I know I won’t ever want to let her go.
CHAPTER THREE
“Michael, are you out of your putrid, crusty old head?” Lula’s shrill voice pours through the phone. “How the hell do you plan on marrying Miriam without her knowing?”
“I am Michael Vanderhorst. I specialize at all things impossible.”
“Uh, no. You’re a giant dumbass. A vampire wedding is a big deal. When we say ‘until death do us part,’ it actually means forever. It’s why so few vampires marry.”
Lula is correct; most vampires opt for cohabitation. Many do not believe in everlasting love at all. Personally, I’m still unsure if such a thing exists. True love, soul mates, and eternal bonds take on an entirely different meaning when you don’t have an expiration date. Then again, what do I know? Up until a few weeks ago, I barely had an emotion, let alone experienced love. Loyalty, yes. A sense of duty, certainly. Needs, such as hunger or arousal, all the time.
But love?
It was why I always considered myself a lone wolf, having little contact with the members of my society and spending most of my time focused on work. Four centuries and nine professions—not counting this temporary appointment as king—and not once did I consider taking a wife. Part of me has always wondered if being the Executioner damaged me beyond repair. I killed so many that I had to stop feeling emotions in order to stay sane. Then Miriam came along.
“I truly am out of options, Lula. Options and time.”
“Is this the part where you ask for my help?” She takes a snippy tone with me.
“You know me so well.” I put my cell on speaker and take a seat at my desk.
“Yeah, which is why it’s a miracle I’m still talking to you.”
Lula and I have a long history, consisting mostly of me underestimating her, her saving my ass. What can I say? I am trying to change my ways, but this vampire was not built in a day.
“Yes, it is a miracle,” I reply. “And I shall be forever in your debt for all that you do, which really buys you nothing since we are family and you already have my loyalty.” Clive was her maker, too, but she is only two hundred years old—half my age. Nevertheless, she has been tapped by the generals to lead my two territories of Ohio and Arizona while I attend to bigger matters.
She huffs. “Just tell me what you want. But if it has the word librarian or Miriam in it, the answer is no.”
“Actually, I was hoping you could come back to Phoenix. Run Cincinnati from here.”
“Why? My house is here. My life and my society are here. Also, it’s not five hundred degrees outside.”
“You are now in charge of both territories in my absence, and Phoenix requires more attention. It’s like the Wild West here. They have no regard for tradition.”
“You mean they don’t show up to boring society meetings, or their ass-kissing doesn’t meet your standards?”
“Neither,” I snarl. “Attendance is fine, and
my ass is adequately adored. I am referring to the fact that they are apt to follow whoever spins a better yarn about being the strongest or most powerful. You can teach them the true meaning of duty, loyalty, and bravery.”
“Ugh. Speaking of ass-kissing… Ding, ding, ding! You want my help duping your librarian into marrying you, don’t you?”
“No…” I reply shamefacedly. “Okay, perhaps yes. But I also need assistance finding the council members. We may have to fly off at a moment’s notice and rescue them.”
“I can fly from here. And I’m not helping you trick Miriam into marriage.”
“Why the hell not?” I growl.
“Because I kind of like her. It wouldn’t feel right.”
Well, there’s a change. Lula used to be jealous of my feelings for Miriam, primarily because Clive made Lula for me—a fact I recently learned after his demise. Since then, Lula and I had a night together and agreed that we are not meant to be forever companions. She is my best friend, and I am her leader, but nothing more. Still, vampires hate sharing. That includes sharing your best friend with another woman.
“I am pleased to hear you’ve let go of any animosity for Miriam, Lula. Very pleased. However, if you truly care for her, you know we must do something to protect her. The entire vampire world knows of my relationship with her.”
“Don’t you think it’s weird that they know about this relationship and she doesn’t? Just tell her the truth.”
“I tried that, and she did not handle it well. I do not want to break the poor woman, given how much she’s been through. Besides, telling her won’t change anything. She must still be protected. She must still be my queen. And she will say no to both whether she believes vampires are real or not.”
“I see your point, Mikey, but I think you’re misjudging her, and she has a right to know about the full extent of the danger.”
I hate being called Mikey but let it slide. I have bigger fish to net or whatever. “The truth will terrify her. And she’s already made it clear she will have nothing to do with me if I broach the vampire subject again.”
“Oh, you’re such a pussy.”
“Am not.” I am the Executioner. Or was. I fear nothing except tiny blue cars.
“Are too.”
“I cannot help it if I feel the need to shelter her from all this,” I argue.
“I’m calling Miriam. Then you’ll see you’re just being an overprotective machoron.”
“What the devil is a machoron?”
“You. A macho moron.”
“Harhar. Leave Miriam alone,” I command.
“She’s going to wonder why a group of scary, heavily armed, deadly vampires are following her around. Have you thought of that?”
“Of course not. I am man, and we resolve one problem at a time, but we do it well.”
“Pfft! I’ll call you back.”
“Lula, no. You are to come to Phoenix and help me—”
The call ends, and I stare at my phone, smoke billowing from my ears. “Dammit! Why must she always defy me?”
“Sir?” Viviana and her perfect brown bob pop through the cracked door. “I heard yelling. Anything I can help with?”
“Why is your kind always so…so stubborn! I am the king. I am not to be disobeyed!”
“Okay, Joffrey.” She rolls her green eyes.
“Huh?”
“Nothing.”
“No. You were about to say something. Out with it,” I demand.
“I don’t think I should. You’ll get angry. And we all know bad things happen when the Executioner loses his cool.”
“Nothing bad will happen! And I’m already uncool—I mean coolless. Or…whatever. Just speak your mind.”
She inhales sharply. “Fine. I think the problem isn’t us women, sir. It’s men like you who refuse to see the truth or listen, even when a woman is screaming the facts right in your face, all because the idea or thought didn’t come from you. But deep in your heart, you know women are right ninety-nine percent of the time.”
“No one is right that often,” I grumble. “Not even me. And I’m always right.”
“But we are. It’s because the ladies don’t give an opinion or take a position until we have the facts. You men always run off, swinging your willies, trying to pass off opinion and hypothesis as facts.”
“We do not.”
“If you say so, sir.” She looks away, finding a sudden interest in the plain white wall.
I narrow my eyes at Viviana. If I did not need and like her so much, I would fire her for insolence. And for insulting my willy-swinging ways.
The cell on my desk vibrates, and I grab it. It’s Lula. “Hello?”
“You were right. I started to mention the whole vampire thing, and Miriam flew off the handle. Said she will murder the next person who mentions, quote, ‘stupid vampires.’”
I look at Viviana, knowing she heard every word with her vampire ears. “See you here in the morning,” I say to Lula and end the call. Vindication is mine. I would do a victory lap and swing my manhood about the room, but I simply do not have the time. Instead, I look at Viviana and cock a brow. “What were you saying about men being wrong all the time?”
She shrugs. “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.” She strolls out, leaving me there, stewing in my Converse high-tops. I detest sneakers as much as I detest being robbed of a win. And I won that conversation.
I draw a steady breath and exhale. Though there are many distractions in my life, I must remain focused on the tasks at hand:
1. Figure out possible locations where the council members are being held.
2. Devise a secret wedding with my librarian before the guards arrive. (Note: include a reason for why a pack of ruthless, deadly vampires are following her around.)
3. Stay alive.
Wait. Scratch that.
3. Keep everyone alive.
4. Help win war.
My stomach grumbles, and I realize I haven’t had enough to eat lately. I’m still recovering from the trials and tribulations of the last month.
My mouth waters as I imagine scarfing down a plate of baked soy cheese, vegan enchiladas with habanero salsa, and a side of fire-roasted chilies. Mmmm…Mexican.
I tap the side of my cheek. Or maybe I should have a Mexican for lunch. I hear a few cartel members were recently released from prison and are now up for grabs on our menu. The tastiest people are always the murderers, rapists, and pedophiles, all of whom are melt-in-your-mouth delicious. The badder they are, the more spicy and flavorful they become.
Just this morning, for example, I had vampire serial for breakfast. This particular male murdered at least twelve people and enjoyed torturing kittens, which gave his blood that extra punch of savory aromatics. Innocent humans, on the other hand, taste like eating an old leather shoe. But a good gangster? Delicious.
My mind suddenly drifts to something else I crave. Something I ache for but refuse to give in to. Something I want to taste and feel and lick from head to toe before I plunge my—
No. No librarian! Stay on task, man. I cannot afford to be distracted by sexual fantasies at a time like this, no matter how powerful the urge, an urge that grows stronger by the day.
Enchiladas. Flaming hot enchiladas. I need them now! But for how much longer will spicy food and vampire serial keep my primal needs at bay?
CHAPTER FOUR
After my fiery meal and having ample time to digest the tasks at hand, I now have a solid grasp on my plan of attack with Miriam.
Possible locations for the council members is another matter, but I have Viviana checking which societies have been quiet lately. She came up with the brilliant idea of checking who did not RSVP to the council’s ball. It is an annual event, and all five hundred and eighty-two society leaders are invited. There’s even a Sexiest Dead Man Alive Award. Yes, Viviana nominated me. Yes, I am in the lead. Yes, I am furious about it. I am Michael Vanderhorst, most powerful vampire alive. My stunning looks are incons
equential. In any case, there is a strong possibility that our enemies were too distracted by their activities to reply: Hey, Vlad. I know we’re going to try to overthrow our government and enslave the human race this summer, but want to attend the ball anyway? Sounds like fun. Not a likely scenario.
Next, Viviana and Lula will start making calls to all of the societies who did not RSVP. During my years working for Clive as a detective at his agency, I found that most vampires are not very good liars, but we are excellent lie detectors. Everyone knows this; therefore, those who refuse to have a conversation with us will be suspect.
We will weed out the players. We will find the council members. We will restore order.
As for Miriam, I must get to work quickly. We have about twenty-four hours to complete the ceremony. And I know just how to get it done.
“Charades? Tomorrow night?” Seated behind the desk in her office, Miriam quirks one blonde brow. As owner of this privately funded library, founded by her recently deceased parents, it is her job to curate and fill four stories of shelves, though her shoestring budget hasn’t allowed her to hire any full-time help. She depends mostly on me and the goodness of the community. It amazes me how much people adore her, though. They come and go, borrow and return on time, and watch over this enormous collection of books as if it were their own. Perhaps that is what drew me here on that fateful morning when I was visiting from out of town, grieving for my maker, who was murdered for his blood. I came looking for answers and wandered into Miriam’s library while looking for a place to clear my head.
Seems like a lifetime ago, though it has only been about a month.
I look around her cluttered office toward the back of the building on the first floor. Books of all sizes and genres cover every surface, stacked ten or twelve high. My fingertips tingle with the need to dust or organize or…something. Anything.
“Yes,” I say. “Charades. I’m having a small get-together at my new apartment and thought it would be fun.” I still haven’t found the apartment I speak of, but I will. My current “college student” accommodations are horrendous, which is why I recently told Miriam that I inherited a small amount of money from an estranged uncle. This way she doesn’t suspect where the money for better housing came from.
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