Trust Me

by Lori Devoti

  o0o

  Air hit Lindsey in the face. Her thoughts shot to her mother.

  The nightmare was real.

  A vampire had killed her mother, and now it hunted her.

  Karin’s disappearance wasn’t about an abusive boyfriend. It was about vampires, hunting Lindsey. She was the cause of her cousin’s problems.

  Realization. Truth. Just as she was to die.

  Maybe now the monsters would leave her cousin alone.

  The alley rushed toward her, and her panic grew. She wasn’t ready to die. She wanted to live, wanted to get to know Karin and Brett and Emilie…and Harry. She wanted the life she’d never been able to have.

  She screwed her eyes shut and willed herself into a Dorothy moment…waking in her bed to find the nightmare of Oz wasn’t real.

  The whoosh of the air quieted; the world quieted. A trick of the mind, she knew, some mechanism of the brain trying to make death easier, but she embraced it.

  She wasn’t falling; she was flying.

  She would land soon and walk away.

  She held out her arms and felt the air brush her skin. Her hair no longer snapped behind her; it fluttered.

  She moved with control and ease. She was safe and happy and in control.

  She laughed at the thought.

  She was hysterical, she guessed. Maybe she had already hit the asphalt-covered alley. Maybe this is what happened as your brain shut down and your heart slowed.

  She blinked, letting bits of the real world in.

  She was still in the air, still moving, but slower and unbelievably controlled—as if she powered her fall, as if she wasn’t falling at all.

  Her heart thudding with disbelief and hope, she tipped her weight so her feet pointed downward.

  Controlled.

  She had control. Her hands pointed above her head, she willed herself lower—onto the ground.

  Her feet landed first, hard. The impact shot through her, going from the soles of her feet up through her neck. Her knees bent, and her palms hit the ground. Her jaw snapped shut, and her head snapped back. She almost fell again but caught herself.

  Finally, she fell forward, landing in a crouch.

  Her body ached. Her head ached.

  She pulled in a breath—but she was alive.

  How? It was the only thought that seemed to process, that and the need to throw herself onto the ground and hug the earth like a child clinging to her mother.

  She sat there for a moment, heart pounding and her mind unable to process what had happened.

  Overhead, she heard a noise. She looked up. No one peered down at her, but the vampire would—or worse he would come down the stairs and find her here on the ground.

  Not trusting another miracle would come along to save her, she ran.

  And, as she did, she realized the truth.

  Normal people didn’t fall like she had. But then normal people weren’t chased by vampires.

  And that must be why the vampire wanted her dead, why he’d killed her mother too. She, her mother, maybe Karin too, had powers—powers the vampires feared.

  o0o

  In his apartment, Harry pulled weapons from his wall. Two minutes earlier, his charm had pulsed—urgent and demanding. Five minutes after that, it had stopped.

  Lindsey could already be dead, or the charm could have been torn from her neck.

  He focused on the second choice, focused on believing he still had time to find her and save her.

  If Rodrigue had taken Lindsey, Harry would get her back. If Marie Jean had Lindsey, Harry would pin the prince to the wall and pierce his heart with a dagger inch by inch until the vampire told him where she might be.

  Harry would shake the vampire’s kingdom to its core to find Lindsey. He would skin the prince strip by strip of his skin. He would do anything except lose her.

  He couldn’t.

  He also couldn’t play by vampire-set rules—not any longer.

  He jerked a halberd from the iron hooks that kept it anchored to his wall and dropped the weapon onto the growing pile on his floor.

  A fist pounded on a door—his door. Reaching for a crossbow, he froze. Only two beings knew of his apartment, and Brett knew well enough to call.

  Harry grabbed a short sword from the pile and strode to the door.

  “Harry? Are you in there?”

  Lindsey?

  Wary of a trap, Harry crept out of his apartment through a hatch that led to the roof, then moved swiftly over the steeply pitched space and dropped in a crouch onto the balcony of Lindsey’s apartment.

  The french doors were shut but easy for Harry to open. He slid inside and knelt down behind the couch.

  The front door banged open. Not the entrance of someone trying to hide their arrival, but perhaps indicative of someone holding a struggling captive. He loosened his arms and prepared to attack.

  Lindsey walked into view. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair wild. She looked excited, alive, and completely unharmed. She also appeared to be alone.

  He stood.

  She jumped backward, her hand rising to her chest as she did. “You shouldn’t do that. I could have—”

  “What?” He cocked a brow. He was curious to know what the little human thought she might have done to him.

  She dropped her gaze. “Nothing. But you startled me.”

  “I’m sorry for that.” He moved forward and tilted her face up to his. Her eyes were clear and laced with excitement.

  From him surprising her? That seemed unlikely, but what else could it be?

  “Did you go out?” he asked, keeping his tone level and nonjudgmental.

  “For a bit. I needed air.”

  “I thought you were tired.” Knocked out by the mickey he’d slipped into her drink. How had she managed to wake, much less maneuver her way down the steps and out onto the street?

  “I was, but—” She closed her lips over whatever she’d been about to say. “Like I said, I needed air. I catnapped, then got up and went out.”

  What she said was impossible. There was no way she’d awakened on her own, not after downing the amount of sedative that he’d administered to her. Something else had happened, but he could tell she wasn’t going to volunteer the information, and he didn’t want to push her too hard for something that didn’t matter now. She was back, and he would make sure this time she stayed here.

  His voice void of the annoyance he felt, he replied, “Do you think that was a wise choice? The teen who attacked you is still free, and there was your fainting spell yesterday.”

  “After working with you, I felt…powerful.” The excitement he’d noticed before flared.

  Angry, he dropped his hand from her chin and took a step back. “Don’t. One session isn’t enough.” Two hundred wouldn’t be enough—not for what hunted Lindsey.

  Her gaze moved again, to the weapon in his hand. “Did you bring me something?”

  Surprised, he looked down. “This?”

  “What is it?” She reached out, taking the sword.

  Surprised, he watched her. She had seemed intimidated by the weapons he’d shown her earlier.

  She turned the sword back and forth, admiring its design. “What’s it made of?”

  The sword was one he’d had made. It was based on a Roman blade with an hourglass shape and a longer than average point. Perfect for sliding into a vampire’s heart.

  “Steel,” he replied, still wary of her interest.

  “Oh.” Her nose wrinkled, she held it up to the light. “It’s heavier than it looks.”

  He placed his hand on the hilt and pressed her arm down. “It is also sharper.” Then he slipped his fingers above hers and slid the weapon from her grip.

  She opened her mouth in objection.

  “If you would like a sword to practice with, I can provide you with one. However, something like this”—he crouched and removed the stiletto blade from his boot—“is much more practical for daily travels.”

  “Oh.�
�� Her eyes rounded, and she again reached for the weapon. This time he snapped his fingers closed around the knife and pulled it back.

  “You don’t need a blade. You need to stay inside.”

  “Inside? For how long?”

  Until Marie Jean was dead. “Until the boy who attacked you is caught. I spoke to the police today, and they are getting close. It should be only a day or two more.” A day. The day after tomorrow was May first. Tomorrow night Marie Jean would come looking for Lindsey. Before that happened, the vampire had to die. “You stay here, or better, you can stay in my apartment.”

  “Yours?” she asked, her face suddenly shy.

  “Yes, mine.” He ran his free hand down her cheek. “Could you do that? Humor me? Just for a day—or two? You saw my apartment. Surely you don’t think a day there would be a burden.”

  “No, not a burden.” She smiled up at him, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her to him—to kiss her and make love to her, to forget all his plans.

  But he couldn’t. Caring about Lindsey had changed everything. He could no longer blissfully use her as bait, but he could also no longer afford to let Marie Jean live.

  He had to kill the vampire, and soon. May first was only a little over a day away, if Lindsey fell into Marie Jean’s hands a second time, it would be the last.

  o0o

  Twenty minutes later, Harry stood outside Lindsey’s apartment, a bag of warding stones weighing heavy in his hand.

  He had told her he’d be back to get her, that she could spend the night and the next day in his apartment, but he’d said that to throw her off. He had no intention of taking her to his apartment tonight because he had no intention of staying there himself.

  He had a prince to confront.

  Which meant he needed another method to make sure Lindsey stayed where she should.

  He had to do as Brett had suggested before—shackle her in place.

  Except Harry wouldn’t use chains. He would use wards. Lindsey would be free to move about her apartment but unable to open the doors. Marie Jean and Rodrigue could call her to their black hearts’ content, and it wouldn’t matter. They would be unable to get past the eye, and Lindsey would be unable to get out of her apartment.

  She would be trapped but safe.

  It was all Harry cared about at this moment.

  He carefully arranged three stones in a triangle outside her door and then went back into his apartment to the hatch that led to the roof. After placing three more stones on the balcony to keep the french doors closed, he would be off.

  And, if all went well, by the time Lindsey woke in the morning, Marie Jean would finally be dead.

  o0o

  After escaping the vampire, adrenaline had filled Lindsey from her heart to her fingertips. She’d felt as if she could take on any challenge, hungered for that challenge.

  Even now, as she prepared for her “sleepover,” a large part of her wanted to turn down Harry’s offer and look for Karin instead.

  She had powers. Surely they had been given to her for a reason; surely she could and should use them.

  But she also couldn’t ignore the fact that if she hadn’t chosen to jump from the building, she would most likely be dead. She had no evidence that her abilities went beyond controlling her descent through the air—no evidence, even armed, that she could face a vampire and win the fight.

  Her mother, after all, hadn’t.

  Still worrying over whether the choice to stay with Harry was the right one, she sorted through her sorry assortment of lingerie and filled a bag with toiletries. As she worked, she kept one eye on her phone. She’d left her number at the coffee shop; there was still hope that Karin would get her message and call.

  And then what? Would she really be able to tell her cousin about the vampire and Lindsey’s suspicions that Rodrigue was either one himself or connected to them?

  If Lindsey did share the information, would she be able to convince Karin to trust Harry and to stay here with her while they sorted out how to deal with the problem?

  She picked up a bottle of lotion and then lowered it back down. She could tell Harry what had happened. She wanted to—desperately. But she was also desperately afraid he would think she was crazy. Who wouldn’t? Only someone who shared whatever powers Lindsey and her mother had.

  Lindsey was hoping that person was her cousin. She needed an ally, badly.

  Karin might even know more than Lindsey; she might be able to help Lindsey convince Harry that vampires and Lindsey’s strange talents were real.

  There was a noise outside the door.

  Lindsey paused, thinking it was Harry, but there was no knock. She waited a moment longer and then went back to packing and worrying about what to tell Harry.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Marie Jean

  1895

  St. Louis

  Four a.m. and all was well. Marie Jean dabbed at the corner of her lips and traipsed up the walk to the mansion she shared with Rodrigue.

  It had been a profitable night. She’d met someone—rich, powerful, and susceptible to her various acts.

  Oh, and male. They were always male. She had no interest in turning females. No interest in creating her own rivals.

  Her brood was growing. She had turned twenty men into devoted followers since Henry’s death, but until now, none had held the promise of Henry. However, Randall did. He had recently built a mansion near the new park, a home that dwarfed the now, to her eye, miniscule house Rodrigue called home.

  She scuffed her shoe over the brick walk. Rodrigue could afford a bigger house, and she certainly deserved one, but the vampire prince was settled in his ways and comfortable in the old French neighborhood.

  Marie Jean wasn’t, not any longer. She was ready to move on and up, and it was time that Rodrigue agreed.

  Filled with the banker’s blood and tired by his almost effeminate interest in fashion and gossip, she was looking forward to a day of rest on her down-filled mattress, but tomorrow night she would make her needs clear to Rodrigue.

  Sure of her decision, she placed her hand on the hidden door that lead to the underground chambers and waited for it to swing open.

  The door didn’t move. She stepped back and tried again.

  Nothing. Annoyed at the idea that she might have to enter through the front or side doors like one of their human servants, she formed her hand into a fist and pounded on the wood.

  “Montclair! Open!”

  Her foot tapped, and her mind whirled as she prepared to lambast Rodrigue’s lieutenant with an onslaught of curses.

  The door remained closed and the house silent.

  “Montclair. I will see you caught in the day!” Resolved to the fact that the vampire was not about to heed her call, she muttered another curse under her breath and spun, ready to enter through the kitchen door if need be.

  Head down, she didn’t see the vampire in her path until she had collided with his broad chest.

  “Montclair.” The name itself was a curse to Marie Jean. She and the lieutenant had never gotten on, and she suspected he did all he could to poison Rodrigue against her.

  “Marie Jean.” The vampire smiled and raised one brow in an arrogant slant. She could see by his dark tail coat and white bow tie that he had been out for the evening as well. “You are looking…sated.” He smiled again, flashing just a hint of fang as he did.

  “The door is locked.” She tugged at the fingers of her gloves, impatient to get them off and herself inside.

  “And, I’m afraid, it will remain that way, at least to you.”

  Marie Jean, ceasing the angry jerks at her gloves, narrowed her eyes. “You go too far.”

  “No, I go as Rodrigue would have me go, and in this case, it is a sorry distance from too far.”

  “Rodrigue?” Marie Jean twisted, her gaze moving back to the mansion and the door hidden on its side.

  “Yes, it seems the prince has finally come to some semblance of sense where you are c
oncerned. Your recent ‘entertainments’ with a certain banker seem to have been the final decider.”

  Marie Jean straightened her spine and rounded her eyes in outrage. “I am sure I don’t know of what you are speaking. Some jealous trollop has been filling his ears with lies.”

  Montclair laughed. At Marie Jean’s look of shock, he waved his hand. “I do apologize; it is just so infrequent that someone refers to me as a trollop. In fact, I do believe this is the first such occasion.”

  “You.” Marie Jean’s fingers bent into claws. Damn the vampire. “What have you done?”

  “I believe I’ve already told you. I have done nothing. Rodrigue, on the other hand, has banned you from his home and his life. You, Marie Jean, are cut off. No more using Rodrigue’s power and money to build your own brood of weaklings. No more sullying his name while building your lies. You may stay in St. Louis, but nothing more. You are now, and forever more, an outsider.”

  An outsider. The word sank into Marie Jean like a stake in her heart. Outsiders were snubbed and looked down on. They weren’t invited to the right parties or greeted with fear. They were nothing more than a human with fangs.

  “Rodrigue wouldn’t do that. He loves me. He needs me.”

  “And there you are both right and wrong. He does love you. I wouldn’t be standing in for him now if he didn’t. But he doesn’t need you. You feed on him like the greedy leech that you are.”

  Leech. The most insulting of slurs. “You dare call me leech?”

  “I do.” Montclair’s stance didn’t change, and his gaze didn’t flicker. He was confident, which told Marie Jean more than she wanted to know. It told her he was speaking the truth. Rodrigue had cut her off and out of his life. Montclair wouldn’t dare speak to her like this otherwise.

  She gritted her teeth and raised her upper lip.

  Montclair tilted his head side to side. “Ah, such a pretty smile, but as you know, you are wasting it on me. In fact…” He glanced at the sky, then pulled a gold watch from his waistcoat’s pocket. “Dawn’s approaching. Wouldn’t want to get caught outside when the sun’s up, now would you? Fair little thing you like, you’re liable to erupt in flames.”

  Then, hideous bastard that he was, he laughed and disappeared into the shadows. Rodrigue’s power allowed him to do that, a benefit of being favored by the prince, a benefit Marie Jean had called her own. A benefit she knew now was gone.