Bonfire of the Vampires

by Bonfire Of The Vampires (lit)

  “Make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen. I’ll tell Gregori that you’re here.” Claude backed out of the room and closed the door. It melted seamlessly into the inner paneling as though it had never been there. Jake found himself feeling a little bit claustrophobic even though the room was huge.

  “Why did you do that?” he asked Gideon. His fists balled involuntarily at his sides.

  “What?”

  “Claim Abby. She’s not yours.” Jake instantly regretted the possessiveness of his tone. He had no right to claim her either.

  Gideon shook his head. “Someone had to and I didn’t hear you jumping in. If we’d tried to explain that she was just a friend--they’d insist she leave. You can’t bring a human here unless it’s very clear to Gregori that you can control them. You’ve got a lot to learn about the way things work.”

  Jake sighed. “I don’t want to learn about the way things work.”

  “You know when you asked to be turned that it made you subject to certain rules. Gregori’s rules. Why are you suddenly so churlish?”

  “Churlish? Who says ‘churlish’?”

  “It means--”

  “I know what it means. I’m churlish because I never wanted Abby involved in any of this.”

  Gideon laughed as he looked over the offerings at the bar. “She’s in deeper than you are. And besides, what did you think would happen? Were you going to work your way up to proposing marriage and then explain why you’d look the same on your fiftieth wedding anniversary as you did on your honeymoon, while she shriveled up and wasted away? You can’t un-vampire yourself, Jake. Unless you cut her out of your life, she was going to end up involved.”

  Jake turned away and studied the flames in the hearth. Their wild movement mesmerized him for a moment and he thought only of Abby. Upstairs with Marabel, she was probably learning a whole lot about how things worked--probably a lot more than she’d ever imagined, even with her experience as a vampire killer.

  “What will Gregori do to her--when he finds out?” he asked.

  There was a pause before a voice that wasn’t Gideon’s replied. “What will I do to whom?”

  Chapter Six

  The room Marabel led Abby to could be described as a bedroom only because there was a bed in it, a large, sumptuous bed. The rest of the furnishings and decorations, however, told her the room was in no way designed for peaceful sleep.

  The bed was round and covered in black satin sheets and animal print throes with a mountain of matching pillows. The ceiling above bore a hexagon of shiny tiles within which pinpoints of multicolored light raced around in mesmerizing patterns. Candles glowed everywhere and their warm, musky fragrance filled the heavy air. The walls were all the same dark paneling as the foyer below and a series of lighted niches held stunning examples of modern art: erotic sculptures, crystalline vases and art glass. In one, a set of jewel-handled daggers fanned out on a multi-tiered display rack. The blades gleamed in hues ranging from gold to obsidian.

  Interesting choice, Abby thought as she absently circumnavigated the room. Of course, in a house of vampires, the daggers posed no threat to anyone--except the humans.

  “There’s liquor in this cabinet,” Marabel said. She’d opened a dark lacquered sideboard revealing an impressive collection of bottles. “And in the closet are things for you to wear.”

  “Thanks but I--”

  Marabel swung open the doors of the closet next to the sideboard and rummaged while Abby watched, somewhat stunned by the array of lingerie revealed within.

  The woman pulled out a white peignoir that bore a diamond shaped lace panel in the front, it’s points stretching from neckline to navel. The rest of the material was barely opaque.

  “This would look great on you. Does Price have a preference? Claude insists on black, black, black. I get so bored.”

  “He tells you what color to wear?”

  Marabel nodded and bit her pouty lower lip. “Sometimes I wear red, just to tease him. He gets so ... rough with me.” She sighed dreamily like that was a good thing.

  “I’ll just stick with what I have on for now.” Abby eyed the peignoir. It was nice, but she had no desire to wear it for Gideon.

  Marabel appraised Abby’s black turtleneck and slacks and shook her head. “No, honey. You can’t go to dinner in that. You’ve got to be ... easy access.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Easy access for what?

  “Maybe the white one is too--virginal. Here’s something in gold that would go great with your coloring. And there are slippers to match!” The negligee Marabel produced this time was a metallic sheath with barely there straps that crisscrossed in the back. An oval cut out in the front provided lots of room for cleavage and the slit in the side traveled thigh high. “You have to wear something from here. You can choose, but I’d definitely go with the gold. I’ll wait outside while you change, then we can go to the buffet.”

  The buffet? Abby wondered if she was being invited to eat or be eaten.

  “I really should wait here for Gideon.” She bit out the words.

  “No, honey,” Marabel said again. There was a hint of sympathy in her voice as though she were just figuring out that Abby was a little bit in the dark. “You eat first. Then Price.”

  Abby grew cold. She wanted to protest that she was not a feeder and she never would be, least of all for Gideon, but two things hammered against her resolve. One was the undercurrent of warning in Marabel’s sweet tone. The other was a disarming sense of anticipation. The room screamed brothel. The seductive scent of the candles and the slinky lingerie gave Abby ideas she didn’t want to have. What if she let Gideon--no, Jake!--what if she let him feed and then let him have her? Maybe she could forget, even if only for a little while, what the future held for her now.

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes,” she said finally. The blonde smiled.

  “Good. You don’t have to be shy. Everyone’s really nice here. Oh, bathroom is through there ... and here are the slippers that go with that gown, aren’t they cute?”

  * * * *

  Gregori Nachevik didn’t look a day over forty. Rumor was he’d actually been about twenty-five when he was turned, some four hundred years ago. But back then, hard living aged people a lot faster. There was even a little gray shot through his coal black hair and a very fine web of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. That, and their warm brown color, gave him an oddly friendly countenance that one would not have expected in a vampire king.

  He smiled at Jake and Gideon when they turned to him and he spread his arms in a gesture of welcome.

  “How are you both? I’m actually quite relieved you both made it here in one piece, or two....” He laughed at his own small joke. “Claude said you had an important matter to discuss.”

  “We have some information about a man who’s paying for hits on vampires. The one responsible for a number of candidates’ deaths, including Igor’s.” Gideon spoke fast as though he wanted to get the words out before Jake could.

  Jake merely nodded. He preferred to say as little as possible around Gregori. Not that he was self-conscious, but he felt that every word he said since Gregori had made him a candidate for succession was carefully weighed and measured. The last three years had been an ongoing test and his every move added up to points for or against his chances of becoming Gregori’s chosen. Maybe he was self-conscious after all.

  He didn’t want to do or say anything that might tip the scales further in his own favor.

  “Let me guess.” Gregori nodded, his jaw set, as he stalked across the room to look out into the blackness. “The Client.”

  “You know?” Gideon raised an eyebrow. Why would that surprise him? Jake thought. It would be more surprising if Gregori didn’t know anything about the man who was systematically murdering his twelve apostles.

  “I’ve heard things. Rumors mostly. Humans pay no attention when vampires are murdered. We have to conduct our own investigations. The Client is elusive. He’s very ... I hat
e to use the word ‘professional’ but it fits.”

  “You don’t have any leads?” Jake asked finally. If Gregori knew of the client, did he know about Abby also?

  “Nothing substantial. What have you learned?”

  “Jake is his latest target.”

  Gregori’s eyes widened and he gave Jake a sympathetic glance. “I’m so glad you came here. I figured it would only be a matter of time. How did you find out? All the previous hits have been so fast--done with such precision that no one could have predicted them.”

  Gideon and Jake shared a glance. There was no way around the truth. Without it, Gregori’s people would have no advantage to help them locate the Client.

  “Jake?” Gideon nodded as if giving Jake permission to tell the story from here. Jake sighed. He moved toward the hearth and kept his eyes on the flames while he spoke.

  “Abby Shore is working for the Client. She’s his vampire killer--or one of them.”

  “Oh.” Gregori was silent for a moment after that. Jake remained still, waiting for something terrible to happen. “Well, that’s good news.”

  Jake resisted the urge to gape at his sire. Gregori shrugged. “If it had been anyone else, you’d be dead already, Jake. Abby can’t kill you any more than ... Gideon could. She loves you.”

  Gideon had told him that, and now Gregori. Why was Abby the only one who couldn’t tell Jake she loved him? Or maybe she had loved him, up until last night--until she found out that he was dead to her.

  “She’s here. Upstairs,” Gideon said. Jake glared and his partner shrugged. Again, there was no use in being anything but blunt.

  Gregori made a sound of relief. “Of course. I’m glad you brought her here. I’d like to speak with her.”

  “She’s in my room.” Jake resented the hint of pride he heard in his friend’s voice.

  “I’ll speak with her after dinner. The ceremony will conclude at midnight, tomorrow. I wish you both luck, gentlemen. I’d be very pleased if either of you won.”

  A moment later Gregori was gone. In his absence the room seemed warmer.

  “What if he kills her?” Jakes voice was dry as old bones. Misery had settled in his gut.

  “He won’t,” Gideon replied. “He’ll order one of us to do it.”

  * * * *

  “All these women are feeders,” Abby said as Marabel poured her a glass of blood-red wine. They stood at one end of a sumptuous buffet table in the second floor dining room of Gregori’s home.

  Six other women, each one exquisitely beautiful, milled around the room or sat at small, café-sized tables eating or drinking, talking and laughing. They all wore silk or satin gowns in colors and styles that screamed, “Bite me, I’m yours.”

  In her gold negligee and high-heeled slippers, Abby felt just as naked as the other women looked. She still battled with the part of herself that wanted to enjoy the feel of the flimsy material that skimmed across her breasts, the part of her that kept imagining what Jake’s body would feel like stretched over hers as he drained her with one part of his anatomy and filled her with another.

  “We’re not just feeders,” Marabel replied with just a touch of annoyance. “We’re exclusive. I’m Claude’s only feeder. He doesn’t need to go anywhere else. Eventually, he’s going to turn me. He promised.”

  Abby only nodded as she sipped her wine.

  “These girls belong to the other candidates and whoever wins tomorrow, he’ll be able to turn his girl into his mate, if he wants to. She’ll become a vampire Queen. Won’t that be cool?”

  Abby studied the crimson depths of her wine. She would have refused to drink it if it didn’t smell so gloriously sweet. “What I don’t understand is why Gregori needs a successor. It’s not like he’s going to die, right?”

  Abby sipped again. The wine tasted like candy. It coated her throat and gave her an instant craving for something to eat. She eyed the food on the table. Cruise ships served less at a sitting. Marabel put an empty plate her free hand.

  “Gregori’s been the king of North America for a hundred years, but he’s bored. You know, he came here from Europe. I’m not sure when exactly. When the vampire wars took place over there in the 1800’s, he left.”

  “Vampire wars?”

  “You don’t know much vampire history, do you?”

  Abby shook her head, momentarily distracted by the cascading tower of ripe fruit at the center of the table. Raspberries, strawberries, cherries and grapes, all red, spilled out of an ice sculpture cornucopia.

  “Gregori was on the losing side of the war, so he came here. There weren’t many vampires in the US in those days, so he took over, but the real power is still in Europe. He wants to go back and wage war again. I hope Claude gets to go with him. I’d love to see Europe! Anyway, whoever takes over here, well, they’ve all been personally turned by Gregori, except ... Price and the guy who just got killed.”

  “Igor Danislo?”

  “Yeah. They were turned by vampires that Gregori turned so they’re like, his grandsons, sort of. Anyway, whoever he picks will run things over here, but Gregori will be able to control them so it’ll be like Gregori runs North America and Europe.”

  “If he lives long enough, he’ll take over the whole world, right?” Abby smiled into her wine glass as she chewed a succulent strawberry.

  “He’s going to live forever.” Marabel’s voice held that hint of annoyance again. “He just can’t be everywhere at once, so he’s delegating.”

  “Of course.”

  “So what’s with Beaumont?” Marabel asked. She began heaping her own plate while Abby gathered fruits, cheeses and an eclectic sampling of exotic hors d'oeuvres.

  “What about him?”

  “Are you his, too? I noticed he didn’t bring anyone.”

  “I’m not his.” Not yet, Abby thought. Maybe she could convince Gideon to take her to Jake’s room later.

  “Too bad. He’s almost as good-looking as Price.” Marabel covered her lips with her fingertips. “Don’t tell Claude I said that ... ooh, on second thought, you can. He’ll make me do things to make up for it.” Marabel closed her eyes in anticipation. Abby didn’t want to think about what kinds of things Claude would make Marabel do, but she could think of a few things she’d be willing to let Gideon do ... Jake, Jake do. She took a long sip of the sweet wine and felt the flush rising in her cheeks.

  Marabel smiled and winked. “You know just what I mean, honey, don’t you?”

  * * * *

  Jake paced the confines of the room he’d been assigned. His chest felt tight. Down the hall, Gideon waited in his own room for Abby to return from the dining room. The thought was more than Jake could stand.

  Gregori had offered Jake a feeder--a lovely girl named Lillian. She had pouted sweetly when he refused her. Despite the fact that he hadn’t been to his regular bar in four days, he felt no hunger. If he didn’t feed, he’d be weak when the ceremony took place, less apt to win. That was fine with him.

  What was not fine was the thought that Gideon might feed from Abby. He said he wouldn’t, but Jake didn’t believe him. He’d just now realized how often in the past few months he’s refused to take Gideon’s word on things. He’d been doubting his best friend for weeks now and never questioned why until tonight.

  Twice he’d gone to the door determined to take Abby back and sequester her safely in his own room. Twice, he’d stopped himself.

  How could he let this happen? He loved her regardless of what she was--regardless of what he was. She killed vampires because humans could not co-exist peacefully with a species that used them for food. He had become her natural enemy, a predator. Could he blame her for trying to protect her race?

  For the third time, he headed toward the door.

  * * * *

  Pleasantly sleepy from the wine and sated from the delicious food, Abby dozed. Spread on the big bed, she stretched and yawned, enjoying the cool slide of the sheets beneath her satin gown.

  When Gideon arri
ved, she blinked languidly at him. He smiled and crossed to the bed.

  “You look amazing,” he said. He ran one finger under the silky strap on her left shoulder and her skin tingled in response.

  “Where’s Jake?”

  “Feeding. Like I should be.”

  Abby sat up. “Everything here is designed to keep the humans compliant, right?” The thought should have enraged her, but she couldn’t seem to muster the energy to be angry about it.

  “Mmm.” He leaned over and nuzzled her neck. His teeth scraped her skin and Abby arched. “The wine, the flowers, your perfume.”

  “My ... you gave it to me, didn’t you?” Abby met his gaze and focused on the coppery sparks in his moss green eyes. A fuzzy memory swam to the surface of her consciousness.

  “Now you remember, don’t you, love?” Gideon’s hand slid down from her shoulder and cupped her breast. His lips traveled across her collarbone eliciting a tightening of the muscles in between that spot and her thighs. “You can remember all of it.”

  Abby gasped as twin pinpricks stabbed her flesh. It felt so good, even though she knew it shouldn’t. Gideon had always been so gentle when he fed from her.

  “How long?” She panted as his hand skimmed down to her exposed thigh and his fingers explored beneath the slit in her gown. “How long have we been together?”

  “You always ask me that.” The cadence of his tone changed. The haughty high-society accent he affected fell away and his sexy drawl dripped out. He licked the warm trickle that ran from her jugular and a second later his fingers closed over the silky thong she wore beneath her gown. He dragged the tight elastic down her thigh. “You ask me every time, and every time I tell you, it’s been three years.”

  White-hot longing shot through Abby’s intimate muscles as Gideon buried his head in her neck and sank his teeth into her skin. She moaned, unable to do anything but replay the day’s events in her mind--events that, up until now, had been blocked from her memory.