A Vampire Bundle

by Alexandra Ivy

  A little nonplussed, I didn’t answer right away. Now that he’d put my attention on it, I realized he was right. I wasn’t afraid of him.

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ve just known enough Weres to be used to you guys by now. My ex-boyfriend runs with the Sunstrikers.”

  I was careful not to mention that I’d broken up with Chaz after he changed to wolf-form in my living room; his way of explaining why he was never around on certain days of the month. Prior to that, he’d told me he’d been busy delivering private sessions with clients, not running around with his buddies as a wolf-man. Considering I was normally so busy I barely knew what day of the month it was, let alone whether the moon was full, it wasn’t that unusual that I’d missed the signs. He got up the nerve to tell me the truth after we’d been together a few months. Though he admittedly scared the hell out of me when he shapeshifted, he had never quite clued in that I was more pissed at him for lying and hiding things from me than anything else. Ass.

  He scoffed at that. “The Sunstrikers are a bunch of good-for-nothing showoffs. Good thing you two broke up.”

  I made a noncommittal sound, wondering what the friction was between the clans. Local Were politics were none of my business, and I had enough problems of my own.

  “So what’re you going to do about this business deal you can’t refuse? Tell him to shove those papers where the moon don’t shine?”

  I looked down at the now-crinkled and slightly sweat-stained papers I still had clenched in one hand. Funny thing was, the Were’s words had given me some hope. And an idea.

  “Yeah, looks like I’ll be doing that.”

  He pulled to the curb and I saw we were already at the block where I’d parked my car. After stopping, he put his hand on the passenger headrest and twisted around to beam at me, looking all too pleased.

  “You’d make a good bitch in our pack. Good luck dealing with that leech.”

  “Hey, thanks.” I think.

  I put the papers down and dug some cash out of my purse. I gave him a good tip; he deserved it.

  “One more thing,” he said, taking the money. “Even if it scares you, don’t show it that. Wear that stuff you’ve got on now and it should help confuse your scents enough that it won’t be able to bully you as easy. Not unless you let it.”

  “Oh, thanks!”

  I hadn’t realized that. Maybe that was part of why Royce was so direct this time. He couldn’t tell by my scent what I was feeling so he went for more obvious tells, like my trembling and attempt to curl into a fetal ball to hide.

  The guy started to take off before I’d even fully shut the passenger side door. The door slammed shut as he flipped an illegal U-turn and slid a hairy-backed hand out the window to give me a cheerful wave, disappearing as he turned a corner.

  The advice he’d given me was actually comforting. I’d figure out a way to best Royce at his own game yet.

  Chapter 14

  By the time I reached Sara’s, I was feeling much more calm and collected than I had when I left Royce’s building. The drive and some good music helped put things in perspective. The lack of traffic also helped.

  Sara lived closer to the office than I did. She had a nice little two-story house out in suburbia that was humble enough to keep her family from visiting too often. She also had a scary-looking but completely harmless and affectionate pair of pit bulls that she let the neighbors’ kids come over and play with. They made good guard dogs since they barked at anything from the ice cream truck that passed by every afternoon in the summer to the mailman that snuck them treats every other day or so. They also had a habit of jumping on and slobbering all over anyone who walked through the front gate.

  I was pretty sure the dogs were a better deterrent to prying family members than the ordinary suburban house.

  Grabbing all my stuff from the car, including an emergency bag of clothes I kept in the back seat and, after a moment’s hesitation, a vial of that Amber Kiss perfume and the belt, I opened the wooden gate and headed up the walk. As predicted, the dogs started barking the instant the gate squeaked open, charging out from their doghouse around the side of the house and practically bowling me over in their enthusiasm. For some reason they seemed more interested in how I smelled than usual.

  Laughing, I rubbed their big ugly faces and struggled past to the door, trying to keep their drool off my clothes. “Go on, get down, you two. Buster, sit! Damn it, Roxie, that belt isn’t a chew toy, let go!”

  The porch light flicked on, and I squinted at it as Sara pulled the door open. She had on jeans and a scarf tying her hair back.

  “Hey,” I said.

  She gave me a sympathetic smile as she let me in. I had to hustle so the dogs wouldn’t squirm past me and go tearing through the house.

  “I take it there’s trouble?”

  She turned off the porch light and locked the door behind me to a chorus of disappointed howls and scratching at the door. I heard music blaring from the kitchen, and the scent of some pine cleaner. Yeah, when Sara got bored, she cleaned. She’d probably make a great housewife someday, after she got over the wild and crazy “take-the-wackiest-jobs-I-can-find” private investigator phase.

  Nodding, I led the way to her living room and plopped down on the couch, letting my stuff fall. Her eyes widened at the sight of the trio of stakes on the belt, and she held up a hand.

  “We need coffee for this. Two sugars?”

  “Make it three.”

  She disappeared into the kitchen, cutting the music and tinkering around. I closed my eyes and listened, wondering what exactly I should do with the papers currently getting even more wrinkled and probably ripped from being shoved into my duffel. I thought about what the Were had said back in the cab, what Arnold told me when I left The Circle’s tower, and how Royce had manipulated me so neatly. The Were was right. I needed teeth. Which meant Arnold was right. I did want the stakes.

  “So what’s the deal?” Sara asked a few minutes later, coming back from the kitchen with a steaming mug in each hand. She settled down in the recliner across from the couch and handed me one. It was my favorite, a black mug with white letters that read DO I LOOK LIKE A #*%!ING MORNING PERSON?

  I reached over to the duffel, dragged out the papers, and tossed them on the coffee table for her to see. Her eyes widened immediately in recognition, and even more so when she picked them up and saw my name and Royce’s neatly typed in all the appropriate places. I waited for her to riffle through and see that he’d already taken care of his signature and now it just needed mine. Then I quickly filled her in on everything that happened at The Circle and my meeting with Royce.

  “…so I broke when he flashed fang at me. He’s got me pinned in a bad place. I can either go to him willingly, sign the papers, and make everyone but me happy, or I can piss off everyone at the same time by cutting loose from both him and The Circle. However, Royce made a very effective threat. I don’t want to see you or my parents or brothers get caught in the crossfire.” I sighed deeply, feeling about three times my age and very tired all of a sudden. “I need help.”

  Sara had been listening intently, nodding or giving an encouraging word here and there, but hadn’t interrupted. Now that I was done, she gave a little hmm before turning back to the Notice of Mutual Consent to Human/Other Citizen Relationship and Contractual Binding Agreement in her hands. Her brows were furrowed, and her shoulders tense under the flannel T-shirt, her coffee in its ASK ME ABOUT MY EVIL PLAN mug untouched by her side.

  “Well,” she said cautiously, “I don’t know exactly what to do either. Did you have any ideas, or are you still in panic mode?”

  “More like apathy than panic now. I might be able to arrange my own funeral to keep everyone else out of the picture, but I don’t see any happy endings with any of the plans I’ve come up with in the last couple of hours.”

  Sara grimaced, but kept her gaze on the papers. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t expect I’ll have much in the w
ay of a chance physically fighting against either The Circle or Royce. However, if I take on one, I think the other might back off. The Circle gave me the means”—and here I pointed to the belt—“to fight Royce, if I’ve got guts enough to use it. However, they both have the means to fight dirty, which I don’t. Both organizations have more clout than you or I do. The thing is, I can’t legally use weapons against them either, and even with the threat against my family, I haven’t got enough evidence to go to the cops for help.”

  She looked pale and drawn, about as good as I felt. “Royce did a pretty good job of backing you into a corner.”

  I cleared my throat and looked away, knowing she wouldn’t like this part of my idea. Steeling myself against the shivers wracking me at the thought of what I was about to do, I bowed my head over the coffee cup and took a deep breath before I answered.

  “I think I can win my way out of this, but I’d really need your help to do it.”

  Her gaze shot over to me, the abject fear and desire to help I saw etched on her features not making me feel any better about what I was going to ask of her.

  She said, “If it’ll get you out of this mess, I’ll do anything. How can I help?”

  “You’re much more versed in contract law than I am. That’s what I need your help with. I can sign the papers, but I need you to doctor them first.” I could see her incredulousness and went on the defensive. “Look, it’s just an idea. You don’t have to go along with it. Just hear me out.”

  She was forcing herself to relax, taking a few deep breaths before nodding for me to continue. She tried hiding her expression behind her coffee mug as she took a sip, but I caught the look of displeasure that crossed her face. I knew it went against her morals, but this was the only chance I could see to get out of the hole I’d dug for myself.

  Gesturing at the contract in her hand, I stared right into her baby blue eyes, holding her gaze so I wouldn’t lose my resolve.

  “Word it so that it swings both ways so I can injure or kill Royce with impunity.”

  She choked on her coffee. “What?!”

  “You can do it. I know you know how. I’ll help you reword it and we can print a new document that looks just like this one, except tweaked enough so that instead of it reading like a living will and me being completely under his thumb, it’ll go both ways. It won’t take much to do it, and I doubt Royce will read it once I deliver the signed copy. All he’ll look for is my signature on the last page.”

  Papers usually read like you were signing over your body, mind and soul, mostly because some of the Others couldn’t feed without taking one or more of those things from a human in the process. It was so tightly regulated because, like any other citizens, Others needed to be held responsible for their actions up to and including emotional distress, stalking, and assaulting or killing a human in a frenzy of passion, anger, hunger, or whatever it was that drove them. The mystery I’ve yet to figure out is why people sign the papers letting them do those things in the first place. I mean, I know the Others don’t want to be hunted down and exterminated, but why would a rational human being willingly agree to something sucking their blood or initiating them into the world of the terminally furry?

  Anyway, generally the contracts read that the Other could destroy your will, drink every last drop of blood in your body, and rip you to itty bits in the process, and they are considered free and clear from all wrongful death suits. These days, when they could get away with it, they also added in a clause giving immunity from any lawsuits that might result from turning the person with irreparable damage. After that suit last year, when some kid who had been left for dead turned Were without a hand, facial scarring, and a horrific chunk of flesh taken out of his arm, and sued the pants off the pack of the Were who infected him, any human who would sign a full immunity pre-/post-death clause was considered a highly prized commodity among the more feral Others.

  In addition to all of that, if you (permanently) died while under contract, all material possessions were turned over to the “partner” if you failed to turn into an Other. Most of the time, the agreements were not worded to work both ways. Meaning, if I signed the document as is and I survived an attempt to kill or hurt Royce, I’d get thrown in jail, and my shares in H&W and my apartment and belongings would get turned over to him. But if this worked out the way I was thinking and I was successful, killing him instead, everything he owned would fall into my possession. It would also leave me free of any assault charges or wrongful death suit that might be brought against me for trying to kill an Other without a valid warrant.

  It also gave me leverage to get him to just leave me the hell alone. While he was powerful, much more powerful than me, physically and otherwise, vampires don’t live as long as Royce had without having a strong sense of self-preservation. If he thought of me as a threat, he’d back off. With the contract worded to my benefit and the addition of the stakes to urge him to reconsider, this just might work. Not to mention if I got Royce to back down, it would more than likely cause The Circle to back off as well. They’d hopefully see me as more trouble than I’m worth.

  I could see that Sara wasn’t happy with the idea, though she knew the dangers of signing the contract as it was, ignoring it entirely, or doing things my way. Probably better than I did. Still, I understood what I was asking her to do. If it ever got out that she did such a thing, she could be disbarred, fined, probably jailed, and lose her reputation as a fair and law-abiding citizen. She wouldn’t look at me when she finally spoke.

  “Shia, I know I’m not a practicing lawyer, but I could lose my license over this. It could destroy the reputation of H&W. We may lose the business over this.”

  I took a deep breath before answering, keeping my voice quiet and level so I wouldn’t betray my own feelings about the whole mess.

  “I know. Believe me, I know. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Isn’t my life worth more than the business?”

  I didn’t have to say it, and I felt horrible for even letting the words cross my lips, but without Sara’s help, I’d never survive this nightmare.

  Eventually, she managed to drag her gaze from the ground to meet my eyes again, looking more drawn and pale than I’d ever seen her before.

  “I’ll do it. This once, I’ll do it. But don’t ever, ever ask anything like this of me again.”

  I nodded agreement, breathing a deep sigh of relief. With that out of the way, now I just needed to figure out how I could make an ancient vampire view me, a normal human, a woman, food, as a threat.

  Chapter 15

  I slept fitfully on the couch in Sara’s living room. She had guest bedrooms, but I wanted to be woken up if the dogs started barking at any intruders. After a little more talk and planning, she’d gone upstairs to work on the contract on her computer. I didn’t envy her having to retype the whole thing, not only that but then having to use her skills to edit the document just enough that Royce and I could legally go for each other’s throats without worry of legal interference.

  I stared at the ceiling for a while, finally drifting off a little past midnight. Then I scared the crap out of myself when I rolled off the couch onto the floor in the middle of the night in the throes of a nightmare. The bruise on my hip from landing on my keys did not improve my mood one bit. The dogs barked for almost fifteen solid minutes, too. Thankfully, Sara must have figured there was no problem since she didn’t come down to check on me and grind my embarrassment home any further.

  Two nights in a row of too little sleep didn’t make it any easier to answer Sara’s cheerful “G’mornin’” when she came downstairs around eight o’clock. Muttering darkly under my breath, I dragged myself off the couch and followed her into the kitchen, blearily watching her make coffee, scramble eggs, and toast bagels for breakfast.

  “Hey, it’s Sunday,” she said.

  I didn’t say anything, just stared back for a minute before riveting my gaze on the Mr. Coffee. I really, really wanted my caffeine fix.
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  “Sunday,” she said, grinning at my lack of response, “as in, it’s Damien’s birthday and we’re both expected at your mom’s house in a few hours.”

  I started, practically jumping out of the seat I’d slumped into at the kitchen table. “Holy crap! It’s that Sunday?”

  Dismayed, I looked at the clock on the microwave. I wouldn’t have enough time to get the gift from my apartment, shower, change clothes, call The Circle, and explain to Veronica why I was reneging on the contract while still making it to the party on time.

  “Yup.” She shook the spatula at me threateningly. “Don’t even think about it. Deal with work tomorrow. Today’s supposed to be your day off anyway.”

  I slid back into the chair, running my hands through my hair in agitation. Well, as much as I could with the unbrushed, tangled curls.

  “It’s not just that. I need to get Damien’s gift. It’s in my closet at home.”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t. Not since the White Hats broke in the other day. If they’ve been watching you, they may have tried something drastic since you met with Royce again.”

  Damn it all to hell and back, I’d forgotten about them. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any bright ideas for that, too?”

  “Well, sure. We can swing by the mall on the way over to your mom’s.”

  I meant the White Hats, but her idea to handle my brother’s gift made me feel a bit better. Though I soon remembered the contract, my not-quite-good mood shattering. “Did you finish with the papers last night?”

  “No, not yet. I have to tweak the fonts and cut out a little of the wording to make it all fit right and say what we want it to say but still look enough like the old contract to pass a casual inspection.”

  I nodded, wondering miserably how I was going to stand up to Royce. I quivered just at the sight of him, let alone his fangs. What would I do if he actually jumped at my throat?