My Wicked Vampire

by Nina Bangs

Mede leaped onto the iron maiden and began washing his face. “I’ll root around in his mind later. He’s powerful, but he won’t be able to keep me out when I want in.”

  “He’s a night feeder, so why is he so powerful? They’re usually the jackals of the vampire world, strictly scavengers. No night feeder should’ve been able to snap those chains.” She was intrigued, and she hadn’t felt this energized since she’d decided to become a woman with depth and character. “And all those scars.” She allowed herself a delicious shudder. “They’re kind of sexy in a primal savage way.”

  Before Mede could open his mouth, she waved his comment away. “I know. Thinking about sex was the old me. The new me should get past it. Well, climbing out of the shallow end of the pool is tough. And it’s not fun.” She pursed her lips in a pout. Her puckered lips always drove Mede crazy. Too bad. Let him suffer the way she was suffering.

  “I need a cookie.” He held her with a fixed stare.

  She knew her smile was taunting and sensual, but she didn’t give a damn. She’d climb back on the character-building wagon tomorrow. “I just bet you do.”

  He glanced away. “I think the bloodsucker was headed here when I dug him up. Why? He went to all that trouble to fake his death in that fire two hundred years ago. He never contacted Taurin in all that time. Now he’s resurrecting himself from the dead. Gotta be something important.” Ganymede’s expression said he hoped the reason involved death and destruction.

  “I wonder what kind of sex life Cinn has?”

  Mede blinked at the sudden change of subject.

  “Oh, I know it shouldn’t matter to the new me, but I just… wonder.” Sparkle was having a tough time suppressing the meddling instincts she’d honed to a razor’s edge over the centuries. “Not that it’s important.” She forced her thoughts elsewhere. “I can’t wait to explore possibilities with her plants. I bet I can guide her research in all kinds of interesting directions.” She hurried to correct any false impressions. “Not sexual. Umm, maybe her plants could help to foster world peace.”

  Mede snorted.

  “Just saying.” She shrugged.

  Mede had evidently had enough. He leaped from the iron maiden and padded to the door. He paused before leaving. “Give it up, babe. Look at you, you’re miserable. You weren’t meant to have character depth. You’re the freaking cosmic troublemaker in charge of causing sexual chaos in the universe. You can’t escape your destiny.”

  “But I—”

  “And if you’re doing it for me, forget it. I liked the old you. I miss the whining over a chipped nail, the rush you got from a sale at the mall, the constant nattering about sex.” He looked mournful. “I really liked the sex talk. And I long for my old playful sweetie who loved finding two people who were completely wrong for each other, exciting them into a sexual frenzy for each other, and then tearing them apart. You were fun back then.”

  If she hadn’t known better, Sparkle could almost believe that it was overflowing emotion making his eyes glisten. But Mede didn’t believe in tears.

  “Forget character. I have the character of a gnat. It’s just not an important quality for a cosmic troublemaker to have.” He ended with a heartrending plea: “I want my evil woman back so we can live the wicked life together again. It’s lonely being bad alone.”

  Sparkle stood staring at the doorway long after he’d padded away. She had nothing against tears, at least not nowadays. She hadn’t cried for thousands of years, and now she couldn’t seem to stop. She swiped at her eyes. Good thing she hadn’t given up waterproof mascara.

  She sighed as she walked toward the door. What to do? Mede wanted the old Sparkle back, but the Big Boss had used the old Sparkle against Mede. And the Big Boss was in charge of them all. She couldn’t give the Big Boss an excuse to interfere in their lives again.

  She brightened a little. Maybe she’d do some compromising. Why couldn’t she build character at the same time she did a little meddling? God knew that both Cinn and Dacian needed an upgrade in their quality of life. She could do that.

  With renewed purpose, she strode from the dungeon. And if sex happened during her meddling, well, was it her fault? Of course not.

  She hummed “Wicked Game” as she made her plans.

  Chapter Three

  Murder was an option. She‘d claim justifiable homicide. No jury in the country would convict her. Cinn took a deep breath before once again rattling the greenhouse door. Yep, locked. The witch. No wonder she‘d been so calm when Cinn had left the dungeon. See, now Sparkle had overplayed her hand. She‘d had Cinn scared witless, but fury had pushed the fear aside for the moment. No one kept her from her plants.

  She‘d backed her truck up to the greenhouse, ready to load her plants, so now she climbed into the cab, looking for something she could use to break a window. She came up with a hammer. Good. She‘d free her plants and then maybe she‘d use the hammer on Sparkle‘s head.

  Returning to the greenhouse, she flung back her arm, ready to crunch some glass.

  “This is all very entertaining, and I certainly don‘t want to interfere with your breaking-and-entering plans, but I would like to point out that Sparkle will prosecute. And since there are security cameras everywhere, Holgarth will have all the proof he needs. Even he couldn‘t lose this case.”

  The voice in Cinn‘s head swung her around. Not Ganymede‘s voice. This voice was light and feminine with a built-in snootiness. This woman—she looked down—this cat sounded just as superior as the other cat.

  Cinn was too angry to feel intimidated. “Let me guess. You‘re Ganymede‘s sister.”

  The Siamese cat widened her almond-shaped eyes in horror. “What a dreadful thing to say to someone you just met.” She sniffed a delicate cat sniff. “And here I was, trying to help you.”

  Cinn didn‘t care about the cat‘s bruised feelings. “Look, the plants inside this place are mine. I‘m reclaiming my property.”

  “I don‘t think the judge will see it that way. And if he does, Ganymede will change his mind. Literally.”

  If what Cinn had seen so far at the castle was real and not a hallucination brought on by eating the castle restaurant‘s medieval meat pie—huge, and no, she hadn‘t needed a doggy bag afterward—then the cat was right. Reluctantly, she resigned herself to a less violent solution. “Who are you?” Amazing that she could ask that so calmly.

  “I‘m Asima, messenger of the goddess Bast and the only devotee of the arts in this whole castle.” She sat and wrapped her tail around her elegant body. She stared at Cinn with deep blue eyes. “Dare I hope that you‘re interested in the theater or perhaps the opera?”

  “I‘ve seen a few Broadway plays.” Why was Cinn standing here talking to another cat? She had to get her plants away from this freak show. Once she drove across the causeway to the mainland, she was never coming back. “What do you want from me?” Because she had a feeling everyone here wanted something.

  Asima lifted her finely chiseled, aristocratic head so she could meet Cinn‘s gaze. “I‘d like to be your friend.” She glanced away. “And Sparkle told me to keep an eye on you.”

  Aha! “You‘re a snitch.”

  “I prefer intelligence agent.”

  Cinn knew she should just get in her truck and leave now, but she couldn‘t abandon her babies to Sparkle. No way would anyone but Cinn know how to care for them. They‘d die. And that wasn‘t an option.

  Besides, Cinn had signed a contract. Now that she was calmer, she realized if she drove away, not only would she owe Sparkle for the greenhouse, but she‘d also have to pay back the money Sparkle had advanced her to make the move to Galveston. She didn‘t have that kind of cash to lose.

  With a sigh, she surrendered to the inevitable. She‘d give Sparkle her two weeks‘ notice. And if after that Sparkle didn‘t honor her agreement, Cinn would hire a lawyer. One who didn‘t have a pointed hat with celestial bodies on it.

  “Well?” Asima sounded impatient.

  “Okay, you
can tell Sparkle she won. For two weeks. After that I‘m out of here.” Cinn resisted the urge to bend down and touch the cat, just to make sure she was real. No touching, no thinking, no reacting until she was safe in her room. Well, as safe as she could be in this hotbed of weirdness. Then she‘d try to wrap her mind around the whole bizarre night. She turned toward her truck.

  Climbing in, Cinn reached for the ignition key.

  “Personally, I prefer a luxury vehicle. During the few times a year I return to human form, I rent a Lexus.”

  With a startled squeak, Cinn jerked her gaze to the passenger side. Asima sat there. Her aloof expression implied she was a queen riding on a hay wagon.

  “How the hell did you get in here?”

  Asima yawned. “I go where I wish to go. Not that I wished to go here, but a good intelligence agent goes where she must.”

  Oh, boy. Cinn tried to ignore the cat as she parked the truck and then took the elevator up to her room. She wasn‘t in the mood to climb the winding stone steps to her floor.

  Cinn stopped at her door. Wicked Intentions. Every room in the castle had a name, and they all began with the word wicked. After meeting Sparkle, she found it fitting.

  She looked down at Asima, who stared up at her expectantly. “No, you can‘t come in with me. If you beam yourself into my room without my permission, I‘ll crack your little head with a lamp.”

  Asima made a disappointed mewling sound. “Well, if you‘re going to get violent, then I suppose I‘ll have to wait outside your door. In the cold, cold hallway.”

  “The hallway is warm.”

  “And sleep on the hard, hard floor.”

  “It‘s your choice.”

  “You‘re a cruel…”

  Wait for it, wait for it…

  “But I suppose technically Sparkle is the cruel, cruel woman.”

  “What a crappy day.” Cinn paused. “No, make that a crappy, crappy day.” Unlocking her door, she stepped inside and closed it in the cat‘s face.

  Flinging herself onto her bed, she covered her eyes with her hand while her brain feverishly played back what had happened tonight. She could keep the Good Ship Denial afloat for just so long before it sank beneath the weight of piled-up proof. Right now she was sinking fast.

  Okay, she could dismiss Edge, Bain, and Holgarth because they hadn‘t done anything. Talk didn‘t mean anything. But the other stuff…

  If Dacian‘s fangs and eyes were fake, then whoever had made them was a genius. She‘d gotten a close-up of the fangs. They were too long to be human teeth filed to a point, and she would‘ve been able to tell if they were fakes. And his eyes…She shuddered. The last time she‘d looked at him, all the rage in the world lived in those eyes. Nothing phony about them. So put a check in the real column for Dacian.

  Next, Sparkle. No matter how much Cinn wanted to believe that the invisible wall hadn‘t been there, she couldn‘t. She‘d pounded and kicked it. Another check beside real.

  Finally, the two cats. Even if the cats had been wired for sound, no one could make cats act the way they had. Cinn knew cats. They didn‘t take direction well. Another check beside real.

  Cinn wouldn‘t examine what Sparkle had said about Airmid. She‘d accepted all her mind would allow for the night.

  The bottom line was that she was stuck here for two weeks. She‘d spend as much time as possible with her plants and as little time as she could with the people living in the castle.

  With that decision made, she climbed from the bed, peeled off her coat, and dragged herself into the bathroom.

  A short time later she emerged wearing her warm nightgown and her fuzzy slippers. The comforting familiarity of both made her feel better. Climbing into bed, she propped herself up and buried herself in the latest plant journals. She hoped she‘d read until she fell asleep.

  An hour later, she‘d read exactly four pages and felt as though she‘d never sleep again. At least not in this place. What if the people she‘d met were just the tip of the iceberg? What if strange beings were staying in the next room, the room across the hall?

  But out of everyone she‘d met tonight, it was Dacian‘s image that was superimposed over every page she tried to read. He was the primal scream that lurked in the darkest corner of her mind. He was the ancient symbol of man‘s primitive fear. He was the ultimate terror that stalked the night. And yet…

  She shook her head. No, there was nothing else. Cinn refused to even try to look past the horror of what he was. Vampire.

  Finally, she gave up. Reading was impossible. She glanced around the room. An authentic-looking castle chamber: dark woods, rich colors, old tapestries, and a canopied bed. All it needed was the ancestral ghost. She peered into the shadows. Maybe you paid extra for the ghost.

  Putting her journal aside, she slid under the covers and closed her eyes. And no, she wasn‘t turning the light out tonight. If she had to visit the bathroom in the middle of the night, she didn‘t want to open her eyes to a spirit perched at the foot of her bed. And yes, she was a giant wuss.

  When Dacian was finally able to drag Taurin away from this madhouse, maybe he‘d bring the whole pile of stones down around all of their ears as a parting gift. He could do that when he was at full strength. And he was just pissed off enough to want to.

  He hated taking orders. Stephan already knew that. Sparkle, Ganymede, and the sarcastic wizard would find out soon enough. But for now, he‘d pay for his stay here by doing what they wanted.

  Powered by a string of silent curses, he took the last few strides to Cinn‘s door. He smiled. Scaring the crap out of her would improve his mood a little.

  “Please watch where you put your big feet. I‘m guarding this door.”

  Dacian glanced down. A cat was curled up in front of the door. What was with all the cats? “You‘re kidding, right?”

  The cat looked insulted. “I‘m a ferocious guard. No one gets past me. Oh, and don‘t step on my tail, please.”

  “Then maybe you need to move your furry little butt out of the way.”

  The cat hissed at him. “My beautiful, elegant butt is staying right where it is.”

  Impasse. Dacian was looking forward to picking up the cat and depositing her in a nearby trash bin when she uncurled herself, stood, stretched, and yawned.

  “On second thought, I‘m tired of sleeping on the floor when I have a nice soft bed waiting for me. Sparkle can hire another intelligence agent to work the night shift.”

  “Intelligence agent?” This place got more bizarre by the minute.

  “Sparkle wanted me to keep an eye on Cinn to make sure she didn‘t sneak offwith her plants in the dead of night. But I think my shift is finished.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Who are you?”

  “Dacian.”

  Her eyes widened. “Taurin‘s brother?”

  He nodded.

  “What an intriguing reunion that will be. I mustn‘t miss it.”

  “Whatever.” If he were lucky, he‘d have Taurin out of here before any of them knew what was happening.

  “Did Sparkle send you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. You can take the next shift.” She padded toward the stairs, her tail waving in the air.

  “And you are?”

  “Asima. I hope you like sleeping on the floor. Cinn threatened me with violence if I tried to come into her room.”

  Before he could ask her anything else, the cat disappeared. Frustrated, he turned back to the door. Threatened her with violence, huh? His smile returned. He‘d just see about that. He pounded on the door.

  No answer. Even if she were sleeping, she would‘ve heard his knock. He glanced around. It was late. He didn‘t want to call attention to himself by shouting through the door at her. Sure, he could get inside in a number of other ways, but he didn‘t want her screaming the place down.

  He snarled his frustration. Dacian liked the direct approach. But in this case he‘d go the kinder and gentler route. Focusing, he reached int
o her mind. “Open the damn door before I blow it off its freaking hinges.”

  He felt her horrified reaction right through the door. Okay, maybe he needed to tone it down a little. “Please.”

  All he could sense from her was panicked indecision. When in doubt, lie. “Sparkle sent me. She has info about your plants that you need to know.”

  Evidently mentioning her plants did the trick, because a few seconds later she flung open the door.

  “What about my plants? What has she done to them?” Her eyes were wide and fearful. But the fear was for her plants.

  He stared bemused for a moment. Her long nightgown covered her from the neck down. The only things showing were the tips of her toes. Her toenails were painted a pale pink. Feminine. Personally, he liked bold colors. “Nothing about your plants. I just needed you to open the door. But Sparkle did send me.”

  “Who…?”

  He didn‘t need to be in her head to follow her thought processes. She was adjusting his cleaned-up version to what she‘d seen in the dungeon. He sensed the exact moment she made the connection.

  “Vampire!” She tried to close the door.

  “Dacian.” He kept it open with his foot.

  “No!” Her gaze shifted to a nearby lamp.

  “Yes.” He stepped inside and caught her as she made a dive for her weapon of choice. “Asima warned me you had a violent streak.”

  Dacian almost smiled. He liked females who weren‘t afraid to bash a few heads. Amazing how she‘d improved his mood.

  “Turn. Me. Loose.” Each word was forced through clenched teeth.

  “Or?”

  “Or I‘ll scream loud enough to shatter your undead eardrums. There have to be some normal people in this place who will come to help me before you can drain me dry.”

  He was tempted to let her scream. Throwing a few bodies around would release some of his pent-up emotion. But then he decided against it. Ganymede might try to toss him out, and he needed to last at least until Taurin came home.

  “I‘ll let you go, but first look into my eyes. I‘m safe to be around now.” A lie. He was never safe to be around.