The Fertile Vampire

by Ranney, Karen

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  A man’s castle is his…castle

  I only slept three hours, which surprised me since I felt as if I’d slept a day or two.

  After taking another shower - I had to find a way to afford one of those nifty walk in versions - I went to the small kitchen area in the dressing room and discovered an under counter refrigerator and two burner stove, a microwave, and an instant hot water dispenser along with a coffee brewer. The shelves were stocked with a variety of snacks and foods, the refrigerator filled with sodas and mixers.

  My townhouse wasn’t this homey.

  I made myself a cup of coffee and a plate of cheese and crackers, enough to kill the worst of the hunger pangs.

  I fiddled with the IPad, managed to open the curtains and sent a message to the kitchen. It was probably the power of suggestion but I ordered tomato soup and two grilled cheese sandwiches with a slice of cheesecake for desert.

  I am a slut for cheesecake.

  Dressed in clean jeans and a flowered top, I sat on the chaise, extended my legs out and wiggled my bare toes. Here the view of the lake was magnificent. I might have been at a highly rated resort relaxing from a crazy year.

  Someone knocked on the door. I peeled myself off the chaise to find Dan playing waiter.

  “Now you make me feel bad I didn’t search out the kitchen myself,” I said, trying to take the tray from him.

  He wouldn’t release it, only grinned down at me.

  “I was hoping to get a tip,” he said. “Besides, you wouldn’t have found the kitchen on your own.”

  In any other house that would have been boasting but I could believe it about Arthur’s Folly.

  “How many square feet do you have?”

  He shrugged. “I think the architect stopped counting after twenty,” he said.

  “Twenty thousand?” I think my townhouse was a grand total of nine hundred or something.

  He nodded, moved to the chaise and put the tray down on the end. He disappeared into the dressing room, returning with a collapsible table. He erected it beside the chaise and put the tray on it.

  “Would you like anything else?” he asked in a perfect waiterly way.

  I shook my head. “I don’t have any cash,” I said, “but if I did, I’d tip you. I don’t have my phone, either,” I added.

  At least I hadn’t taken my wallet last night. I’d only tucked two twenties into my evening bag so I still had my driver’s license and credit cards.

  “I can get another phone for you,” he said.

  “Why?”

  I couldn’t keep taking stuff from Dan.

  “Why?”

  I nodded. “Why have you opened up your house to me? Why have you rescued me like a damsel in distress?”

  “Why not? I didn’t see anyone else stepping up, did you?”

  His smile was charming but his eyes were distant. He was definitely hiding something. I’m not down on humanity, but I’d seen enough to know most people aren’t altruistic, at least not without a reason.

  What was Dan’s reason?

  “Can you check on him?” I asked.

  “Who?”

  “Mutt.” I sat on the end of the chaise, my fingers trailing over the silver coffee pot.

  “You’re still worried about him?”

  I nodded. “He’s my responsibility.”

  “Sounds like he did okay on his own.”

  I gave him a nasty look. “You don’t like dogs.”

  “I love dogs. I love all kinds of animals.”

  “Then would you go to the complex manager and find out if he took him?”

  Dan stared at the lake. “Yes,” he finally said. “If you’ll stay here. And listen to Mike.”

  “Who’s Mike?”

  “Your guardian, until I get back.”

  I folded my arms. “I don’t need a guardian.”

  “For now you do.”

  He turned and walked back to the door. “I don’t know what happened last night, Marcie, but something did. I don’t know why Maddock wants you, but he does.”

  I huffed out a breath.

  “Why did you work for him if you dislike him so much?”

  “To find out what he’s up to. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, that sort of thing.”

  “Why is he your enemy?”

  “He’s a vampire.”

  “So am I.”

  I waited with my heart beating sluggishly, nausea churning my stomach.

  “No, you’re not.” He tilted his head and regarded me. “You’re something else. Something important. Something scary, I think. I think Maddock knows and it’s why he doesn’t want you out of his sight.”

  “He wants to get me pregnant,” I said.

  The words shocked me. I didn’t have any intention of telling Dan the truth. Nor, from his expression, did he have any inkling of it.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  “You can get pregnant?”

  I was not going to talk to him about my period. I settled for a nod.

  “Maddock knows this?”

  I nodded again.

  He walked back to me, reached out and grabbed both my hands. Once again, I was surprised by his warmth.

  Up until now I’d thought his eyes were green, but they were more brown than green right now. His cheeks took on a bronze color as his lips thinned. He looked down at our joined hands.

  “He raped you, didn’t he?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “There are different kinds of rape,” he said. “There’s the rape of the will, the spirit, the mind.”

  I blew out a breath. “I shouldn’t have been there.”

  “I suppose you were wearing something sexy, too,” he said, his voice mocking.

  “I don’t believe I asked for it if that’s what you mean. I was just stupid.”

  “Hell, being stupid doesn’t mean you deserve bad things happening to you.”

  His eyes were heated. I had the impression he wasn’t only talking about last night.

  “Yeah, well wait until you wake up in the VRC.”

  “You’ve had a hard time of it.”

  “I didn’t say that to get sympathy, Dan.”

  But maybe I had. I wanted someone to put his arms around me, croon to me, rock me a little, all the while telling me it was going to be all right. I knew it wasn’t, but a little denial never hurt anyone. Right now I was practicing more denial than I had in my entire life. I didn’t want to think about Nonnie, my mother, last night, my future, or the danger I was in. That was enough of a list for anyone.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked as I pulled my hands free.

  “About Maddock?” I asked, picking up my fork and tasting the cheesecake. I closed my eyes at the taste. This was wonderful cheesecake and I’d love to savor it for a moment rather than answer Dan’s questions.

  “Among other things, yes.”

  I wasn’t sure yet. I had some ideas. But first I had to take care of something important.

  “Is he the only one who knows about your…” His words stumbled to a halt.

  “My ability?” I said, looking up at him.

  Hera might know, but I was doubtful she’d tell another vampire. Besides, I didn’t know if Maddock had confronted her this morning. I did not want to think about how that meeting might have gone. Hera might be a husk of her former self right now.

  “I don’t know who else knows,” I said.

  There, a bit of honesty. In fact, I could use the same sentence to explain most of what was happening to me now. For a person who was used to finding answers and having things make sense, I was in an uncomfortable place.

  Dan reached over and poured me a cup of coffee, using the paper napkin to soak up the coffee he spilled on the saucer.

  I did like a neat man.

  Bill had been anything but, stretching the boundaries of my tolerance by making me pick up his soiled undies fr
om the bedroom or bathroom floor. It’s like they became invisible once he shed them, like so many skin cells.

  Poor Bill, I wonder if he knew I’d forever place him in the Before section of my mind, hoping to always find an After man.

  “I’ll go and check on the dog,” he said. “You’ll listen to Mike?”

  I nodded, good little girl that I was. There were traces of the good little girl inside me, the child who wanted to be praised and loved. I’d probably never gotten enough affection or notice as a kid so I went around trying to get it now. Maybe King Lear was right: That way madness lies. I wasn’t perfect as a person, a vampire or whatever I was now.

  Mike turned out to be about ten feet tall with a bald head, ebony skin and a taciturn way of speaking - which meant he uttered five words to me - and striking hazel eyes.

  How unfair was it to be surrounded by gorgeous men?

  At Dan’s introduction, he nodded to me, his eyes taking in my sartorial outfit of jeans and t-shirt. I was comfy but not dressed for tea. Although the temperature was hovering around seventy, he wore a leather jacket. From the bulges under his arms, I suspected he was also well armed.

  Dan the Driver was Dan the Millionaire. Niccolo Maddock was a megalomaniac vampire. I was a sun walking, wall climbing something or other, genus to be determined at a later date. People couldn’t decide what they wanted to do to me, either kill me or get me pregnant.

  To have a resident body guard was no biggee at this point.

  After Dan and Mike left and I consumed my meal with glee - if all else failed I could always depend on my appetite - I wandered through Dan’s home. I knew Mike was watching me from somewhere, either an electronic vigilance or a hulking mountain man presence through secret viewing holes in the walls.

  At this point, I was grateful for him, like a child knows she’s protected from danger by her father. A sexist remark, but there it is.

  I felt the first tingle in the downstairs library, a room that was an experience more than a place. In addition to all the ten foot high shelves filled with books, every available surface was covered with framed scrolls and chunks of stone bearing hieroglyphs and an awe-inspiring wall featuring a six foot long Egyptian mural.

  The room smelled of age, leather bound books, and the scent of pressed pages. The odor of dried eucalyptus was prominent in one side of the room which made me wonder if there had once been a flower arrangement there.

  A study was separate from the library. I gave it a cursory glance, enough to see leather chairs and a sofa, dark paneling and a massive desk between two windows. A man cave of the office kind and evidently Dan’s.

  The castle had surprised me. The Great Hall made my eyes widen.

  The room was cavernous, wide enough I couldn’t have tossed a ball across it. The vaulted ceilings were inset with tin panels, each inscribed with a flowered pattern. The walls, painted a color reminding me of vanilla ice cream, were adorned by flags and pennants in black and red.

  Two fireplaces, each big enough to contain an NBA team, sat on facing walls. From the soot stains at the back, I knew they’d been used. To be on the safe side, however, the millionaire Chicken King had heating and air conditioning ducts installed and partially hidden behind several of the pennants.

  Ten suits of armor of polished silver metal and matte black were arrayed on the edges of the room, each of them a silent sentinel to my exploration.

  The chairs arranged throughout the room were all the same, throne-like, with wide seats and arms leading to high backs. The couches were more modern as were the lamps on the various tables.

  I had the impression Arthur Peterson had been in favor of replicating the middle ages to a degree. When it interfered with his comfort, he was more than willing to sacrifice realism.

  I felt the witches when I started walking toward the kitchen.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Boil, bubble, bring me trouble

  Stopping in the middle of a wide corridor lined with portraits, I called out to Mike.

  “Is there anyone else in the house besides us?”

  I hadn’t seen him for a while, but I wasn’t surprised to hear his voice coming from a speaker mounted somewhere on the wall.

  “There’s the staff.”

  I hadn’t seen anyone else.

  “How many people?”

  He didn’t answer. Had I asked a question violating security?

  Would Dan know if he employed witches? I doubted it. Nor was I about to ask Mike that question.

  I changed direction, heading up the broad stairs to the suite I’d been given.

  Once inside I walked to one of the windows, staring out at the lake in the early evening light. The sun was glowing bright on the horizon, a warning my freedom was near an end. Soon it would be night and I would be in danger again.

  Placing my fingers on the glass resulted in a nasty shock. For a second I thought the windows were electrified but then I realized it was something more.

  The witches had put up a wall around me like they had at my grandmother’s house. There they’d wanted to keep me out. Here I suspected they wanted to keep me in.

  Had they been in my townhouse watching me?

  Turning slowly, I surveyed the room. I was alone but I didn’t feel alone.

  Did witches have a spell of invisibility?

  The tingling was worse. My fingertips were growing numb.

  I moved to the center of the room wishing I knew more about witches. I didn’t know anything. But I had one thing they didn’t have: me.

  I could communicate with some people. So far, that included vampires, the living, and my grandmother the witch.

  I could walk in the sun.

  What else could I do?

  I closed my eyes, stretched out my arms, slowly turning until the tingling in my fingers got worse. Wow, I was a living antenna.

  The buzzing started at my temples, boring into my brain.

  No, I was not going to be witchified again.

  I slowly brought my palms together in something I’d seen on TV, a namaste position. I pressed my lips against the tips of my fingers, envisioning a calm, green river, weeping willows draping over the water.

  Be gone.

  A thought I kept at the forefront of my mind, separate from emotion. I saw the river, could feel myself buoyant, riding the current in a raft of my mind. The sun played on my eyelids, dancing through the branches of the willows. My fingertips splashed through the sparkling water. I felt droplets on the back of my hand.

  A melody played from my past, a song of life and love. One of the zydeco musicians on the shore waved to me. An accordion, gilded in diamonds and gold, sparkled in the bright sun.

  Be gone.

  The musicians vanished but the breeze remained. I rode the raft to a sloping bank, tucked my bare feet into the sand and stood, making my way to the top of the hill. The sound of birds dominated, their trilling call easing my mood still further. The dredges of my anger faded away. Any grains of fear disintegrated.

  I was Dirugu.

  The picture in my mind abruptly shifted, darkness shattering my calm. Fear washed over me until I was drowning in it. The river became an ocean and I was adrift on it, my body tossed by malicious, sentient waves.

  Help me. A plea to my earthly God, the God of my childhood, the God I’d sworn to on the day of my trial.

  Do you believe yourself to be a child of God?

  Yes.

  Was I now?

  What was I?

  I am Dirugu.

  Okay, Dirugu, whatever the hell you are, you'd better help me get my act together, because I don’t like being afraid. I’m tired of being afraid. I’m tired of feeling out of my element, my league, a fish out of water, a square peg in a round hole. I’d created my life to fit me, carefully trimming the corners so no one would see I was slightly odd. Now all this nonsense was ruining my efforts.

  Help me! Get rid of the witches, give me a place of refuge, keep me safe.

  I
stood in silence, conscious of the simple quiet of the room. The only sound was the whisper of the wind as it tiptoed past the window. I didn’t know how long I’d stood there, the prayer deep in my mind.

  The tingling was gone but something had taken its place. Something deep and dark and a little frightening. I was myself but I was me times two, empowered and determined.

  I opened my eyes and walked to the window. Night had come to the South Texas countryside.

  As I pulled out the cell phone Dan had given me, I realized something I’d never consciously thought about until this moment: there was good and evil in the world.

  Sometimes you had to choose your side.

  I dug out my phone and dialed Kenisha. When she answered, I didn’t identify myself, just started speaking.

  “I once asked you if you were more cop than vampire. I’m going to give you a chance to be a cop. I know who killed Opie.”

  At her answer, I told her where to meet me and hung up.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Are you a vampire or a mouse?

  Getting out of Dan’s house was a lot harder than getting in.

  Mike refused to let me go. He stood in front of the entrance to the parking tunnel and frowned at me, arms folded like Mr. Clean of the bodyguard set.

  “I have to leave. I’m meeting a cop. I’ll be safe as a baby.”

  “I can’t let you leave.”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  “I promised Dan.”

  I knew about promises. I tried to keep mine and I promised Dan I’d listen to Mike. I didn’t promise, however, not to use any sneaky methods.

  Let me go. It’s okay if I leave. Dan will understand.

  He blinked at me but didn’t move.

  I tried again. Let me go. Stand aside.

  Mike the Rock didn’t budge a muscle.

  Okay, add him to the list of people who didn’t hear me mentally.

  I turned on my heel and left, returning to my suite. I had to leave but I wasn’t going to rappel down another wall.

  Although Mike said there was staff employed at Arthur’s Folly, I hadn’t seen anyone other than him in the time I’d been here. Maybe they had a way of tending to the house without being seen. If Arthur Peterson had truly been the eccentric he was rumored to be with such a fondness for the past he might have done what the rich did in the nineteenth century. He might have built servants’ stairs and passages into the house.