BloodBorn

by Linda Jones Linda Howard

  He felt … awkward, which was an astonishing sensation for someone over two thousand years old. Before, no one had ever remembered what he said or did, so he hadn’t worried about his behavior. After all, what did it matter? Now, suddenly, he felt as guilty as a misbehaving schoolboy, and he didn’t know why.

  She didn’t remember just him, she remembered last night, too. He had glamoured her. She shouldn’t remember any of it. But evidently she did. Why did she remember last night?

  This was wrong. Something was wrong. Either that, or Chloe Fallon was somehow different, on a genetic level, from every other human he’d met over the past two thousand years.

  She was a puzzle he’d have to explore, but right now he had the more immediate duty of watching to see who next tried to kill her. He put away all thoughts of the mystery that Chloe represented, instead concentrating on the here and now. He waited, listening, scenting, but nothing unusual registered. Attacking her here would be the least logical place, anyway: too many people around. Enoch had done it the smart way, waiting for her at home, attacking before she could get inside. Luca would make certain he was there before she arrived, waiting and watching.

  Finally the last customer was gone, the door locked, the restaurant cleaned and ready for the next day. Chloe rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the tension in her tired muscles. Once again, she’d been on her feet almost the entire shift, and had managed to snag roughly five bites of food in the past eight hours.

  “Want to try to catch a midnight show?” Valerie asked.

  For a moment Chloe was tempted, then reality made her shake her head. “I’m beat. I didn’t sleep much last night, either. All I want to do is get out of these shoes, put my feet up, and relax.”

  Valerie’s eyebrows danced. “Can I assume it was a man who kept you from your beauty sleep?”

  “Yeah, but not in a good way.” After a pause, Chloe told her friend about the attack, and Luca’s appearance.

  Valerie’s full mouth quickly settled into a disapproving frown “You called the police, I hope.”

  “No. I wasn’t hurt and I couldn’t really give a description of the guy, so it didn’t make much sense to file a report.” Even as she heard the words coming out of her mouth, Chloe wondered at herself. For crying out loud, she should have called the cops, at least made the report.

  “For all you know, it was a setup. Those two might’ve been in cahoots. One scares you, the other saves you, and you end up trusting a complete stranger.” Valerie paled a little. “Tell me you didn’t ask him into the house.”

  “No, Mom, I didn’t ask him into the house.” If she was going to tell, she might as well tell it all. “I did kind of … ask him to come by so I could buy him a meal.”

  Valerie sighed in obvious disapproval. “You told him where you work?”

  “He already knows where I live.”

  “Yeah, but …” Valerie pursed her lips. “Sorry. I do kinda sound like your mother, don’t I?”

  “Yep.”

  “It’s just … we single women have to be careful, we have to look out for each other.” Valerie smiled at the customer who stood, waved, and headed for the door. “So, what did he look like?”

  “I told you, I didn’t get …”

  “Not the attacker, this Luca person.”

  “You saw him. He’s the man who came in while you were seating that last group. He couldn’t stay, though. He just stopped by to see if I was okay.”

  Valerie frowned. “I don’t remember anyone coming in. How did I miss that?”

  “I signaled to you that I’d handle seating him, remember?”

  “I remember you walking that way, but, sorry. Guess I wasn’t paying attention. Anyway, what does he look like?”

  Chloe pictured his face, and that odd shimmer danced behind her eyes. “He’s very striking—not pretty-boy handsome, there’s something all man about him. Olive complexion, but light-colored eyes. Like I said—striking. At least six feet tall, maybe taller. Long dark hair, down to his shoulders. Strong, but not muscle-bound. Like I said, he isn’t pretty, but he’s definitely hot. Nice ass. Good hands. Really sharp jawline.”

  Valerie made a low, humming sound. “Now I’m sorry I didn’t see him.” She smiled. “And going strictly by your description, I have to confess that maybe I wouldn’t have been nearly as cautious as you. I think I would’ve had to take a chance and ask him in for a drink, or whatever.”

  “I was too tired for a drink, and I don’t whatever with men I just met.”

  Valerie smiled wickedly, her earlier concern gone. “We both desperately need a little whatever in our lives.” The smile faded a little. “Unfortunately, unless you buy one at a specialty store, penises come attached to men, who almost always turn out to be more trouble than they’re worth. You’re not taking the Metro home tonight, are you?”

  “Nope. For the duration, I’m driving.” Sputtering from place to place was a more accurate description, but since she was off work for the next two days she was going to get her disobedient car to the shop and have that taken care of. “And you’ll be happy to know that I had my pepper spray in my hand.” For all the good it had done her, since she’d dropped it when she was grabbed. But Valerie had given her the pepper spray for her birthday, so she wanted her to know the gift was being put to use … almost, anyway. The intent had been there. Maybe she should also think about buying a taser, but wouldn’t that be overreacting? After all, she hadn’t been hurt, had she? No, she didn’t think so. She couldn’t even find any scrapes or bruises this morning.

  On the other hand, was it possible to overreact to being attacked in her own front yard? On the upset scale, that ranked in the upper third, at least. She should definitely be upset; should be, but wasn’t. Weird.

  Chloe pushed back that memory. Now would be the time to tell Valerie about the voices, if she was going to take that step. It was hard to admit even to a good friend that she hadn’t slept in days, weeks, that she was hearing voices and having weird, vivid dreams that made her question what was real and what was not.

  Even though she had almost decided the cause of her auditory hallucinations was physical, not psychological, there was one detail that gave her pause. She only heard the voices when she was home alone. Never at work, or on the drive or walk home. Chloe had to wonder: if she had invited Luca in last night, if she had asked him to stay, would she still be questioning her sanity and her health today? Would a visitor, any visitor, bring blessed silence to her home?

  “Why don’t you come by the house after work?” Chloe asked.

  “I thought you wanted to sleep.”

  “We can crash in the living room and catch a movie on TV. I know I need to sleep, but I’m not sure I can.”

  “Still shaken from last night?”

  Chloe nodded. She didn’t have to explain to Valerie exactly why she didn’t want to be alone. They were good enough friends that they were there for each other, no questions asked … not many, anyway.

  Valerie followed Chloe home and parked behind her. Walking from her car to the door without sprinting was difficult for Chloe. Last night the big bald man had come out of nowhere, and there were a lot of shadows in and around her small front yard. All day long the memory had been vague, as if it had been in a movie she’d seen, but tonight, taking that same walk, it all came back. She didn’t breathe deeply until she was inside the house, with Valerie, with the door locked behind them.

  They talked about work for a while, watched a movie on TV, ate microwave popcorn, and drank too much diet soda. Chloe didn’t want to talk about Luca, and fortunately Valerie didn’t mention his visit to the restaurant. Odd for Valerie, but maybe she sensed that Chloe didn’t want to go there.

  Since the movie wasn’t very good they talked more than they watched. They made fun of the movie and laughed a lot. It was a laid-back evening, relaxed and very nice. There were no disembodied voices, not with Valerie in the house.

  Unfortunately that couldn’t last f
orever, and Chloe was aware that sooner or later her respite would end. Valerie wasn’t going to move in; she wasn’t going to give up sleeping in her own bed to crash on Chloe’s couch, not even for one night. The movie ended, Valerie started to yawn, and finally the moment came. She had to go home.

  Chloe stood in the open doorway and watched Valerie make her way to her car. She held the can of pepper spray in her hand, just in case the bald freak jumped out of nowhere. Valerie was right; she should’ve called the police, but it was too late now. They’d think she was nuts if she called to report something that had happened more than twenty-four hours ago. What could they do at this point? Nothing.

  Tonight all was quiet. Of course, last night had been quiet, too, until the psycho had jumped her. Chloe didn’t rest easy until Valerie was in her car, the engine revved, and she was driving away on the otherwise deserted street.

  She was still standing in the doorway when the voice whispered in her ear. Don’t deny me.

  Chloe jumped, startled into a shriek. Her heart thudded in her chest, so hard and strong she could feel it. She didn’t know if she wanted to run into the yard to escape the voice, or slam the door, sink to the floor, and scream at the top of her lungs. The yard won. Bald mugger/rapist and all, the yard won. She’d rather face something that was real instead of the gremlins in her own head. Gripping the can of pepper spray in her hand, Chloe ran across the porch, down the steps, into the grassy yard. There she dropped to her knees and wallowed in blessed silence.

  How long would it last? In the beginning she’d only heard the voice in her dreams, and then in that half-asleep state between dreams and reality. Now it came when she was wide awake in her own home, but when she was away from the house she was safe from it. How long did she have before the voice began to follow her outside? To work? How long before the voice was so much a part of her she could no longer tell where reality ended and insanity began?

  Out of the corner of her eye she caught some movement, darkness against darkness. Another wave of panic washed over her, along with a sense of outrage. What, she wasn’t safe either inside or outside? That wasn’t fair. Pick one, she wanted to shout at the Fates, or whatever was behind all of this.

  She was too vulnerable in her kneeling position; she lunged to her feet, her finger resting firmly against the trigger of the pepper spray canister as she shakily backed toward the porch, ready to defend herself. “Stop right there,” she ordered the shadow. “Or I’ll fry your eyeballs.”

  The shadow moved again, stepped out of the darkness beside her house into the light, and everything in her relaxed as if her moment of panic had never been. “Luca, it’s you.” She remembered Valerie’s theory that he and the big guy might have been in cahoots to rob her, and her gaze scanned the yard behind him. She couldn’t see anyone else, though. She looked back at him. “What are you doing here?”

  He had his hands in his pockets, his shoulders relaxed. “I’m restless at night. I don’t sleep much, so I thought I’d just walk by and make sure everything was all right here.”

  “You live nearby?”

  He jerked a thumb to the east and nodded. “I haven’t been here very long. I’m still learning the neighborhood.”

  If he’d recently moved to the neighborhood, it was logical that she hadn’t seen him before, given her odd hours. That also explained how he had happened by last night.

  Disjointed thoughts raced through her mind. She didn’t want to be alone. Valerie wasn’t coming back, not tonight. Which was worse, to take the chance that a man she’d just met wasn’t a psycho? Or take a chance—no, know without doubt—that if she went back inside alone the voice would torment her?

  She was tired of being tormented. She was tired of the voice, of doubting her own sanity. The simple truth was that if Luca had wanted to hurt her, last night or tonight, he could have. Her pepper spray might slow him down, but it wouldn’t stop him.

  And still, she didn’t run for the door. She simply couldn’t make herself go back inside, alone. “It’s usually a quiet neighborhood.”

  “Still worried about the man who attacked you last night?” he asked, watching her closely.

  “Duh.”

  He smiled at her response. That smile was very nice, almost mesmerizing. “The guy was drunk. From what little he said, I believe he thought you were an ex-girlfriend. But he won’t be bothering you again. I, uh, made sure he got the point.”

  “That’s good to hear. Thank you again. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you were there. At any rate, I’ll definitely be looking over my shoulder for a while.”

  “He made you jumpy.”

  Chloe nodded.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Luca came closer, but he moved slowly and there was still a decent distance between them. His voice was soothing, “If I could make the memory go away, would you want me to?”

  Chloe actually smiled, a little. “I guess that would be nice, if it was possible, but then if he did come back I wouldn’t be prepared.”

  “Are you prepared now?”

  “Maybe. Definitely more aware of what’s going on around me.”

  Luca seemed a little distracted. He wasn’t obvious about it, but she got the distinct impression that he was giving her only half his attention, that his mind was elsewhere. He seemed to be listening, though she had no idea for what. Then he looked back at her, the focus of his gaze sharpening. “You should go inside, where you’ll be safe.”

  She felt an odd compulsion to do what he said, but knowing she would hear that voice again made her resist. “Is it really safe? I mean, no matter how many locks I have on the door, if someone wants in they’re going to find a way.”

  “Your home is safe,” he said, still in that soothing, convincing voice.

  But to Chloe, being alone in the house was far removed from safety. Alone … when she was alone anything was possible.

  “Would you like to come in for a cup of decaf?”

  Luca was obviously surprised by the invitation. So was she, to be honest. Though her instincts told her he wasn’t a danger, could she trust her instincts when her world was being turned upside down?

  “Just for coffee,” she added. “I’m not …” That kind of girl. Desperate. After your body—well, not much.

  “I’d love a cup of coffee,” Luca answered before she could fill in the blank.

  CHAPTER

  TEN

  She was nervous, twitchy. Maybe she didn’t invite men into her home very often; maybe whatever it was that was different about her let her sense his otherness. Luca watched Chloe carefully as she prepared a pot of decaffeinated coffee, trying to get a read on her. He kept getting distracted, though, by the little glances she’d throw his way, glances that weren’t full of surprise as if he’d suddenly appeared out of thin air. He had learned to handle the surprise; it was the lack of it that was jolting.

  So this was what it was like for everyone else. He had always circled on the periphery of life, watching, participating, but always unconnected in the most basic of ways because for most people he simply didn’t exist beyond the moment. For Chloe, he existed. With Chloe, there was a connection, whether he wanted it or not. He hadn’t made up his mind yet if he was dizzy with joy or if what he felt was panic and he should be running for the hills.

  No, no way was he leaving until he discovered who was responsible for Hector’s murder. That was his first priority, and for that he needed Chloe. Afterward … maybe then he would devote some time to studying her.

  Good thing he’d learned to appreciate the taste of coffee, he thought as he watched her open a cabinet door and select two mugs from a huge selection. Why did one woman, living alone, need so many coffee mugs? Evidently she drank a lot of the stuff.

  A long time ago he’d learned to eat and drink without letting his aversion to human food show; it was part of blending into the woodwork, part of existing in a world that was not welcoming to his kind, like walking slowly instead of moving at vampire speed, an
d smiling at inane jokes. Eventually, though, some of the tastes had grown on him, and coffee was one he sincerely enjoyed. And hell, it might as well be decaf, because caffeine had no effect on him.

  No vampire had been waiting when she came home—no vampire other than himself. He wondered if it meant anything, that no attempt had been made on her life tonight. Would the rebels assume Enoch had carried out his assignment and simply not check to verify whether or not Chloe was dead?

  If they did, that was piss-poor strategy. He himself would have verified as a normal course of action, so he had to assume that whoever in the rebel faction was in charge of eliminating the conduits would at least send someone to verify that Enoch had accomplished his mission. Tomorrow, surely.

  He couldn’t hang around forever, Luca thought, but he might have to give it a month at the very least, even though that wouldn’t be easy, especially since she remembered him. Each time he had that thought, the shock of it was like a punch to the gut; damn, that complicated things.

  He couldn’t spend all night, every night, in the street outside her house. Other humans wouldn’t remember him but she definitely would. He couldn’t saunter by her house every night and hope she’d ask him in for coffee, or conceal himself nearby and wait, listen for her screams, assuming she’d have time to make a sound. He hadn’t romanced a human in centuries, but it was possible he’d have to either befriend or romance Chloe.

  Cautiously, because she was so jumpy and uncertain.

  Luca hadn’t interacted much with humans—other than as food sources with a relatively short shelf life—in hundreds of years. He no longer tried to blend in. He didn’t surround himself with human servants, lovers, or playthings, mainly because it was so much damn work when they didn’t remember they were supposed to be lovers and playthings. He fed on them, and then he was forgotten. Simple.