I'm the Vampire, That's Why

by Michele Bardsley

  "We need to get her back to the medical bus," I said.

  "Céadsearc," said Patrick, and his hand clasped mine. "She's not going to make it."

  "She's still breathing. The gashes aren't as bad as the others who were attacked. If we get her some help—"

  He shook his head.

  "Brigid. You said she was the greatest healer in the world."

  "And she told you she had limitations. I'm afraid this is one of them." He took my hand and rubbed it between his palms. "The claws of the creature that did this are poisonous. Even now, the toxin is moving through her system, shutting down her organs."

  "Toxin?" Realization dawned. "You tested Emily and Sharon."

  "Full autopsies on both," he admitted. "If the victims don't bleed to death from the wounds, they'll die from the venom."

  "But… what about me? I lived."

  "You're a vampire with sidhe blood," said Lor. "The poison didn't react the same way. Even so, Patrick had to travel beyond the veil to retrieve you."

  I felt jittery, like I'd consumed too many mocha lattes. Once again, I felt a shift in my emotional landscape. Patrick had risked his own life and soul for mine. It was a burdensome thing to know a person loved you more than his own self.

  Sitting back on my heels, I looked at the ashen complexion of Marybeth Beauchamp. Sleeping Beauty. She'd never wake. Never find her prince. I brushed away a loose red curl from her face and sighed. "Poor, sweet baby."

  "I'll get Linda," said Patrick. He kissed me… then misted away.

  I cried because, well, it's all I could really do.

  When Patrick led Linda to her dying daughter, she fell to her knees and keened. We moved back and allowed her to grieve. She prayed to God, she begged the devil, and she sent her sorrow into the Universe, asking for a miracle.

  Marybeth's breath shallowed.

  Her skin grayed.

  Little by little, her soul seeped away.

  Lor watched Linda and I could see that he longed to sit with her and offer solace. Anguish filled up the space, damned near suffocating all of us.

  I thought about Brigid saving Ruadan. And Ruadan saving Patrick. Parents who loved their children so much they made difficult choices. What was worse? Letting your child die? Or damning him?

  What would I do to save Bryan and Jenny?

  Anything. Anything at all.

  Patrick.

  Yes, love?

  Can Marybeth be Turned?

  It's possible, but I told you, most humans don't make the transition. And watching it fail would be much worse than watching her pass now.

  Lorćan can Turn her.

  I'm sorry, love. But Lor won't do it. He's never Turned anyone.

  Well, I'm gonna ask anyway.

  I aimed my mental radar at Lor. Will you Turn Marybeth? You can save her.

  Condemning her to the existence of a vampire isn't saving her.

  Marybeth's life was stolen from her. And you can give it back. Linda's already buried her only sister because of this creature. Don't make her bury her only child, too.

  She is not the first mother to lose a daughter. And she won't be the last. I'm sorry, Jessica.

  You selfish, pigheaded coward!

  Lorćan turned to look at me, his expression stunned.

  That's right, I shot into his mind along with a big dose of fury, you're a coward. You killed Linda. Remember? Sucked her dry and left her for dead. You owe her. Give her this. Give her back Marybeth.

  You don't know what you're asking of me. I vowed I wouldn't ever Turn a human.

  I was breaking his heart, I knew it. Reminding him of his own sins and his own sorrow to get what I wanted. It was cruel of me. But I wasn't going to stand here and let Linda lose Marybeth. Not if there was a slim chance we could save that precious girl.

  Patrick could try to Turn her, but you're the key, Lor. The key to why we all lived. I know that if you change her, she'll live. Please, Lor. Please! I'm begging you!

  Damn you. All right. Only if Linda agrees. And only if you promise to never ask me to do such a thing again.

  I promise. Thank you.

  "Linda…" I closed the distance between us and sat next to her. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. She looked at me, her eyes glassy, her face swollen from dry-weeping.

  "Patrick told me she couldn't be saved," she said. "Your Irish cutie wouldn't lie to me. Jessie, I'm going to lose my baby."

  "There's one option." Oh God. Was this the right thing to do? Should I even offer her the possibility? "We can try to Turn her."

  "Patrick?" she said. Hope blazed in her eyes. "Why didn't I think of it? Yes. Let Patrick Turn her."

  "If you want Marybeth to have a fighting chance, Lorćan needs to do it."

  Her jaw went slack. "He's the reason we're vampires. No!" She leaned over her daughter and stroked her hair. "I won't let him get near her."

  "If you want Marybeth to have a fighting chance, he's got to be the one," I said with enough steel to snap her attention to me.

  Silence settled between us as Linda fought an internal battle. I didn't envy her decision. It was a horrible choice to make, and I hoped to God that I'd never be forced to make a similar one.

  "I don't want her to die," she said finally. "Is that selfish of me, Jessie? I love her more than my next breath. I'm not ready for her to go." She laughed, the hysteria of grief. "There I was just yesterday going on about how we'd be guardian angels to our children's children. I'm such a fool."

  "She doesn't have much time," said Patrick, his voice soft with empathy. "What do you want to do, Linda?"

  "I want you to save her."

  Chapter 27

  We moved Marybeth to the medical RV. The doctor and Lor got Marybeth settled into the bed opposite from Stan.

  Linda insisted that Patrick stay through the process. Why she trusted him and not his twin… well, I guess it made sense. Patrick was the buffer between her and Lor. Having faith in your own murderer to save your child would be a big leap for anyone.

  While Patrick agreed that he would stay, he vehemently denied me the same privilege. Honestly, I didn't want to watch Marybeth's Turning, but I wasn't going to abandon Linda.

  "It's okay, Jessie," said Linda. "Now, don't fuss. I need Patrick's help and he can't focus when you're around."

  Put that way, I really had no choice but to go. Patrick didn't like my idea of going home and waiting for him, but I told him "tough noogies" and flew to my house, anyway.

  I checked the house. Doors and windows were locked and the security system engaged. Security teams milled around the area so it wasn't likely Wraiths were hanging around. I should've felt safe, but I didn't.

  I don't know if it was the constant admonitions of Mr. Paranoia or just walking around in a place where I knew I was utterly alone, but suddenly my little Victorian two-story had a high creep factor. I would rather listen to the sounds of Bryan and Jenny fighting than the silence of an empty house. I hurried into my bedroom, which had been cleaned and fixed by Drake and Darrius and Johnny. I locked the door and leaned against it, suddenly relieved.

  I checked on my kids. They still partied down in Patrick's RV, safe and sound. Grateful that they were okay, and missing them like crazy, I wondered if I should track them down and stay in the bus. But, I didn't know where they were… and if someone was watching me and followed me, say the creature or a Wraith… no, it was better to stay here and wait for Patrick.

  I decided to indulge in a rare treat: a long, hot, uninterrupted bath. With lots of bubbles, expensive soaps, and soft music. Even without the requisite glass of wine, the bath was pure heaven.

  Afterward, I slipped into a red lace gown that had crisscrossed ribbons across the top and two long slits up the sides. I felt like a very sexy vampiress in the getup and grinned to think about what Patrick might think of it.

  And thinking about Patrick reminded me where he was and what he was doing. Then I felt really selfish for enjoying myself with something as silly as
a bubble bath. Marybeth fought for her life, Linda for her sanity, and Lor… well, he had more demons to wrestle with, thanks to me. I sat on the edge of the bed, a mire of guilt and worry. Only one way to know…

  Patrick? Everything okay?

  The exchange's been made. Lor is tired. Linda is… upset. A Turning isn't pleasant to watch. After we wake from the day's rest, we'll know if Marybeth made the Turn. Just a bit longer, love. Then I'll be with you.

  See you soon.

  I picked up the latest MaryJanice Davidson novel that had gathered dust on my nightstand. I'd been dying (har) to read it, and I figured it would pass the time as I waited for Patrick to return. As I reached to pick up the hardcover, I notice a metal cylinder. Okay. Another interesting object left mysteriously in my house. Was this left by Brigid, too?

  I picked up the cylinder and examined it. It was about six inches long and heavy. I couldn't pry it open, not even with my vamp strength. I looked at it more closely and discovered that embedded in the middle was a familiar circle.

  Dairine's coin.

  I had put the necklace in my jewelry box for safekeeping. My plan was to present it to Patrick tonight… hopefully before we did some more dream noogie.

  After I retrieved the coin, I placed it in the "lock." The cylinder clicked open. With trembling fingers, I withdrew the parchment from inside.

  I unrolled the scroll. It was about six inches wide and about the same in length. It felt like a particularly tough onion skin, holding together now but if I pinched in the wrong place, it could crumble.

  Written in black ink, the words in a bold, sweeping cursive, I couldn't quite make sense of it. The document shimmered and shifted. Suddenly, I could read sentences. More magical protections, I supposed. Either that or I needed vampire eyeglasses.

  These words are bespelled so that only the one who is destined to read them can decipher what I, Ruadan the First, have written.

  If you are reading this scroll it means that the fede ring created by Brigid and blessed by the sidhe has found Patrick's true love.

  To know the value of the ring, you must know its story…

  Upon the death of his beloved wife, Patrick begged his grandmother to melt Dairine's fede ring into a coin so that he might wear it as a token. He wished for no other to ever wear the ring of the one he'd loved so well.

  As for his own ring, he honored his wife, who had loved the sea, by tossing his fede ring into the ocean. His father's grandmother, the Crow Queen, prophesied that Patrick would once again find true love… and he would know his own heart again. He would know his mate for only she could wear the ring that had once been his.

  Nearly four millennia passed. In 1887 CE, an Irish fisherman named Sean McCree cut open a fish caught and found the ring. He gave it to his new bride, Mary. Though she could not wear it on her finger, for she said the metal made her finger itch and swell, she placed it on a chain around her neck.

  A year later, the couple arrived in America.

  A year after that, they traveled to Oklahoma to compete in the land run.

  The McCrees were happy for a while. As the years passed and the farm prospered, they had two children, a boy and a girl. Despite the hardships that came with starting anew, Mary thrived in the Oklahoma territory. But Sean became dissatisfied with everything in his life, including the one to whom he'd pledged his love.

  One night Mary McCree found Sean making love to another woman, the grown daughter of friends who owned a neighboring farm. Unable to bear the pain of his betrayal, Mary put the chained ring around her daughter's neck, telling the five-year-old lass that a broken heart was worse than death. Then Mary McCree walked into the creek and drowned herself.

  When her daughter, Lorna, grew up and the five original farms eventually formed a township, she requested that it be named Broken Heart, to honor her mother—and to forever remind her father and all husbands the price of infidelity.

  No one in the McCree family knew the truth about the fede ring. But no female could wear the ring.

  None but the one meant to wear it.

  And that, dear reader… is you.

  "Hi there!" said a cheerful male voice.

  I screamed and threw the scroll, rolling off the bed in a disgraceful display of fear. As I struggled to my feet, the gentleman seated so calmly on the other side of my bed looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. He wore a black T-shirt, jeans with holes in the knees, and a pair of scuffed Nikes. He had black hair and silver eyes and the face of Remington Steele. His gaze meandered along my chest.

  "Hey!" I crossed my arms over my breasts. "Those are…"

  "Patrick's?"

  "Well, his name isn't tattooed on them, but yeah, currently they are reserved for him." I peered at him and noted the similarities between him and his sons. "Ruadan, I presume?"

  "Got it in one," he said, silver eyes twinkling.

  "You scared the shit out of me."

  One corner of his mouth lifted into a grin. He picked up the parchment and tapped on it. "So, you're Patrick's soul mate."

  "No."

  "But you read the scroll. Only his sonuachar can do that."

  "Let me explain." I paused. "No, there is too much. Let me sum up."

  "The Princess Bride!" Ruadan exclaimed in happy surprise. "I love that movie. 'Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!'" He leapt off the bed and made fencing motions.

  "Ruadan, we're in a bit of crisis around here."

  "Hey! My swords." He practically skipped to the dresser where I had left them when I got ready for my bath. He whirled the half-swords like a master swordsman, which, of course, he was. "My mother really knows how to smith a weapon, doesn't she? Real fairy gold." He stabbed an invisible foe's chest with one and his stomach with the other. "Die, evil one! Die!"

  He jumped up and down, the swords held above his head, and did a victory dance.

  "You're like a big puppy!" I exclaimed. "A big, dumb puppy."

  "I'm potty trained," he said, unaffected by my ire. "And I won't hump the legs of your guests." He put the swords on the dresser. "If you're not Patrick's soul mate, who are you?"

  "Well, okay… see, he says I am. And honestly, I love him a lot. So I guess, technically, I—"

  "Terrific! Have you done Step Three?" He waggled his brows as he opened up the top left drawer of my dresser.

  "No. Hey! Do you mind, Nosy Newton?"

  "Are these panties?" he asked, holding up two of my thongs. "Because they look like dental floss to me."

  Oh my God. My almost father-in-law was digging around in my lingerie. Embarrassment bloomed in my face. "Ruadan, get out of my underwear!"

  "Fine," he said, closing the left drawer and opening the right one. "Oh! Lookie here!"

  "If you touch that box," I said menacingly, "I will cut off your head with your own swords. And I'm not talking about the one on your shoulders."

  He laughed, shutting the drawer. "You won't need a vibrator anymore. You've got Patrick." His gaze slid toward the dresser. "Unless you have different toys in there. Nipple clamps?"

  "I… what… oh God." I fell onto the bed, curled into the fetal position, and covered my face. "I'm soooo not talking to you about my sex life. Is that why you wrote that story? So you could embarrass to the death the person who read it?"

  "No," said Ruadan. "That's just a bonus."

  I felt the bed dip as he settled against the pillows piled along the headboard. I rolled onto my back and scooted up into a sitting position. "Give me the four-one-one, Ruadan."

  "I sorta helped Sean McCree find the ring," said Ruadan. "One of the perks of having my grandmother's dark blood is that it gave me second sight. I knew a female of the McCree line would be the one meant for my son. I have to say, when I arrived in Oklahoma in the 1920s, I was damned sad about Mary's death. I liked that girl."

  "You knew her?" Duh, Jessica. Dumb question.

  "Yeah. I'd show up every generation or so." Ruadan glanced at me. "I was here about
six months ago… I saw you wearing the ring. I knew Morrigu's prophecy had finally come to pass."

  "So you're the one who suggested that the Consortium come take a look at Broken Heart."

  "Guilty." He looked at the lockbox on the night-stand. He wiggled a finger at it, and it floated toward him. "When my mother smelted the coin for Padraig, I had her make the box, too."

  "And made it so that only Dairine's coin opened it."

  "Yeah. Too bad Nara traded my swords for it." He grinned. "But apparently you got it back from her."

  "I ripped it off her neck," I said proudly. "You don't have to worry about her anymore. Patrick banned her."

  "Woo-hoo!" Ruadan pumped his fist in the air. "After the binding ended, Nara sought the protection of her Family and stayed out of Patrick's sight for several centuries. Never would give him the coin, no matter what he offered. She would settle for nothing less than another binding.

  "I heard she joined the Consortium. And Patrick probably let her so that he could figure out how to retrieve the necklace. Then again, Lor's been working on him to learn forgiveness and all that jazz."

  "She was trying to cut off my head with your swords," I said. "That's when he banned her."

  " 'Atta boy! That woman's soul is black as sin and always will be. All Nara will ever care about is herself."

  I glanced at him, at the handsome, silly vampire who'd created a master freaking race. Big dumb puppy. But handsome. I was beginning to think GQ looks were a requisite for male vampires.

  "So, what's your name, lass?"

  "Jessica Matthews."

  "Jessica. Good name. Yeah, I like it." He waved a hand around in approval or dismissal. "So when's the binding?"

  "Well, you see… I have two kids and I'm not—"

  His eyes widened and a smile split his lips. "Hot damn! I've got grandkids! What are their names? Do they like Disney World? Do they like Paris? Do they like Porsches?"

  I stared at him, at his elated expression, and realized that the first freaking vampire ever made was the almost-grandfather of my kids. It completely blew my mind. I mean… whoa. "Ruadan… my children are mortal. And Patrick and I are practically immortal."