“Dove, what exactly did you—” I turned around as I spoke, and what I saw made my words tumble to a halt.
A tall, lean man held Dove by the neck in one of his hands, and the rifle in his other. How the hell had he gotten into the tent? He could’ve easily passed for one of my grad students, except he was dressed like fucking Indiana Jones, right down to the fedora and faded leather duster. Seriously? We were getting jacked by a Harrison Ford wannabe?
He was too lithe to have the strength to hold my terrified assistant a foot off the ground, but he was doing it. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat. What the—? I nearly pissed myself. He wasn’t even breathing. He was unnaturally pale, his eyes as dark as midnight. When he smiled, he revealed a set of sharp, ugly fangs.
“Vampire,” said Dove, her voice choked and her eyes wide. Fear emanated from her in waves. Or maybe that was me, because I was more terrified than I’d ever been in my life. See: confinement to nuthouse. Although scarier still was the time I’d thrown down with a Kardashian for a Bottega Veneta leather handbag (in butterscotch cream, if you were wondering), and won.
From my crouched position, I kept the Beretta pointed at his face. Sweat slicked my palms, but my aim didn’t waver and the gun didn’t move a millimeter. “Put her down.”
“Or what?” he asked, his voice thick with an accent I couldn’t place. “She’s merely the appetizer. You, my fine Amazon, are the meal.”
“Wow. Really?” I said, my voice filled with disgust. “That’s the worse pickup line I’ve ever heard.”
He grinned, and then he opened his mouth, showing off those terrible, sharp fangs, and jerked Dove downward, aiming for her neck. She tried to struggle, but it was like watching a ribbon wrestle with the wind.
My focus sharpened, and I felt myself go utterly cold and still. I lowered the gun and shot out his knees. The sharp crack of the pistol firing echoed in the tent as the bullets thudded into his patellas. I was not being altruistic, mind you. It wasn’t about saving his life. I wanted him to suffer.
And suffer he did. He screamed in pain and outrage as he buckled, dropping Dove and the rifle. She grabbed Tikka and hauled ass toward me.
“You have to remove his head,” she cried. “Sever it! Sever it!”
“These are bullets, not hacksaws,” I said as she scrambled behind me. Tikka smacked me in the shoulder as Dove maneuvered around, finally taking up position next to me. I looked at her, at the fear etched on her sharp features. “He’s down, all right?”
“Not for long. He’s the undead!” She brought Tikka upright, clutching the barrel. “I couldn’t get the bullets before that stupid asshole grabbed me.”
“I will rend your muscles from your bones,” said the stupid asshole, his gaze vitriolic. He bared his fangs. “You will die slowly as I feast upon you.”
“And you thought me quoting The Mummy was bad?” murmured Dove.
I wished we could call Ax, but cell phone service was nonexistent out here, and the walkie-talkies were over by Fang Boy. Shit. “Get Ax,” I told Dove.
“The hell,” she said. “We have to find something that will cut through an undead neck.”
“I’m not saying he’s not a vampire,” I said. Sweat dripped down my temple, but the gun, which I had re-trained on No Knees, didn’t waver. He was down, yes, but definitely not out. In fact, he was looking a little too perky for someone with shredded patellas. “Is decapitation really the way to go here?”
“The only way to kill a vampire is to take his head off or expose him to intense light. It says so in Vampires Are Real!”
“Oh, my God. That Theodora Monroe book? Really? That’s like taking advice from the Winchester brothers.”
“And you know exactly what about supernatural creatures?”
“Silence!” bellowed the vampire as he wobbled to his feet. His pants were torn and bloody, but his knees were nearly knitted back together. He eyed us with the kind of malevolence I usually witnessed only when it came time for me to approve departmental budgets. “You are both imbeciles. And you talk too much.”
“Holy shit!” screamed Dove. “Holy fucking shit!”
I shot at him again, but he swooped toward us, a blur of furious motion. I shoved Dove to the side and started shooting randomly. Yeah. That worked out well.
Then I was shoved to the side, and I flew backward, landing next to an outraged Dove. We both watched, openmouthed, as a huge black wolf leapt into the air, howling in triumph.
We looked at each other, and then we both scrambled forward. We stayed on our knees, crouching at the edge of my flimsy cot. The vampire (yes, I said “vampire,” all right?) was moving fast, very fast. Hell, I couldn’t really pinpoint his location, but it was obvious the wolf could. He howled, and then leapt—seemingly at random—landing on the bastard’s chest. The fanged Indiana Jones squirmed on the ground, unable to dislodge the big black-furred brute.
The fight was short and violent, ending when the wolf clamped its jaws onto the vampire’s neck and tore out his throat.
“Oh, crap,” whispered Dove.
We huddled closer together, creating fearful solidarity against our so-called rescuer. Was he merely dealing with the biggest threat in the room before he turned his attention to the shivering girly girls? My philosophy was that the glass was always half foe. I sat up and leveled my gun at the wolf.
Dove clutched the Tikka T3 rifle. She wouldn’t shoot it, even if she’d taken me up on my invitation for lessons. She had a thing about guns—as in, she hated them. But if push came to shove, she could use the rifle to whack the shit out of the wolf. For some reason she had no problem with bludgeoning.
Both of us were on high alert. I couldn’t take my gaze off the dead vampire, and I noticed that Dove was also riveted to the spectacle. Black blood pooled in the sand around the ravaged neck.
It was a gruesome scene that seemed right out of a horror movie. Except horror movies didn’t have smell-o-vision, and dead vampires smelled like feces wrapped in burnt cheese. As in, they smelled like deep-fried death. You know, like corn dogs at the state fair. A vampire showing up in my tent was fantastical enough—not to mention a supersized undead-killing wolf. (Weren’t vampires supposed to take wolf form, or something? I was rusty on preternatural mythology.) But oh, no, my night was about to get weirder. Our furry pal padded to a nearby space and morphed into a man.
It wasn’t like a transformation you might see on a late-night werewolf flick, with snorting and snarling and breaking and sprouting. It was sorta . . . magical, I suppose. His fur rippled into skin, his limbs stretched and plumped into human arms and legs. And long, silky black hair fell over his shoulders. He didn’t seem stressed out or in pain from the experience, but I would think that shifting from one being into another wasn’t exactly a pleasant sensation.
“I’m dreaming, right?” I asked Dove.
“Well, if you are, you have some fucked-up dreams.” Dove blinked, then said, “Whoa.”
“Whoa” was an understatement.
Werewolf man was naked.
Very, very naked.
He walked over to the guy bleeding in my tent and knelt down. He grabbed the guy’s head and twisted. An ugly snap echoed in the tent as he wrenched the head off. The fedora fell off and rolled toward Dove’s cot. The man tossed the head next to its body.
The vampire—body, head, and blood—turned to ash. All that remained were the fedora and the duster.
Dove and I shared a holy-shit-did-that-just-really-happen look.
While my heart tried to claw its way out of my chest, I watched the wolf—er, the man—claim one of my discarded T-shirts lying near the foot locker and rub his face. I realized he was wiping off the vampire’s blood.
“I call the duster,” said Dove in a strangled voice.
“Fuck you,” I said, my voice hoarse with disbelief. “That baby’s mine.”
“Then I want the hat.”
“Whatever, Indiana,” I muttered. Like either of us would even de
ign to wear the duster or hat. How was one supposed to get vampire ash out of those clothes anyway? I mean . . . OxiClean can do only so much.
“Are you all right?” The naked man walked toward us, then stopped on the other side of the cot, his expression a mask of concern as he studied our faces. He had the most amazing jade green eyes. I didn’t even know eyes could be that color.
He was gorgeous.
I probably should’ve mentioned that before, but I was distracted by all the morphing and the vampire killing. But now that he was less than a foot away, looking at us with a mixture of curiosity and empathy . . . well, I could focus on him.
He was huge, well over six feet tall. And muscled. And beautiful. Blood that streaked him from neck to. . . .
I gasped, and Dove followed my line of sight, and gasped, too.
“Is that real?” asked Dove in a reverent voice. “Because that’s the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.”
“He can hear you,” I whispered harshly. Then in a lower voice, I added, “Don’t you even think about taking dibs, you bitch.”
“Riiiiight,” she whispered back. “You want me to call ahead to the hospital, tell them to expect you and your injured vagina?”
“Then you are okay,” he said dryly. He grabbed the blanket from my cot and wrapped it around his waist. “My name is Drake.”
“Moira Jameson,” I said. “This is Dove.”
“Just Dove,” she said severely, as she always did to forestall any questions about a last name. Like last names were even relevant. Werewolf man didn’t seem to have one—or he hadn’t offered one.
He inclined his head, his green eyes flashing with humor. “You handle yourselves very well. Not many humans are so . . . accepting of parakind.”
“Parakind?” I asked.
“A general term. But in this case, I speak of the droch fola,” he said, pointing at the pile of ash that was currently messing up my new duster. “And me, of course. The werewolf.”
“I didn’t read about werewolves,” said Dove. “Damn.”
Drake cocked an eyebrow at her. “Perhaps having a conversation with a werewolf is better than reading about him, hmm?”
“Depends on how the conversation ends,” she said.
“Wow. Awesome. Just another day in the desert,” I said. I was starting to get the shakes. See, I was great at crisis-in-the-moment. But the aftershocks got me every time.
“Ah.” He tilted his head and offered a wicked grin. “It’s really too bad.”
“What is?” I asked.
“You will not remember anything that happened tonight.” He gave me a long look, one that gleamed with regret. “And you will not remember me.”
Chapter 5
“Vampires,” I said flatly. Dove and I sat on my cot looking up at six people who should not have existed.
“It’s weird, right?” said the brunette, who’d been introduced as Jessica. Frankly, Jessica was not a good vampire name. It made the whole undead thing highly suspect. The other vampires were Patrick, Lorcan, Eva, and then, of course, the two werewolves, Drake and Darrius, were also there.
My gaze strayed (ha, stray) to Drake. Unfortunately, he had left our tent and returned fully dressed, in jeans, T-shirt, and snakeskin boots. His long hair was tied back into a ponytail. His hair was longer than mine. I couldn’t help myself. I felt drawn to him, magnetized almost. Was that a werewolf thing? Or was it because I had no dating life and it was finally catching up with me? Or had I finally flipped my lid and descended into a paranormal psychotic episode?
“Those are vampires,” said Dove, waving her hand toward the four undead ones. Then she pointed at Drake and Darrius. “And those are werewolves,” she added helpfully. My impulse to pinch her was delayed by the dazed look on her face. She was trying to process the situation, same as I was, and I wasn’t sure who was doing the better job. Neither of us, it seemed.
Dove leaned near my ear and said, “You’re not crazy. This is really happening.” She bumped my shoulder. “You might want look less freaked out.”
“Hey, you’re just meeting us. The first time I met a vampire was after I woke up dead,” said Jessica. “Which isn’t as easy as you might think.”
“I wouldn’t think it was easy at all,” said Dove.
“Well, it’s not completely horrible,” said Jessica. “Just unnerving. Especially when the vampire’s naked and you’re facefirst between his thighs.” She flashed a grin at Patrick. “Well, anyway. You’re not dead. Bonus, right?”
Wait. What? Talking to a vampire was making me feel twitchy, so I assessed the people standing around the cot. Patrick and Lorcan were twins. So were Drake and Darrius. It was like having double paranormal vision. Okay. Yeah. I was crazy. Certified and everything. And even I didn’t believe this shit.
“The other intruders retreated after Drake killed the droch fola,” said Darrius.
Yeah, I remembered the part where the vampire was beheaded and then turned to ash.
“What’s the difference between that asshole and you guys?” Dove asked the vampires. “Other than the part where you haven’t tried to kill us?”
Yet. They hadn’t tried to kill us yet.
“Droch fola are vampires who no longer have their humanity,” said Patrick in his Irish brogue. “Soulless, if you will.”
“Ah,” said Dove. “I don’t think that was in the book.”
Patrick lifted a black eyebrow.
“Don’t go there,” I advised him. I looked at Drake. And he was looking at me. Electric pulses zapped the pit of my stomach. I felt drawn to him, but though Darrius had the same appearance . . . no tummy wiggles occurred when I looked at him. They looked very much alike, too.
“What about the rest of my team?” I asked him. My voice turned hoarse halfway through the sentence, and I cleared my throat.
“We saw his penis,” said Dove. “She’s still in awe.”
Jessica burst out laughing.
Drake offered Dove a wicked grin. “And you are not?”
“Since I’ve only seen one werewolf penis, it’s difficult to say,” she said.
“Oh, my God! Can we keep her? Please?” Jessica slapped the werewolf brothers on the shoulders. “Contest!”
“Maybe later,” I said. As in, never. I didn’t think my brain could handle the image of two naked werewolves. Two naked twin werewolves. Wait. What I was thinking? “Never mind. Now’s good.”
“You asked about your team,” said Eva hastily. She was also a brunette, and seemed a little more reserved than Jessica. “Everyone’s okay. And their memories have been adjusted.”
“Adjusted?” I asked.
“Glamoured. Well, damn. You’re going to glamour us,” said Dove. Her mouth drooped into a frown.
“What the hell does that mean?” I asked.
“‘Glamour’ is the term we use when we remove or change a human’s memory,” said Eva. She offered a gentle smile. “It protects you. And us.”
I really didn’t need anyone messing around in my brain. It was fucked up enough in there. Before I could voice a protest, Patrick spoke.
“The temple you’re lookin’ for,” he said. I squinted at him. Hmm. Maybe he was Lorcan. “You any closer to findin’ it?”
“Why on earth would you care about a temple devoted to Set?” I asked.
“Because he was king of the vampires, right?” Dove perked up. “I knew it!”
“No,” said Patrick. “The temple is a resting place for some friends of ours.”
I absorbed that information. “More vampires?”
Drake knelt down, that jade green gaze assessing me in a way that made me tingle.
And I am not a tingler.
“You found something, ja?”
“Ushabtis with fangs,” said Dove. She glanced at me. “I found two more in the items I was logging in for the day.”
“What’s a u-thingie?” asked Jessica.
“Little statues,” I said. “Made by ancient Egyptians to accompany t
hem into the afterlife as servants.”
Drake reached out and put a hand on my knee. “Perhaps you can show us where these statues were uncovered.”
“Now?”
“It’s a few hours before dawn,” he said. “If there’s a chance you’re close to discovering the pyramid, then we need to know.”
“Yes,” said Eva in a soothing voice that reminded me of all things Zen. I looked at her, and her eyes were glowing red. But I wasn’t afraid. I felt more . . . floaty. “Show us the site, Moira. You feel it’s the right thing to do, don’t you? And you, Dove? You think so, too.”
“Absolutely,” said Dove in a dreamy voice.
Traipsing out to the dig site at two a.m. was the least weird thing to happen tonight. I wasn’t sure why I was feeling more cooperative than freaked out, though. In fact, I felt awesome. Huh. But apparently not as awesome as Dove. She had a goofy smile on her face and looked like she’d been given Thorazine. I eyed Eva. “Did you glamour us?”
She offered another gentle smile. “We need your cooperation, Moira.”
Patrick put a hand on her shoulder. “You may need to push her a little harder. She seems better able to resist than most humans.”
Eva nodded, and then she looked at me, her eyes going redder, and I felt my mind fog. “Show us where you found the statues, Moira.”
“Of course,” I said. Even though I felt good, like I was flying almost, a sense of urgency wound through me. We needed to get to the location right away. It seemed imperative that we do so . . . now. Right now.
I got up from the cot, and Dove rose, too.
It took us twenty minutes to hike to the dig site. By the time we reached it, I was feeling less strung out on vampire mind juju. That glamour was powerful stuff.
We had cordoned off squares with ropes and stakes, and in these squares grad students would toil away trying to find evidence of our temple.
“I’ve been working there,” I said, pointing to the northernmost corner. “That’s where I found the statues.”
“Was anything else uncovered?” asked Drake.
I looked at him over my shoulder. “Bits of pottery. It’s nice to find items intact, but mostly we spend our days gathering pieces and playing puzzle makers.”
Only Lycans Need Apply Page 4