A Vampire for Christmas

by Laurie London

  “Mi amigo,” Damien began with what he hoped was a good-humored smile. “We both know what you want. But I will not give you the fight you desire until you return Angelina’s wings.”

  Ramirez chuckled loudly, displaying a bright gold tooth engraved with a skull. A new addition since their last encounter. As the vampire realized it had caught Damien’s attention, he said, “Do you like? It seems appropriate considering that I am a master of death. Especially your little friend’s demise.”

  “The Devil himself would approve,” Damien replied calmly, trying to placate the other vampire in the hopes of securing Angelina’s wings without bloodshed.

  Ramirez laughed even more briskly, but then narrowed his eyes to consider Damien. “Do I sense a change? Is it possible that you’ve actually grown wiser?”

  “Wiser and stronger, Pedro. But I guess you will find that out as soon as you return Angelina’s wings,” Damien challenged, aware that he was walking a tightrope to gain his objective.

  Ramirez jammed his hands on his hips and the action drew attention to the long knife and pistols tucked into his belt. He stood there for what seemed like an eternity, contemplating Damien and his demand.

  Then Ramirez moved so swiftly, Damien had little time to react.

  He stepped in front of Angelina just as the point of Ramirez’s pistol tipped upward and he fired.

  Searing pain erupted in Damien’s side, but he held his ground and did not engage. “Worried I might best you this time?” he taunted, each word coming on a short breath due to the agony in his side. It would not last long as his vampire body was already at work, expelling the bullet and sealing its path into his body.

  In response to Damien’s gibe, a dull flush worked across the other vampire’s face and low chatter rose from his crewmen.

  Ramirez pulled out his long thin knife and the blade glinted even in the subdued light in the room. He tossed the blade back and forth between his hands before jabbing it toward Damien.

  Damien ducked backward, but the tip grazed his mid-section, opening a thin line across his abdomen. Even though the cut was not deep, it burned brutally.

  “Silver? You must be worried, mi amigo. Did you promise the Devil something you’re afraid you cannot deliver?” Damien parried and dodged another swipe of the blade, all the time keeping Angelina behind him.

  “I promised him your soul and I intend to deliver.” Once again Ramirez slashed at him, catching Damien across his bicep. Fire erupted along his arm, but he held his anger.

  “I will not fight you until Angelina has her wings and without a fight…”

  There would be no killing. No sin to damn him eternally. Damien understood that now. Despite the fact that Ramirez had taken his life and the demon was a part of him, Damien’s soul was apparently still up for grabs.

  Ramirez lowered his weapon, seeming to realize that if he was going to pay the Devil his due, he would have to do as Damien had asked. With a reluctant jerk of his hand in the direction of his men, he commanded, “Give her the sea chest.”

  Angelina stood just behind Damien, her hands tightly clasped. Her brow furrowed with worry and sadness as her verdant gaze met his.

  The vampires muscled the immense wooden sea chest before her, raking deep gouges in the wood of the floor. When it sat at her feet, one of the men threw open the lid.

  Blinding light, so pure it drove Damien and Ramirez’s two men away, burst from the snowy-white wings crammed into the container.

  Angelina reached down and stroked the feathers, some of which stuck out at odd angles from being mishandled. With another delicate brush of her hands, the wings seemed to come alive, the feathers fluttering slowly before another intense burst of light had all the vampires in the room shielding their eyes against the glare.

  The sound of wings beating filled the air along with a heavenly choir of song before the light abruptly died down.

  Angelina now stood before him in glorious splendor. Her body naked and her shimmering wings of white outstretched. Then, with a shake of her shoulders, she tucked the wings tight against her body. Her dark gaze settled on him and instead of doubt and worry, there was nothing but conviction there as the wings deliberately disappeared from view.

  She believed in him, he realized.

  Angelina reached up and cradled his cheek, her skin softer than it had ever been. Warmer, driving away the pain of his wounds. Loving, without restraint or limit. Inside him came an uplifting lightness in his soul, a priceless gift that fought against the darkness into which Ramirez wanted to drag him. A darkness in which the vampire would be content to live, but he was not that demon. He never had been that monster despite the physical change that Ramirez had wrought on him.

  Empowered by that knowledge, Damien faced the other vampire, arms spread in surrender. Inviting the violence that could no longer touch his soul. “Come, Pedro. Do your worst, but know that you will not win this Holy Night.”

  Ramirez seemed startled by the summons, but didn’t refuse it. He struck out at Damien with the knife and sliced a deep furrow from shoulder to rib, but Damien didn’t move. He just bit his lip against the pain and prepared himself to endure another blow.

  Ramirez honored his unspoken request, slashing out at Damien, this time with a swipe from rib to rib. Damien grunted in distress and bent slightly, but then straightened and once again outstretched his arms. Blood flowed from every wound, the metallic smell scenting the air and exciting the nearby vampire crewmen. Their eyes glowed more brightly as they picked up the odor and licked their lips, ready for a taste.

  But Damien glanced at them and issued a growl and a warning. “This is between the two of us.”

  The crewmen held back, cowed by Damien’s resolve and by the snarl of their captain, warning them to stay out of the fray.

  “Will you not fight, boy? Are you afraid of me like you were of your father?” Ramirez taunted, but Damien held his ground, no longer that frightened and angry young man.

  Damien’s peace only seemed to enrage Ramirez. The vampire captain thrust forward and the silver dagger pierced deeply into Damien’s gut.

  As Ramirez ripped out the blade, blood spurted from the wound and soaked Damien’s already bloodstained shirt. Within him the traces of silver burned, weakening him, but he kept his position in front of Angelina, offering his protection.

  Time and time again Ramirez struck. Each blow took a little more of Damien’s life, but he held fast, somehow staying on his feet. Somehow protecting Angelina until she was pleading for him to act.

  “You cannot do this, my love. Defend yourself before it’s too late,” she cried, but Damien ignored her pleas. As long as he did not engage, there would not be a repeat of the Christmas Past and Present that Angelina had shown him.

  Dark circles grew ever more present in his gaze and he swayed, close to falling.

  “Coward,” Ramirez growled and grabbed hold of Damien’s arm, trying to pull him away from Angelina, but Damien dug deep within himself and held his ground, shielding his beloved.

  Angered beyond reason and clearly aware of the possibility that he would fail to get what he wanted, Ramirez reared back with his knife and rushed toward Damien. Ramirez obviously planned to reach the one thing that might goad Damien to act: Angelina.

  Damien realized his foe’s intent and blocked Ramirez’s path, absorbing the full impact.

  The force of the blow was so powerful that Ramirez’s knife cleaved bone, heart and spine until the hilt became buried against the wall of Damien’s chest.

  Both men stared down at the weapon, which Ramirez still held, but then the vampire captain released the hilt and backpedaled away, seemingly stunned by Damien’s sacrifice, aware that it meant he had lost the battle.

  The silver in the weapon seared Damien. His heart, pumping futilely against the damage, sent miniscule bits of the poisonous metal throughout his body. It was a wound he would not survive with the silver contaminating his system so quickly.

  Damien hu
ffed in surprise as the pain of the injury slowly faded and the chill of death arrived. Almost in slow motion his knees gave way.

  Angelina’s arms immediately encircled him, gently lowering him to the ground. She supported him in her arms and tried to draw the knife from his chest, but only partially succeeded since it was buried so deep.

  “Do…not…fret,” he said, awkwardly patting her hand, movement growing more difficult with each passing second.

  “I do not want to lose you,” she cried, tears running down her face and spilling onto his, their warmth a vivid contrast to the cold seizing his body.

  “I love you,” he said, wanting her to know that he understood this time. That the power of their love had saved her and him. The right choice, painful as it was, had kept him from killing Ramirez and losing his immortal soul.

  She bent her head to his and kissed him. “I will love you forever,” she vowed and shifted her face to drop a kiss on his cheek, across his temple.

  From the corner of his eye, Damien saw Ramirez grab a larger sword from one of his men. Wild-eyed at his defeat, the vampire captain rushed toward them, raising the sword high above his head, determined to do more harm.

  Damien reached deep and collected the last of his waning strength. He grabbed the handle of the knife and ripped it from his chest. With his last ounce of power, he flung it in Ramirez’s direction.

  As if some unseen hand guided the knife, it bit true, high up and deep in the vampire captain’s shoulder.

  Ramirez screamed and dropped his sword as the silver burned his body. Aware of the risk if the dagger stayed for too long, he yanked the knife out quickly and began to advance again, his intent clear.

  Ramirez wanted Angelina’s wings so he could keep her in this realm. So she would be his captive.

  “Save yourself,” Damien said, feebly pushing at her to leave his side.

  Angelina sensed the threat, but it took all her willpower to release Damien and rise up. Inside her, righteous anger ignited at the last futile beats of Damien’s heart and his body went limp at her feet.

  She stretched out her wings to a spectacular and frightening span. Her body began to glow brightly with the heat of her fury, driving back Ramirez and his two men. They had to shield their eyes against the brilliance of her power and the furious flap of her wings.

  She had never felt such strength and realized then that Damien’s sacrifice had fulfilled her mission as his Guardian Angel and moved her to another level. But the pain in her heart sought justice.

  She wanted to lash out at the vampires and seek vengeance, but she had no desire to become an Avenging Angel. Her only wish was to be reunited with Damien.

  As that thought formed in her mind, a low drone filled the space of the room and was soon followed by the sound of dozens of rushing wings. So powerful was the clamor that it pummeled her body, making her tuck her wings tight around herself protectively. As she did so, a brilliant light suffused her, and the room, forcing her to shield her eyes against its strength.

  The screams came a heartbeat later, loud and fearful.

  Angelina peeked from behind the shelter of one wing. Vicious flames rose up from the ground and engulfed Ramirez and his two crewmen. Skin and meat fell from their bodies and became ash even before the gore hit the floor. The cries of the vampires continued until they were nothing more than skeletons. Then they disappeared from sight as the flames and light completed their gruesome task, obliterating all traces of the three demons.

  The low drone rose up higher with the disappearance of the flames. Now she recognized the voices of the Herald Angels, singing brightly. Their clear, strong notes entered deep into her soul and offered unexpected hope with their joyous chorus. Their song provided her the strength to battle back the anger and pain that might have consumed her and led her on a path to the Devil.

  From within that gleeful sound boomed a powerful voice. Raphael, she thought, as his words filled her head and heart, trying to heal her of the anger threatening to consume her soul.

  Believe in the power of love.

  She thought of Damien, a good man who had persevered even when trapped in a demon’s body. She thought of his sacrifice and his love even as he lay dying in her arms.

  I believe, she confirmed to Raphael, driving the rage out of herself.

  The song of the Herald Angels grew even more powerful with her admission as did the beating of their feathered appendages against her body. The heavenly wings thrashed wildly, almost painfully. They lifted her up, high off the ground, before suddenly releasing her.

  Angelina felt herself falling and reached out for purchase, but there was nothing in the blinding light surrounding her. Her plummet continued, but no fear entered her as she repeated what she knew to be true. As she repeated Raphael’s words.

  Believe in the power of love.

  The fall continued for long seconds until she landed hard on the ground. Dazed from the impact, which had driven the air from her body, it took her a second to register that she was back in Damien’s parlor room.

  Ramirez and his men were gone, but the trunk and a thin layer of ash remained on the marred wooden floor, giving evidence of what had transpired. Damien lay sprawled a few feet away, his life’s blood forming a large pool on the floor beneath him. Too much blood, she thought, but then his hand moved. So slight was the motion that for a second she thought she was imagining it. Then he moved his hand again.

  A second later a soft groan came from him and he rolled onto his back, revealing the torn and bloodied front of his shirt, marked with what looked like burns from embers.

  Angelina rushed to his side and slipped her hands beneath his shoulders, cradling him close. His body was warm. Humanly warm.

  His eyelids flickered open and then snapped wide as he saw her. He reached up and cradled her cheek, seemingly to make sure she was not a dream.

  She smiled. “I’m really here, Damien.”

  A deep dimple appeared at the right side of his mouth and his eyes glimmered like a sun-silvered sea. But then concern slipped into his features along with puzzlement.

  “Ramirez?” he asked and sat up a little more, wincing with pain as he did so.

  “Gone to Hell along with his men.” The vision of that was something she would not quickly forget.

  Damien laid his hand on the center of his chest, directly above where Ramirez had driven his blade deep. He grimaced as if the spot was still sore and looked down at the cut in his shirt. He opened it to peer down at the skin beneath.

  No wound. Not even a scar, Angelina realized. But then another surprise greeted them.

  “I feel different,” he said and tried to rise. Weakness made him falter until Angelina slipped beneath his shoulder and helped him to his feet.

  Together they walked to a nearby mirror and stood before it. Their dual images stared back, confirming what she had suspected with her first touch of his warm body.

  “I’m human again,” Damien said and rubbed a hand along his cheek, sensing mortal heat. Moving his hand quickly back to the spot over his heart where the strong pulse of life had replaced the tepid thrum of the vampire.

  “Why?” he asked, facing her. Taking her hands into his and noticing for the first time that she no longer had her wings.

  “And you? Are you still my Angel?”

  “Always, my love. But I hope you won’t mind that we share this life together before Heaven calls for us,” she replied, a radiant smile on her face. She sensed the difference in herself, as well.

  Damien was not the only human on this Christmas Eve.

  Damien’s heart raced with the reality of the miracle that had taken place. After so many Christmas Eves of pain and misery, the gift of happiness was now theirs. A gift made possible by selfless sacrifice and love.

  He had learned the lesson and made the right choice after all.

  With a playful shake of her hand, he said, “Let us share our love this day.”

  “And night,” she replied wi
th a sexy grin while a fresh blush of color swept over her cheeks.

  “Still my naughty Angel, I see.”

  “Forever and always,” she replied and tugged on his hand to lead him back to his bedroom.

  She walked ahead of him to his bed and sat on its edge, her hand outstretched with impatient welcome.

  He ripped away the torn remnants of his bloodied shirt and quickly shimmied out of his shoes and pants. Blood beat through his body, the pulse throbbing in his ears, an unusual sound and sensation after so much time in his undead state.

  When he stood before her, staring down at her beauty, emotion nearly stole his breath as he realized she was his. That they would share this life together until Heaven called to them again.

  “I love you,” he said and the words had never meant as much as they did at that moment. In his head and heart came a glorious sound, almost as if the Herald Angels in the heavens were singing with joy.

  “I love you, too,” she said and took hold of his hand, guiding him closer.

  Her words and gentle touch filled his senses, making everything around him more alive with her love.

  There was no rush this time as they committed to each other. No despair that this would be the last time. They had received the greatest of gifts this Christmas Eve and as he covered her body with his and entered her, he finally understood.

  Believe in the power of love and all of Heaven will be yours.

  ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

  To M & J—

  thank you for the best anniversary present ever!

  CHAPTER ONE

  “DECK THE FREAKIN’ halls.”

  The freezing Seattle cold made Eagan McHale’s words come out in short puffs of steam. With no one within listening range, he added a chorus of curse words just for the heck of it. He wasn’t a happy man and saw no reason to pretend otherwise. Even his fangs ached from the cold air.