A Girl's Guide to Vampires do-1

by Кейти Макалистер

  "I'm really sorry I hit you. And stomped on your foot. And kneed you. I hope everything is OK down there."

  We both glanced at the abused spot in question. His hand twitched as if he wanted to double-check things, but instead he straightened up and waved the hovering hulk away. "I accept your apology. I will request, however, that in the future if you take issue with something I do, you alert me to your intentions to strike me. I did not find the experience one I wish to revisit."

  I cocked a brow at him. Thanks to watching the master of eyebrow emoting, I was getting pretty good at it. "You mean that's the first time you've ever been punched?" I lowered my voice so no one else could hear me. I had no idea if his employees knew what he was or not, but I wasn't about to spill the beans if they didn't. "You're almost nine hundred years old, for heaven's sake. Are you telling me that in all that time, no one's ever socked you in the nose?"

  His eyes were dark as they held mine. "It has been attempted once or twice."

  The underlying menace in his voice was clearly a warning.

  "You let me hit you," I pointed out, ignoring the warning. "I know the power you wield, Christian. You could have crushed me where I stood. At the very least you could have kept me from kneeing you or punching you in the nose, but you didn't. Why?"

  "You are my Beloved," he said. "I cannot hurt you. If it is your desire to harm me, I must allow it."

  "But I hurt you," I argued. "Doesn't this whole soulmate thing swing both ways? If I was truly your Beloved, wouldn't it be impossible for me to deliberately harm you?"

  The corners of his lips turned up in a wry smile as he gingerly felt his nose. "I had always believed so."

  I smiled and gently pushed his hand away to feel the bridge of his nose. "Nothing broken, just your pride damaged. And I'm sorry about that, although if it has made you rethink what I am to you, you won't have suffered in vain."

  He gave me one of his martyred looks.

  "I guess I'm really going to put our friendship to the test," I added, pulling out a tissue and dabbing at a tiny trickle of blood that seeped out of his nose. He stood perfectly still, but his eyes were dilated, black with strain. I backed off and put a little distance between us. "I wanted to ask a favor of you. If you haven't scratched me off your list of friends entirely, I'd like you to help me with a little problem concerning one of the fair people."

  He considered me silently for a moment, then snapped out a few orders to his staff, and held out his arm for me. I took it and we strolled out of the temporary sanctuary of the garden, back into the noise and bustle and general madness that was the All Hallow's Eve festival.

  "Why do you do this every year?" I asked, momentarily forgoing my request for his help. "It looks like it's a lot of trouble for you and your employees."

  "Trouble?" He looked out at the sea of faces, people in all sorts of costumes, Goth and non-Goth, families, teenagers, adults, everyone eating and laughing and dancing, a mass of humanity whose shadows flickered and shimmered upon the white stone walls of Drahanská Castle. "It is not trouble. I do it because for a very short time, I am allowed to believe I am one with humanity." His eyes turned back to me. "Just because I am who I am does not mean I shun the company of humans. On the contrary, I quite enjoy them."

  My eyes opened a bit wide at that comment.

  He smiled and leaned toward me to whisper, "And not always as dinner."

  He laughed at the look on my face, guiding me through the crowds.

  "Um," I said, trying not to wonder about who he might have fed on that night. "Is that why you write, too?"

  He nodded.

  "I assumed you were using the books to find your Beloved."

  He laughed again. "The books brought you here to me, did they not?"

  "Yes, but I'm not your Beloved."

  His smile lost a bit of its wattage. "I write because it gives me pleasure to tell the tale of my people, and because I can imagine a life that has thus far eluded me."

  Talk about laying a guilt trip! Uncomfortable, I changed the subject. "About you helping me—"

  "I am at your service, naturally. I can do no less for you."

  I stopped and turned to face him, oblivious to the fact that we were blocking traffic. "I might as well tell you right now that I'm only doing this to help Raphael. I want you to understand my ulterior motive. I don't want you to feel like you were being used," I said with particular emphasis on the last two words. "Or exploited. Or manipulated. Or—"

  He held up his hand. "I take your point. What is it exactly you wish me to do to help St. John?"

  I took a deep breath and counted to five. "I want you to get proof that Milos murdered Tanya."

  His eyes drifted lazily over my face. "I find myself surprised that St. John is allowing you to assist him in tracking down the murderer. Despite the obvious differences between us, I find myself in lamentable accord with him in regard to issues of your safety. I am having difficulty believing he has solicited your help in finding proof of the murderer's identity."

  "That's because I haven't."

  I didn't turn around. I knew full well what the expression on Raphael's face was going to be. I did, however, look at his shadow, as I nervously shifted from foot to foot.

  "Traitor," I told Henri.

  "He's not the one who has gone against orders."

  I turned around at that, my hands on my hips, my lips thinned with annoyance. "Who died and made you God?" I de-hipped one hand long enough to poke him in the chest. "I do not take orders from you. You do not have the right to give me orders. You do not have the right to dictate my actions. Got that?"

  Raphael sighed and grabbed my still poking finger. "You're going to make me do this the hard way, aren't you? You're going to be stubborn and foolhardy, and make me take extreme measures to keep you safe, isn't that so?"

  My blood was up now. I don't mind feeling cherished and wanted and protected, but Raphael—and Christian—were going overboard.

  "What we have here is a rampant case of alpha male-itis," I announced, glaring at Raphael. He raised one sleek brow in a "Who? Me?" question. "Well, guess what? I've suddenly become an alpha female, and that means I don't have to take any crap from either of you. So you can just stand here and beat your chests at each other all night, because I'm going to go read some damn runes and then find Milos and get the truth out of him one way or another. Gentlemen, Elvis has left the building."

  I tried to stalk off on that beautiful exit line, but Raphael ruined it all, blast him. He grabbed the scarf tied around my waist, twisting his hand into it so I couldn't escape. I slapped at his arm a few times, but when that did nothing, I started to pick at the knot holding the scarf closed.

  "I assume that, personal history aside, I can count on your assistance in this matter?" Raphael asked Christian. I snarled at both him and the knot and bent over to try to pry the material apart with my teeth.

  "Joy's safety is tantamount in my mind," Christian answered. "Given the circumstances, you have my full cooperation. There are one or two members of my staff I can put at your disposal if they are needed, and I myself will be available as soon as my duties as host are completed."

  "I'm never, ever wearing this damned scarf again!"

  "Thank you. I will appreciate your help," Raphael said with a polite little bow to Christian.

  Roxy raced up, breathless and pink-cheeked. "There you are! Renee has been waiting for you! She has to use the little girl's room. Come on, come on, you can eat your scarf later." She grabbed my wrist and started tugging me in the direction of the tables.

  "I am happy to be of service," Christian said, making Raphael an equally polite bow.

  "I don't like either of you anymore," I told them.

  Raphael just smiled and released his death grip on my scarf, taking me by one arm as Christian took the other. With Roxy clearing a path ahead of us like some deranged flower girl, I was frog-marched back to the rune table.

  Renee happily hoisted herself
to her feet when she saw me approaching, waving an expressive hand as she waddled off for the nearest portable toilet Raphael put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me into the chair. I bit his thumb.

  "Stay here until I come to fetch you," he told me.

  "I no longer recognize you in the Republic of Joy," I loftily informed him. "Our diplomatic ties are severed."

  "Unsever them," he growled, "or the Country of Raphael will be forced to declare your republic a protectorate."

  "Dictator," I muttered.

  "For life," he agreed. "Stay here."

  "You sound like something's going on," I said suspiciously. "You sound like you're doing exactly what you told me not to do. You wouldn't be planning an attempt to prove Milos is the murderer and clear your name with Bartos, would you? You are! You are planning on catching him! Well, you can just let me help, buster I'm supposed to be the one you turn to in time of trouble! We've done the sixth step, I demand that you turn to me for help!"

  His gorgeous amber eyes lit with a fire from within. "You do an alpha female quite well. I expect our children will give us nightmares. Stay here."

  With a squeeze to my shoulder and a look that left no doubt in my mind that he meant every word he said, he waved Christian ahead of him. The two stood talking together for a minute, then parted and headed off in opposite directions.

  "That's so romantic," Roxy sighed, watching them. "Bitter enemies pursuing the same woman, their love for you bringing them together."

  "Romantic my Aunt Fanny," I snapped, and would have said more but the woman waiting to have her runes read coughed politely. I apologized for the delay and gave her the "think of a question" spiel, using her moment of indecision to whisper to Roxy.

  "I'll need you to help me a little later Obviously, the Bobbsey Twins are going to make a stink if I try to talk to Milos by myself, so you'll have to help me get away from them."

  "Talk to him? Why do you want to talk to him? He's a killer! I have to say I'm with the guys on this, Joy. Let the police handle the situation. Let Raphael do it—if he's a spy, he'll know all about truth serums and stuff. Let Christian mind-meld with him, but there's no reason for you to talk to him by yourself."

  "Raphael doesn't see the truth, he's too stubborn. He needs my help whether or not he realizes it. Besides I won't be by myself," I said, shaking the amethyst runes in the bag. "I'll have you."

  There wasn't much she could say to that, not with me laying out the runes and telling the woman what they said, but she sure sent me a look that promised retribution at the earliest possible moment. I grinned back.

  Sometimes silence truly is golden.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I read runes for another two hours, looking up periodically to find either Raphael or Christian watching me. I ignored both of them, as well as the two men Christian posted on either side of the aisle. There were just no words to adequately express my disgust with either overprotective, pigheaded, domineering man. Individually, I could have dealt with them; working together, they were almost impossible to conquer.

  Almost.

  "Are you done here?" Raphael asked as I was tucking away my stones.

  I started to glare at him, then realized he was looking at me with a strange expression on his face. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

  He sighed and waited for me to finish putting things away, then took my hand and steered me toward the long lawn. "Yes, something's wrong, something is very wrong, but unfortunately, I find myself in a position—"

  I had a sudden premonition of what he was going to say.

  "—of needing to ask you for help."

  "Yes," I said immediately, squeezing his hand and all but jumping up and down with the warm glow of pleasure that filled me. He needed me! He wanted my help! He finally acknowledged the fact that I was the one who was put on this earth to aid him in his greatest hour of need.

  "You don't even know what I want you to do," he answered, pulling me to a halt behind the aura photography booth. His lovely eyes were grim.

  "I don't care, I'll do it."

  "It's dangerous—" He ran a hand through his curls, then shook his head. "Hell, what am I doing? It's too dangerous for you, I can't ask you to put yourself in that sort of a situation."

  "Yes, you can. Raphael, I trust you. I know you'll keep me safe no matter what I have to do."

  He stared at me for a moment, then took my face in his hands. "Baby, I wish there were another way, but—"

  "I'll do it, I'm happy to, honest."

  "There's no time to come up with another plan—"

  "I'll do it, Raphael, I'll do it! Do you hear me? I'LL DO IT!"

  "—and Bartos feels that you are the key… I know he's right, but still—"

  "I'll make a very good key," I promised. "I'll be the best damned key there ever was. Let me help you, please!"

  He looked me straight in the eyes, indecision mingling with regret and love in his face. He kissed me, hard and fast, his mouth gone before I could respond. "I need you to help trap Tanya's murderer."

  My legs went a bit weak at his words. "Anything, Bob, I'll do anything you need me to do. Um… this wouldn't involve guns, would it? Because I don't like guns, and I don't know how to shoot one."

  He turned us toward the long lawn, where the main stage was set up. "No guns. You have to do everything I say, exactly as I tell you."

  I saluted him. "Aye-aye, mon capitaine."

  "I'm serious, Joy. If you do anything, anything that I don't instruct you to do, I'll pull you out. Do you understand?"

  "I'm your woman," I reassured him. "I won't even breathe without your express permission."

  He sighed again and nodded to Bartos as we passed him. "I don't like it, but… hell. Paal and Christian's men will stay with you until it's time to bring you to the caves."

  Excitement rippled through me at the thought. Here I was, madly in love with a dashing spy and he needed my help to catch a killer. Could life get any better?

  It could, as a matter of fact. Raphael stopped at one side of the stage, his thumb rubbing gently on my wrist. I smiled secretly to myself. Now he would tell me everything, now he would bare his soul and take me wholly and completely into his confidence, proving without a doubt that he trusted me with his life.

  "Paal will bring you to me after the magic show," Raphael said before turning to speak a few words with Henri. Then he left—he just left, walked off without even a glance back at me.

  So much for trust.

  By the time I stopped glaring at Raphael's disappearing figure, the crowd was gathering to sit on the ground before the stage. It was a low wooden structure about two feet off the ground, ringed with large black speakers used later by the bands, and backed by an area of draperies hung on a metal frame. Roxy had told me how much she enjoyed Dominic's magic act, saying it was surprisingly professional, much better than the phony vampire act he put on. Since I couldn't shake the two watchdogs who stuck to me like glue, and because I wanted to tell Roxy the latest news, I searched the crowd until I spotted her, following her to the spot near the stage she had staked out earlier.

  I whispered the plan to her, then spent several long minutes rehashing my feelings for Raphael until Roxy finally had enough.

  "Be quiet. Dominic is going to do this really cool disappearing trick. He goes into a glass box, it fills with smoke, and when it clears, he's gone. Then they do the smoke thing again, and voilà! He reappears. It's really great. I can't figure out how he does it, since the box is made of glass and they twirl it around on stage so you can see all the sides."

  "Hrmph." I sat with my arms crossed and pouted slightly. I'd much rather talk about Raphael than watch some silly magic act.

  "I wonder if he's going to do what he did last night?"

  "What's that?" I asked, toying with the brooch Christian had lent me.

  "Dominic went into the box, and Milos came out of it. I didn't know Milos was a magician, but he did some pretty amazing things after that. Y
ou should see what he does with three eggs—"

  Onstage a couple of the fair workers wheeled out a large glass cube that rested on a dolly. Dominic did a little patter about the powers gained from his time studying the black arts.

  I turned to Roxy, puzzled by what she said. "What do you mean, Milos is a magician? He was on the stage with Dominic? That can't be! Raphael said Tanya was killed right before he found her—her body was still warm. I know, I touched her."

  "I don't follow you," Roxy said, her attention still on Dominic as he explained the illusion to come.

  "Try this: If Milos was on stage doing a magic trick, he couldn't have killed Tanya."

  Slowly her head turned to look at me. "If he didn't, who did?"

  A wave of gooseflesh ripped down my arms and back as I looked back at the stage. "It couldn't be…"

  "Oh my God," she breathed, her eyes huge.

  I watched as Dominic strutted across the stage, tall and elegant in stark black with a red ruffled shirt. He flashed his fangs, playing up his vampirism to the crowd. He was working them like a veteran of the stage, teasing and playing with them until they yelled out their excitement.

  "Dear Lord, it must be him. I always thought he was joking when he insisted he was a vampire. I mean, it was just all too ludicrous, what with those fake teeth and all. But what if he believes it? What if he really, really believes he's a vampire?"

  Another wave of chill hit me. I gathered up my skirt and stood as the crowd yelled at something Dominic said. "I have to go tell Raphael. He thinks the murderer is Milos. I'm willing to bet you he doesn't know that Milos finished the magic show last night!"

  Roxy tugged at my skirt, trying to pull me back down. "Joy—"

  "The perfect volunteer!" Dominic bellowed from the stage, leaping into the crowd and heading straight for me, his hand held out. "Mon ange, if you will assist me?"

  "What?"

  "He was asking for volunteers, you fool. Too late—he's got you now," Roxy muttered.