My lungs, eyes and throat felt sore, but I could deal with that. I’d had worse. The scars on my arm and leg—now thankfully covered with the clothes I’d had in my Jeep’s trunk—attested to that.
“Too bad you can’t keep that sexy, throaty voice,” Phro drawled from the backseat as we parked my sad-looking vehicle a block from the address Elsa had been given. My Jeep was fairly new and had been a beautiful, shiny red, but a nasty, vengeful ghoul had keyed it recently. He’d also drawn a huge black happy face on my driver’s side door. Blythe had hand painted some flowers over the face, but she’d used watercolors. Still kind of cracked me up. They’d bled off with the first settling of morning dew.
“You’d attract boyfriends like crazy,” Phro continued.
“Don’t want boyfriends.” I looked up and down the street and found pretty much what I expected out here.
Nothing.
This rumored ancient lived in an old warehouse a couple of miles south of the city. The place looked deserted, so I couldn’t help but wonder if the address was bogus. In my admittedly limited experience with vampires, I’d found they liked living in style. This dirty concrete-block building in the middle of nowhere certainly had no panache.
“Why’d you park so far away?” Blythe asked.
Was that movement by the right side of the building? I squinted, trying to see through a thick stand of holly trees. “He could be skittish. We should walk up slowly.”
Three of the streetlights were out, creating dark pocketed corners we’d be avoiding. The blanketing cloud cover made it worse. There wasn’t a light near any of the doors—not even the heavy, industrial metal ones. Apprehension skittered up the back of my neck and I held out my hand. “Let me have the instructions again.”
Elsa passed me the paper. Go around the first building and down the narrow alley to the one in back. Knock on the door and wait.
“Everyone wants boyfriends,” Phro said, continuing a conversation I’d already forgotten about. She never gave up easily.
“Drop it, Aphrodite. I just want the Minoan.”
Elsa opened the passenger door. “Let’s get some blood then.”
“Wait.” I turned in my seat so I could see them all. Castor and Blythe sat in the back with Phro and Frida, Blythe’s spirit guide, practically in their laps. I never understood why they rode in the car like us. They could just hover above or blink into this dimension whenever. Maybe it made them feel more a part of things. I don’t know.
Blythe was still in her robe-covered pajamas, Castor in jeans and a faded red T-shirt under a brown jacket. Castor’s guides only became visible when he was in danger. I was glad too. They creeped me out with their tall, still bodies and their silent, expressionless stares. Castor was supposed to be something special and the army of protectors around him proved that. None of us knew what kind of special. Nikolos had called him the next messiah, but Castor had absolutely no religion to speak of. He was pretty damned sweet though. Kind. To everyone.
The kind of kind that got you killed by skittish vamps.
“Maybe you should wait in the Jeep, Castor.”
“Why?” Two copper brows, the same color as mine, shot up. “I’ve never seen a vampire. Excited about it.”
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath. “Because having all of us descend on him will already make him nervous. A nervous vamp can be a bad, bad thing. But you also have that…that—”
“Golden aura?” Blythe supplied, looking up at him like he’d hung the moon just for her.
I nodded. “Yeah, that. Not to mention the whole ‘good to the bone’ thing you’ve got going. Who knows? You might be like a cross to it or something. Wouldn’t want him to poof into smoke before we bleed him.”
Castor glowered at me, which didn’t detract from his looks at all—instead, kind of enhanced them. Not for the first time, I was struck by how beautiful he was. I’d thought the necromancer, Dubious Silo, the long-bodied, graceful guy we’d hired to help translate the ancient spell book, was pretty, and he was, in a girly, silky-haired kind of way. But Castor, with his short, spiky hair that he cut daily—also copper-colored like mine—and his light-amber eyes and golden skin—also like mine… Well, let’s just say on me the combo didn’t look bad, but it could put him on the cover of every magazine in the world. On me, the over six feet in height was considered unusual. On him, it was the ultimate in desirability. Seriously not fair. But I didn’t really care all that much. My confidence levels were up enough these days to deal with having a brother who was prettier.
Sighing, I ran my hands through my hair, grimacing when the scent of smoke hit me. I opened the door and stepped from the Jeep. “We might as well get this over with. If he doesn’t agree to come with us, we’ll…I don’t know…think of something.” Luckily, I kept extra clothes in my monster investigator bag in the trunk. Extra tennis shoes too. And since I had to blend into the night in my work, everything was in black. Even the shoes. They weren’t pretty, but they worked and that was what I was after.
I had a cross in one pocket and a vial of holy water in the other—though the water had not worked the last time I’d tried that. Never hurt to try one more time. My knives were in the handy wrist sheaths, out of sight under my leather jacket.
My sneakers didn’t make a sound on the asphalt and still not knowing how this vamp would handle the crowd at his entryway, I quietly shut my Jeep door and motioned for the rest of them to follow. Castor got out too, and I glared and gestured at the car. He lifted one reddish eyebrow, crossed his leanly muscled arms over his chest and glared right back. I grinned. He grinned.
Damn, I really like my brother.
“The weres gave me more advice,” Elsa whispered. She’d pulled out her Glock. She knew the gun would have no effect on the vampire, but it probably made her feel better. Besides, who knew when a mugger might jump from the trees? Jacksonville did have a pretty high crime rate. “They said to approach with caution.”
I held a “duh” back with effort. “I don’t know anyone dumb-assed enough to run up to a vampire. They wouldn’t have time to blink before they’d be drained and dumped into the ocean. And that gun will do little good.”
“I’m just telling you what they said,” she whisper-snapped. “You don’t have to be a twat.”
Castor chuckled behind me. I just shook my head. I intimidated most people, but not Elsa. Never Elsa. Not even when we were ten and eleven and I’d shot two feet taller in less than a year. Now, at five-eight, she was no shrimp, but her pretty, girl-next-door looks kept most people from seeing the sharp wit she used with deadly precision.
We walked around the right side of the front building, as told, and found the narrow alley. The faint smell of turpentine filled the air as we crunched drying holly leaves beneath our feet. In the next instant, that icky smell was gone and something fantastic replaced it. The aroma of a well-cultivated garden. The fresh, flowery scents did not belong in this damp, dirty place. Some sweet, some spicy, but all the odors were natural in the way of a really well-thought-out garden. When we reached the door to the back warehouse, we did as told. Knocked and took several steps back.
The vamp didn’t come right away. Since it was the best time to get its hands on sleeping panhandlers, I thought it might be out feeding. I tapped my foot, waited a few minutes more. Just as a snarl crept over my mouth, I heard a faint, fluttering noise. Confusion hit me mid center. That didn’t sound like any vamp I’d heard.
Truth to tell, I’m not a fan of them. Though most had started gathering to write what they called “mystic world” rules, which included a lot less murder, they were still violent, nasty creatures. I had yet to meet one like those in the movies—tall, handsome or mesmerizing. The closest I’d come to a friendly one had been Miss Noodle, the vampire night librarian from Okeechobee County. Even then, when it first got dark, it was better not to be hangin’ and havin’ tea, if you get my drift.
“Beri, maybe he isn’t here,” Blythe whispered, biting her l
ip. She’d started shuffling from one foot to another.
“He’s here,” I said. “But I don’t think we’re meeting a vampire. Do you smell that?”
She nodded, still bopping on her heels. “I smell flowers. Sweet ones.”
“Yeah, lots of them.” As I spoke a bee buzzed around my ear. Then another. I lifted an eyebrow, surprised. They’d been coming out at night more and more and without the sun or bright lights, I didn’t know how they were managing to fly. Or even live in this winter temperature. They were cold-blooded insects.
“Not the damn bees.” Elsa, who unfortunately was afraid of the insects that loved me, hunched her shoulders. “Not now.”
“Sorry,” I murmured. Couldn’t really do anything about it. The bees would come, no matter where I went. They followed Castor too. “I know a little about flowers and these aren’t the types people put in a regular garden. That lemony scent is from evening primroses.” I inhaled deeply and smiled. “The jasmine-like smell comes from nicotianas… I’m not sure of the others until I see them, but no vampire I’ve heard of tends gardens.” Of course, these were night-blooming flowers…
“You’re saying there’s a garden in this warehouse? And nicotianas?” Blythe’s shuffling grew faster. “How do you know about nicotianas? Are you into flowers or something?”
“Or something. I thought witches were into nature too.” I narrowed my eyes at her, then hissed. “What’s your problem? Stop dancing around like that.”
“Can’t help it. I’m nervous. When I’m nervous I have to pee. I told you that before.”
Phro snorted, earning her the usual glare from Blythe.
I briefly closed my eyes. “So go pee. Hurry.”
She looked around. “Not here.”
I followed the path of her gaze, seeing some large crates about five feet away. We’d hear, of course, but oh well. “Don’t know what your problem is. Go behind those boxes. I’ve gone in worse places.”
She just shook her head and continued her own personal rendition of the pee-pee dance. Kind of a sideways jump with a quick, tapping boogie. I’d seen similar moves in whacked-out crowds at techno concerts. Not that I often frequented techno concerts, but it was surprising how many of the night creatures loved the music.
I was about to insist she scoot behind the crates when there was a soft click and the door swung open.
Chapter Two
I pushed the door open wider, expecting to see a vampire like the last one I’d had the misfortune to cross, but no one was there.
There was a garden all right. I stepped into the room and forgot how to breathe.
Never had I seen anything more beautiful than this night-blooming, man-made paradise. Huge glass panels formed the ceiling, so crystal clear it looked as if nothing stood between me and the sky. And those suckers had to be thick to survive up there, but they didn’t seem thick. They looked as fragile as paper. Ordinary means didn’t support those slabs of glass.
With the thought came the crawly sensation I get when there’s magic in the air. I put my hand out to stop Blythe, who was wandering from flower to flower, smelling them so hard I expected her to pass out any sec. Guess she forgot she had to pee. “Shh. Be still.”
I held out a hand to keep Castor and Elsa behind me as well, then closed my eyes to begin peeling back the dimensional layers. I’d become so good at this I could do it fast now. Opening my eyes, I looked around, yet still saw nothing. Nothing except a faint stream of glittering dust in the air. I frowned. The magic here had a taste. Woody, a little green, natural with a hint of dark, dark acid. “This isn’t vampire magic.”
“How can you tell?” Elsa had come up beside me.
“Tastes kind of like green bananas.”
Blythe stopped sniffing flowers. “You can taste magic? But you aren’t a witch.”
“I noticed. Can’t usually taste magic either. Can you?” I asked.
She shook her head no. “Some of us can. I can only feel it. There is magic here, but it could be all this healthy nature. Just look at the glorious flowers.” She spread her arms wide and pirouetted.
Frida, her seven-foot, male spirit guide, sneezed. Blythe hadn’t come up with a new name for him yet. I kind of hoped she didn’t. Frida was funny.
“I would expect vampire magic to be darker, sharper. Not something lush like this.” A huge beehive filled one corner of the warehouse. I hoped Elsa didn’t spot it, but she couldn’t miss the large number of bees present. Here it was warm and well lit. “Yet…” Turning my attention to the garden, I was struck again at the precision of the planting, the mingling of scents. This was a special kind of garden. An evening garden. The kind put together by someone who loves the night. All the flowers were night bloomers. Evening primroses with their yellow flowers. Moonflowers climbed trellises around the room and my eyes flew open wide as I finally realized the unique scent that pushed its way through all the others.
Ah, there was the anomaly.
The corner of my mouth turned up as I walked over to the plants. Their beautiful, white trumpet-like flowers were all open to the night sky. Datura. A well-known hallucinogenic plant. Datura’s scent is hard to explain, but it isn’t like the scent of any other flower I know. And these were slightly different—beyond sweet, like candy…
Eyes still wide, I followed the dangerous flowers with my gaze. Row after row—I’d never seen this many in one place at a time.
“Oh, what is that heavenly smell?” Blythe, apparently pee-less now, danced her way to the center of the flowers. She turned a full circle and took in a deep, deep breath. “I’ve never smelled datura flowers this strong before. Oh my. It’s just lovely, lovely, lovely.”
Yep, they were datura flowers all right, and Blythe was already higher than a dotty-on-the-verge-of-psychic witch should go. Smelling the flowers shouldn’t make her high, but I had the feeling these weren’t the ordinary plants. Something else was with us—I felt its presence—but I didn’t let on that I knew we were no longer alone.
Phro walked up to stand with me. She wore a skin-tight, short black dress. Pearls snuggled against her neck in a choker that met in the center of her throat to form a V. Her black hair was pulled tight and gathered in a bun on top of her head. She watched the spinning witch for a second, a slow grin forming at one end of her mouth. “Back in my day, we used this as a poison. Maybe we should get the little twit out of here.”
“Thought Fred was the twit,” I murmured. Did I mention that datura can be deadly as hell?
“He’s not here.”
I didn’t like thinking about that. I hadn’t seen my true spirit guide—or the person I’d grown up believing to be my true spirit guide—since before the battle with the Dweller on the Threshold. “She’ll be all right for a minute. She’s not eating the stuff. Jeez, I bet she can’t even take aspirin. She’s obviously very susceptible if the smell alone is making her, uh… What is she doing now?”
Castor’s grin was huge. “Jumping jacks?”
We watched her spunky exercise routine for a sec.
I pulled them a little ways from Blythe. “This doesn’t feel like vampire magic, and this garden is screaming fairy or pixie. Just look at how healthy everything is. It’s in a warehouse, not out in the open. It takes a special kind of skill and magic to create something like this inside a building. And I can’t imagine anyone but a drug dealer growing this much datura. I’m not sure we have the right place.”
“You might.”
The new voice didn’t make me jump. I’d learned early in my investigations that it’s better to let the creature show itself first. Let it think the first move was its choice. It never was, but being prepared and aware was the way to go.
There was a slight buzzing near my ear and before I knew what was happening, a few low lights clicked on around the room. I saw a brief glimpse of tiny, flapping wings and I followed them to a corner where someone had set up a home. I tilted my head and took in the very human, albeit small, items arranged on a l
arge, formal dining table. No pixies I’d ever met went for lush, human surroundings.
Especially, red. Lots of red, lush, human surroundings.
When the speaker finally landed, I got it.
Then wished I hadn’t.
I opened and closed my mouth, trying to wrap my head around what I saw. I stared—couldn’t help it. “Uh, you’re, um…you’re—”
“I am the oldest of my kind.” He interrupted in a voice of mini-thunder.
“And the smallest,” Phro said. Thank goddess the vampire couldn’t hear her.
“I didn’t think fairies could be turned into vampires.” I’d found my voice.
“I am not a fairy.” He sniffed. “I am a sprite. You said yourself it takes a special kind of skill and magic to create beauty such as this.” He waved his hand toward the garden. “You think a fairy could do this?”
A vampire sprite. I mean, really, could anyone imagine something like this could exist? He was maybe half a foot tall, with pale-green skin and round, black eyes. Tiny fangs protruded over a nearly missing lower lip. I had to squint to see them. He was actually wearing a cape. A cape! That whole Bela Lugosi thing was just movie fiction. Real vampires liked to blend. Their survival depended on it.
Of course, this little guy couldn’t blend if he tried.
I eyed the tiny tuxedo, the stink-bug-colored skin. He’d even slicked back the miniscule cap of turquoise hair on his head! Oh, this was just plain creepy.
“How do you think he feeds?” Phro asked, curious as always. She bent over the creature. “His mouth is so small. Maybe he feeds on bugs or something.”
I wrinkled my nose. The same thought had just occurred to me. What the hell would a sprite vampire eat? Sprites were creatures of nature. Kind, sometimes mischievous, but inherently good. Sprites despised anything evil.
He had to be one mixed-up little fucker.
“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to ask me the questions? My time is very valuable you know.” He snapped his cape. “I assume you are here because you have need of my great wisdom. It was only your recognition of my wonderful garden that got you inside. When you acknowledged my skill”—again, he waved his hand toward the flowers—“I decided you worthy of a few questions.”
Blood of an Ancient: A Beri O'Dell Book, Book 2 Page 2