Mercy's Debt (Montgomery's Vampires Series Book One)

by Sloan Archer

  Robert shot me yet another variation of his amused expression.

  “Of course, you don’t have to answer, if you aren’t allowed to, I mean. I’m just curious,” I clarified.

  “So many questions.” He narrowed his eyes at me menacingly. “Are you some kind of spy?”

  “What? No!” I said, my pulse pitching into overdrive.

  He threw back his head and cackled. “Relax! I was having a laugh.”

  “Very funny,” I said humorlessly.

  He looked ashamed. “Please, forgive me. It is not very gentlemanly of me to frighten you,” he said. “I can only imagine what it must be like.”

  “What do you mean? And for the record, I was more concerned about insulting you on a professional level. Oddly enough, offending the clients that I chaperone is not in my job description.”

  He ignored my last two comments. “Being out with a vampire,” he said. “Are you not afraid?”

  “I’ve had a bit of time to think about this,” I began, taking in a long breath. “I figure, for as long as vampires have managed to exist without being substantiated, you all must have a huge amount of self-control and have a fair handle on your… urges. Humans are the savages, if you ask me. A human man could just as easily turn on me, so why should I be biased against you just because you have fangs instead of something more traditional like a gun, knife, chainsaw, axe, or one of the million other objects humans use to kill their loved ones on a daily basis? Seriously,” I rambled, “I just saw on the news that a woman murdered her husband with a laptop, of all things. She hit him over the head with it while he was in the bathtub, and then finished him off by plugging it in and throwing it into the water. If you look at it that way, vampires have just the one weapon, whereas humans have endless options.”

  “I think you give my kind too much credit,” he said flatly. “I have encountered many malicious bloodsuckers in my day. Your trustworthiness concerns me, Mercy, and my advice to you is to never let your guard down around vampires you do not know. Lucky for you,” he said lightly, “I am one of the good ones.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said demurely. “So, how do you eat, then? You never told me.”

  “Vampires have different preferences of course, just as humans do. I, personally, buy my blood in bulk and keep it stocked in a wine cellar in my home. I also keep a flask of blood inside the limousine in a temperature-controlled compartment.”

  “That is so wild!” I exclaimed. “How do you know it’s time for a… meal?”

  “I just know. I will not become ravenous and bite you, if that is what you are asking,” he said puckishly. “In fact, my fangs come out partially if I deny myself blood for too long.” He reflected for a moment. “It does not mean that I am dangerous. It is similar to how a human’s stomach may growl if they are hungry. I must always remain cognizant of my hunger because I cannot risk my fangs becoming visible in the presence of an unknowing human.”

  “Do you sleep in a coffin?” I blurted. He flashed me an impatient frown. “This is my last question. Well, at least for a while. Promise.”

  “I could sleep in a coffin just as you could. However, it is not required. I believe that this myth stemmed from the fact that vampires used to masquerade as the dead when traveling overseas.”

  “The dead? But why coffins specifically?” I asked.

  “The only way we could remain undisturbed was to travel in coffins. Petty thieves would frequently break into cargo, but only the hardened criminals would go near corpses. Vampires, worried about sun exposure, would take great pains to use materials of the poor in order to make their tombs appear humble. The criminals would be less inclined to break open the tops if they believed that there were no valuables inside like jewelry or watches.”

  “Where do you sleep now?”

  “I had sleeping chambers installed underneath my home when I purchased it. That is where I rest.”

  A server halted our conversation by meandering over to our section, finally deciding to grace us with her presence. I recognized our waitress, Marge, immediately. She’d been working at the diner for as long as I lived in California, and probably even longer for that matter. Whistle Stop was the place I used to frequent most when I studied for finals, but it had been a while since I’d been in.

  When it came down to it, Marge was about as inadequate a waitress as anyone could ever hope not to get, particularly when she was dealing with snotty college students. Forgetting drinks was her specialty, which she’d serve along with a big side of hostility. As a bonus, she’d sometimes provide patrons a complimentary fifteen minute wait for the check at the end of the meal.

  Marge had always been nice to me because I’d always been nice to her. Respect, after all, was a two-way street. Grams would roll over in her grave if I ever spoke down to anyone in the service industry, a waitress especially.

  I liked Marge. She was a woman who liked to keep it real. In some distant sort of way, she actually kind of reminded me of Grams.

  As she approached our table, she looked us over and snorted, “You two comin’ from a wedding or somethin’?”

  She had a nub of a pencil tucked indiscriminately between her breasts, huge false eyelashes stuck crookedly on her eyelids, and a new bright red hairdo that could have doubled for a buzzard’s nest- her locks had been dishwater blonde before. The overhead fluorescent lights highlighted the varicose veins that marked her legs from ankle to thigh, like thin bolts of blue lightning flashing underneath her skin.

  “Hi Marge,” I said pleasantly. “No, we’re just coming from a party.”

  Her eyes bugged from her head. “Holy Toledo! Mercy, is that you?” she gasped. “I didn’t recognize you from over there, or else I wouldn’t have kept you waiting so long. Honey, you look gorgeous! What are you, some kind of movie star now?”

  “No, she is a princess,” Robert smiled from across the table.

  Marge did a double take after getting an up-close view of Robert. “Oh, Mercy! Who’s the looker?” she asked deafeningly, a hand cupped craftily over her mouth.

  Hearing her- just as everyone in the restaurant most likely had- Robert laughed wholeheartedly. He took her hand into his.

  “Hello.” He winked. “I am Mercy’s friend, Robert.”

  Marge shot me an appalled look. “Did I hear this right? Friend?” she scoffed. “Oh, sweetie, if you don’t want this hot piece of tail, I’ll sure as hell take him.”

  Robert opened his arms jokingly. “I am all yours, Marge.”

  I shook my head at him from behind Marge’s back. He had no idea the fire he was playing with. Without further hesitation, Marge bent down and smacked her lips right against his forehead, leaving behind a set of waxy hot pink imprints. I sat back in stunned silence, waiting for Robert’s reaction to Marge’s affectionate assault.

  He was unperturbed. “Careful, Marge,” he quipped. “I think Mercy is the jealous type.” I swatted his arm from across the table. “See what I mean?” he said.

  Marge took our order and sauntered away, her step a little lighter than when she’d first appeared. “You two kids behave,” she pouted wickedly from across the room before disappearing into the kitchen.

  I couldn’t believe that this was the cold, uptight vampire Erika had warned me about. I propped my chin up on my hand and studied the lipstick he cheerfully wiped from his forehead using a paper napkin.

  “You know, you’re a lot different than I expected,” I said.

  “How so?”

  “I don’t know. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a lot more easygoing than I expected. You’re actually a really fun vampire.”

  “You think so? Humph.” He thought about this for a moment. “You know, I honestly cannot remember the last time anyone has described me as fun.”

  “Why do you think that is?” I asked.

  “Why do you think that is?” he mimicked jokingly. “You sound like a shrink.”

  “I have a degree in psychology, actually,�
� I said.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, but let’s not get off topic. Why do you think that you aren’t fun? Marge clearly likes you, and she despises almost everyone,” I teased.

  “I do not know,” he said reflectively. “This may sound strange, but I feel different around you, like I can be myself.”

  “That’s nice to know. I’m happy you feel that way. I feel relaxed in your company, too. Why can’t you be yourself around others?”

  “You ask a lot of questions,” he jested. “I actually think that it is the other way around, Mercy. Most individuals cannot be themselves around me. Most of the vampires I meet do not know quite how to behave in my presence because of my wealth. I am quite rich even for vampire standards. The men within my species usually dislike me because they envy me, or they find me disagreeable because we have done business together. The only thing vampire women want to do with me is bleed me dry. Financially, I mean.”

  “Interesting,” I commented.

  “I rarely meet human men outside of work,” he continued. “Most human women I encounter in social settings find me dreary. Some are fearful of me because I am vampire. But, contrastingly, there are also those who only want to be with me because they find my vampirism sexy. I am no fool. I may not be able to read minds like some of my associates, but I know when a woman is merely telling me what she thinks I want to hear.”

  “They say it’s lonely at the top,” I remarked.

  “Indeed. When a man is in my position, it is difficult to find any genuine companions. Mostly everyone I meet is out for something. The closest thing I have to a true friend is Carl, and he works for me.” He shrugged. “I guess over the years, I have just learned to cut myself off from others. Life is a lot less complicated that way.”

  “Yes,” I countered, “but I imagine it’s also a lot lonelier.” I reached across the table and gave his hand a quick squeeze. “What I don’t understand is how a guy like you is still single. You’re smart, funny, gorgeous”- I flushed- “and you’ve got your act together. Yes, you’re rich, too. Have you never had a special girl in your entire life?”

  He shifted uneasily. “Only once.”

  “I hope I’m not getting too personal. You can tell me to shut it if I’m prying,” I said timidly.

  “No, I do not mind. I like talking to you.”

  “I like talking to you, too. So, who was the girl?” I asked, feeling ridiculously jealous.

  He settled back in his seat, preparing himself for a long one. “Mercy, I admit to having quite a few romantic affairs in all my years of being a vampire,” he began. “But I have truly only loved one woman. Her name was Raquel. She was a human, like you. I met her in 1922 down in Los Angeles, where I resided for some time. We dated for two whole years before I asked her to be my wife, but I knew from the first night that I met her that she was the woman I wanted to spend eternity with. Raquel was the only woman I had ever met who made me remember what it was like to feel human. She was a free spirit- an actress- and she loved me in spite of my money and immortality, not because of it.”

  My heart sank as I made the connection. Marlena had also told me a story about a girl named Raquel; the actress who vanished back in the twenties.

  “What happened to her,” I asked, but I was fairly confident that I already knew the answer.

  His face clouded over. “Raquel disappeared on the night I proposed to her. We were at the beach, swimming in the ocean, and she left me to go onto the shore to remove a piece of jewelry. When she did not return after a few minutes had passed, I began to worry that she had gone back into the water without me noticing, that maybe she had drowned. Humans are just so fragile,” he digressed. “Almost everything in a natural environment can harm you.” He paused, pursing his lips into a thin line.

  “When I went on the shore, there was only one set of her wet footprints leading away from the water, and none returning to it. Nothing was missing; her dress and shoes were right where she had left them, even her diamond bracelet was still sitting exactly where she had taken it off. There was, however, a large pool of blood.” He paused, clearing his throat. “There you have it,” he said pragmatically. “I never saw her again.”

  His recollection gave me goose bumps. “What do you think happened to her?”

  “I honestly do not know. I like to believe that she perhaps was scared off by my proposal, and that she ran away to lead a happier life elsewhere. But there was the blood…”

  “Well, maybe it wasn’t hers,” I said lamely.

  “Before she disappeared, she said that she had the ‘heebie-jeebies,’ like somebody was always watching her. I dismissed her because she tended to be a bit melodramatic, being an actress. I used to remind her that she participated in theatre, so it was not a wonder that she felt scrutinized.” He shook his head guiltily. “You have no idea how much I regret not taking her worries to heart.”

  “There’s no way that you could have known, Robert.”

  “Some vampires actually suspect that I killed her, if you can believe it,” he said frostily. “Like your new friend, Nathaniel. Raquel was a friend of his. I do not think that he truly believes that I did anything to her, but it is evident that he blames me for not protecting her properly. I blame myself for that, too,” he said sadly.

  I placed my hand on top of his arm. “I’m sorry, Robert. That’s really-”

  “You get on out of here RIGHT NOW!” Marge’s voice bellowed through the restaurant. “I said GIT!”

  There was a loud commotion in the kitchen. A few moments later, a chef the size of a linebacker barreled through the double doors, on the heels of a man with a large camera.

  The chef grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to the front door. With his boot planted firmly on the photographer’s ass, the chef kicked the interloper out into the parking lot.

  “Goddamn paparazzi,” the chef grumbled, dusting off his hands.

  Marge approached our table with my slice of pie and Robert’s omelet sitting on a tray. “Sorry about that, kids,” she said, placing the food on the table. “I don’t know how he got in here.”

  “Who was that?” I asked, totally lost.

  “Like you don’t know,” she said slyly, winking at me.

  “Did he snap any photos?” Robert asked, grinding his jaw. He did not look happy.

  Marge looked apologetic. “I don’t think that he did sweetie, but don’t worry. He won’t be back,” she said, quickly leaving our table.

  “I’m lost,” I said to Robert. “Who was that?”

  He waved his hand disgustedly. “Paparazzi. Every now and then, I will catch one of them following me around, trying to capture me doing something scandalous. You think they would have given up by now, as I never provide them with any decent photo opportunities. Since the recent economic downfall, they have been out for blood. They love to photograph CEO’s on their worst behavior so they can crucify them in the papers. Carl usually catches them before they can get any shots off, but I believe this one snuck in through the back door.”

  “I guess the whole thing about a vampires being invisible in photographs is untrue, then,” I said. “I can’t imagine how weird that would be, having people following you around like that.”

  Noticing my dim mood, he made a noticeable effort to be jovial. “I am not troubled,” he said nonchalantly. “I have gotten used to it.” He pointed to my slice of pie. “That looks appealing – for human cuisine. What kind is it?”

  “Boysenberry.”

  He held up his watch. “Shall I time you to see how many bites you can get down in a minute?” he asked, referencing our earlier conversation. “Pie is an eating contest staple, is it not?”

  I giggled. “I’m good, thanks.” We stared at each other in a relaxed silence. “Can I ask you a personal question, Robert?”

  “Now you ask if you can get personal? I think it is a little too late for that, Mercy.”

  “Since you put it that way…” I sn
ickered.

  “Go ahead. Ask me anything that you want.”

  “Okay. How old are you?”

  He looked up from inspecting his greasy plate of food. “How old am I in vampire years or what year was I born a human?”

  “Both.”

  “I was born a human in 1820. I was reborn a vampire just after I turned thirty-one, in 1851.”

  My jaw dropped. “Wow.”

  “Does this bother you?” he asked softly. “Knowing that I am an old man?”

  I’d bruised his feelings. “No, not at all,” I muttered swiftly. “I was just shocked because you decided not to tell Marge that you wanted the senior citizen’s discount, that’s all. You definitely qualify.” I flashed him the biggest, cheesiest grin I could muster.

  He looked relieved. “I am sure that was exactly what you were thinking,” he smiled. “You really do not find my age peculiar? Unbecoming?”

  “No,” I said with genuineness. “On the contrary! I can’t imagine the world of knowledge and history you must have inside your head, the things you’ve seen. You’ve lived through two world wars, the civil rights movement, the advent of lights, airplanes, telephones, rock-and-roll, and… Elvis!”

  He chuckled. “I was a big fan of Elvis. I saw him in concert a few times, actually. He was quite controversial for our day.”

  “You’ve lived through some of the most revolutionary times in human history. I don’t find that unbecoming,” I said breathlessly. “I envy you.”

  “You are something else, Mercy, you know that? I have never viewed my life that way. What is it about you that makes me feel so good about myself?”

  I shrugged. As if I had to give the man a reason to not deem himself anything less than amazing. “Okay, Robert. I want to know everything.”

  “Well, I cannot tell you everything- everything. That would take weeks.”

  “Okay. Let’s start with you,” I said, lacing my fingers under my chin. I want to know all about you. Tell me how you came to be a vampire.”