Dead Vampires Don't Date

by Meredith Allen Conner

  "We're on a walk and we both got rather thirsty." What a thrill to tell the truth for once. "Is it all right if I have him in here?" I held up Al. Al blinked his bulging eyes slowly.

  Fortunately for us, Mr. Hunky was as much of a sucker as I was. "No problem." He smiled. Beautiful white teeth and a dimple. Not two, just one single, perfect dimple. "We usually don't get anyone in until later in the afternoon."

  "Thank you so much. Are you sure your boss won't mind?" I didn't want to get Mr. Delicious in trouble.

  "Not a problem. I own the bar." He flashed that dimple at an unappreciative Al. He held out his hand. "I'm Spike. It's nice to see you . . . Damn, are you all right?" I winced. My bruises were fading and in the dim light he obviously hadn't noticed until he came closer. His grip on my hand eased to a light hold, more cradling than holding.

  "Did you have a problem with Snake or Terry?" He scowled. He slowly turned my hand over, looking for more bruises before he checked out the rest of me.

  "No!" I rushed to assure him. "They were very helpful. I had a run in with a car." I couldn't use the convenient door lie. I had way too many visible cuts and bruises for that. "Luckily, it wasn't moving very fast."

  Spike frowned. "Really, I'm fine." His genuine concern pleased me. However, I didn't want him asking too many questions. "The doctor said a nice walk would help with the stiffness." Damn. I was back to lying. And when had I ever considered a lie convenient? My morals were flying right down that toilet bowl of corruptness.

  "I'm Kate Storm." I pumped his hand. When he let go, I dug into my pocket and pulled out a card. "I own a matchmaking agency."

  A small business owner is always prepared to promote herself. And rack up clients at any moment. I knew for a fact that Terry was single. I hadn't found out Snake's status last night. I am not a choosey matchmaker. Everyone needs love. And I really wanted to get rid of those magazine pages and fill them with actual clients.

  "A professional matchmaker?" He studied my card. "Like one of those online dating services?"

  "Similar." I kept my smile in place. "Except I provide a hands on, one on one service and my clients are very happy with the matches I make for them."

  It amazed me that anyone used those sterile services. I don't care how good their questionnaires are, you can't beat a good witch. The horror stories I've heard! Do you have any idea how many people lie about their answers? Or about their single status?

  An online ID is not that hard to fake, people. And if I have any doubts, I can always provide them with a glass of water and lift their fingerprints. My one hundred percent success rate includes a guarantee that all my matches are legitimate.

  Then again, I never have doubts. My spells are never wrong.

  "Very happy, huh?" His dimple winked at me. "Maybe I should call you."

  Yes! "You're single?" I tried not to let my glee show. Glee is very hard to repress.

  "For too long." He shrugged, twisting my card around in his fingers. "I work long hours."

  "You should call me. I'm very good at what I do." Spike nodded and slid my card into his front pocket. I'm afraid a little glee escaped. He's perfect! I swallowed my cackle.

  "What can I get you?" He reached over, scratched Al on his head. "How about some cold water for your little friend?"

  I squeezed him warningly. Al didn't even try to growl. Sweet Glinda, I'm definitely checking with Lolly.

  "We'd both love a glass of water." Al kicked me in the ribs. "With a shot of whiskey on the side."

  Spike walked over to the well, filled a glass with ice and water. He reached under the counter and pulled out a small bowl of peanuts. He poured the peanuts into an empty glass, rinsed the bowl and filled it with water. So thoughtful. Another mark in his favor.

  He set the bowl and the glass on the counter in front of us. "If it won't bother him, feel free to put him on the counter." He rubbed a thick finger under Al's chin. Big Al lifted his chin as if for more. I almost went into shock. "My sister has a Chihuahua and he always wants to be right in the middle of the action."

  "Thank you." I waited until Spike had turned his back before turning Al to face me. He winked. He hadn't channeled away. I wondered what I could use to bribe Lolly? I set Al onto the counter. He lapped at his water. I took a hit off mine.

  "Are you taking any pain meds?" Spike held up the whiskey bottle, a small frown on his face.

  "No. I didn't need any stitches and the doctor said as long as I didn't stiffen up, I should be fine." Down, down, down into that toilet bowl I go.

  Spike poured a generous shot. "That car must have been going really slow." I didn't understand his suspicion.

  He placed the shot in between Al's bowl and my glass. "Just leaving a parking lot." Al edged toward the shot. I casually slid it closer to my other side. "Late at night and the street light wasn't working."

  The words came so easily. I couldn't make up my mind if I should be proud or horrified. I thought of Aunt Tabs. Horrified, definitely horrified.

  "Sounds like a good lawsuit."

  "That's what the doctor said." Shit. I grabbed the shot and took a large gulp. My throat burned. My eyes watered. Al whined.

  When I could breathe without choking I said, "Thank you for pointing out Snake and Terry the other night. They gave us some good leads." Oh, sweet honesty.

  "You're welcome. I'm glad you stopped in today. I wanted to talk to you about your friend. I planned to give Terry a call to see if he had your number." The phone rang. Spike held up a hang on a moment finger. He answered the phone.

  Why would Spike want to talk to me about the Prince? He hadn't recognized his picture when we'd shown it to him. Maybe he remembered something after Morgan and I left? I hoped he didn't want to contact me for any other reason. 1. I wouldn't understand it. I'd been with Morgan the other night. Drop dead gorgeous Morgan. 2. If he did have another idea in mind it would put a major dent in my wand. I had serious plans for this man.

  Al nudged me. His bowl was empty. I held up my water glass. He narrowed his eyes. Spike said something about an order. I poured a small amount of whiskey into Al's bowl.

  "You're sure it was a car that hit you?" What was his deal? Maybe he knew someone who had been in an abusive relationship? I knew my injuries were from an attack, but why did Spike keep questioning me?

  "It was kind of hard to miss." His gaze never wavered from my face. "Why don't you believe me?" I didn't understand him, although some humans are simply like that. Caring.

  "Because after you and your friend left the other night, a man came in asking questions about you."

  My stomach took a sharp nose-bleed-producing dive. I swallowed heavily. "What did he look like?" I didn't need the description. I did need a minute to remember to breathe.

  "Tall, about six three, long dark coat, short white hair, sunglasses."

  Ivan.

  "What sort of questions did he ask?" Al abandoned his bowl, he nuzzled his little body into my chest. I pulled him close.

  "He had the same picture of your friend. He seemed to think you might know where he was." Spike leaned on the counter. "Is there something you want to tell me?" He nodded at my black eye. "I know some people. I can help you."

  I wished it were that simple.

  "I appreciate your offer. But a car really did hit me." I called on every bit of acting skill in my coven. "The guy you described is a mutual friend. He thought I knew where our friend Xavier might be." I took a sip of water. "I spoke with him later and cleared up that misunderstanding."

  I'd lie anyway I could to convince Spike. I couldn't live with myself if he got caught in Ivan's crosshairs too. That arrow with my name on it crept closer and closer every minute.

  I downed the rest of the shot. Al growled.

  21. Wow. What A Demon.

  I said the final words of my spell, closed my Spell Book and studied the window in my HC office. I tried to view it from a non-magical point of view. It didn't work. I'm a witch, can't get around that.

&n
bsp; I stepped back, to the side, to the other side and then back again. It looked good to me. As good as the rest of the protection spells I'd cast at Love Required. Strong, damn near invisible and they might save my ass. Or at least give me a decent head start if Ivan broke in.

  If I'd have cast these spells earlier, Ivan wouldn't have gotten in the night before. They require a great deal of magic though. The deep Cabernet color on my walls had already faded to a soft Zinfandel. Hopefully, that would be the only change to my beloved business.

  I'd broken open my piggybank and splurged on a back up broom to keep at work too. If Ivan showed up, I'd given myself the best chance I could.

  For the first time I found myself getting angry with Ivan. Really angry. As in PISSED OFF.

  I loved that piggybank. I'd found it at a secondhand store. In the shape of a large cauldron with a small green-haired witch standing next to it, it had the words "In Case Of Emergency" written across the front of the cauldron. The words "Mwah, Mwah, Mwah" made up the second line. It had a slot in the top. No cork. So I'd literally had to break it open.

  I know that compared to my life, a piggybank is a replaceable object. I also know it makes me appear shallow. And dim-witted. I could cast a spell to fix it, but things are never exactly the same once you use magic on it. It also doesn't change the fact that I really, really liked that piggybank and I'd had to break it all because of fuck-head Ivan.

  What's more, I also had to take money out of my savings account at the bank to help pay for the broom. I didn't exactly see it as a frivolous expense. It's more of a much needed survival tool. That almost helped counter my anger.

  I'd gone for the deluxe model too. Since I planned to keep this one at my office, I'd chosen the one that looked exactly like any other plain yellow-handled broom found in any store.

  However, to put the lid on my cauldron, it cost more. A whole lot more. My traditional bushy, witch's broomstick that I had at my apartment cost a third of the price! In order to purchase one that would blend in, I had to pay the big bucks.

  I'm damn near positive that the magic required to create a PLAIN YELLOW broom does not entail the services of a doctorate level warlock. I'm also fairly certain that the clerk at the magic store had been a year behind me in school. All of those witches hated me.

  She'd had me by the broom bristles and she knew it too. There is one magic store that services all the towns in our county. The front has the usual magic tricks, disappearing boxes and wands on display. Behind the counter is a hidden door. That's where all the real magical stuff is kept.

  For blending in purposes, I'd had a choice of my plain yellow broom or one made with long stiff bristles. It's impossible to sweep with those.

  I plan to ask Teri about the true cost the next time I see her. If that little witch upped the price because I'm mortal . . . Well, let's just say that Aunt Tabs has a beautiful garden full of ripe tomatoes. And after that I'd demand a refund.

  Yes. I'm in full ostrich mode.

  My visit with Spike earlier had scared me witch-less.

  It's so much easier to focus on something else - anything else - than Ivan and his REALLY BIG sword. I'd felt that blade against my neck in my dreams last night. I'd take righteous fury regarding marked up brooms over Ivan any day of the week.

  The knock at the door resounded loudly through my empty office. I jumped two and a half feet.

  Oh shit. Oh fuck.

  I double-checked my spells.

  The knock came again. Louder this time.

  I edged to the side of the office door, peered cautiously through the opening. It was after seven, but the sun had not begun to set yet. I had a clear view of . . . Nothing.

  I couldn't make out anyone in my door or through the window.

  I whirled around. I didn't see anyone outside of my office window either.

  Another loud knock. I stifled a scream. My new broom was in the utility closet. Right next to my harness. Damn it. A little bit of felt and those straps wouldn't chafe. How could I keep doing this to myself?

  All that money spent and I wouldn't even have a chance to use that stupid broom.

  I wouldn't make it across the room to the closet. Why had I stuck it in the closet? My spells would slow Ivan down, but not enough if I had to race across the room, open the closet door and pull the broom out. He'd have me by then.

  A large, bare forearm stretched across the door window and knocked again. Very loudly.

  I knew that arm. It and the attached body visited me nightly in my dreams. The good, hot and sweaty ones, not the bad, awful, I end up dead ones.

  Ash.

  He must be leaning near the frame, just out of view.

  Instead of settling, my pulse kicked into turbo drive. Ash stood outside my office. All I had to do was open the door and he would then be inside. My office. Near me. Possibly even touching me.

  I whispered the words to allow him through my spells and almost slammed into the door in my haste. My fingers shook as I un-bolted the new lock. I yanked the door open.

  "Hi."

  Oh Spirits, just zap me now. That's all I could come up with? This demon had held me as if I was precious. Valuable even. And I said "Hi?".

  Ash stepped forward until he filled the door. His horns brushed the top of the frame. He reached out one hand slowly, carefully and smoothed the hair back from my face. "Your bruises are gone."

  "It's amazing what you can do with a little magic." Oh hell. Did I just toss my hair?

  "Your magic is very powerful." He cupped my cheek in his big hand. His heat pulsed into my skin. Campfires filled my mind.

  "Any witch can cast a healing spell." And now I was begging for compliments? Why couldn't I appear sophisticated? Simply not an idiot would do for now.

  Ash stepped forward. I had to step back or get run over. I stepped back. Ash continued forward until he reached the edge of the doorframe. He removed my nerveless fingers from the door and shut it behind him. He locked the door. A firm snick.

  My stomach clenched. Hard.

  "What has Morgan found out?"

  Turns out, Ash has not been out of Hell long. His preferred method of questioning people involves choking them, burning them, or plain killing them. Not a good technique with anyone in the HC. Or as an interrogation method for that matter. In order to get answers, we really did need our suspects alive and preferably able to vocalize their answers.

  After discovering this, I'd managed to convince Ash to let Morgan find out what she could about attackers-who-leave-no-trace.

  Ash had agreed to stay out of it, provided he got to "help" if Morgan couldn't produce results.

  "She didn't find out anything before she had to go to ground this morning." I looked at my wall clock. "She'll be up in another three hours."

  "She didn't find anyone who has answers?" It worried me too. Morgan has A LOT of contacts in the HC. And she has been around for a very long time. I've never seen her worried before. Concerned, yes. Actually worried? Never.

  "No." My throat started to tighten. I didn't bother to say anything else.

  "I'm here." He drew me into his embrace. "I won't let anything happen to you." The sincerity in his voice hummed through me.

  "You're not always around." The words were out before I knew it. I could've kicked myself. I didn't blame him for last night. Nor did I plan to hint that I would like him to be around more.

  Ash was still more of one of those mysteries-coated-with-deception-and-wearing-an-invisible-cloak type of thing.

  He disappears during the day. He's a demon - he doesn't have to hide from the sun. He's as good as admitted that his interest in me is two pronged. I could easily lose my heart to him. In certain ways, terrifying me more than Ivan, I might already have. And I could not totally remove him from my list of suspects.

  I knew he cared. He couldn't hide that last night. But I also saw his anger. Anger that he cared? Anger that he hadn't been there to protect me? Anger that his plans - whatever they might be - were
not going as he planned?

  Worst of all, worse than any of his possible schemes, it was beginning to not matter that much to me. My sense of self-preservation had deserted me in favor of Ash.

  Could I forgive his probable deceptions? Would I like myself if I did? Was I so secretly desperate for love, I could do something like that?

  I honestly didn't know and I simply didn't know what to do about it either.

  "I should have been there for you last night." He pulled away slightly to lift my chin, look me directly in the eyes. "I should have protected you." His thumb stroked my cheek, clear now of any bruising. "It killed me to see you in pain."

  I pushed at his shoulders, needing space. "I'm not blaming you. It wasn't your fault." The longer I stayed close to him, the less my mind thought and the more my hormones snuck out.

  Ash's eyes flashed. His body stiffened. He shifted his hands to my back and my ass. He tugged firmly, cupping my ass, tilting it so I had no doubts he was all male demon.

  My hormones pulled on their party hats, my mind turn to mush.

  Small blue-tipped ruby flames flickered over his shoulders. I hastily moved my hands to his leather vest. "Ash."

  "I can't stop it." He growled. "Does it hurt you?"

  Fire danced over his skin. Of course it would hurt.

  Damn it, I had to try. I could almost touch the flames, but if I got closer than a couple inches my skin began to burn.

  "Yes. It hurts." Shit. If flames coated his skin - every part of his skin - I wouldn't have any worries. I wanted Ash desperately, but I wouldn't die for it. That defeated the whole purpose.

  He shifted restlessly. His fingers squeezed my ass. Flames trickled slowly down his arms and chest. "I have to touch you."

  Sweet Glinda, how I loved that determined tone.

  "Can you cast a spell to protect yourself?"

  It hadn't occurred to me. I could. Quite easily. One little spell and Ash could touch any part of me he wanted. I wouldn't think of my worries. Of anything, but him. Did I want that?