by Karen Greco
"Try it," Frankie encouraged. "Look at me, and imagine coming at me at the speed of sound.
I screwed up my face as I looked at him.
"What's that?" he asked, copying my expression. "You look constipated."
"I can't do this," I said. I dropped my shoulders.
"No," Frankie said calmly, and then he tripped me again and moved to the other side of the room before I could even lash out at him. "You refuse to do this. You are a vampire, Nina. Stop being so damn scared of it."
"I am half vampire, and I am not scared of it," I barked.
"You've always been scared of it," Frankie goaded me on. "Ever since you were a kid, you were petrified of it."
My face grew hot as my anger hit a boiling point. From the floor, I glared up at Frankie with such fury that even he stopped.
My eyes caught on a pile of over-sized art books on a bookshelf above him. I imagined the lot of them landing on his head.
In a split second, the heavy volumes slammed straight down on him, sending him off his feet. He landed on the floor with a loud crash, the books sprawled beside him.
My eyes were as large as saucers.
"What the fuck was that?" Frankie stared at me as he rubbed his head, looking at the bookshelf still attached firmly to the wall.
"I don't know." I shrugged. It was definitely weird. "Maybe I didn't install the book cases right."
We booth stood, and Frankie moved in on me. "You are such a girl."
His eyes flashed, and he gave me a fangy smile.
I crouched into position, ready to leap. He held up his hand.
"Condition," he said. "You have to be fast."
I rolled my eyes. It was enough for Frankie to get the first shot in, a kick right to the stomach. He knocked the wind out of me.
I back flipped to my feet and rushed at him, pushing my palm straight into his nose. I heard the satisfying crunch of bones breaking, and blood poured out.
Frankie looked up at me, but it wasn't Frankie anymore. He moved closer, his fangs glistening. His blue eyes blazed.
"Oh shit," was just about all I could gasp out. He was just inches from my face, and he grabbed my arms, crushing them against my sides, pulling me towards him. I started to squirm, my pulse pounding.
"Don't fight me," he begged. We went too far. He was losing control. I gulped in air and tried to calm down. I closed my eyes and willed him to stop.
Something heavy pushed into Frankie. He dropped me as he flew backwards across the room. He hung pinned against the opposite wall, arms and legs splayed, for about ten seconds before he dropped to the floor.
I stared at Frankie's crumpled body across the room. I had watched him turn vampy on me and wasn't sure what to expect now. He didn't move.
Crap. This was my best friend. I refused to be afraid of him. I crossed to his slumped form and knelt down beside him.
"Frankie?" I poked at him carefully.
His eyes popped open and he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me to the floor, pinning me down. He looked almost scared.
"What was that?" he held my shoulders for a second too long, his blue eyes, only a twinge of red remained, staring into mine. It made me uncomfortable, so I looked away. He released me and we both stood up.
"Time for a drink," I replied, wiping sweat off my face.
"No, what was that?" he repeated.
"Why don't you tell me what that was!" I spat out. "You lost control, Frankie."
I walked to the fridge, grabbed a beer and popped the top open.
"I knew what I was doing." He was totally lying. "I had control the whole time. I was trying to scare you."
"Well it worked." I didn't want to fight with him but I knew there was no way he was in control of himself.
"What pinned me to the wall?" Frankie's eyes were intense. "Did you feel it?"
"I thought that was you." I squinted at him and took a swig of my beer.
"No, no, my love," Frankie crossed his arms. "That was all you."
I leaned against the counter, watching him look at me with a curiosity I had never seen before. I wasn't sure I liked it.
He walked to me, and I caught him breathing in my scent. I pushed him away. "Don't sniff me!"
"Nina," his voice was measured, like he was explaining something to a defiant five-year-old. "That was most definitely you. I don't know what it was, but I think those may explain." He looked at the books that he had procured from Babe's attic. "Time to pay a visit to Auntie Babe."
"Don't be stupid," I huffed. "I am not running to Babe because you lost your shit. She'll hit the roof. Besides, I have a date. And I don't intend on breaking it."
"Date?" Frankie looked up. "With that FBI guy?"
"Maybe..." I felt my cheeks blaze again.
He shook his head. "Tell you what, I’ll go visit with Auntie Babe, you enjoy your...date." He snorted.
What the hell was his problem?
"Frankie!" I yelled at his backside as he stalked to the door. He hesitated a minute, and then a rush of wind blew through the apartment as the door opened and closed quickly. I heard the dog bark, low and vicious, outside. Good. I hope she scared the crap out of him.
CHAPTER 16
My taut muscles finally relaxed when the hot spray of the shower hit my back. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back; water rushed over me. I grabbed my shampoo, and began to slowly work it into my hair.
I had a date, a real date. I hadn't been on a real date in, like, ever. Raised in the sheltered environment of Dr. O and an army base, I didn't even know about dating until I was allowed to assimilate into the outside world as an adult. I had had hook-ups, sure, but never a bona fide date.
But my mind kept wandering back to Frankie. Never mind that he went all fangy on me. Did I really push him into the wall like that? He was hanging in the air, there was no way I could have done that. Right? Unless I developed some weird superpower. The thought of it made me laugh out loud. Or was that why Marcello wanted me dead?
I forced it out of my mind. I didn't need Frankie's vamp out adding to my stress. I was looking forward to being completely and utterly human, even if it was only for one night.
I finished the shower and stepped out of the steam into a chilly bathroom. I gave a little shiver and wrapped myself in my fluffy towel. I slinked over to my giant armoire, threw open its doors and stared. Panic slammed into me like a brick. I had nothing to wear.
Yay for dating.
After 20 stressful minutes, I settled on a pair of fitted gray cargo pants and a form-fitting black sweater that scooped to the edge of my shoulders, just enough to show the outline of my upper back. I debated on the shoes. High-heeled ankle boots would finish the look. But I couldn't fit the knife into the fancy boots, and I didn't want to go out without it. I decided to wear a knife holster around my calf. It would be slightly uncomfortable, but I really didn't want to go out unarmed. I just hoped my feet would survive a night in those heels.
A touch of makeup, and a little product to give my hair a lift, and I was ready. And early. By a good half an hour. Crap. Thirty whole unencumbered minutes for my nerves to try to psych me out.
I sighed and walked to the fridge and extracted another beer. "Here's to liquid courage," I said. Then I popped off the cap, raised the bottle and took a swig.
With nothing left to keep me occupied, my mind began to wander. What if he asks those inevitable questions about childhood? How does one explain a vampire family? How does one explain being taught to fight all the shit that you don’t believe in on a top-secret military base until the age of 18?
The front-door buzzer made me jump. He was early.
I took a deep breath and buzzed open the front door. His footsteps echoed down the hall and I leaned against the door, trying to calm my nerves. He knocked and I pulled the door open. His piercing green eyes caught mine for a split second. He was damn good-looking. His slightly overgrown dark blond hair curled down the nape of his neck. I could see his muscular chest outlined under a crisp, blu
e, button-down shirt.
"Did you want a beer before we go?" I asked, awkwardly aware that I was still holding my bottle.
Max smiled. "We'll be late for our dinner reservations." He took the bottle from me, winked and raised it to his lips. I suddenly felt very warm. If we didn't leave soon, we probably never would.
"Then we'd better go," I muttered, and reached to take the bottle back.
He grabbed my hand, and pulled me to him. I bristled, my back tensed at the sudden movement. He pulled me tighter, and leaned down to kiss me, his tongue slowly tracing my lips as he pulled away. My body relaxed into his, and I smiled at the pressure I felt against my thigh. Glad I wasn't the only one thinking about skipping dinner.
"You look beautiful," he whispered into my ear as we slowly pulled apart.
"Oh, you!" I mocked punched him in the arm. Oh God. So dorky.
I turned tail and clipped to the kitchen to leave the beer bottle on the counter. I picked up my leather jacket and purse, and shook my head to clear it a bit.
A quick visual sweep of the apartment, and we were out the door. Our footsteps echoed down the hallway. He pushed the building door open, holding it gallantly as I passed. I spared a glance at the building across the street. The dog was gone. I hoped she found someplace warm to go.
The air outside was bitterly cold, and it felt good against my flushed cheeks. Max opened the door to the passenger side of his black Suburban, and I slipped into the leather seat. I watched him walk around the car, and get into the driver’s side. He started the ignition and looked over at me.
"We are going to have a real date," he said matter-of-factly. "Right now, I want to go back inside your place and throw you on that bed and rip your clothes off. But I think we need to have a real date first."
I grinned. I really would not have been disappointed to bypass the date thing and go straight to the clothes ripping. But his tone was so charming, I had to go along with it. "So where are we going?"
"A surprise," he said as he pulled away from the curb.
Max maneuvered the car through the narrow streets and then eased onto the highway. We were traveling south, out of the city. I smiled slightly and stared out the window at the blur of cars we raced past. I guess FBI agents didn’t get pulled over for speeding.
There wasn't much south of Providence -- a few malls, lots of chain restaurants and, eventually, the beach. Max didn't strike me as an Applebee’s sort of a guy, and of course there was that surfboard still laid out in the back. I didn't need to be a super-sleuth to figure out our destination.
"I'm not dressed for December surfing," I teased. "I hope you brought along a wet suit for me."
Max grinned, the oncoming headlights illuminating his handsome face. His smile made my heart melt a little.
"You," he said, reaching for my hand, "should consider a career as a detective. You certainly kick ass like a cop."
We sat in a weird, uncomfortable silence for a minute. Hurrah for first dates!
"So," I cleared my throat. "Are you from Southern or Northern California? You strike me as more San Diego man."
"So close!" Max laughed. "Yes, I am from Southern California, but the City of Angels. I grew up in Long Beach but now live in LA proper."
"Ah, Long Beach," I smiled. "Love the airport." Not a lie. I loved the fabulously retro Long Beach Airport, with its outdoor luggage carousel. The few times I few into Long Beach, I was transported to 1950s Cuba.
"You fly to Long Beach?" Max laughed. "Are you from Las Vegas or something? That's the only reason to fly in or out of Long Beach. The cheap Vegas flights."
That caught me off my guard. Where I grew up -- that one could be tricky.
"I spent time out West," I said vaguely. "So, how long have you been a G-man?"
"About 15 years," he said, not seeming to notice the abrupt switch in conversation.
"Like it?" I asked.
"It has its moments," he replied. "Like right now. Wouldn't be here with you if it weren't for the Bureau."
"They must miss you in LA," I mused.
"Not enough to call me back yet." He sighed. "Actually, I am pretty sure they are happy to have me across the country for a few weeks."
I knew he was on loan, but figured it would be longer than a few weeks.
"So when are you going back?" I hoped I sounded casual.
"When the case wraps." He eased the car onto an exit ramp. "I'd like to have it cleaned up in a few weeks time."
"Getting close, then?"
Max just shrugged. I should have felt relieved that he would be out of the state so quickly. His sticking around could complicate things. But it was hard to ignore that my stomach suddenly dropped.
"We have reached our destination," Max announced grandly.
I looked out the window and squeaked. We were across from the Coast Guard House, the most spectacular restaurant in the state. It overlooked the ocean. Just before storms, magnificent waves crash into the windows that flank the dining room. It's the most thrilling place to be. And the impending nor'easter meant that the ocean would be at its most merciless. I could hear waves pounding into the rocks already, the roaring water as heart stopping as a rock concert.
The freezing wind caught me off guard as I got out of the car and I shivered. "Welcome to New England," I yelled to Max over the noise of wind and waves. His California good looks appeared stunned by the brutal cold.
We rushed into the nearly empty restaurant and were guided to a table by the expanse of windows overlooking the ocean, which was churning and frothing right below.
The view of the powerful Atlantic Ocean was breathtaking. The sound of the water the smashing the rocks made me feel exhilarated. I always found the power of the ocean thrilling, which was why living in land-locked Nevada didn't agree with me.
"Incredible," I whispered.
"Isn't it?" Max looked a little awestruck himself. "I am happy Rhode Island is by the ocean. It's damn cold, but it's got waves."
I grinned at him, and felt almost giddy. So this is what a date felt like! It was pretty nice, I had to admit.
A waiter came over with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. Max expertly tested the wine, giving it his approval. The waiter poured out two glasses, and I inhaled its crisp scent, trying to relax my grin so I didn't look like a simpleton.
"So...." Max cleared his throat. "Tell me about your time in Las Vegas. Were you a showgirl?"
I choked. My mouthful of wine sprayed all over the table, and Max.
"Oh! God!" I gasped and wiped up the mess with a napkin. "I am so sorry." I winced a little as he wiped at his face.
"I was too young to be a showgirl." I tried another gulp of the wine, and this one actually found its way down.
"Ah, so you were raised in Vegas!" Max looked almost smug. Clearly he loved piecing together a mystery, like a good federal agent.
I gave in. "I was raised near Vegas."
"And what are you doing in Rhode Island?" Max pushed gently, as a waiter placed two steaming bowls of clam chowder in front of us. I guess he ordered beforehand, and for me too.
"I have family here... Babe... We both own the bar... Together..." My voice went hollow.
"And your parents, are they still in Vegas?" Max didn't seem to notice my awkward stammering. He just dug into his chowder.
"My parents..." I hesitated. "My parents are dead."
Max looked up suddenly. "I am so sorry."
"It's okay," I said, shaking off the thought. "You didn't know. I was very young when it happened. My aunt tried to raise me on her own, but she was young herself. So I was sent to live with a family friend."
The carefully rehearsed story came out of my mouth easily, the familiarity soothing. And it wasn't a complete lie. The broad strokes were true. Many kids have lost their parents and been sent to live with friends of the family. I just left out the part about the friend being a government operative on a top-secret military base that dealt with supernatural crimes.
"That mus
t have been terrible for you." It was Max's turn to flail around. Dead parents can be such a conversation killer, especially on the first date.
"That's life." I smiled. "What about you? What made you join the FBI?"
"Living with gang violence," Max explained. "Long Beach is a rough city with a lot of gang activity, and growing up in that environment...I knew from a young age that I just wanted to stop it."
"That's pretty righteous, Max." I was impressed. "And now you are the authority on gang violence. So then gangs are here? In Rhode Island?"
"Looks that way." Max looked out over the water.
"Now say it like you mean it," I prodded.
He laughed. "That obvious?"
I nodded.
"Honestly, I am not sure," Max played with his napkin. "You have gangs here, absolutely. Every place does. But I am not convinced that these murders are the work of a gang. Or, I am not convinced yet."
A steaming plate of muscles was placed in front of me. I inhaled the delicious smell of white wine and garlic. My eyes widened and I went at them with gusto.
"It's refreshing to take a woman out for dinner and have her actually eat." Max looked amused.
I popped a perfectly cooked muscle into my mouth. "Wait until it's time for dessert!"
Max reached across the table and grabbed my hand. Startled, the flush from my face moved slowly down my body.
Dates were kind of fun. I would have almost felt badly about what I missed over the past 33 years, but I was too content, enjoying this moment of pure normalcy. I was just a regular woman out on a date with a super hot guy, not this weird vampire/human mutant that was supposed to save the world from stuff no one believed in anyway. Being normal was...simple.
Then something out of the window caught my eye. Bile rose in my throat, and I closed my eyes and silently willed what I thought I just saw away.
After a small shake of my head, I opened them again. My heart raced as my adrenaline surged.
"Oh crap," I blurted before I could stop myself. Max's head snapped around, following my gaze.
Marcello. He was standing on top of a rock in the middle of the water. He looked like he was calling the fury of the ocean by the movements of his arms. The waves became more violent, and a huge one came barreling towards their window. Marcello's shrill laughter pierced the air.