“You fucking idiot. I told you to call me if she showed up. Not when she left,” he barked into the phone.
“Man, I know.” The young valet tried to sound sorry, but he wasn’t. Serge was a prick. “I wasn’t on duty when she came in. I got there late. T’was Carlos that saw ‘em come in. I’d been there about ten minutes when she come bustin’ out the front door like the place was on fire. O’Reilly wasn’t with her and she took his car. Didn’t say where she’s headed, just tore off like a maniac. Carlos said he had a tracker with him man. A tracker.”
Serge’s blood ran cold. A tracker was bad news. While there were many reasons why someone like Lucan O’Reilly might be entertaining a tracker at the Enclave, Serge couldn’t help but think it was because of Mark. Because of him. “How long ago did O’Reilly leave?”
“’Bout ten minutes ago with the tracker and another human woman in tow. The girl left just a few minutes before that,” the valet replied. “Why you care so much ‘bout this girl, man? She's pretty and all, but she's human.” He spit out the last word as if it was something vile. “And O’Reilly’s already put his mark on her if you know what I mean, man.”
Serge hung up without answering. He checked his watch. Ten minutes. She could be anywhere in the city by now. Serge took a deep breath and tried to be logical. If she’d left in a hurry without O’Reilly, then they must have had a fight. So it was safe to assume she wouldn’t be returning to his apartment at the Chrysler building. She would probably be returning to her own apartment. Alone.
Serge searched his pockets for the address he’d held on to for the last few days. It had only cost him $9.95 online to find out where Abri Cole lived. It was mighty careless of her not to have an unlisted phone number or at least a post office box given what she did for a living. Didn’t she watch primetime television dramas; it’s always the attorney that gets capped by the disgruntled ex-husband.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Now where the hell am I going to park this damn thing? Tearing off from the Enclave and heading to my own apartment seemed like a good idea fifteen minutes ago, but now I have the issue of where to park a hundred thousand dollar car in my less than upscale neighborhood. A spaced opens up about a block from my building and I put my rather rusty parallel parking skills to use. I really need to drive more often. Of course, if I stop seeing Lucan I won’t have the opportunity or the need anymore. There is no way I am keeping the Evora, no matter how much I want to.
I get out and lock the doors. I am barely legal on my distance from the curb, but I don’t care. Besides, if I get a ticket, it won’t go on my license, it will be Lucan’s problem.
I hurry down the block to my building feeling exposed and alone on the dark street. It is too quiet for this early on a Friday night. I have my key out and ready to go when I walk up the steps. Thankfully, they are in my purse and not back at the Chrysler. I don’t have a chance to use them, however. The building’s super is standing in the lobby and pushes the door open for me.
“Hi Mr. K. How are you?” I ask. “Thanks for opening the door.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Cole. I’m good. You’ve been gone a lot lately. Working hard?” he asks. It’s always bothered him that I am out on my own at night. He looks out for the elderly and single tenants of our little dilapidated building.
“Yeah,” I lie. “I’ve been working a lot lately. I’m calling it a night early tonight, actually.”
“Good girl. Get some rest,” he smiles. “Well, g’night Miss Cole. Be sure to keep that door locked. I heard someone trying to jimmy the door open a few minutes ago.”
“Ah, thanks. I will.” Surely, it wasn’t Lucan. He wouldn’t try to break into my apartment building, would he?
I change into a pair of sweats and flop down my couch. I am too wound up to sleep. I need to think. So far, all my thoughts have centered on not seeing Lucan again. But if I want to be completely honest with myself, I know that isn’t possible. That bubble labeled overreaction that's been floating around my head since I burst out of the Enclave pops up again to be acknowledged.
I have taken everything Lucan’s told me in stride until this point, no matter how unbelievable it’s been. My unwavering acceptance of the impossible just reached critical mass tonight and I snapped. One just can’t override a lifetime of rules and logic without a second thought. Lucan probably understands that. That’s probably why he hasn’t called or shown up at my door. He’s giving me my space to come to this conclusion on my own. I will get a good night’s sleep in my own bed, clear my head, and call him in the morning. I will at least give him a chance to explain before I make up my mind never to see him again.
Ugh! Who am I kidding; I love this man. I told him so on like our third date. I am just going to have to accept the fact that logic is not always going to apply to Lucan and me. We are meant to be together, weirdness and all.
I brush my teeth and take off my make up before crawling into bed. The pillows and sheets still smell of Lucan and desire sparks in my belly. Fuck. I really messed things up tonight. I could be in bed with him right now if I’d just stuck around to listen to Zaid’s explanation. I toss my usual pillow to the floor and bury my face into the one on Lucan’s side of the bed. It’s not long before sleep overtakes me.
I am startled awake by a loud crash down the hall. I’ve lived in the city long enough to know better than to investigate the source of a noise that is not contained within the walls of my apartment. Instead, I get up to double check that my front door is triple locked and that the security bars are across the window that leads to the fire escape. Fumbling in the dark, I find my cell phone on the nightstand and use it to light my way to the living room. On the way, I notice that Lucan has called several times. I will call him in a minute, after I check the locks and the window.
The screen on my cell goes dark again. This is useless. I fumble against the wall, feeling for the switch that controls the lamp next to the couch. My vision is a little blurry, having fallen asleep in my contacts. I catch a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye.
The blow strikes hard and fast, knocking me off my feet. Before I hit the floor I manage to push the button to redial Lucan’s missed call. The phone spins out of my hand across the floor. I hear it ring once before the voice in the room curses. I hear it ring again before I smell the blood that can only be running from my head. I hear it ring once more before I lose unconsciousness.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Serge searched desperately for the ringing phone under the couch, under the coffee table, under the makeshift shelves that held the ancient television set. There was little doubt who she called before he made contact with her head. He hadn’t meant to hit her that hard. He’d forgotten that humans weren’t as strong as vampires and didn’t require much force to subdue. The smell of her blood was so enticing that he almost forgot what he was looking for.
The phone rang again and he located it under the rickety dinette set. He heard the caller answer as he retrieved it.
“Hello? Abri?”
He recognized the voice and recoiled. He’d been correct. “Fuck,” he muttered.
“Hello? Who’s this?” Lucan demanded on the other end of the line. His acute hearing allowed him to hear Serge even though the phone was several feet from his mouth. “Abri?”
Mustering his courage—after all this was what he’d been working towards wasn’t it; Serge lifted the phone to his mouth. “No love, this isn’t Abri.”
Lucan let forth a string of Celtic curses. “Who the fuck is this? What have you done to her?”
“It’s not what I have done, Luke. It’s what I'm going to do.” Serge replied, finding his resolve and then some. He was no fool though; he knew Lucan was close by, if not already in the building. Serge had to act fast. He ended the call and tossed the phone aside.
He locked the front door to slow down Lucan O’Reilly when he arrived. He hadn’t needed to break in thanks to the ever obliging super. Serge had amped the poor
human so hard he had willingly given up his master key set. That being after Serge had slipped inside behind a drunken couple of college students too blitzed notice him flashing past. Humans were so simple he though as he picked Abri’s limp body off the floor. He was glad to no longer be counted among their ranks.
Serge moved to crush Abri’s cell phone under his heavy boot. It didn’t give as easily as he anticipated and he stumbled under the uneven weight of his prize. He deposited Abri in one of the tattered kitchen chairs and tried again. The Blackberry cracked and crumbled underneath his boot. The crunch masking the tiny sounds of the front door’s locks giving way once more.
Satisfied that the phone was destroyed, Serge moved to hoist Abri over his shoulder again. Before he could get her in his arms, the front door opened and the light from the hallway spilled into the living room. That was fast, he thought, and quiet.
Serge hadn’t been so stealthy when he’d unlocked the door moments before. He’d dropped the heavy master key ring on the floor outside Abri’s door. Then, after he’d gotten the locks undone, the security chain caught, briefly thwarting his entry before he’d pried the links of chain apart with is thumb and index fingers. He’d made his way in and closed the door only to trip over a pair of high-heeled shoes in the middle of the floor. He was lucky to have made it that far before Abri came in.
The hall’s fluorescent lights penetrated deep into the darkness of the apartment, blowing his cover, before Lucan shut the door again. The darkness surrounded them again. Not that it mattered, they could both see just as well in the dark as in the light.
“I should have known it was you, Serge. I saw how you looked at her that first night.” Lucan spoke first as he moved closer to Abri, the smell of her blood burning in his nose and lungs. “What have you done?”
“Nothing yet, O’Reilly. She’s still alive. It wouldn’t serve me to have her die. She’s too important.”
“Important for what?” Lucan asked, trying to occupy the vampire’s thoughts, distract him from his plan.
“For me. She belongs to me. And I won’t make any mistakes this time when I turn her.” Serge replied. His thoughts shifted to Abri slumped over in the chair next to him. Oh the fun he was going to have draining her and then making her his forever.
“This time?” Lucan asked. “What have you done?”
“How many times are you going to ask me that, Celt?” Serge replied. “What I’ve done or not done is none of your concern. But what I'm going to do, well, that’s probably another story. But you’re a smart lad, you can figure it out.”
Serge was momentarily caught up in the smell of Abri’s blood. He could feel the pleasure centers of his brain firing off like a lightning storm. Serge had been an addict in his human life and those urges had carried forward into his vampire life, finding a new high to seek in his lust for blood. He struggled with the Enclave’s rules about feeding; the high he got from the hunt was much preferred over the mundaneness of getting sustenance from a willing participant. His fangs ran out with such force at the thought that his hand flew to his mouth on instinct with being hit in the face.
Lucan seized the opportunity, launching himself at Serge. Two solid and nearly unmovable bodies collided with a force that sounded like a bomb going off, sending a shockwave out across the building and making it shake.
“She’s mine.” Lucan growled before sinking his fangs into Serge’s throat.
Almost immediately, Lucan drew back from the gaping wound in Serge’s neck. He spat the blood from this mouth onto Abri’s floor, nearly missing a throw rug. He knew that taste. Serge’s cryptic rant about what he’d done or not done made sense now. When Mark broke into the Chrysler, they had exchanged a few blows and blood had been drawn. Serge tasted of Mark’s blood. He had been the one to create the Halfling. Lucan tossed the bleeding vampire to the floor.
Abri stirred on the chair, nearly falling off as she regained consciousness. “Lucan?” she cried out weakly.
“I'm here,” he said, wiping the blood from his mouth. He was glad the lights are off and she couldn’t see him clearly. “Just stay still.”
“Here?” she asked. “Lucan, my head hurts.”
“Yes, I'm here. You’re safe now,” he soothed, refusing to think that she might not want him here given how well dinner had gone; refusing to consider it was Serge that placed the call so he could gloat at his capture. Lucan was glad he had decided to wait out the night outside Abri’s building just in case she called and wanted to talk. He was also pissed that he hadn’t notice Serge slip inside.
Always the opportunist, Serge sprinted for the door while Lucan was distracted. “For now, Abri, love. For now,” Serge said. His words were slightly garbled from the wound dangerously close to this voice box. Thankfully, he would heal in a day or so. “But rest assured, little one, you are mine, not his.”
With that, Serge dashed from the building. Quite the dramatic exit if he said so himself.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“Lucan?” I call out again into the darkness, not entirely sure it was his voice I heard before. There were two voices, but one sounded distinctly like Lucan.
“I'm here. Hold still; let me turn on a light.” Lucan moves across the tiny apartment and flips the switch for the overhead light.
The bulbs flicker first and then light themselves brightly. I am sitting haphazardly in one of my kitchen chairs but I cannot remember how I got there or how Lucan got inside. All I can remember is the noise and the blow to my head. I need to look into Lucan’s eyes and know he is really here.
“Lucan! Your mouth is bleeding,” I yell without really meaning too. My head spins at the sound. I haven’t had anything to drink, but my head feels like I’ve been on a binder for a week. “What happened?”
“Serge broke in and knocked you out.”
“Serge the valet guy? Why would he break in my apartment? Why does my head hurt so badly?” I feel at the throbbing lump on the side of my head. Blood. There is blood.
“Oh shit, Lucan. I'm sorry, I'm bleeding.” I look up to see that Lucan’s eyes aren’t red, or even violet, but their normal blue. “This isn’t bothering you?”
“No, I'm fine. You’re in no danger with me. Why don’t you sit here and I'm going to call Zaid to bring the car around for us. You can’t stay here right now.” Lucan is calm and collected as he pulls his cell phone out of his coat pocket.
“Lucan, I'm sorry.”
“Don’t be, Abri. Really, I'm okay. I fed—” I cut him off.
“No, I mean about earlier. I'm sorry I ran out. It was just too much information. I hope Zaid and Amelia will forgive me. I hope you will forgive me.”
“Oh! Oh no, Abri. Don’t.” He puts the phone back in his pocket and kneels in front of me. “Don’t be sorry for that. It’s me who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have let Amelia and Zaid be the ones to tell you. I should have told you myself. I just figured, stupidly I might add, that it’d be easier for you to see that we aren’t alone. I didn’t take into account Zaid’s bluntness in telling you.”
It is so hard to be mad at this man and it makes me laugh. Laughing makes the pain in my head worse. “Apology accepted, but I still say it’s me that should be sorry. I’m still a little freaked out and, most of all, embarrassed, but I'm not staying here tonight regardless. I want to go home.” I don’t even care that I’ve said I want to go home when I’m already at home. Lucan is home to me now.
“Good,” he says, kissing my forehead gently before getting back up. “It’s just a superficial scratch on your head. Head wounds always tend to bleed a lot worse than they really are. Now can you go pack a few things while I call Zaid?”
Lucan holds out his hand to help me up. “Okay.” I say, squeezing it gently. The tingle of the amps is more reassuring to me than his words for reasons I can’t explain. “Hey, Serge didn’t amp me any when he grabbed me, isn’t that weird. I'm mean, after all he was literally trying to prey on me right?”
“That i
s weird,” Lucan says, dialing the phone again. “Zaid, pick us up out front in ten, brother.”
I don’t hear the rest of their conversation as I head to my closet to pack another bag for Lucan’s. The one I packed this morning was just for the weekend. I don’t imagine I will be coming back here anytime soon. Not that I really want to after this.
“Lucan,” I call from the bedroom. “Can you come help me? I’m too, well, I can’t keep it together to do this.” I hate how weak my voice sounds.
Lucan helps me pack a large suitcase with enough stuff for the week and I dump all of my toiletries into a shoulder bag, even though the stuff at Lucan’s apartment is of far better quality. I take out a couple of suits for work as well.
“I’m ready, I think.” Lucan is in the living room straightening a lamp and cleaning splatters of blood off the floor. “I just want to wipe this blood off. I don’t want to bloody up your car.”
My left eye is starting to blacken a little. Great, that will be fun to explain come Monday when it's a full on shiner. Somehow, I know the old I-walked-into-a-door routine won’t do it for Max and Lindsey. I don’t want them to think Lucan smacked me around or something, especially not given how Max feels about Lucan.
Zaid and Amelia are waiting for us downstairs in the Karma. Graciously, neither of them says a word as I climb into the back seat with Lucan. If I had just stayed at dinner like a big girl none of this would have happened. “Don’t think about it like that,.” Lucan whispers to me as Zaid pulls away from the curb.
“No worries, Abri. Amelia freaked out a little too when I told her, didn’t you, Amoré?” Zaid is looking at me in the rearview mirror, a big goofy grin on his face.
“Yup. I completely ruined a set of draperies at the Ritz by throwing a bottle of Merlot a Zaid’s head. I missed him by a mile, of course, but I think he got the point.” Amelia smiles at me over her shoulder. “Don’t worry Abri, you’ll figure it all out.”
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