Don't Talk Back To Your Vampire

by Michele Bardsley

  I’m at the edge of the woods, I sent out. How do I find you?

  Don’t! Get away! Nooooo!

  Pain swiped at me as terror filled my mind like a heavy black cloud. Like one of those stupid girls in a slasher flick, I plunged into the dank darkness. Within seconds, my acute hearing picked up familiar growls and the mewling cry of a hurt animal. I followed the noises until I found a tiny clearing.

  Hanging from the limb of a large oak tree was a small wire cage. Inside it was a sleek golden cat—Lucifer. She cowered and hissed, her eyes wide with panic as she scrambled around trying to find purchase. I’d be fritzing too if a seven-foot-tall beast was playing “smash the piñata” with me.

  I recognized the lycan as the alpha that had chased me the previous night. But who had captured the cat and put her in the cage? The creature jumped and swatted the cage again, causing it to whip back and forth.

  Help me! Help me!

  I stared at the cat. I was way out of my element. I darted away and ducked behind a tree. No cell phone, damn it. I’d rushed out to this location without telling anyone, not even Tamara.

  Lorcan. He was the one who could really help me.

  The lycan’s frustrated roar made the cat cry louder.

  Help me! Help me! Help me!

  Hold on, sweetie, I projected.

  Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!

  I wondered if I could use the mind-meld thing with Lorcan. He’d been an animal of sorts once, right? Without any real hope of succeeding, I sent out the thought: Lorcan? I wish you were here.

  “Didn’t I tell you to stay out of the woods?”

  “Aaaaaaaaaah!” I scrambled away. Crap, crap, oh crap! Not two inches from the spot I had occupied was Lorcan. He squatted next to the tree, looking at me with raised eyebrows. Gold sparkles faded from his body.

  “Are you insane? You just appeared out of thin air! Holy God!” I gestured at him like a mad scientist berating his lab monster. “You scared me to death!”

  “I didn’t incur your death that way at all.”

  I gaped at him, then snapped, “You might not want to choose a career as a comedian.” Obviously, he hadn’t been joking, but heavens above, he didn’t have to wallow in the morbid every hour of the day. Argh! I was furious that he—he—just popped next to me without warning. But I was also relieved that he had arrived to save the day. I climbed to my feet. “How the Sam Hill did you know where I was?”

  If I’d hoped to receive confirmation that my mental calls had reached him, I was sorely disappointed.

  “Why did you come here?” he asked, pointedly ignoring my question. His voice was as emotionless as his gaze.

  Well, he wasn’t the only one who didn’t have to answer questions. Besides, what was I supposed to say? Hey, I heard a cat’s telepathic plea for help, but I’m not crazy or anything. Instead, I pointed toward the clearing. “Save the little fur-ball from becoming a lycan snack.”

  In the blink of an eye, Lorcan rose, zipped to me, and grabbed my arm. He looked down at me, his silver gaze gleaming with anger. “We will discuss your disobedience later.”

  “Disobedience!” I wasn’t sure if what I felt was disbelief or anger. “What century do you think we’re living in? You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “Yes, I can. Stay here,” he ordered. “Or you will be a lycan snack.”

  Chapter 8

  I frowned at Lorcan. Was that statement meant to be protective or was it meant to be a threat? I didn’t have a chance to ask for clarification, because he rose into the air and flew toward the clearing. The growls and screeches still echoed in the forest, which meant the beast hadn’t gotten the cage down yet.

  “Well,” I huffed as I crept toward the ongoing melee, “somebody got out of the wrong side of the coffin today.”

  I ducked behind a clump of bushes and peeked over the tangle of leaves. The lycan’s parfum de sewer attacked my nose in such a heinous way that I pinched my nostrils shut.

  Lorcan alighted on the limb and drew up the chain holding the cat’s cage. The lycan howled, leaping and swiping to no avail. The second that Lorcan opened the cage door, Lucifer lit out of it like her tail was on fire. She skittered up the tree to a high branch, then leapt to another tree. She repeated this pattern until she was long gone. If that wasn’t just like a cat! Not even a “Well, so long and thanks for all the fish” as she left her rescuers in mortal jeopardy.

  Lorcan yanked the chain off, then dropped the cage onto the lycan’s big, furry head. The creature shrieked in pain as the cage bounced off and rolled onto the ground. It stomped on the cage, clutching its skull and yowling.

  Feeling sorry for it, I dared a peek into its mind.

  Once, he had been a vampire. I grabbed that much from his lumbering memories, but no name, no Family connection. And I got those same flashes—the pain, the blood, the chains— as I had with him and the other two last night. Who had locked him up? Tortured him? And let him go in Broken Heart?

  Not sure what to do, I glanced up at Lorcan. If I hadn’t had super vamp hearing, I wouldn’t have heard the words he whispered: “Níl neart air. I must release you to Tír na Marbh.”

  He sailed out of the tree and dropped to the ground. To my utter shock, a sword made of sparkling gold light appeared in his hands. Lorcan’s eyes were filled with compassion and sorrow as he raised the blade.

  “Lorcan!” I leapt from my spot and landed in front of the lycanthrope. I crossed my arms to block his blow and he cursed a Gaelic blue streak as his wrist smacked into mine. The blade tumbled from his grip. The minute it left his hand, it sparkled into nothingness.

  “What the bloody hell are you doing? I nearly took your pretty head off!”

  “Wait just a—” I blinked at him. “You think I’m pretty?”

  His mouth dropped open. Then his lips thinned and his silver eyes went flat. “Leave it to a woman to find a compliment in the fiercest of words.” He put his hands together and the sparkling gold light sword reappeared. “Get out of the way, Eva, and let me put the poor soul out of his misery.”

  “No.” I whirled around, my heart pounding—from confronting the scary lycan or telling off vampire royalty, I didn’t know. I kneeled in front of the hairy, smelly creature. “There, there. It’s okay. What’s your name?”

  The lycan stared at me, a gleam of intelligence in his dark eyes. He pointed to his mouth and shook his head.

  “You can’t speak. Okay. Then think it.”

  Faustus.

  “Faustus.”

  Images filtered from him: his struggle among dark-robed figures, taken into a shadowy room that smelled of antiseptic, forced onto a steel table and bound with thick chains. Syringes took out blood and others injected the substance that had turned him into the mutated lycan.

  “He was turned into a hybrid against his will.” I looked at Lorcan and flinched at the steely expression in his eyes.

  The lycan’s roar warned me. I whirled around in time to get swooped into his big, furry embrace. I yelled, “Let me go!”

  The lycan released me instantly. Experimentally, I pointed at him and said, “Sit.”

  His big butt hit the ground. He looked up at me like he was a puppy instead of a murderous Bigfoot.

  “Stay.”

  Lorcan grabbed my elbow and yanked me out of Faustus’s grasp. “What the hell is going on? How do you know about him? How can you make him obey you?”

  I tapped my temple.

  “Glamouring does not usually include telepathy,” he said.

  “You’ve seen the nightly act, Lor. Animals love me. This might be crazy, but I think I can communicate with animals who can also take human form. Or who were human at some point.”

  Lorcan looked at me as though I’d plunged his glittering sword into his heart.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Of course.” He shook off whatever was bothering him. As Lorcan studied the lycan, I thought about Lucifer. I’d heard her thoughts— they were very human. If my
hypothesis was correct, then she had been a human at some point. And if that was true . . . who was she?

  Then Lorcan touched my elbow and nodded toward Faustus. “I can’t transport all three of us. Will he follow you?”

  “I don’t know.” I looked at the lycan. “Where do you want to take him?”

  “My brother’s house. It’s closer than the compound, and it has suitable . . . facilities.”

  I looked at Lorcan. “I won’t let you hurt him.”

  “I figured that out after you threw yourself in front of my blade.” His hand drifted to my hair. I felt his long fingers stroke my temple. “Beheading is one of the few ways to kill a vampire.”

  “I know.”

  “You are either brave or foolish.”

  “Probably both.” I felt unnerved by Lorcan’s gentleness. It was like being touched by velvet wrapped around a sword point—one slip of the velvet, and I’d be cut by the sword. I stepped away from him. How was I supposed to react to his touch, to the look in his eyes? I had no doubt he was still angry with me. I was angry with myself. I’d used up my allotment of dumb decisions in my lifetime; I shouldn’t have tried to rescue Lucifer without help.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  He blinked at me. “What?”

  “Do you only recognize an apology when it comes from your own lips?” I smiled to soften the reprimand. “I endangered myself by coming out here alone. I’m grateful you showed up and prevented me from doing something really stupid.” I swallowed hard, filled up by emotions I couldn’t name. “Thank you.”

  He stared at me, his silver eyes mercurial. “You are welcome, a stóirín.”

  I looked at Faustus. We’re going to help you. Get up, okay? The lycan got to his feet, then grasped my hand lightly with his large, furry one, as if he realized his strength might hurt me. Of course, he couldn’t really hurt me—a vampire healed quickly of most injuries.

  Expectant, we both turned to Lorcan.

  “We’ll walk,” he said. He strode around us and we followed. Vamp vision allowed me to see him clearly and I must admit I admired his backside. My heart hitched as I thought about what Lorcan must look like without his clothes. Although I’d seen his yummy chest, I couldn’t help but think about the rest of him. Then I felt so guilty about picturing a four-thousand-year-old monk naked that I redirected my thoughts to all the tasks that awaited me in the library. But then my eyes coasted down Lorcan’s well-defined back and his . . . oh, my. Black really accentuated his—no, no. Bad Eva.

  As we left the woods and headed across the cemetery, I asked Lorcan if I could use his cell phone. I called Tamara, but she didn’t answer either her cell or the library’s phone, so I figured she was in the shower or listening to her music at eardrum-busting levels. I left two voice mails and returned the slim electronic device to Lor.

  “What the fuck is going on?” asked Jessica. She glanced around the living room, which was roughly the size of Manhattan, and blew out a breath. “Whew. She’s not skulking around. Stupid Cussing Jar! Jen’s made a mint off me this week.”

  “Luckily, you married a rich man,” said Patrick.

  He draped an arm around Jessica’s shoulders. They looked so good together. I admit I had felt both joy and envy when Jessica and Patrick fell in love and married. I hadn’t dated much and I could count on three fingers how many men I’d invited into my bed. I hadn’t thought that I was missing all that much until I saw the kind of love that could be had by soul mates. I sighed. Soul mates. There was no other word to describe the bond shared by Jessica and Patrick.

  “She can talk to animals—animals who have a human side,” said Lorcan. He stood between the huge red sofa and the big walnut coffee table. I stood behind the monstrous furniture, next to Jessica and Patrick.

  “You can mind-meld with animals? That is so freaking cool!” exclaimed Jess. “Would you tell Glitter to stop shitting by the fence?”

  “I . . . uh, that’s gross. Sorry, but I can’t command animals.”

  “Well, hell. She does it on purpose, y’know. Never the same spot, but always by the fence, and I’ve ruined more than one pair of sneakers thanks to her.”

  “Jess,” I said, “I can’t discuss proper poop etiquette with a horse.”

  Bored with the conversation, Jessica stared at the man sitting on the couch, apparently content to watch the big-screen TV. “Hey, son of a monkey butt, why are you here again?”

  Johnny turned his baby blues on his host. His lips hitched into a sexy grin. “TV.”

  “Captain Obvious,” she muttered.

  “Mo chroi,” said Patrick in a very patient voice, “shall we turn to the business at hand?”

  I felt the power of Patrick’s stare on me. I squirmed, feeling as though I’d been sighted by twin silver laser beams. “His name is Faustus?”

  “Yes,” I said. “And I still think sticking him in the laboratory was . . . was . . . a tramontane act.”

  “A what’s-it?” asked Jessica.

  “She thinks we were wrong to put him in the containment unit,” clarified Lorcan.

  “Oh.” She looked at me, hands on her hips. “Hybrids don’t have the ability for human speech. Stan said something about vocal cord corruption or . . . what?” She waved dismissively. “C’mon. It’s our sweet little Evangeline, not Hitler. Sheesh.”

  “You might as well let me in on it,” I said. “I met Faustus last night, too. Only he had two others with him. Did you capture them, too?”

  Patrick studied me, looking like a math professor trying to figure out a troublesome equation. “When Lorcan contacted us, he failed to mention that you had been part of his reconnaissance.”

  “I wasn’t. I was—” Searching for a rogue wolf. I smiled weakly. Think before you speak, Eva. Words unspoken are easier to swallow. Sage advice from my mother—I wished I’d remembered it five seconds earlier. Lor apparently wanted to keep me out of whatever was happening. I looked at him, hoping to figure out his motives. As usual, his expression was stoic. “Uh . . . er . . . Lor didn’t mention our meeting in the woods?”

  “Now it’s a meeting,” said Jess. She threw her hands up and joined Johnny on the couch. “I married a vampire. A rich, sexy vampire. Is my life easier? No. I’m ass-deep in lycans, my mother isn’t speaking to me, my kids want a dog—hey, was that CSI? Go back. No, the other way. Damn it, Johnny, give me the remote.”

  He handed over the TV remote control.

  Patrick touched my shoulder. “You’re from the Family Romanov. You have the ability to glamour. Obviously your psychic powers are different now that you’re a vampire. Rare is the Turn-blood who has your kind of abilities.”

  “You mean not everyone is a pet psychic?” I asked.

  Jessica snickered.

  “There is only one other vampire I know who has similar abilities,” said Patrick.

  “What’s his name? Maybe we can compare notes.”

  “Koschei Romanov,” said Lorcan. “The founder of your Family Romanov.”

  While I digested that bit of information, Lorcan turned to his brother. “I know what you’re thinking. And I do not agree.”

  “She has a unique talent,” Patrick countered. “And she may be able to help us. In fact, she is probably the only one who can.”

  “It’s not fair to ask her.”

  “Oh, you are speaking for her? Are you claiming her as your sonuachar?”

  Lorcan’s mouth dropped open. Then he clenched his fists, his eyes molten silver with fury. “Go hifreann leat.”

  Patrick grinned. “If that’s the case, deartháir, then you cannot speak for her.”

  “I have an idea,” said Jessica as she popped up from the couch. “Why don’t you stop talking about Eva like she’s not here and ask her if she wants to help?” She rounded the couch and stood next to me. “Hey, feel free to tell ’em to go to hell. They have this really outdated idea of chivalry. It’s cute sometimes, but mostly it’s annoying.”

  Patrick’s gaze staye
d on his brother. “Ná glac pioc comhairle gan comhairle ban.”

  “Hmph! Is minic a bhris béal duine a shrón.” Lorcan relaxed, his fists uncurling, but his eyes were still ablaze.

  “What did they say?” I asked Jessica.

  “I don’t speak Gaelic, but I do speak Patrick. It’s a good bet that he said something placating yet sarcastic. He’s good at that. Mr. Patience sounded pissed—so I’m going with ‘Fuck off.’ ” Jessica grinned at her husband and her brother-in-law. Then she looked at me, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She pointed toward the double doors that led to the living area. They were open, so we could see the large foyer, the massive staircase, and the single door— which looked like it opened into a bank vault— underneath the stairs. “Here’s the deal. We decked out almost the entire basement in science stuff. Stan about had an orgasm when we finished construction. If Linda didn’t bring him meals, he’d forget to eat. Anyway, the lycan is there. He has developed a bad attitude. I don’t need to hear him say, ‘I want to kill you’ to get his meaning.”

  “The other two must have a hiding spot around here.” Patrick rubbed a hand across his forehead as if warding off a headache, which was a human habit. Vampires didn’t get headaches. “From the tests Stan has managed to do so far, we’ve confirmed he has the taint.”

  The Consortium had told everyone that the Wraith leader, Ron aka Ragnvaldr, had infused the blood from murdered lycanthropes into vampires suffering from the taint. Ron had discovered not the cure for the taint but a way to combine vampires with lycans. The effects had been unexpected and terrifying. The problem was that the creatures weren’t always controllable.

  In June, several of the mutants had attacked townspeople. Only one had survived, and only because Lorcan had Turned her. My undead heart squeezed at the thought that more of these hybrids were on the loose.

  I looked at Lorcan and wondered how he’d been cured. He had been a big, hairy beast when he’d killed me. What had the Consortium done to rid Lor of the taint? Infused him with lycan blood, that’s what.