Don't Talk Back To Your Vampire

by Michele Bardsley

  And still the prince did not find his beloved.

  After a thousand years of wandering, the prince sought the table of a fortune-teller. At dusk, he entered her tent and bade her to look into his future.

  “Please,” he begged. “I have given up everything to find the other half of my soul. I can think of nothing else but of her, the one I can love, the one who will complete me.”

  Though the fortune-teller feared the súmaire fola, she looked into her crystal ball and told him the truth. “The one you seek has been born and raised on a small farm. She is a lovely lass of marriageable age, though she rejects all suitors.”

  “Tell me more,” demanded the prince. “Are you sure it is she?”

  “I tell you what the crystal reveals. It does not lie.” She looked again at the swirling colors inside the globe. “She is well loved by her parents and her sisters. She is kindhearted and never speaks in anger. Her patience is legend. Ah, one of her many gifts is that of song. When she sings, all weep at the sound of her voice. Yes, my prince, she is pure of heart and strong of spirit. She is all that you desire. But she is a poor, simple maiden—will you still have her?”

  “I have amassed enough riches for a hundred lifetimes,” said the prince. “I have waited a millennium just to see her face, to kiss her lips . . . to pledge my heart to her. Where is she?”

  The fortune-teller shook her head. “The crystal ball does not reveal her location. But if you go west, you will find what you need to continue your journey.”

  “How will I know her?”

  “Hair the color of a raven’s wing. Lips as red as the rose. Skin as pale as morning cream and a gaze the soft brown of a doe.”

  His vigilance had been rewarded! Excited, the prince paid the woman handsomely. As he left the old and ragged tent, he walked west and thought about his maiden.

  Finally . . . oh, finally . . . he would embrace his true love.

  —From The Prince and the Maiden,

  an unpublished work by

  Lorcan O’Halloran

  Chapter 12

  Lorcan, Patrick, and Damian stood outside in the hallway and discussed carpentry and security. Dr.Merrick had checked on Tamara and pronounced her on the way to recovery.

  I slid more ice chips into my daughter’s mouth. As sorry as I was to know Johnny was loose in Broken Heart chasing Lucifer down, I was grateful that his temper tantrum had shaken Tamara out of unconsciousness.

  “Mom,” she said, staring at my mouth, “you’re getting all fangy. Did you have breakfast yet?”

  “I can take care of that,” said Jessica.

  I leaned down and kissed Tamara on the forehead. “I’ll be right back. Eat more ice chips.”

  She rolled her eyes, but dutifully put another spoonful into her mouth.

  Jessica led me into the empty hallway and offered her wrist. I held onto her arm and pressed the pulse point against my mouth. Other than that first drink from Mortie, I had never supped on another vampire. I didn’t know if it was the fact that Jessica and Patrick noshed on each other or that she was from a different Family, but her blood tasted different—sweet even. After I was finished, I said, “I feel like I drank chocolate.”

  “Our donors eat a lot of Godivas,” she said, grinning.

  We returned to the room. Tamara’s gaze was all over the vampire twins and Damian. Damian was kneeling and fingering the bent door hinge. Patrick was arguing with Lor in Gaelic, so I couldn’t understand a word.

  “Those dudes are hot,” announced Tamara.

  Both Lor and Patrick shut up and turned to stare at her. Damian looked up and grinned wolfishly. My daughter’s face went bright red. She drew the sheet over her head, muttering, “You can stake me now.”

  Laughing, I tugged the sheet down. “If you think they’re cute, wait until you see the guy who rescued you. He looks like somebody peeled him off the pages of a manga book. His name is Durriken.”

  “Yeah, well . . . I guess I’ll have to thank him,” she said with a slight shrug. I knew my daughter—she was pretending disinterest, but she’d darn well anticipate meeting the guy. Although I wasn’t sure that introducing her to a boy who probably knew seven hundred ways to kill was a good idea. Then again, who better to protect her?

  “How do you know it’s raining cats and dogs?” I asked Jessica.

  Jessica blinked. “Um . . . I dunno.”

  “When you step in a poodle,” Tamara answered. “How do you get a bull to stop charging?”

  I snickered. “You take away his credit card. What did the cow say to the horse?”

  “Hot damn! I know this one!” Jessica did a drumroll on the side of the bed. “He said . . . why the long face?”

  We cracked up. Yes, it was silly to giggle over such crappy jokes, but it had always been a sure-fire way to lighten our emotional loads. My mother had started the Bad Joke tradition when she lay dying in the hospital, her cancer too far along to cure.

  Patrick joined us. He put his arm around Jessica and kissed the top of her head. They looked like someone had smacked ’em with a happy hammer. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to know that kind of love. Those two always looked . . . aglow, for lack of a better word.

  “Why did Humpty Dumpty have a great fall?” asked Patrick, his silver eyes twinkling.

  “Oh, do tell,” said Jessica.

  “To make up for a lousy summer.”

  We all groaned.

  “And I thought our jokes were goofy,” said Tamara. She smiled, though, and I knew she was mentally adding it to our List o’ Lame Laughs. She glanced at me. “I must admit Patrick’s joke tickled my risibles.”

  “Your what-ables?” asked Jess.

  “Risibles,” I repeated. “It means one’s sense of humor or one’s sense of the ridiculous.” I grinned proudly. “Darn it! Another ten-pointer! How did you remember the word of the day?”

  I explained to Jessica how Tamara and I kept a word-of-the-day list and the rules of our little game. Jessica looked at me speculatively. “You knew Faustus was a cent-a-thing just from the mind pic he sent you.”

  “He was a centurion, or centurio. They were professional officers in the Roman army that commanded between sixty and one hundred sixty men—known as a century.”

  “Or centuria,” added Tamara. “Was he carrying a vitus?”

  I nodded. “That’s a short staff, or vine stave, that most centurios wielded. They mostly used them to discipline, whacking ’em across the backs of their men.”

  “You guys are freaking geniuses. How do you know all this stuff?” Jessica asked.

  I suddenly realized that everyone in the room was not only listening but also looking intently at me. Heat rushed to my face, though I didn’t think I had enough circulating blood to create a decent blush. I looked at the scuffed toes of my hiking boots. “I watch a lot of History Channel.”

  “And she reads everything,” said Tamara. “She’s brilliant.” Her tone defied anyone in the room to disagree. Pride peeked through my embarrassment.

  “Yeah, she is,” said Jessica. “Damn straight.”

  “Eva?”

  Lorcan stood next to me, his fingers grazing my elbow. I could see that he wanted to talk to me alone. I waved again to Tamara and followed Lorcan down the hall and into a private room.

  “It’s nearly eleven,” he said. “I will go to the library and see to its opening.”

  “Oh my gosh,” I exclaimed. “I forgot all about it!”

  The library was mine for only a little while longer and here I was, slacking in my duties. But then again, nothing was more important than my daughter. Still, I felt guilty.

  He stood very close to me, his gaze on mine. “You are so beautiful.”

  Warmth suffused my cheeks. I shook my head, but I didn’t want to discount his compliment.

  He drew me into his embrace. “I fear that I am not good enough for you. That you deserve someone better than me. Someone like Ralph.”

  Ralph? I hadn�
��t thought about him since the night he tried to ask me out. He was a nice guy, but he wasn’t Lorcan. You’ll know when you meet the right one, Eva, because your heart will recognize him. Mom was right. My heart keened for Lorcan.

  “So, I don’t think I’m beautiful and you don’t think you’re worthy. I suppose we’ll have to work on our self-esteem issues.”

  He laughed.

  Emboldened, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.

  His lips met mine and I could feel his uncertainty. I tried to kiss away his doubts. Maybe lust could burn off all but the essentials between us.

  Too soon, he pulled away. I felt dizzy with want, with need. As Jessica might say, Lorcan offered me melt-your-bones passion. I had never known this kind of mind-numbing carnality. I was uncomfortably aware that my desire for Lorcan was intricately connected to more than just a need for sex.

  “Worry not, love. I will take care of the library.” Lorcan’s lips curved into his half-sad smile and he smoothed my brow with his thumb. “Stay with Tamara for as long as you can. There are rooms in the basement—you can shelter in one until tomorrow night. I promise you that Tamara will be safe during the day.”

  I hated the thought of not being closer to her while I slept. But I knew that my daughter would be cared for and protected.

  He gave me one light kiss, a promise, I hoped.

  “Thank you, Lorcan.”

  He rested his forehead against mine and whispered words I didn’t understand. “For protection,” he murmured. His eyes were like a gray mist, filled with secrets I desperately wanted to know. When had I stopped fearing him? It didn’t matter. I was very aware of my new feelings for Lorcan and they all involved heat and light and motion.

  “Good night, Eva.”

  “G’night.” I felt all moon-eyed and tingly again as I watched him sparkle out of sight. Eventually I would be able to do the same, but it took a while for Turn-bloods to learn their powers.

  Feeling both giddy and bereft, I returned to the hallway. I glanced at Damian, who leaned against the far wall, looking at me. I didn’t sense anger in him; in fact, it was as if an invisible wall had been put around his thoughts.

  The lycanthrope jerked his head toward the end of the hallway and raised his eyebrows. I followed him until we reached the exit door. Once again, he leaned against the wall and looked at the floor, apparently gathering his thoughts. “Whatever you saw when you were poking around in my head . . . you must not believe first appearances.”

  For once, I could see past his tough exterior. I didn’t think Damian the type of man who tried to correct another’s impression of him. Why should my opinion matter? I didn’t know, but all the same, I was flattered—and confused. I risked putting my hand on his arm. “I didn’t poke around. I heard your thoughts and the image came unbidden. I have to wonder why you were thinking of it when you were also thinking of Faustus.”

  “I don’t have to explain myself,” he said stiffly.

  “No, you don’t.”

  He stared at me for a long moment. “Faustus reminded me of old sorrows. You see, the lycanthropes are dying out. We don’t have many females and more than half of our pups born don’t live past a year.”

  “I’m so sorry, Damian.” Empathy welled. I was a mother. The very idea of losing Tamara terrified me. I couldn’t imagine being a mother who knew that the child I bore had a fifty percent chance of dying.

  He inclined his head. Sighing, he continued, “We are not unknown to the humans, especially in Germany. The Deutsches Reich knew about us. During World War Two, they raided our villages and took us to the death camps. Adolf Hitler wanted to build a master race, but he was thinking more along the lines of strength, near-immortality, and the ability to change form. But lycan DNA does not combine well with other species’ DNA.”

  “Is that why the tainted vampires who are given lycan blood turn into those creatures?”

  “The Wraiths keep using blood taken from lycans they’ve murdered. Such blood is less potent and more unstable. It changes them before it kills them.”

  The lycan-blood transfusion had transformed Lorcan. But he’d been infused with royal plasma from living donors. Obviously his body had a battle with the lycan DNA and he temporarily became the same kind of creature as the others. But Lorcan not only survived the process, he was cured of the taint.

  “Thanks to the Reich, our small numbers got smaller. The women—they suffered the most.” He paused, waving a hand as if he could wipe away such a terrible history. “They took our only sister—Danielle. She was the youngest of us, and as a girl, very prized, very beloved. We tracked her to a death camp. My brothers and I captured the guards and took their uniforms. The image you saw, ja?” He tapped his temple.

  I nodded.

  “We were too late to save her. We were too late to save anyone.”

  I didn’t have any words for Damian. How could you soothe such a festering wound? I hadn’t considered how human events and history had affected paranormal beings. And surely there was a whole parakind history filled with amazing experiences that no human had ever known about.

  “Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “I sympathize, Damian. I’m truly sorry for your loss. But how can I help?”

  “The others, they debate about you and your special ability. They think about how to use you to further the Consortium goals. And I—I think the same thing, Eva. About how to use you to serve my purpose.”

  I tried not to shiver at his intensity or show evidence of my sudden fear. “What do you want from me?”

  “Nefertiti.”

  “Her dance card is getting full,” I said, grimacing. The woman sure knew how to make enemies.

  “You said she has been hiding in the form of Lucifer,” said Damian.

  I hadn’t quite figured out how Nefertiti could turn into a cat, but I felt sure she was doing so. “My telepathy only works with animals who can take human form, so it’s a logical conclusion.”

  “You are very smart, so I believe your conclusion.” He nodded sharply. “I want her captured, Eva. I want her to pay.”

  I was still reeling from being called smart by someone who was, for all intents and purposes, a more advanced being. Then the words Damian had spoken filtered through my scattered thoughts. “Wait a minute. You want Nefertiti to pay for what?”

  “For murdering my sister. Who do you think led the squad that captured her?” He laughed bitterly. “I’ll give you one guess who instigated the hunts and who made a deal with the Reich.”

  “Ron, the esteemed leader of the Wraiths.”

  He nodded sharply. Another kind of grief was filtering out from his psychic protections. I couldn’t argue that he mourned his sister’s death, but there was a deeper reason for his need for vengeance.

  “Why not let the Roma track and capture her?”

  “Nein und abermals nein!”

  Surprised at his vehemence, I took a step back. He made a visible effort to control his temper.

  “What’s your problem with the Roma?”

  “In a way, the lycanthropes and the Roma are cousins, if you will. Our legacy is to protect vampires and theirs is to hunt them.”

  “You mean Durriken and other Roma can turn into werewolves?”

  “Only one night each month—on the full moon.”

  “And you don’t mate with them because . . .”

  His face went white, not with fury, but with pain. There was a story, I was sure. I was a hair shy of delving into his thoughts to assuage my curiosity, but I didn’t.

  “We will not mate with Roma. It is a royal decree.”

  The words sounded as if they’d been pulled out by force. To change the subject, I said, “Everyone is so focused on Nefertiti that they forget about Johnny. He’s an innocent. He shouldn’t die or be tormented because of his wife.”

  “Why do you think she bound herself to him?” asked Damian. “For protection. So that those as tenderhearted as you would decry her punishment.”r />
  What kind of woman would seduce and bind another to her to protect herself? She had banked on the idea that if caught, she would not be killed because her life was bound to Johnny’s.

  “I don’t know where she is,” I said. “And even if I did, I’m not sure I would tell you.”

  “You still look at the world through the eyes of a human. That will change over time.” His gaze was thoughtful. “I underestimated you, Liebling,” he said softly. “I shall not do so again.”

  Too soon dawn arrived. Tamara was sleeping, so I kissed her forehead and whispered, “Good night.”

  I followed Dr. Merrick to the basement, where she showed me a room with a simple cot, pillow, and blanket.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “You’ll be safe in here,” she reassured me. “Drake and Darrius are watching Tamara. She’ll be okay.”

  We wished each other good night and she pulled the door shut behind her.

  As I sat on the bed, I shuddered, just a little, at the rough feel of cotton. The pillow looked too droopy. I wished mightily for my bed, my sheets, and my pillows.

  Feeling lonely, I sat down and indulged in a little moping. My body was already feeling heavy. In a few minutes, I would pass out on the cot, Egyptian cotton or not.

  “A stóirín,” said Lorcan as he sparkled into sight. He held three big pillows and the top sheet from my bed.

  “Lorcan!” I was still getting used to him popping in and out of places. I got up from the bed and we replaced the bedding.

  “Thank you so much.”

  “You are welcome. I must return to my own sleeping quarters,” he said regretfully. He studied me, then asked, “You have something on your mind?”

  He was astute. Or he was in my mind again. “Damian told me he wants me to find Nefertiti so he can kill her. Doesn’t he care about Johnny?”

  Lorcan sat on the cot and patted it. “We all care about Johnny. As a Consortium member, he has our protection.”

  “Did you find him?”

  “Not yet.” He took my hand and wound his fingers through mine. “You must not think badly of Damian. He has good reason to punish Nefertiti.”