Don't Talk Back To Your Vampire

by Michele Bardsley

  “Aw, c’mon,” said Jessica. “We need you. Hey! How about I take this up with the Consortium? I’ll talk ol’ Ivan into it. Would you go for it then?”

  A little flame of hope flickered. “If the Consortium agrees to it, Jess, then, yeah—I’d love to do it.”

  “Sweet! Okay, babe, we gotta go figure out what’s stinking up our house,” said Jess cheerfully. “The third floor reeks like a dead guy’s bad breath.” She fluttered her eyelashes at Patrick. “No offense, honey.”

  “Hmm. I suppose a breath check is in order,” he said. The look he shot her left no doubt that tongue and lips would be involved with the process. “Why don’t we reconnoiter upstairs and begin the procedure?”

  Grinning, Jess waved good-bye to me and left. Patrick took a seat near the bed.

  “She’s trying to make me feel better,” I said. “But we’ve got problems, don’t we?”

  “Yes, Eva.” He sighed. “Through our network of informants, we’ve found that the Wraiths are disbanded. No one has seen Ron in weeks.”

  “The hybrids didn’t just show up. Someone led them here.”

  He nodded. “The experiments done on tainted vampires and captured lycans now are very much the same as those done during World War Two.”

  “You’re saying it’s no coincidence Nefertiti has revealed herself.” Realization dawned and fear chilled me. “Her reinforcements have arrived.”

  “And they are quite good at avoiding detection. Other than the three lycans chasing you, one of them Faustus, there are no signs of outsiders.” Patrick leaned forward and patted my hand. “If there is a war coming, you will be very much in demand.”

  “Just because I can talk to them and hear their thoughts doesn’t mean I’ll be of any use. I can’t control them.”

  “Have you tried?”

  I shook my head. I was reminded of my dream where the wolf cowered at my command. I looked at Patrick and saw the speculation in his eyes. “You think I can.”

  “For some reason the powers of Turn-bloods bitten by Lorcan are increasing exponentially. Jessica is quite good with her swords and with flight. She is also able, with some limitations, to appear and reappear. Usually it takes centuries to progress that far.”

  “I can see why I would be of interest.” Damian and Johnny could use me to control Nefertiti. The Consortium could use me to hear the thoughts of the lycanthropes and Roma, maybe even to control unruly prisoners. And the bad guys could use me to control their experiments.

  Nausea roiled and I pressed my hand against my stomach. Oh, God. I was in trouble.

  “I know it’s a lot to grasp,” soothed Patrick. “Take a moment, if you need it. Your daughter is waiting to see you.”

  He rose from the chair; his smile was reassuring.

  I sat up slowly and felt somewhat normal. The door popped open and there was Tamara.

  “Hi, Mom!”

  “Hi, honey. Your lips are doing something weird,” I said. “Are you aware they’re curling up at the corners?”

  “Ha, ha. I can smile, y’know.”

  Since when? Had I worried her so much that she was trying to be nice? I preferred my darling sarcast (one who uses sarcasm) to this . . . this . . . “Jollier.”

  “Ah, better a jollier than a persifleur.” She chuckled. “Nice one, Mom. Ten points for you.” She sat next to me and patted my leg. “You gonna live, so to speak?”

  “Yeah. How about you?”

  “Think so.”

  A knock sounded. My daughter skittered off the bed, hurried to the door, and flung it open.

  Durriken waited on the other side. He bowed to me, but his gaze never strayed from Tamara. “Hello, Miss LeRoy. Are you well?”

  “Yes. Thanks.”

  Oh, crap. Apparently, my teenage daughter had met her hero. I felt a little deflated that her smile and emotional buoyancy weren’t the result of seeing that I was okay. Tamara had never shown much interest in boys or in dating. Her sixteenth birthday was two months away. I suppose I hadn’t thought much about her hanging out with people her own age, since she so rarely showed interest in doing so.

  When Durriken offered his arm to her as if he were about to escort a princess to the ball, my daughter wrapped her arm around his and walked to my bedside. I tried to handle this turn of events with aplomb, but I felt kinda jealous. Even though I’d had every intention of introducing Durriken to Tamara, I hadn’t thought they’d become peas in a pod.

  “When did you two meet?” I asked.

  “Last night,” said Tamara. “He and his parents brought you to the hospital and he came to check on me.”

  “Wow. That’s great.” I tried to infuse enthusiasm in my voice, but I failed miserably. Tamara looked at me with raised brows. I didn’t want to embarrass her or myself by turning into a suspicious, lecturing mother. “So, what’re you doing now?”

  “We’re going to explore the house. This place is huge.” She grinned at Durriken and he looked flummoxed. He grinned back at her. Gak! They were already in the moon-eyed stage.

  “Be careful. Avoid dark, small places, and check in. Often. Don’t . . . uh, do anything silly. Because I’m sure Jess has this place decked out with video cameras. Lots of them.”

  “Whatever you say, Mom.”

  Tamara and I had talked about the birds and the bees many times. Granted, my mother had done the same for me, and it hadn’t stopped me from losing my virginity and getting pregnant. However, I didn’t think Tamara would run off and do anything sexual (gasp, blech, aah!) with Durriken. And his mother seemed the type to hack off genitalia if she thought ’em used inappropriately. All the same, I felt worried.

  “Your daughter will be safe with me,” said Durriken. “I will protect Tam.”

  “Yeah, Mom. Nothing bad will happen to me while I’m with Durry.”

  Ugh. Cute-name phase had been initiated. I knew kissing and . . . and touching wouldn’t be far behind. Tam leaned down to buss my cheek. Oh, my God. Parental affection. Who was this girl?

  I smiled bravely. “Have a good time.” But not too good of a time, gosh darn it!

  They waved good-bye, and then off they went to explore Silverstone mansion. As the door clicked shut behind them, I felt very lonely. It had always been me and Tamara. She valued her independence, but she’d never been away from me. I knew that one day she’d go off on her own, but I wasn’t quite ready to let her go. I didn’t want her to explore the world without me.

  You never have to cut the apron strings, baby. You just make ’em as long and as strong as your child needs. Then they have something to hold on to when they fall and they can follow those strings all the way home, if need be. The hardest thing to do is not hold on to the strings, to stop yourself from yanking on ’em to save your child from bad decisions. Your job as a mother is to be there with open arms. It’s up to the one you raised to decide whether or not to step into your embrace.

  My mother was a wise woman. Whenever I was feeling lonely for Tamara—when she went off to school or to spend the night with a friend—my mother got out the Ben & Jerry’s pints and the Apron-String Lecture. She knew a thing or three about letting go—as a mother watching her child find independence and as a human being taking the journey to the next life. God, I missed her.

  But I guessed it was time to start lengthening the apron strings.

  When I left the room, I wandered down the hallway. I wondered where Lorcan was and what he was doing. Then I wondered where Durriken and Tamara were . . . and hoped they weren’t doing anything.

  The Silverstone mansion was huge and sprawling. It was no surprise to me that Lorcan had a whole wing to himself. The library was at the end of the hallway. Double doors opened to reveal the dim and dusty confines of the original library. A second, smaller one was located downstairs. That was where Jessica showed me Lor’s books as well as a cache from the Consortium’s traveling library.

  I paused on the threshold. Wow. Ever see that scene in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast wher
e the Beast shows Belle the palace library? That’s the way I felt when I entered this wondrous place.

  The room was large and circular. Book-filled shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling. A walkway about fifteen feet up followed the curve of the room. In the middle of the room, the shelves curved toward a tall stained-glass window. Below it, I saw a dark alcove and the shadowy outline of the staircase that led to the second “floor” of the library.

  I nearly drooled.

  Four large cherrywood tables with matching chairs were scattered here and there. All the tables had open books on them—as if a hurried scholar couldn’t be bothered to shelve the tomes.

  Curious, I looked at the books on the table nearest to me. Nearly all of them covered various topics about ancient Egyptian culture. I peered down at the pages of the open text.

  O you who take away hearts and accuse hearts, who re-create a man’s heart (in respect of) what he has done, he is forgetful of himself through what you have done. Hail to you, lords of eternity, founders of everlasting!

  It nearly sounded like an appeal to a vampire. I looked at the cover: Ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead. Ah. An appeal to ancient gods—not to the fanged ones. I returned the book to its original position. The other hardbacks on the table included subjects about Seth, the god of chaos, ancient Egyptian spells, and one about the lost world of the Sudan. The Consortium had archaeologists in the Sudan trying to dig up a temple. I knew it had something to do with the origins of the taint—and maybe even finding the cure. While the vampire disease had existed for as long as vampires had walked the earth, it had seen a resurgence in recent years, becoming almost plaguelike in its duration and intensity. The Consortium, the Wraiths, and even the Council of Ancients had been affected by the illness and all were searching for a way to stop it. Rumor had it that the leader of the Wraiths might’ve unleashed the disease into parakind simply as a method of biological warfare. It seemed Ron wanted more than just to wipe out the Consortium—he wanted to wipe out the Ancients, too. But his plan must’ve backfired somehow. All vampires were affected by the disease, even the Wraiths.

  Creeped out by the idea of such a terrible disease, I returned my attention to the library. On the left side was a huge stone fireplace. Two red velvet wingback chairs sat in front of the fireplace; each had a matching red velvet footstool. I walked to one of the chairs and ran my palm over it. Soft and worn. Probably original furniture. Each chair had an oval cherrywood side table with a tall lamp, tilted at the right angle for reading.

  I couldn’t resist the idea of sitting in one of these chairs and whiling away the evening reading books. What else was I supposed to do? Usually I was at the Broken Heart library, tending to all the tasks there. My daughter was exploring a big, spooky house with a potential boyfriend. My friends were checking each other’s nonexistent breath. Yet I still felt guilty about curling into a comfy chair and indulging my reading obsession. I looked up, up, up at all the books. When would I ever have another opportunity to enjoy this place?

  Giddy, I decided to wander along the walkway and see what treasures awaited me there. As I stepped into the darkest part of the alcove, a hand reached out and grabbed my forearm.

  “Hey! What the—”

  Chapter 15

  “Jeez, Eva,” said Ralph. “It’s just me.” He pulled me close to the window. My eyesight adjusted. His hair was medium brown, cut short, his eyes were blue, and he wasn’t quite as tall or buff as Lorcan. Ralph was lean and wiry. He looked like a working man, which I appreciated.

  “I dropped by to see how you were doing.”

  “You scared me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  An awkward silence ensued. Well, it was probably awkward for me. I wasn’t sure what else to say. I found myself staring at the stained glass again. The only image taking up the entire window was one long-stemmed red rose.

  “I wanted to know if—if you wanted to go see a movie.” He pointed at the floor. “Downstairs. They’re playing Casablanca. I’ve been told approximately forty-two times that you can’t leave.” He looked at me, his blue eyes sincere. “Why not?”

  “I was sorta kidnapped.”

  “Are you okay?” He grasped my arm. “Did they hurt you?”

  “No, I’m all right.” I felt uncomfortable with Ralph intruding on my personal space. “Thanks for taking care of the library, Ralph. I appreciate it.”

  “It’s no problem.” He stepped closer, his eyes filled with empathy. “I’m glad you’re okay, Eva.” He leaned down and kissed my cheek.

  “What the bloody hell is going on?”

  Startled, I looked up—straight into the angry gaze of Lorcan.

  “None of your concern,” answered Ralph. I saw annoyance flash in his eyes.

  Lorcan’s jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists. Fury vibrated off him. She’s mine. Stay away from her. Damn it!

  Yikes. I could hear Lor’s thoughts, but he probably didn’t realize that I could hear him now. Jessica and Patrick shared each other’s thoughts, but most mind-speak was reserved for emotionally attached vamps.

  Ralph wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “I was asking Eva to the movies.”

  Obviously frustrated, Lorcan stared at me. I saw a muscle ticking in his jaw.

  “I’m sorry, Ralph,” I said. “I can’t go with you.”

  He looked at me, looked at Lorcan, and then sighed. “I see.”

  I felt bad. Ralph was a wonderful man. Not only was he handsome and nice, but he understood the vampire lifestyle. He was a rarity. For me, though, Ralph couldn’t compare to Lorcan.

  “Bye, Eva.” He offered Lorcan his hand. Lorcan shook it. “Lorcan.”

  “Ralph.”

  I watched Ralph leave, then turned my gaze to Lorcan. As always, he was dressed in black, but he was casual Goth tonight. He wore a black T-shirt and black jeans and black Converses. His dark hair had been pulled into a queue. Jessica called Patrick “Remington Steele” because he reminded her of Pierce Brosnan. I had to admit that the O’Halloran brothers resembled my favorite 007.

  Lorcan’s gaze was dark and dangerous. He stalked me until I was backed against the window. Adrenaline spiked in my stomach as he stood before me, studying me. Then he grasped my hands and brought each wrist to his lips for a soft kiss.

  “You are well?” he asked softly.

  “Uh-huh.” I couldn’t articulate more than that. He looked beautiful and angry and yummy.

  Heat pooled between my thighs and desire thickened hotly through me. I wasn’t sure what to do. The excitement of sexual longing hadn’t happened since Michael seduced my foolish seventeen-year-old self. I’d had two lovers since then, but had derived very little pleasure from those encounters. My last boyfriend, who had to date me for nearly six months before he got into my pants, called me frigid. Not long after we broke up, my mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I had one relationship—brief and unremarkable—before Tamara and I moved to Broken Heart.

  Lorcan inspired bone-melting lust. His tongue flickered across my pulse-deprived wrist. Tingles of longing skipped up my arm.

  His gaze captured mine. “Do you want me to stop?”

  No. Yes. I don’t know. I shook my head.

  He raised my arms and pressed them against the window. I could feel the beveled glass against the back of my hands as his palms flattened against mine. Toe-to-toe, he covered my body with his, pushing my breasts into his muscled chest. My nipples enjoyed this situation so much that they tried to drill into his skin. And he knew it, too. He closed his eyes, shuddering, and when he opened them again, I knew I was done for.

  His lips descended to mine.

  My body was a tinderbox and Lor was the match. We burned hot and bright, but ours wasn’t a spark quickly doused. Given the opportunity, the flames would build and grow and strengthen. In that moment, I knew that I wanted Lorcan—in every way that counted.

  He kissed me passionately. Desperately. I melted all over again. Would every kis
s be this way between us? He dropped my arms and gathered me into his embrace, holding me against him as his tongue warred with mine. I reveled in his loss of control.

  Heat and light filled me. I wiggled closer, moaning as he attacked my mouth with renewed fervor. I pulled him closer still.

  God, he was beautiful.

  I never felt so . . . so wonderful. I felt as though I had come home. I was in the arms I had always longed for, with the man I had always wanted.

  “I promised to protect you,” he said sorrowfully. “And I failed.”

  “No,” I said. “Never.”

  “I have cared for no one as I care for you. I do not have the words to describe how you make me feel. I never want to lose you, Eva.”

  “You won’t,” I said. Desire raged through me. I lifted his shirt and stroked his stomach.

  “I would bind with you,” he murmured against my lips. “For us, a hundred years would pass as if it had been a day.”

  “You’re crazy,” I said, but my heart jolted. Was Lor saying he’d marry me? He was such a poet. Such a lovely, sweet poet. “Shouldn’t we date first?”

  “Anything you wish,” he murmured.

  He was kissing me dizzy. Really dizzy. I felt faint. Reluctantly, I pulled back. “Lor, I feel strange.”

  “Me, too. You drive me mad.”

  “Ditto. But this is something different.” My whole body went cold, then hot. My stomach clenched and my head squeezed. Darkness roared at me. I saw Lor’s shocked expression right before I passed out.

  When I opened my eyes, I saw Jessica. Sheesh. This was really getting to be a pattern.