Dracula moved behind me and said softly, “If you will excuse me, I am going down to the dungeon to prepare my statement for the council.”
As he walked past Kat he pressed the tip of his index finger against her throat and whispered, “This should take care of your headache.” Instantly, she fell forward, gripping the table and screaming like a banshee.
“Fuck me,” Luther exclaimed while Alek asked, “Do you make house calls?”
Dracula’s laughter floated through the room as he walked toward the dungeon door. He must have removed the key without anyone noticing.
After lunch, Kat announced she was going home. I followed her onto the porch and told her what happened with Marco, the part I didn’t share with everyone else. I also shared with her Dracula’s reaction. Her eyes sort of glazed over as she said, “See, I knew Marco cared more about you than that. Wow. How romantic. You told him the truth and he still cares. Do you think he gives lessons?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“As for Dracula, I expected as much. There’s more to him than we’ll probably ever figure out. But one thing I do know, he’s got it bad for you. Maybe even worse than Marco, but I doubt it.” She rubbed her neck where he had touched her earlier. “If that’s his idea of revenge, maybe I should piss him off more often.”
“Actually, I think he was hoping to embarrass you by making you have an orgasm in a room full of people.”
“Doesn’t know me very well, does he?” she joked.
After Kat left I remembered Alfred was going to finish moving his things out of the lab that day and I felt sick. When I looked at the clock I realized he was probably already there. He was right beneath me and I couldn’t go down and talk to him. I would never again run down the steps to see what Alfred was doing, or see him smile when I walked into the room. I would never watch the way his hair shined like polished obsidian in the morning light.
Alek’s warm hand on my shoulder brought me back to reality.
“Once Alfred is done, Luther and Dracula have agreed to help me transport my things from London.” He brushed away the tears that seemed to always be present lately as he said, “You look tired.”
“I am,” I said softly. “Not being alone has helped, but I’m still not getting enough rest. It’s almost like when I’m recovering from an injury.”
“That’s because you are,” he said kindly. “A broken heart is one of the most grievous injuries known to mankind, and yet it is the one so many people treat as a flesh wound. Or worse, they simply ignore it.” Alek led me toward the couch as he said, “I can help if you will let me, if you trust me to do so.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I have a potion that will provide you with restful sleep, perhaps the most restful sleep of your life.”
“Are there any side effects?”
He raised one eyebrow, as if considering how much he should tell me before he continued. “None, but you will not dream. The potion prevents dreams and focuses on resting the mind and body.”
“A potion to prevent dreams?”
“Well, I am The Dream Weaver,” he said with a smile. “Will you try it?”
I agreed to try the potion and Alek informed me he had brought some with him. Once again his explanation for this was he felt like he should bring the potion, so he did. Alek suggested I take a bathroom break and rejoin him in the living room when I was ready. Dracula was still in the dungeon, and Luther was cleaning the kitchen.
When I reentered the room I found Alek standing in front of the fireplace. In the few minutes it had taken me to return, he had a blazing fire which added both warmth and atmosphere to the large room. In his right hand was a small purple bottle. It glowed and shimmered in the light as he beckoned me forward.
He put his arm around me and held the potion to the firelight.
“Do you see those flecks of light?”
I nodded.
“Every one of them is an eraser.”
“Eraser?”
I looked up at him and found his brows knit in concentration as he stared at the bottle. Alek looked very serious and very much like a wizard. Wisdom seemed to be etched in every line of his face as he considered the small glistening bottle.
“They are not permanent,” he said at last, his sultry voice making me want to hear more. “The dreams you would have had will eventually surface. But for now, they will erase your dreams.”
I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of my dreams being erased, but at the same time, I didn’t want to have nightmares about Alfred leaving. Alek looked at me closely, and I got the distinct impression that he could read my mind.
“Keep in mind, my dear, that one man’s nightmare is another man’s dream. What would haunt you today, when it surfaces later, will be but a memory.”
“How long will I sleep?”
“Long enough to ease your mind, and give you rest.” As he said this I took a deep breath and fell in love with Alek’s cologne. It didn’t have the rich expensive smell that Dracula’s did, it was softer. The scent was subtle, gently stirring the mind as well as the body. It was at once new and familiar. Maybe it was just the way a sexy wizard was supposed to smell.
Chapter Eighteen
Alek tipped the bottle against my lips to be sure I got the proper amount. I asked whether or not I would go into a comma and he informed me very seriously that he hadn’t given me that much. I wished I hadn’t asked. I reclined comfortably on the sofa while Alek covered my feet with a blanket. He explained that my body temperature would drop lower than normal due to the deep level of relaxation I would attain. I was a little scared, but it sounded wonderful.
Alek took a seat on the coffee table in front of me and said in a dreamy hypnotic voice, “Close your eyes.” A more sensual command had never been uttered. I knew in that moment if Alek Ambrose possessed the voice of seduction, we would all be in serious trouble. There was magic in his voice, though of a different sort. However this was combined with his naturally sexy voice, making his every word seem like a blessing.
“Relax,” he purred. “There is nothing else for you to do.”
His voice seemed to float from one ear to the other as if he hovered over my left shoulder, and then my right. I felt myself begin to float down, as if following the sound of his voice deeper inside myself. Though I knew the room to be well lit from the two large bay windows, I saw only darkness, the softest most velvety darkness. His voice was my guide, taking me to my refuge. When I thought I was as relaxed as possible his voice floated through my mind asking, “Would you like to go deeper?” The answer was yes, yes I would. “Deeper now,” he whispered. His voice was seductively honeyed, like a silken balm to my ears.
“Yes,” my mind echoed. “Yes.”
*****
It was two o’clock the following afternoon before I was aware a world existed outside of Alek’s voice and the solitude of my mind. I blinked a few times at the clock on the mantle to be sure I had read the time correctly. It appeared that rain was in our forecast again, judging by the clouds gathering outside. I stared out the window for several minutes before I sat up and saw Alek dozing peacefully in a chair by the fire. He was wearing another tunic that looked even better on him than the first. This one was a deep shade of midnight blue and devoid of ruffles though the top laces hung open as before. His dark blond hair stuck out at odd angles giving him a rather wild appearance.
I rose slowly and walked over to where he rested. He was slouched down with his hands and ankles crossed. His head was tilted back, and his mouth hung open, but he wasn’t snoring.
“What web are you weaving?” I asked softly.
He sat up straight and a slow smile spread across his lips. “Was I snoring?”
“No.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want to listen to Luther complain anymore. Actually, I only snore when I’m drunk or having an allergy attack.” He stood up and tilted my face so he could look into my eyes. “How do you feel?”
I th
ought it over a minute before answering, “Fine.” He looked at me for a moment longer, as if searching for some ill effect of the potion. “I love your voice,” I commented with a sigh.
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Why, thank you. But, everyone loves my voice when I’m putting them under.”
I took another deep breath of his cologne as I said, “It’s not so bad now.”
“You flatter me.”
“Thank you for the rest.” As I walked toward the kitchen I looked over my shoulder and said, “And just so you know, I don’t flatter anybody.”
His laughter echoed across the foyer as I started looking for a snack. Alek had tea while I had coffee, and we shared some fruit. He started telling me what had been in the news since I had been asleep. Reports of dead animals were turning up everywhere and several people had been attacked, some at night clubs, others in broad daylight.
“They’re expecting H.A.V.O.C. to take some action,” he said.
“They think this is the work of a werewolf?”
“Well, they wouldn’t really know, would they? Most people don’t have experience with this sort of thing.”
“Shit. I suppose we’ll have to investigate just to prove it isn’t a werewolf. This is all we need. We’ve got to find Dr. Williams. I’m positive it’s him.”
“Yes,” Alek agreed. “From the sound if it, someone should put him down like a rabid dog.” He said this with such a serious expression I was shocked at the sudden change in subject. “You know what else has been in the news?”
I was afraid to ask. “What?”
“Your little interlude yesterday,” he said, twitching his index finger back and forth in the general direction of the front porch.
“My what?”
“You know, when you were talking to the werewolf.” He retrieved a paper from the counter and laid it on the table.
I slid the paper toward me with an overwhelming feeling of dread while Alek asked, “Who would have been here to do such a thing?”
“That fucking bitch!” I yelled as I looked at the photo. There on the front cover of a well-known and widely distributed newspaper was Marco pressing me flat against the front door. To my further embarrassment, I didn’t exactly look like I objected.
“And which fucking bitch would this be?” Alek asked calmly.
I reminded him about Lola. As much as we had talked, her name had come up before during a conversation about “people who chap my ass.”
“Ah,” he sighed, “that fucking bitch.”
“Shit,” I said with feeling. “Do you think Alfred saw this one too?”
“Of course. The Hunters have this paper delivered.”
“How in the hell do they have this paper delivered on a different planet?”
“You push a button, throw the paper on a transporter, and voila! Instant paper.” He shrugged.
“Oh, my God,” I moaned miserably.
Then I decided to read the headline: After openly admitting to having known the new leader of H.A.V.O.C., Lilith Mercury, for some time, Marco Barak is seen here proving how well they get along.
“Oh, my God,” I groaned again as Alek put another paper in front of me. This one had the same picture with a caption that read: Is there such a thing as safe sex with a werewolf? Underneath this was a blurb about another article where a woman claimed to have slept with a werewolf. It was called “Wildman In My Bed.”
“There’s more,” he drawled sarcastically.
The third paper featured a picture of Marco and I sitting in the swing. He had just reached over to take my hand as he was telling me about pack members being attacked. It was an intimate moment, and I hated Lola for stealing it, but not as much as I hated her when I read the caption: Here alpha werewolf Marco Barak is seen quietly courting Lilith Mercury, leader of the new organization H.A.V.O.C. It looks like the only thing she’s hunting these days is a hot werewolf.
“Goddamnit, this is my private life!” I screamed as I flung the paper across the room.
“But you are seeing him, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m seeing him; I’m not fucking him on my front porch. Damn, Lola. I’ll get that bitch if it’s the last thing I do.” I was suddenly reminded of my neighbor, Marcy Johnson’s promise to do the same thing. I needed to call Marcy, but I had some things to take care of first.
After taking several minutes to collect myself, I called Annabel, the vampire who had visited me nearly two weeks ago about finding Dracula. I relayed his message about speaking to the council on their behalf and she thanked me profusely. “Whatever you did to convince him, we will be eternally grateful.”
Before I could stop myself I confessed, “It was my pleasure.”
“I’m sure it was,” she purred before hanging up.
As soon as I hung up with Annabel I began looking through the phone book for Marcy. Marcy Johnson and I weren’t exactly friends. She taught elementary school and I hunted werewolves, we didn’t have loads in common, even if she had bought my cover story of being an artist. Fortunately, even though she was my closest neighbor, Marcy was several acres away. She and I had gotten off on the wrong foot when she moved into the neighborhood last year and immediately started coming on to Alfred. I later found out she had done this on the recommendation of Lola. Out of this situation, Marcy and I had developed an understanding. She had assured me she would get Lola for making her think the worst of me and embarrassing herself. If she was still looking for an opportunity, I was about to give it to her.
I explained to Marcy as briefly as possible what was going on. I told her Alfred had moved back to Italy, since she didn’t know he was from another planet. I also shared with her that I was actually dating Marco Barak, but that was a recent development. Since she wasn’t my friend, Marcy didn’t ask for details, and I was grateful.
She said she wasn’t really surprised to find out I wasn’t an artist, though she had liked my paintings. She told me she hadn’t believed the crap in the papers and had already begun to suspect Lola of spying on me. It so happens that Lola had befriended Marcy before she figured out what kind of person Lola was. However, they hung out long enough for Marcy to know where to find her. She suggested we follow Lola to a club and wait until the right moment to catch her in a compromising position. It was the best idea I could think of too.
*****
So there we sat in the bushes outside a sleazy club on the outskirts of town. It was a little hole in the wall where local riff-raff went to get stinking drunk. Marcy’s frizzy blond hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and for once her makeup didn’t look overdone. A tall biker drove up close to us.
“I’ll be right back,” Marcy whispered. She sprung from the bushes and began talking to the man. I saw her slip him something and return to sit beside me with a satisfied smirk.
“What have you done?” I asked.
“I paid him fifty bucks to get Lola to give him a blow job right in front of these bushes,” she said, laughing.
“You what?” I laughed too. “That’s brilliant, but are you sure it will work?”
Marcy raised one eyebrow. “She’s a skank and he is her type. Besides, she’s probably already drunk by now. Trust me, it won’t take much.”
We sat there for about twenty minutes, both of us huddled in our thick jackets against the cold night air, and in spite of ourselves, huddled close to each other.
“Here they, come,” she whispered.
I handed Marcy the camera and she put a finger to her lips for silence before popping the lens cap off and adjusting the focus. It was all I could do not to laugh. As the scene unfurled before my eyes, I was torn between disgust and morbid curiosity. The man wasn’t bad looking. My heart gave an unpleasant leap when I heard him unzip his pants, and I couldn’t help taking a peek. Marcy looked at me and mouthed, “Holy shit.” Part of me couldn’t help thinking someone needed to show Lola how it’s done, but I kept that to myself.
I had to give Marcy credit, I needed to l
ook away, but she kept taking pictures. Once they were done and we were sure they were out of earshot we both fell back on the ground laughing.
“Well, it was a good night for him, huh? He just got paid fifty bucks to get a blow job,” I laughed.
“How do you know he didn’t give the fifty to her?” Marcy said nastily.
“This will teach that little slut to mess with my private life,” I growled.
“And mine too,” Marcy said as we rose from behind the bushes.
“You could have picked someone uglier,” I said. “It would have been more humiliating.”
“Yeah, but as long as we had to watch, why not pick someone decent looking?” she said with a shrug.
Fortunately, no one saw us. That’s all I needed, reports of me at a sleazy club in the bushes with another woman.
Marcy made sure the pictures were distributed to every paper that had printed the stories about me and then some. The photos that could be shown in public were displayed along with an article about how Lola had been obsessed with me since we were in high school and she hadn’t made the cheerleading squad that I captained. It painted a picture, thanks to Marcy, of a true lunatic who slept around due to low self-esteem. It also helped to discredit anything she had spread about me. When the story was in print two days later, I had a box of chocolates delivered to Lola along with a copy of every paper informing her that if she ever pried in my personal life again, I’d send them “the money shot.”
What I needed now was some good publicity.
*****
True to his promise, Marco called me Wednesday morning.
“Hello, Red,” his rough sexy voice greeted me early that morning. “Did I wake you?”
“Not really. I was dreaming about you anyway.” He laughed and I confessed, “Actually, I couldn’t sleep and I was just making some coffee.”
“I couldn’t sleep with Luther either,” he joked.
Since he was in a good mood, I didn’t point out that Dracula was still sleeping with me, and I had left him and Luther in the bed. It may sound bizarre, but it wasn’t sexual. Dracula was still taking the news about Marco and I dating quite well. His hearing with the council was coming up Friday afternoon, and he’d been spending a lot of time preparing for it. It just seemed natural that he should be with me. He had been a part of my dreams for so long, that despite how it may sound, it wasn’t strange having him in my bed. But more and more I remembered when I was in bed with another man.
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