by Мишель Роуэн
He licked his lips. "To be human again."
She blinked. "That's it?"
He nodded.
"You could wish for anything—money, power, a bevy of Playboy bunnies. And all you want is to be human again?"
"Hold on. Can you be more specific about the Playboy bunnies? Maybe I haven't given this enough thought."
She shook her head. "You really hate being a vampire that much?"
"More."
"See, to me, vamps have it pretty good, all things considered. The fact that you'll stay young and handsome forever isn't a total bonus for you?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm handsome?"
She rolled her eyes. "Sorry, that's enough ego stroking for one day."
"I used to be sort of cute, I think. But I've got the whole lack-of-reflection deal going on. A guy can forget. Handsome. Hmm."
"I should keep my mouth shut."
"Never had a problem with the ladies."
"Oh, lord. Kill me now. Okay, so we both want to find the Eye. The question is, how does either of us get it if we don't know where Malcolm is?"
He hesitated. "I know where he is. Or at least, where he's going to be."
"How do you know?"
"He told me."
She got slowly to her feet while bracing herself against the wall. "Fine. Let's go."
"Together?"
"You may have the keys, but I have the gun." She checked her holster to make sure.
Damn. He should have taken more than just her cell phone away.Opportunity knocked, but nobody was home.
She didn't look so good.
"Are you feeling all right?" he asked, trying to mask the concern in his voice but failing. "We can stop at a hospital if you like."
She shook her head. "No. No hospitals. I'm fine."
"I can carry you to the car if you like."
"Not necessary." She reached around and pressed her hand to the back of her head and winced. "Yeah,
that's going to leave a mark. Ouch."
When she pulled her hand away, it had blood on it. She looked down at it, then looked up at Quinn with a smirk. "Still hungry?"
"I'll be in the car."
He left the house before she could witness his fangs lengthen painfully in his mouth again.
Chapter 8
The odds of letting Quinn out of her sight before she had her hands on the Eye were slim to none. She'd tested the waters with him a bit. It seemed as if a little sugar helped the medicine go down. If she wanted something from him, she had to be nice or, at the very least, not a total bitch. The Boss said he'd be in
Vegas tomorrow. Time was precious. She could feel the grains of sand slipping through the hourglass already. There was no room for mistakes.
Quinn had been keeping quiet on the drive. She tried to make conversation with him a couple of times to try out her sugar/medicine theory during the two-hour drive toPhoenix , but he answered in monotone one-word answers, which was fun only for a little while.
"Are we almost there?" she asked.
"Yes."
"What did Barkley want to tell you about Vegas?"
"Nothing."
"Is he still in werewolf form?"
"No."
Like that.
So, instead, she checked for text messages on her cell phone. Zero. Her voice mail. Zero. Oddly enough, that was the sum total of her friends at the moment, since she rarely stayed in one place long enough to make any.
After that, she looked out the window as the brightArizona afternoon turned to dusk and the stolen truck sped closer to their next destination.
She turned to face Quinn, resting her throbbing head against the headrest of the car seat, and pretended to be asleep. Every now and then she'd open her eyes wide enough to peer at him through her dark lashes.
She'd called him handsome by mistake. She covered it up pretty well, though. Luckily, he'd laughed it off. When he'd brought her down to the ground after she'd nearly passed out, he did it so gently. And feeling his hand against her forehead was so soothing. All she'd wanted to do at that moment had been to grab him and pull him down on top of her and kiss him.
Luckily for everyone involved, the massive head injury had prevented that.
Talk about embarrassing.
Maybe it was the fact that he was so completely different from her. Maybe that was the reason she had this major thing for him. Still. After all these years. She hated the fact that she still wanted him. It made her furious with herself. But she couldn't deny that she was hopelessly attracted to him.
She needed this job over with ASAP.
Even the fact that he was a vampire didn't bother her as much as she would have thought. She'd met her share of vamps. Everyone from the dark and dangerous types to the meek and nerdy ones. Gorgeous
European vampires with long dark hair and pitch-black eyes, and the blond ones with freckles and bad breath.
They'd been so romanticized in media—television, movies, books—but she'd never been uncontrollably attracted to one before. After all, the whole drinking-blood thing was a little outside of her comfort zone,
especially with the memory of her lastvampiric run-in with Nicolai. That bite had hurt like hell. There was absolutely nothing sexy or romantic about it. It was just another way to kill somebody—a vicious, animalistic way.
Quinn said he'd never bitten anybody. Did she believe him?
She studied his handsome but slightly gaunt face. He'd look better with a little color. Maybe a few more pounds. He was starving himself because he hated what he was and what that meant. If he'd accept it, he might be happy. He could cover up his self-hatred all he wanted with jokes and quips, but she could see through it. Why else would he want to make a wish to be human?
That wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't change his past. It wouldn't make him any happier. Why couldn't he see that?
They enteredPhoenix in silence a little after eight p.m. and found theSleepytime Inn. Quinn parked the stolen truck and went into the office to get two rooms.
Lenny said he was in room three which was just to the right of the office. She got out of the car and walked to it, keeping an eye on Quinn in the windowed office.
She knocked but there was no answer.
She eased her cell phone out of her pocket and speed dialed Lenny's number. It rang.
And then went immediately to voicemail.
"Lenny, I'm at the motel. Where the hell are you?" She hung up.
Just terrific.
Quinn emerged from the office with two keys and saw her to her motel room.
He eyed her with concern. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"
"I will be. Eventually. I think I'll have a shower."
He frowned, nodded, and then turned away from her. "I'll be back in a half hour to check on you."
"Wait a minute—"
He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm just going to my own room for a bit. Why,
don't you trust me?"
"Not even remotely."
His serious expression turned amused. "Well, I can stay and help you with the shower, if you'd like."
She'd roll her eyes if she didn't expect it to hurt. "A half an hour. I swear I will hunt your ass down if you take off on me."
That earned a full-on grin. "It's a deal."
He walked to his own room a few doors down and closed the door behind him.
Great. So much for staying in control of the situation.
Her head hurt too much to worry about it more than she already did. Maybe she should have gone to the hospital after all.
She closed the door of her motel room slowly and then her eyes widened. She didn't need a hospital.
She had everything she needed right in her own purse. She hefted it onto the bed and dug down to the bottom of it, pulling out a small tube of healing balm which she'd completely forgotten she had on hand or she would have used it much earlier.
She squeezed out a dab of the ointment
and reached around to apply it to her wound. Immediately her head began to feel better and she felt the familiar tingle as the balm worked its magic. After her last run-in with the vampire who nearly tore out her throat she'd forgotten that she'd replenished her supply and placed in her purse for just such an occasion.
Good for cuts and scrapes.
Or stabbings or bullet wounds.
Then Janie fished back into her purse, pulled out a vial of Tylenol, and took four of the pills with a few handfuls of water from the bathroom sink.
Getting the blood out of her hair was her next priority. She stripped, then took a quick shower. The
2-in-l motel-supplied shampoo did the trick.
She toweled off her hair and went to sit on the side of her bed and tried to pull her racing thoughts together now that her head didn't feel like it was about to split down the middle.
She lay back on the bed and closed her eyes and tried not to think of anything but healing thoughts for the five minutes it would take for the ointment to kick in.
When she opened her eyes, she was dismayed to see that she must have fallen asleep despite her tension—the half hour had long since passed, and Quinn hadn't come back to check on her as he said he would.
Damn liar. Why was she surprised by this?
She forced herself to get up and get dressed and went outside to look for Quinn. She spotted him immediately as he exited the main office. When he emerged, she cut him off.
"I thought you said you'd check on me. I could have been dead in there."
"I was asking for directions." He studied her for a moment. "You look better."
"Were you asking for directions to where Malcolm told you he'll be?"
He hesitated. "I'm going alone."
She took that as a yes. "Like hell you are."
"If Malcolm sees you, he'll know I didn't kill you."
"He won't see me. I'm not letting you get the map without me."
"You don't trust me?"
She snorted at that. "Not as far as I can throw you."
"You look strong enough. I have a strange feeling you could throw me pretty far."
"I'm coming."
He let out a long, exasperated sigh. "We can debate this all night, Janie. Just try to see reason. It's better if I go alone. I'll be back later."
The man was almost as stubborn as she was. She was used to people going along with what she wanted after she badgered them a bit. Quinn wasn't going to let her have her way. But there were ways around that.
"Fine."
"Fine?" He raised an eyebrow. "So you'll stay here? Just like that?"
She shrugged. "I'll stay here. If you say you'll be back with the map, then I believe you."
He nodded. "Well, good. I need to go. I'll be back in a couple of hours."
"Good luck."
He walked away and then looked back at her again as if he didn't believe she was going to let him go so easily. She smiled and waved, and he turned and went toward the truck.
As he was starting it up, she was busy hotwiring a cute little white Corvette parked nearby so she could follow him. She wasn't stealing it. She was borrowing. She limited herself to stealing one car a week.
After all, a girl's got to have boundaries.
The Electric Cactus, the place Malcolm had written on the piece of paper he'd given Quinn earlier, was a very crowded country-and-western bar, complete with sawdust on the floor and a mechanical bull. A
Garth Brooks tune permeated the air through the sound system. Thunder was definitely rolling by the volume of the music.
A couple of pretty girls with red lips, Daisy Dukes, platinum blond hair, and artificially enhanced cleavage approached him as he scanned the club for Malcolm.
"Hey there," one said. "Buy us a drink?"
"Both of you?"
They smiled at him. One approached close enough to run her acrylic fingernails down the front of his
T-shirt. "We'll make it worth your while to spend a little time with us, sweetie. Promise."
"Oh, I have no doubt about that." He couldn't help but smile inwardly. A year ago this would have been the beginning of a great night. Two hot girls who wanted him to…spend time with them? Bring it on.
He'd changed since then. He had, right? He frowned.
Yes. Yes, he had. Definitely. More important things to think about at the moment.
"Sorry, ladies. I'm meeting somebody here."
They didn't seem deterred. "If you change your mind, we'll be around."
"Noted."
He turned away and wasn't sure exactly which of them brushed his jean-clad rear as he walked away.
He froze in place.
No. He'd changed.
More important things to think about. Et cetera.
Okay.
That damned Janie had gotten him all warmed up. Other women had to work at being sexy, but that girl was drop-dead gorgeous without even lifting a finger.
Deadbeing the operative word there. As in what she'd probably end up being if he gave this annoying infatuation with her more than a passing notice. He hated how she managed to affect him.
Focus, Quinn, he told himself.
He spotted Malcolm over in a corner booth. The old man waved at him. Quinn nodded in acknowledgement and closed the distance between them, ignoring the crowd that made him feel claustrophobic. He didn't like being around humans in large numbers anymore. This was most definitely not a vampire bar. Humans had a distinctive scent to them, especially in large crowds.
They smelled a lot like food.
Not a good start to the evening.
"Quinn, my boy." Malcolm grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard as he sat down across the table. "I'm pleased you could make it."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world."
He hated what the old man had done to Janie but tried to see it from Malcolm's point of view. He'd thought Janie was a mercenary—which she was. And he thought she wanted to take the map away from him—which she did. Janie was definitely no innocent bystander.
It felt right, Malcolm still being alive. Even aside from the Eye, there were so many things Quinn wanted to know about Malcolm's plans. Just knowing there was another person he could rely on, who had gone through the same experience he'd been through, made him feel a little less alone.
"You haven't gone and got the Eye without me, have you?" Quinn asked.
Malcolm laughed and raked his fingers through his long white beard. "No. That part of my plan can wait until tomorrow. I ordered you a beer."
"Much appreciated." He leaned back in the booth and shook his head. "I can't tell you how good it is to see you again, Malcolm. I didn't realize how much I'd missed you."
Malcolm glanced around the surroundings. Someone got on the bull and stayed on for all of two seconds before they were thrown down to the padded floor. A drunken cheer went through the crowd. The music shifted to Keith Urban.
"What do you think of this place?" he asked.
Quinn gazed around. "Seems okay. Never really into country music that much."
"So many people all out to have a good time." Malcolm smiled. "When I grow hungry, I come here and watch them to see who's being the most careless. Who is drinking the most and wanders off."
Quinn watched him, suddenly wary.
"Have you ever fed from a drunk human?" Malcolm asked.
He wondered what the best way to answer that would be and decided for the truth. "Can't say as I have."
"The blood acts to enhance the inebriant. Like a fine aged scotch. After experiencing it, you'll never want to go back to regular blood again. It just doesn't have that same…kick ."
"I know I can't get drunk on any alcohol unless there's blood involved, so that makes sense." Quinn tried to keep his voice neutral. "Gives a new meaning to a Bloody Mary, doesn't it?"
"Indeed, it does."
"So you're here a lot?"
"Once or twice a month. Any more and people might start wondering about the missing more than t
hey already do."
Quinn felt cold then. "So you don't just drink from them. You kill them?"
"If I didn't, I'd have a police report out about some crazy man who bites necks."
His heart began to pound harder. God, he didn't want to know these things about Malcolm. "I… I wanted to ask you a question. From earlier."
Malcolm waved his hand. "Of course."
"Back at your house, you said that you sent me the letter years ago in the hopes that I'd follow the clues to find you. And the red stone."
"That is correct."
"But then you said that it takes two immortal beings—two vampires—to reveal the map."
A smile played at the corners of Malcolm's mouth. "Also correct."
Quinn frowned. "But when you sent me the letter, I was human. I didn't become a vampire until recently.
How would I have been any use to you if I'd come here as a human?"
The smile spread. "I intended on siring you when you arrived. I actually was slightly disappointed when I learned that it wouldn't be necessary."
Quinn's mouth felt dry. "You… you were going to make me into a vampire?"
"It is the only way for this plan to work."
Quinn was silent for a very long time, just taking this information in. Processing it. Trying to get it to make some sort of damn sense.
Malcolm gazed again at the swelling crowd at the bar. "How is it possible that humans still have no idea that vampires exist?" he mused aloud.
Quinn swallowed past the thick lump in his throat. He felt numb, suddenly. "They don't want to know."
"That's true. For to know of such a darkness lying so close to their everyday lives would change the entire world for them, wouldn't it? The number of times that a vampire has shown its true face in the midst of a crowd…" He sighed "And afterward, the humans just speak about the odd event and go back to their normal lives as if nothing had happened. Fangs are not enough to convince anyone anymore.
Teenagers have their teeth filed sharp to dress up as something they want to be but don't truly believe in.
They wear dark clothes and white makeup and even try to drink blood as if that makes them a vampire.