Crimson Debt

by Evangeline Anderson

  “No place but here.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “I suffer from depression and the drugs humans take—they don’t work on my kind.”

  Hmm, I had never heard of a depressed vampire other than Taylor. She had been plenty depressed while she was with Celeste, but there was nothing she could do about it. Maybe that was why you didn’t hear about many vamp suicides—their makers kept them from doing themselves in.

  “What made him think that would cure your depression?” I asked, still taking it all in stride.

  “Jason was doing research about it—that’s how we met. He’s a professor of Vampire Studies at Tampa U. Or…or he was, I guess.” She started crying again. “He…he said he wanted to study me and then we…we…”

  “You fell in love?” I guessed.

  She nodded. “It all happened so fast. And before I knew it, he was asking me to go farther and farther with him. I knew I shouldn’t but I’ve always had good control before and besides, Jason was so gentle and tender and kind. He just…I couldn’t say no to him.”

  “So how long have you had a sexual relationship?” I asked.

  “For almost three months.” She wiped at her eyes and her fingers came away bloody. “It was going so well. I wanted to bond him to me—to make him, you know…”

  “A little less fragile?” I asked.

  Cynthia nodded. “Exactly. Only I didn’t feel like I could ask him to stay with me forever when I have this sickness…this depression.”

  “You might have tried therapy,” I said. “There are several practices in town that specialize in vamps.”

  “I know. I wanted to do that, believe me, I did,” she assured me, her eyes wide and haunted. “But Jason had been doing his research and he said it would be better—faster—for him to pay the Crimson Debt.”

  My ears perked up at once. Here it was again—that phrase. I had been an Auditor for six years but until I had gotten serious with Corbin, I had never heard it.

  “What exactly does that mean?” I asked her, interested to hear her definition.

  “It’s what the older vampires call making love and taking blood at the same time.” Cynthia wiped at her eyes again, which were still leaking. “My maker did it all the time. He…he claimed it cured all ills—physical, mental, or emotional—as long as it is done out of love.”

  I arched an eyebrow at her. “And you knew about this? But you didn’t mention it to Jason?”

  “Of course I didn’t mention it to him! I didn’t want him to try it.” She sounded genuinely distraught. “He found out about it on his own. I tried to explain to him that it wasn’t something a vampire and human could do. A vampire and a were, yes. Or a vampire and another vampire, though we don’t often take blood from each other. Even a witch with supernatural wards would be safer than just a human.”

  “So what did you tell him when he asked if he could do this—pay the Crimson Debt—for you?”

  “I told him, no, of course!” Cynthia exclaimed. “I said it was out of the question. That I was already having a hard enough time keeping control when we…you know, made love.”

  “And what did he say?” I asked.

  “He pestered me about it for a long time but when I kept saying no, he finally seemed to agree with me. He promised to let the matter drop.” She put a hand to her face. “That was just yesterday. Then tonight…”

  “When you go together…” I prompted.

  “Right. We were already, uh, in the middle and then he suddenly pulled out a knife.” She began to cry again. “I"ve always been so careful. I wouldn’t even make love with him if he had so much as an unhealed shaving cut.”

  “Oh, honey…” I squeezed her arm gently as she started to break down again.

  “I begged him not to but he was quick. Before I knew it, he had slashed his arm open. And then…then all I could see was the…the blood…” She wrapped her arms around herself, the sobs shaking her. “I loved him,” she gasped, bloody tears pouring from her eyes. “Oh God, I loved him so much. And I killed him.”

  “Cynthia…” I shook my head helplessly.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured at last, her sobs tapering off somewhat. “It’s just…I still can’t believe it. It seems like a bad dream. Like something that happened to someone else.”

  I nodded. I had heard the same thing from many bereft loved ones when I had to tell them someone they cared for was gone. It’s a bad dream…I just want to wake up…

  “I’m afraid we’ll have to take you in,” I told her gently.

  Cynthia nodded dully. “That’s okay—I want you to. I should be punished for what happened here tonight.”

  For once, I wasn’t so sure about that. If things had really gone down the way she described them, it seemed to me she was almost a victim of circumstance. Or maybe just a victim of her lover’s stupidity. I made a mental note to ask the coroner to see if one of the disembodied hands was holding a knife and if the opposite arm was slashed with it. If that was the case, I would be willing to testify in court for Cynthia, though it would be the first time I had ever testified for a vamp rather than against them.

  “You want to know something crazy?” she asked with a broken little laugh that was more than half sob.

  “No, what?” I asked, getting out my velvet-lined, silver alloy cuffs.

  “It worked—I’m not depressed anymore.” She shook her head. “I mean, I’m devastated and distraught and I feel incredibly guilty but that low level sadness that always seemed to cloud my mind…it’s gone.”

  “Really?” I said neutrally as I fitted the cuffs on her slender wrists.

  Cynthia nodded. “I used to feel like I was at the bottom of a deep, dark well—a well with glass sides so slick I couldn’t crawl out of it no matter how hard I tried. Now, for the first time in over fifty years, I’m out of the well. I’m standing on the lip of it, looking down.” She buried her face in her cuffed hands. “And all I want is to go back. To get back in the well and have Jason be alive again. I’d stay down there forever—for the rest of my life—if only it would bring him back.”

  I shook my head and murmured something I hoped was soothing before I read her her rights and led her from the house. This was definitely not the kind of case I usually saw. There was real remorse here—it was clear she would do anything to take back what she had done.

  God, did I know that feeling. If only I could go back in time, stop Corbin from using that stake. But there was no way to do that. And no way to cure the effects or reverse what had been done…

  Or was there?

  Cynthia’s words echoed in my head. “It cured all ills—physical, mental, or emotional—as long as it is done out of love.” Hadn’t Corbin said much the same thing to me when he had explained paying the Crimson Debt? So was it possible that…but no, surely not. Except…what if…

  As I put the vampire in the back of my car and drove to the PD, a plan began to form in my head. A terrible, desperate, crazy plan. Something no one in their right mind would do—especially after seeing the carnage I had witnessed tonight.

  A plan that might be my only hope.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  It was nearly dawn by the time I finished getting Cynthia Torez booked, stopped by my house, and got back to Under the Fang. That was all right with me, though. Even the really old ones, the ones who can go out in the sun for a few minutes without getting burned and require almost no rest during the day, have a moment of weakness just at dawn.

  I was counting on that moment of weakness along with the few things I had hidden in the little black overnight bag I had brought with me. I might be doing a crazy, suicidal, dangerous thing but I intended to do it as carefully as possible. If that makes any sense. Okay, I know—it really doesn’t. But still, I had my plan and I was sticking to it.

  I hoped.

  The club was already closed for the day but I banged on the door until one of the human barmaids opened it. I saw with little surprise that it was Bambie, the girl I had i
nterviewed during my last inspection of the Fang.

  “We’re closed. Whaddaya want?” she asked rudely.

  “In,” I said, glaring at her. I remembered now how much I had disliked her at that last interview. It seemed like a thousand years ago but actually, it had been less than two weeks. God, had it really been such a short time? How had I gone from hating Corbin’s guts to being willing to do what I was about to do for him? Was I crazy?

  No, just in love, murmured a little voice in my head. I heard it and knew it was the voice of Truth.

  The voice of Reason, was a whole different matter—it was screaming that I was crazy. That I had lost my mind and I was shortly going to lose my life with this idiotic scheme I had cooked up.

  Up until I saw Bambie’s irritated face and pouting mouth in the doorway of Corbin’s club, I wasn’t sure which voice I was going to listen to. But the minute I pushed my way past her, despite her protests—the moment my foot passed over the threshold and I was inside the Fang—my mind was made up.

  I was irrevocably committed.

  You should be committed! screamed the second little voice. Are you crazy? Did you not see that crime scene? The poor guy’s head was torn off. Last time I looked, you need your head. And you need to use it now. You’re not thinking straight, Addison. You—

  I took a deep breath and shut it off. No more fear. No more doubts. No more questions. I…am…doing…this…NOW.

  Just at that moment, Corbin came into view.

  “Bambie, what is going on? I thought I told you to shut down for the day.” He frowned at her and she bowed to him reverently.

  “Sorry, Master, but she pushed her way in.” She nodded at me. “I told her we were closed but she wouldn’t listen.”

  Corbin frowned at me. “What do you want, Addison?”

  “To talk,” I said, trying to smile like nothing was wrong. “Just to talk.”

  He looked awful—even wearier than he had earlier. I wondered uneasily about the bloody runes on the stake. Was the blood still dark red or had it turned almost black? I had left it behind on Gwendolyn LaRoux’ front porch so there was no way to check. But was it possible that she had misread it? Was Corbin even closer to death than she had thought?

  “Just to talk, hmm?” he said, repeating my words back to me. “Has it occurred to you, Addison, that there is nothing left to say between us?”

  “There’s sorry,” I whispered. “That’s what I came to say, Corbin—that I’m sorry. Will you let me say it? Will you listen?”

  He sighed heavily. “I will try. But you should know that I may not have much time.”

  “All right. Can we go someplace private?” I nodded pointedly at Bambie, who was watching us with wide eyes, soaking up our conversation like a sponge.

  “Of course. This way.”

  To my relief, he led me down the dark staircase to his daylight resting area, which was exactly where I had been hoping to go. Once inside, he closed the heavy bank vault door and turned to face me.

  “Well? Speak your piece, darling. As I said, I don’t have much time.”

  “Time enough to get comfortable, though,” I said. “Can we at least sit down?”

  “Fine.” He started to lead me to the chair in front of the fireplace but then he stumbled heavily and would have gone down if I hadn’t caught him. He was a big guy and there was a lot to catch—for a moment the issue was in doubt. But somehow I managed to get my arm under his shoulder and half led, half dragged him to the bed.

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “It’s all right. Let’s get you situated,” I said.

  This was where I had wanted him all along but I was still more frightened than triumphant as I got him settled in the center of the green and gold spread. I had never seen him clumsy before, had never seen him as anything but the most graceful and powerful of predators. Now he seemed so weak—so vulnerable. It was actually a good thing if I wanted my crazy plan to succeed but even so, I was worried that maybe I was too late. Maybe nothing I could do would save Corbin now.

  Well, I had known it was a long shot when I first thought up my crazy plan. But I had to try it anyway.

  I looked at him lying there on the bed and couldn’t help thinking how beautiful he still was. Despite his vulnerability or maybe because of it, he was an absolutely gorgeous man. From his strong jaw, which glinted with golden stubble, down to his broad chest, narrow hips and long legs—he was perfect. I had almost gotten used to him in suits but tonight he was back to his old outfit of jeans and a faded blue t-shirt. It didn’t really matter what he wore, though—he took my breath away.

  “Corbin,” I said softly. “Can you hear me?”

  His eyelids, which had been mostly closed, fluttered open and I saw that his lovely silvery-blue irises had turned a dull gray. Seeing that hurt my heart but I tried not to show it.

  “I hear you,” he murmured, his deep voice sounding terribly tired. “Say what you have come to say, Addison. I am dying.”

  “I know,” I said, trying to choke back a sob. “I know about the stake.”

  “Was it you who took it?” He tried to frown at me but it seemed like he was too drained to make the effort. “I looked for it everywhere. I needed to see it…needed to know…”

  “How much time you have left,” I finished for him.

  “Exactly.” His eyelids fluttered closed again. “Not much…I think.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” I rummaged in my overnight bag and tried to push down the panic that was clawing at my mind like a hungry cat. What if I was too late? What if he still died? What if we both died?

  Stop it, I told myself firmly. Just do it. Do it now.

  I pulled out what I had been looking for—my silver alloy cuffs. The same ones I’d used on Cynthia tonight and countless other vamps before her. I looked down at Corbin, who appeared to be resting peacefully in the middle of the vast king-sized bed. There was no way I was fast enough or strong enough to cuff him if he objected. I would just have to hope he was in a deep enough stupor to keep him from getting suspicious before I got the job done.

  Slowly, carefully, I began to raise his arms over his head, positioning his wrists near the brass slats in the headboard. It was an extremely awkward operation, especially given Corbin’s size. His long, muscular arms were bulky and unwieldy. Still, somehow I managed.

  Corbin’s eyelids fluttered again and he frowned. “What…are you…doing?” he asked in a slow, draggy voice.

  “Just getting you more comfortable,” I assured him. Moving as quickly as I could, I slapped the cuffs on his wrists, being certain to wrap their chain around the center strut of the brass bed. It was a piece of metal as thick as my arm and it looked to be solid brass, not hollow, so it should hold. I hoped, anyway.

  Then I got out a pair of silver leg irons.

  Corbin laughed weakly when I went about chaining his ankles to the footboard of the bed.

  “What do you think you are doing, Addison? I’m no danger to anyone now. And even if I was, you haven’t got time to arrest me. I will be dead before you can charge me.”

  “Nobody’s dying here tonight,” I said grimly. “And I’m not arresting you.”

  “Then what do you think you are doing?” he demanded, opening his eyes more fully to look at me.

  “This,” I said softly and began to strip.

  “Addison…” he murmured as I shed my jacket and blouse and slipped off my trousers. Soon I was down to nothing but my bra and underwear. They were made of soft, stretchy crimson lace that clearly showed the peaks of my nipples and the slit of my pussy. It was a set I had bought over a year ago as a splurge. I had never gotten to use them though—they had still had the price tags on them when I pulled them out of my underwear drawer. I hoped Corbin liked them. In all probability, they were the last garments I would ever wear.

  I pushed the negative thought from my mind and climbed back on to the bed with him.

  “Well?” I cupped my breasts and ran my hands do
wn my sides, framing my body for his benefit. “You like what you see?”

  “You know I do,” he rasped and I was happy to see a little more life creeping back into his eyes. “But Addison, if you think you can save me with sex, I am afraid you are mistaken. The most you can do is make sure I die happy.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I murmured, leaning over to kiss him. His mouth was cold but it seemed to warm as I tasted him.

  “Mmm,” he growled softly as I ran my tongue gently along the seam of his lips. “Feeling naughty tonight, darling?”

  “You have no idea,” I whispered and deepened the kiss. Daringly, I pressed my tongue between his lips, tasting him, flickering the tip quickly over his deadly sharp fangs. At the same time I rubbed my breasts against his broad chest and ran my hands over his shoulders and through his hair. I wanted to touch him everywhere, wanted to feel him against me, inside me…but that would come later.

  “Addison,” he murmured, his eyes catching mine when I sat back. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I want you. And I want to be in charge this time.”

  His deep rumbling laugh seemed to vibrate through my entire body.

  “No one could argue that you are indeed in charge. With this much silver on me, I couldn’t move if I wanted to.”

  That, of course, was what I was hoping—that the restraints would hold. They will, I promised myself, and went back to teasing him by rubbing my breasts against his face. Corbin growled appreciatively. Feeling even bolder, I pulled down the red lace cups of my bra to bare my nipples for him.

  “Suck them,” I commanded, pressing one tight little nub against his mouth. “Make me feel good, Corbin.”

  “With pleasure, darling.” He complied willingly, sucking my nipple deep into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue.

  I moaned as sensations shot through me, little sparks of pleasure that seemed to go straight from my nipples, directly to my pussy. God, even though I knew this was all kinds of crazy and dangerous, I still wanted him—wanted him badly. I could feel the sharp tips of his fangs bracketing my sensitive nipple and it only made me want him more.