Mortal Bite (Golden Vampires of Tuscany)

by Sharon Hamilton

  “Marcus had the manuals at the study. I read them.”

  Lionel made a mental note to be more careful with the security literature. He stretched and began to stand, but realized he’d slept naked again. It was becoming a habit, as was the fact that he was making love to his sheets every night, regardless of whether or not he’d had sex with a date the night before. The visions in his head of the sweet green-eyed, red-haired hottie he’d screwed several times the night before, right next to his brother Huge, who had been screwing her sister, came flashing back and his dick boinked to attention. He immediately bent over to cover it up.

  Paolo was laughing. It was not funny to Lionel.

  “You guys had some fun last night, apparently”

  “Still managed to call your brother first.”

  “And for your loyalty, we thank you. We are indebted to you.”

  “Thanks.” Lionel grabbed a long-sleeved tee from the floor and covered up his groin as he shuffled to a dresser to retrieve some clothes. The evening sky had turned pitch black.

  “So what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Lionel asked with his back to Paolo. He turned and caught Paolo eyeing his butt cheeks. “Fuck off, Paolo. I don’t do guys. You know that. You go both ways now?”

  Paolo was still in a good mood, and laughed it off. Lionel could remember a time when it would have cost him another humiliating fight that he was required to lose. Didn’t mind the pain, which would heal relatively quickly. It had been about his pride, knowing he could kick young Paolo’s ass and still had to take the fall, “for the good of the family.” Still, it was his job, and he did it regardless of how he felt. He was glad Paolo had learned to temper his reactions. And he did seem happier these days.

  “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

  “Going both ways. You honestly think you can have a conversation with me about going both ways.” Lionel was close to tracing himself anywhere else, even though he was still naked.

  “No, about protecting the love of my life.”

  “Love of your life or love of her—it is hope to God’s hangnail a girl, right?”

  “Well, yes, and she’s mortal.”

  “A blinding flash of the obvious. How come you don’t like female Goldens?”

  “You forget what Lucius’s mother did to me.”

  “Half my guys lusted after her too. Hell, you couldn’t help yourself, everyone knows that. And most of the guys would have loved to have her abuse them like she did you. Paolo, time for you to grow up and be a man.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Paolo’s smile was getting thin.

  “Marcus handled her for almost a hundred years.”

  Paolo wasn’t jealous since he had no feelings for Maya. “But Maya loved Marcus. She barely tolerated me.”

  It was the truth. Everyone knew it. Sadly, though they were fated, Maya and Paolo would never have survived as a couple. They had enough animal attraction to produce an offspring, but as far as spending eternity together, it had been completely out of the question. It was fortunate her death saved him from the agony.

  “Okay, man. Sorry. Tell me what you’re here for, and I’ll do whatever it is you want me to do.” He started to step into a pair of boxers. “Within reason, of course,” he added in a mumble.

  “Of course.”

  Lionel put on his dark black jeans, a form-fitting t-shirt that made his muscles look twice a normal man’s size, and thick black socks. He sat at the edge of the bed and pulled on his knee-high boots with the steel toe, stowing a KA-BAR on the side of one. Next he donned his shoulder holster, checked his Ultra Crimson Carry II with the 3-inch barrel, stowing it safely under his arm. His black jacket was fitted so no one would ever suspect he was packing. Which is the way he liked it. But one look into his eyes and they would know they were dealing with Dr. Death himself.

  He liked that too.

  Paolo grinned, glad he could call upon this lethal combination of brains, brawn and equipment sure to keep Cara safe.

  “So where are we off to? And don’t tell me it’s a fuckin’ hot tub party.”

  “Hardly. Call your brothers. We’ll meet at that bistro by the square in downtown Santa Rosa. Tell them to be there in less than a half hour.”

  “I’ll have them ready. Meet you there.”

  The three Jett brothers wore sunglasses, their eyes being extra sensitive, even to the votive candles on the little table they shared. The space was so small their knees almost touched, which meant that when one of them crossed or uncrossed his massive legs, the others had to do the same in tandem. Though it annoyed Lionel from time to time, it was a necessary evil, since they needed to be close together to discuss their plans so they wouldn’t be overheard.

  “Huge, you bring those magazines?” Jeb asked. He was referring to the fact that Hugh had a well-worn collection of girlie magazines they enjoyed looking at during long stakeouts. Sort of took the edge off their testosterone level for a bit. It never really helped Lionel at all. He found it extremely childish.

  “Jeb, you have more money than God. Anything wrong with you buying your own smut?”

  “Nah.”

  “Oh, I get it,” Hugh continued. “You just like it free.”

  “Well, if you are offering and everything. Why not?”

  Lionel pointed to Paolo, who was returning from the bar with four glasses of red wine. “Casanova here is on his way to Tuscany. Why don’t you ask him to bring back some of those Eastern European magazines?”

  “Those girls look young. Really young.”

  “Some of them are,” Paolo interjected. “Big money these days in smuggling little girls into prostitution. You don’t want to support them by buying their stuff.”

  Jeb looked up at the ceiling. Lionel could tell this was one of those times he felt impatient with their Golden vamp employer.

  “Marcus over there, too?” Hugh asked.

  “Yup. That’s why we need your services,” Paolo said, holding up his glass. “Cheers, gents.”

  They clinked glasses. Paolo sipped his wine, savoring it, while the brothers threw theirs back like it was a shot of whisky.

  “They got absinthe here?” Huge asked Lionel.

  “It’s a French bistro. I’d say yes,” Lionel answered him. “But let’s stay off the green crazy stuff until we find out what’s in store for us.”

  The brothers recrossed their legs in tandem again, Huge and Jeb crossing their arms as well.

  “We have reason to believe the new dark coven Supreme Leader, Dag Nielsen, has his eye on a friend of mine, a college professor named Carabella Sampson,” Paolo started. “I would be personally taking care of her, except I’m accompanying Marcus to Tuscany, where we have pressing business.”

  “We get to take care of her the same way, too?” Jeb grinned, demonstrating he had lost a tooth. One of his canines. Paolo frowned.

  “What happened to your tooth?” he asked.

  “Had it pulled. Was giving me some fits. I got an implant coming.”

  “How they going to do that?”

  “Well Dr. Gervais—you know him, Paolo—done some work for Anne. He says he can give me an implant, but it will have to stay down all the time. The hollow point will be towards the back of the tooth so no one would be able to see it up close.”

  “Still, Jeb, gotta be kinda awkward walking around with a fuckin’ straw sticking out of your lips all the time,” Hugh added as he punched his younger brother. The ensuing tussle almost sent them all sprawling. They got temporarily entangled in the canvas curtain of the outside seating area, hitting the aluminum frame and alerting other customers to their presence.

  “Would you guys stop with the horseplay?” Lionel whispered to them. “Some pair of covert ops you guys make.”

  Paolo finished off his wine and leaned into the table. “For the record, my brother doesn’t approve of my involvement with the beautiful Cara, so he has erased her memory of me.”

  The Jett brothers looked like th
ey were responding to a bad smell.

  “For her own safety, she has to be kept in the dark. And that’s where you come in. We need a detail on her 24/7. Marcus told me you have some brothers in arms you can trust during the day?”

  Lionel nodded. “Retired SEALs. Bad ass dudes, for mortals.”

  “They available for hire?”

  “Depends. They evaluate the situation first before they decide.”

  “No can do. This has to be kept strictly between us. No one outside the family and your family can know all the facts.”

  “Which are?” Lionel asked. The cat and mouse game was tiring him.

  “This lady is a professor at SSU, an authority on myths and mythology, with a special emphasis on vampire lore. She had located evidence that a very rare book on our kind had surfaced again after centuries.”

  “Had? As in past tense?” Hugh asked.

  “That’s primarily why we erased her memory. But the other side doesn’t know this—well, to be perfectly honest, they’ve been told, but they don’t believe it. We believe this book was part of my grandfather’s collection. It disappeared before I was born.”

  “And you have the book now?” Lionel asked.

  “No. We have a book, a book Cara found and had shipped here to California, a sort of cryptic map written in journal form by a man who did find it almost two hundred years ago. That book is in safekeeping. We believe it will tell us where the missing tome can be found.”

  “And so what’s the problem?”

  “Dag Nielsen and his dark coven want that book, and they’ve been killing to get it. You know they killed young Rory Monteleone last week?” Paolo said.

  Each brother silently nodded.

  “And they got his little brother two weeks ago. They’ve been killing the Golden children like crazy. We’re not sure why they’ve stepped up this genocide against our race,” Paolo continued, “but Dag has something up his sleeve, and he desperately wants what’s in the book.”

  “Makes me wonder too, Paolo. You got any ideas?” Lionel felt like his employer was hiding something, but he couldn’t quite make out what.

  “I’ll give you specifics after I get them. Right now, we’re going to Tuscany to get permission for a mission here. We’re asking you just keep an eye on things until we return.”

  “You mean keep an eye on her?”

  “Well, yes. We also have staff, loyal, trusted mortals who have served our family for generations. We cannot leave them unprotected.”

  “But you primarily care about her,” Lionel dug deeper.

  “I’m not lying when I say she matters a great deal to me, but her importance in this scheme is far greater than just my feelings alone. You’ve all felt the rumblings of war, right?”

  The brothers nodded solemnly. Even Lionel couldn’t look into Paolo’s eyes. The smell of war and impending death was all around the little wine country community full of innocents who had no idea what was about to befall them.

  “We are getting close to understanding what this grudge is all about. And looking for ways to stop the planned attack on us all.”

  “Why not round them up and take care of it that way?” Lionel wanted to know. He wondered why they were being so careful. “They aren’t loyal even to themselves. Should be easy to get the information we need.”

  “Because we aren’t sure they haven’t discovered some weapon to use against us. And we don’t know where their information is coming from.” Paolo leaned back in his chair. “Brothers, we are trying to stop innocent lives from being lost.”

  The two younger Jett brothers looked at Lionel, who was stewing about a problem he suddenly had to express. “Just what am I supposed to tell the SEAL team? They don’t even know we’re vamps.”

  “Lionel, under the circumstances, I think you’ll have to level with them.”

  “Suuuureeee. You fuckin’ gotta be nuts, Paolo! They’ll never believe it. What am I supposed to do? You ever try to convince someone about vampires? Someone who is absolutely an unbeliever?”

  Paolo smiled. “Do what I did once.”

  “What’s that?” Lionel asked.

  “Disappear or trace them somewhere.”

  Chapter 34

  Cara called the University and confirmed what Mr. Monteleone had told her. Classes had indeed been cancelled. It was all over the news about her assistant’s murder. She spent the day in and out of bed, with long crying bouts in between.

  It was odd how she had lost three whole days, just forgotten what she had taught, who she had talked to, what she had done. Though she tried to retrieve her memories, it was as if they were gone from her forever, not locked behind an iron wall. Just evaporated.

  Something had been pressing on her, she could tell that much as she looked over the papers covering her desk. For some reason, just from the way her normally neat papers were splayed across the wooden surface of her home office, she got the feeling she had been looking for something. She started to organize the mess, hoping it would bring back at least a sliver of her memory.

  She began to examine every slip of paper she could find, sorting them into piles on the floor. Bills, receipts for payments made, checkbook statements, professional magazines, and correspondence. She even had a couple of early Christmas cards from educational companies wanting her to purchase their teaching aids. There were several requests for donations to charity events coming up.

  She’d made a decision skip any more faculty charity functions until next year. Although she made a decent income as a college professor, she was planning some trips—what was that? Where had that come from?

  A trip? She’d been planning a trip?

  She quickly scanned the travel brochures that she’d tossed on the pile of clothing and bedding catalogues she had planned to recycle.

  She found a brochure with a post-it note inside describing a city tour and map of Prague. She read the note, which was not in her handwriting.

  If you are in need of lodging, this hotel is very nice and not as expensive as some. My family and I live in a small flat above the bookstore and cannot accommodate you, although we would if we could. My store is quite close, within walking distance.

  I am due to receive another crate from a monastery in Scotland in early November. If there is anything of interest there, I shall message you. Until then, please use my travel agent as a resource. She can find you some great airfare that could save you hundreds of dollars, if the tickets are purchased here.

  Regards,

  Tomas Novotny

  Cara put the note down and stared out into the darkening sky. She hadn’t even noticed she’d missed her lunch, and now was hungry for dinner.

  As she prepared a salad, she thought about the note. For some reason, the name Tomas Novotny was familiar to her. Then she remembered where she had seen the name before. It appeared on her credit card statement as Novotny something. Novotny Travel?

  Novotny Books.

  She dropped everything in the kitchen and rummaged through her desktop piles and found the one for her credit card statement from two months ago. The single line item for August 15 read: Novotny Books. The charge was for $145, which meant it was a valuable book, or research material. She just couldn’t remember what it was. Sitting behind the desk, placing her forehead to her palm, she concentrated.

  What was this book? What was the book about?

  She knew it must have been about vampires. And her upcoming trip to Prague was further indication of the connection she had with this particular bookseller. But why couldn’t she remember the purchase?

  She kept a stack of cards in her center desk drawer. Flipping through them, she came upon the card for a Tomas Novotny, rare bookseller. And there was a telephone number.

  Before she thought about what time it was in Prague, she dialed the number but got no answer. The phone rang and rang. She hung up and retried the number. On the third try, an answering machine picked up with a man’s voice speaking in broken English.

 
; ‘This is Thomas Novotny. I am currently unavailable but will return your call if you speak slowly and leave your telephone number. Please also state the nature of your business, and what book or periodical you are interested in. Thank you and have a good day.’

  The beep made Cara jump before she collected herself in order to leave a message. “Mr. Novotny, my name is Professor Cara Sampson and I am calling from California. I believe you sold me a book in August, and I would like to discuss this with you. You also mentioned you were receiving another shipment. I’d be most interested in what you have found, if anything. Thank you.” Cara left her phone number and hung up.

  Paolo was struck with a perplexing feeling. Something was worrying him. He concentrated on it as he rode with Lucius in the family limo to the airport. They were flying to his brother’s home just outside Florence.

  The persistent, perplexing sensation seemed to be generated from outside himself.

  He leaned back into the leather seat, resting his head and closing his eyes.

  “Father, are you okay?” Lucius asked.

  “Yes, son. I have a bit of a headache. I was trying to see if I could make it go away.” He smiled down at his son, who grinned back, and snuggled closer to him. Paolo loved how just being with Lucius made him happy, and vowed he’d spend all his non-working time with the boy. “You excited to be going back in Italy?” he asked Lucius.

  “Yes. I like the sunlight there. More yellow. Not as bright as California, more golden.”

  Paolo had never thought about that before, but Lucius was right. The sunlight in California did seem very harsh and often hurt his eyes.

  The pain in his forehead came back. He could just barely make out a statement: What was this book. What was this book about?

  Paolo gripped the leather armrest and sat forward, which nearly toppled Lucius. It was Cara’s thoughts he was hearing. And she was thinking about a book. Looking for a book.

  The limo driver was a newer employee, so Paolo dared not risk a cell phone call in front of him. He motioned to have the man pull the vehicle over. He got out of the driver’s seat and opened up the rear door.