by Raven Hart
Within a very few minutes Will and his newly found friends rose to leave. As one of the men paid the bar tab, Will directed a look in my direction and winked before following them out the door. I left a hefty tip for the waitress and moved to the door myself. I caught up with them in the parking lot, still laughing at some joke or story Will was spinning for their amusement.
“Excuse me,” I said, and motioned Will over to me. He touched one of the men on the shoulder before leaving the group. “I’m going to another pub with these chaps,” he called across the distance between us. To them he said, “I’ll meet you at your car.”
“No killing,” I said as soon as he reached me.
He crossed his arms and whether by accident or design he bestowed a smile so charming he seemed to have shrugged off ten years of pain. “What a fucking Nancy-boy you are,” he said in a pleasant tone. “I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in the great William Thorne.”
I could’ve said the feeling was mutual but had no time for pleasantries. “I can send them running for the trees if you don’t swear to me. You’ll be hungry that much longer.”
He rolled his eyes. “Christ! All right, fine, I won’t kill ’em.” When I simply stared at him, he flung out one arm. “Come along if you like. By all fucking means, we musn’t hurt the humans.” Then he cut in another direction. “Wait till bloody Hugo hears about this. He’ll laugh until he pisses himself.”
“I’ll have your hand on it,” I said, holding out my own.
This seemed to tickle Will further. “Sure, fine, whatever.”
He clasped my hand and as he pulled away in a hurry, I slipped the ring from his finger and dropped it into my pocket. “After you,” I said. “Now is not the time to discuss anything but feeding.”
Will sauntered across the small parking lot toward the men waiting for him. We were very close to the ocean; the waves sounded loud, rhythmic like the heartbeat of the planet. The air was heavy with cool moisture smelling of salt and sand. I watched as Will slipped his arm around one man and motioned for the other to follow. Instead of getting in the car, they headed across the street toward the low dunes and the ocean beyond.
They’d barely made it to the darkness on the ocean side of a public bathhouse when Will drew one of the men into his embrace. I could hear his breathless, urgent, sensual whisper—
“Come on, luv. Let’s have a li’l fun then.”
Then he kissed him, full on the mouth—a sucking, searching kind of kiss. The opening volley: taking pleasure before handing out pain. Without quitting the kiss, Will slid an arm around the other man and drew him into a three-way embrace. Will’s enveloping sexual power was so strong, I could feel it though I was standing yards away. Rather impressive—this was no inexperienced pup, more like what we used to call a “jade” of the first water. I thought of my dead friend Alger. What a pair of cocksmen he and my son would have made, putting the fictional des Esseintes and even Beardsley to shame.
One man had slid to his knees now and worked at Will’s belt while Will himself shoved the other’s shirt out of the way. Then the sucking took over, at all ends. The man in Will’s arms sighed and drew him closer as Will drank, the man working his cock moved faster; all seemed to be bent on the same goal—pleasing Will.
I moved closer, thinking I might have to remind Will not to get carried away, but he needed no such warning. He withdrew his fangs and offered me a bloody smile as he allowed the man standing to slide to the sand against the building, half unconscious but wearing a stupid smile. Then, without taking his gaze from me, Will framed the other man’s head with his hands and pumped himself into the man’s greedy mouth.
The orgasm, when it came, was intense. Will lowered his chin and watched as the man drank him in. Then, he returned the favor by pulling him to his feet and pressing him face first against the wall. “That was quite nice,” Will breathed into the man’s ear. “Now hold still, luv, here’s a bit of something for you.”
I had seen enough to know that Will would keep his word about killing. I walked back to the parking lot and leaned on the Mercedes. All alone in the cold, nearly empty parking lot, I fished out my night’s thievery. The sight of it took my breath for a moment and the golden weight seemed to burn the palm of my unsteady hand.
My betrothal ring, the one I’d placed on Diana’s willing hand so many eons ago. I thought back to when she’d pressed it on our son. Did she think it would be some sort of protection from me? Was it meant as a signal? Or just one more punishment for my many failures? Like a rogue ocean wave my mind filled with possibilities, then emptied just as quickly. The temptation to fling the golden symbol of our love away was oh, so strong. But without conscious consent, my fist closed over it. I promised myself that the time for answers would come. Before Diana left Savannah, I would know all or die trying.
It wasn’t long before Will appeared, dusting his hands together as he approached the car.
“No muss, no fuss,” he said with that deadly charming smile of his. His mood seemed to have lightened considerably after feeding.
I opened the driver’s side door.
“Aren’t you gonna check my homework then?”
I shook my head.
“What about you? Your turn, mate.”
My hunger remembered the waitress inside the bar. I turned in that direction. I needed strength now more than ever. In less than a moment the back door opened and my main course stepped out, carrying a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
Without looking back to, I was sure, a smiling Will, I slipped the ring back in my pocket and crossed the parking lot to her. Whether she was attracted to me or the large tip I’d given her, she smiled. With an answering smile I relieved her of the pack of cigarettes and tossed them into the bushes.
“Don’t you know those things will kill you?” I asked as I took her hand and led her into the darkness.
Twelve
Jack
When I walked into the garage after driving Lucius back to the plantation house, I was greeted by the sight of Sullivan and Connie in an intense conversation in the far corner of the shop. I stopped in my tracks when I saw her, dressed in jeans and a red pullover that hugged her curves under a loose jacket. Why is it that knowing you can’t have something makes you want it even more? Each time I saw her now hurt worse than the last.
Werm was seated at the card table cradling his head in one hand. Huey handed him a frosty pork chop. “Fresh from the freezer,” he said cheerily. “That should help. I’m going to bed now. Good night, everybody.” The little zombie headed toward the stairs to the bottom of the oil pit and his waiting cot. Over his shoulder he called back to Werm, “When that meat thaws out, just throw it on down to me. I’ll eat it for breakfast.”
“Will do.” Werm put the chop against a nasty-looking bruise on his left temple and groaned. He looked behind him to make sure Connie and Sullivan were out of earshot. “Hey, Jack, aren’t vampires supposed to heal really quick?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry. That bruise will be gone in an hour.” Since Werm was a fledgling, it took him longer to heal than it did the rest of us. The older and more powerful the vampire, the faster he heals. The really old, really tough ones can heal a gaping wound right before your eyes.
“What the hell happened to you, anyway?” I asked. “Wait. Don’t tell me. When you went out to feed, you picked the biggest, baddest dude you could find, didn’t you?”
Werm sighed. “It was Chad Stringer. I just had to bite him.”
“Who is Chad Stringer?”
“The guy who kicked my ass every day after school from the time I was in the fourth grade.”
“What’d you do? Knock on his door and call him out?”
“No!” Werm said emphatically, as if whatever he did do was any less stupid than that. “It wasn’t like that. I went down to the club to persuade some of the finer ladies to donate their blood to a good cause.”
“On a voluntary basis, I take it?”
“Of course. You know, kind of like how William does.”
I tried not to smile. Werm had a ways to go before he could equal William’s persuasive ways with the ladies, or mine, for that matter. “How’d that work out for you?”
“It was going real good,” Werm said. “I was about to take a cute little ex-cheerleader on a walk around the square, maybe a little roll in the grass where I’d make my move. Then Stringer and some of his redneck pals came to the club to play Kick the Goths.”
“Yeah? And?”
“He hit me in the eye, but that wasn’t the end of it.” Werm’s mouth spread into a wide grin. “You should see the other guy, Jack.”
“And what would I see?”
“You’d see an unconscious redneck in the flower bed with a broken jaw and fang marks on his neck.”
Now I did smile. Well, what do you know? Score one for the little guy. “I’m proud of you, son,” I said. “This calls for a beer.”
“Um, do you have any wine, Jack? I’ve kind of developed a taste for the stuff what with sleeping in Dad’s wine cellar and all.”
Damn. Just when I thought I was having a good influence on that boy. “Go to the kitchen and see what you can find. I think Rennie keeps some sherry in there somewhere for the little old lady customers.”
The little old lady remark didn’t seem to faze Werm. He sauntered off to the kitchen to forage for alcohol.
As soon as Werm walked away, Connie made her way over to me from where she and Sullivan had been standing. Sullivan shrugged and waved a hand toward me as if to say, You deal with her.
Connie made a little growling noise of frustration as she stalked up to me. “Will somebody tell me what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You call Sullivan at my place at an ungodly hour and he rushes off to some big emergency. When I didn’t hear from him, naturally I was concerned. But he refuses to tell me what the problem is. Will you tell me what’s happened?”
I looked at Sullivan, who was leaning up against the front corner of the garage. The bay door was open and his arms were crossed against the chill. I heard a car pause at the curb. A door slammed. It sounded like William’s new Mercedes. But what would he be doing coming back here? Following the sound, William’s order blasted loud and clear in my brain. Keep him here.
Will.
Crap.
“Listen, there’s a…situation. There’s nothing you can do to help. It’s just something we have to deal with. William is handling it.”
Connie narrowed her dark eyes at me. “Does this have to do with that—that—whatever it is you’re into?” She glanced over at Sullivan and lowered her voice. “Whatever happened between us?”
In that moment I wanted to tell her everything. It was like she’d enthralled me as if she was the vamp. Maybe as far as Connie was concerned I was enthralled for life. But I was already in trouble up to my fangs without having to explain to a cop how and why I was a killer. I took a deep breath and decided I would offer her as much of the truth as I could. “Not directly. No.”
Sullivan caught my attention again. He was talking to someone standing just outside. Because the other bay doors were closed, I couldn’t see who it was. As I watched, Sullivan’s face registered some sort of recognition, as if he’d just realized who the person he’d been talking to for the past couple of minutes was.
“Have I ever given you any reason not to trust me?” Connie asked, and I immediately turned back to her.
“No, of course not.” I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. “It’s just a big mess, and I don’t want you involved for your own sake.” I paused and let myself look at her. I put up one hand, longing to touch her, but dropped it. “I care about you too much for that.”
For all my focus on Connie, I couldn’t help but notice that Sullivan’s conversation with the invisible man had become more animated. The Californian’s stance changed. He went from a slouch against the wall to standing evenly on both feet, a vigilant kind of position, like he was poised for a fight.
“Oh, Jack—” Connie began.
A blur of motion so fast I could barely see it took Sullivan completely off his feet and out of my line of sight. Whatever tender words Connie was about to speak to me died on the night air. I raced to the open bay door in time to see Will sink his fangs into Sullivan’s throat.
I flew at Will full force, knocking both him and Sullivan to the ground, but the wiry vampire didn’t loosen his grip. I dug my fingers into Will’s face just below his cheekbones to try and force him to release Sullivan from his fangs. Sullivan’s face was sickeningly white, his eyes wide with shock. Will clung fast to his prey and his Adam’s apple worked while he swallowed gulp after gulp of Sullivan’s blood.
I head-butted the blood drinker hard enough to stun him for a second and grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling backward with enough strength to break a human’s neck, if not sever his head completely. Will’s fangs came away from Sullivan’s throat, but not cleanly. The vampire tore out a mouthful of flesh, sinew, and blood vessels.
If Sullivan wasn’t dead already, he soon would be. I felt my eyes go red-black with rage. How dare this demon come onto my own turf—my own shop—and kill a human I was honor bound to protect as the compadre of a brother blood drinker. This little pissant was going to pay, William’s son or not.
Will looked at me in surprise. “You’re strong for a youngster. Why you don’t smell any older than—” Will sniffed the air in my direction. “—two hundred at the most. Perhaps less. Why are you so strong?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I said. I felt the voodoo blood rise up in me. Will was an old, powerful vamp, probably with lots of tricks up his sleeve, but he’d never come up against the likes of me. Hopefully the magic would make me more than a match for him, but I couldn’t be sure. Yet.
“What’s the matter?” I asked. “Not used to a fair fight?”
He landed a quick blow to my cheek and I shrugged it off and came back with a right uppercut to his chin. His head snapped back like a bobble-head doll’s, and I followed up by backhanding him so hard he skidded across the pavement to the edge of the parking lot on his ass. Thank Satan it was the wee dark hours of the morning and nobody was on the street. If some unsuspecting human did happen along, they were in for quite a show. Speaking of unsuspecting humans, I looked back at Sullivan. Connie had reached him by that time and was cradling his head against her as he stared sightlessly into the low-hanging trees and the sky beyond.
Connie looked up at me wild-eyed and back down at Sullivan’s lifeless body. She knew he was dead, and I knew her instinctive next move would be to call the police. I opened my mind to Werm. I wasn’t his sire, but I could still communicate with him telepathically because of the voodoo blood bond. At least, I hoped we could. Rip out the office phone, my mind screamed. Get the cell phone out of her purse on the card table and hide it.
Sure enough Connie started scrambling to her feet, shrugging away from Sullivan’s corpse. Distracted, I didn’t see Will coming until he was on me. He hit me so hard I landed in the dirt several feet away with him on top of me. He straddled my chest and punched me in the face. I saw spots in front of my eyes. As he reached back with his fist to hit me again, I threw him off and to the side.
We both scrambled to our feet and circled each other. “Why? Why did you have to kill him?” I demanded.
“I don’t answer to you, mate,” he said. There were still pieces of Sullivan’s flesh in his fangs. “You should’ve stayed out of it.”
“You don’t come onto my property, into my business and murder a human.”
He cocked his head to one side and leered. “Look behind you. I think I just did.”
I lunged at him and swung, but he dodged the blow, bouncing on his toes. He swung back at me, but the blow glanced off my shoulder as I dodged. I spun around and faced him again. Behind him, I could see to my horror that Connie was back. Werm had gotten rid of both phones so
she hadn’t been able to call for backup. But I hadn’t remembered something else—something slightly more important.
I hadn’t thought to tell Werm to take away her gun.
She stood ten feet behind Will now, her service revolver aimed at the middle of his back. She looked at me and jerked her head to the side, indicating for me to move out of her line of fire. Had she seen the flesh come away from Sullivan’s neck in Will’s fangs? Even if she had, was there any way for her to comprehend what she was dealing with? I couldn’t let her shoot him. It wouldn’t even slow him down, but it just might piss him off.
I swung at him again, concentrating on the speed of the blow instead of power. Unable to dodge the lightning-fast punch, he caught it on the jaw and staggered backward right into Connie’s path. I spat out a curse, realizing that my punch had closed the distance between them. Will grinned and rubbed his chin, but instead of coming at me, he whirled to face Connie.
If she hadn’t realized what she was dealing with before, she had more of an inkling now. I saw her horrified expression as he brought his face, fangs still dripping with blood, next to hers. “Hello, luv,” he said. “Fancy a go yourself then?”
William told me once that this was the ultimate vulnerability of humans: that split second of crystal understanding when they realized they were facing true, inhuman evil and the moment of hesitation that followed while they absorbed it were their undoing. It was the knowledge that they were already dead. Yes, most humans, male or female, would have frozen—gone catatonic with shock, revulsion, and terror at what she saw when she looked into Will’s face. But not my Connie.
She shot him in the heart at point-blank range.
He looked down, then back up at her. He dipped one index finger into the rapidly closing wound in his chest and brought it to his lips. After licking the blood off his finger, he said, “That tickled,” and drew his lips up and backward until his face was a hideous mask of razorlike fangs.