* * *
Back at my apartment, I tossed my purse on the counter and addressed the blond hair sticking up from my easy chair, which Caz had turned to face the window.
“Do you know a Tertius?” I asked.
No answer, but the hair moved slightly. I guess he had to shift brood positions from time to time to change up the routine.
“Ancient vampire, sort of creepy,” I continued.
“I’m acquainted with him. He was here in the 1870s, when Seattle was little more than sawmills and whorehouses,” Cazimir finally said. He turned his head and looked over the chair at me. “He found it dull and left soon after he arrived. I was glad to be rid of him. Hard to establish yourself as a monarch while an ancient vampire is looking over your shoulder.”
“He’s back.”
Cazimir let out a long sigh and turned back toward the window. “Does that concern you?” he asked.
“I don’t know. He’s kind of…” I trailed off, trying to find a word for the unease that had crawled over my skin at our encounter. “Strange.”
“He’s old. He gets bored easily. No doubt he’ll move on as soon as he realizes Lark isn’t going to hand over power to him.”
“Is that what he wants? Power?” I kicked off my sneakers and shoved them by the door, next to my boots and Cazimir’s shoes. I really needed to invest in a shoe rack.
“Who knows? When someone has lived thousands of years, I can only imagine they desire anything that makes them feel less rooted to the spot like a tree.” Cazimir stood, stretched, and walked to the fridge. He stared into it for a moment and then closed it again, finding nothing he wanted. “I would avoid him in your current state, of course. He might find you fascinating and he’s not the sort of person whose attentions you want to vie for.”
Uneasiness snaked through me. “I think maybe I already have his attention.”
“Then you’d do best to avoid him.”
I didn’t disagree. If Tertius didn’t wig me out, I’d have been tempted to throw myself at his mercy and see if maybe he’d take the risk of turning me. After all, ancient vampire blood was more powerful and more likely to be resistant to any kind of Cure. But the guy had sent my Spidey-Sense tingling in ways that told me the last thing I wanted was his fangs anywhere near my throat.
“What about a mortal woman with short black hair who has a love affair with eye shadow? Know her?” I asked.
Cazimir gave me an unamused look. “Surely you realize that describes several of the humans who reside in my palace.”
I half-rolled my eyes. “She has a bullring in her nose and eyebrow piercings. She called me a Blood Traitor and said I would pay. Ring any bells?”
“Sounds like Lilith.”
I snorted. “Seriously?” Lilith was Adam’s first wife in the Bible, and according to some paranormal “scholars,” the first vampire. Vampires who were older than the Bible took umbrage at that assertion, but it was a still a popular name in Goth culture. A little cliché, but what could you do?
Cazimir did not dignify my comment with a response.
I opened the fridge. Food had not miraculously appeared. I pulled out a jar of martini olives and a fork.
“How is my Factory?” Cazimir asked, the words slipping out as though he hadn’t been sure he wanted to voice them. He stared at the ugly blue tile floor, looking so goddamn helpless that I hated to tell him the truth. But then, he was bound to find out eventually. Besides, my job wasn’t to protect Cazimir’s feelings. It was to find a way for both of us to be immortal again and put this whole ugly episode behind us. Maybe in three hundred years, we could laugh about the months we’d spent as human roommates, a mortal odd couple thrown together by a sick twist of fate.
“Lark is renovating.” I stabbed an olive.
Cazimir’s eyes shot up to meet mine. “She’s what?”
“Remodeling,” I said, popping the olive into my mouth. It had been soaked in vermouth and tasted briny and salty, which reminded me of work.
“That wicked traitor!”
I forked another olive in the jar. “She kicked you out and stole your Factory, Caz. You didn’t really think she was still on your side.”
Cazimir let out a breath and shuffled over to the easy chair, slumping down into it like gravity had gotten the best of him and he could no longer make an effort to hold himself up. “Leave me be,” he said darkly.
I didn’t argue. I ate the second olive, then a third, and put the jar back in the fridge, leaving the fork in the sink. Then I went back to my bedroom and did what most mortals do when they can’t sleep in the wee hours of the morning: I watched Netflix on my computer.
Chapter 6
The next two nights were blessedly uneventful. No vampires, no bodies. I kept waiting for monsters to step out of the shadows, but none did. It was business as usual: I waited tables and came home to find Caz off on some secret errand that he returned from in the wee hours of the morning, looking flushed and smelling of cigarettes. He refused to tell me what he was up to.
Monday was my night off, and I dragged Cazimir to the Waterfront to eat dinner and watch the sunset. He barely touched his clam chowder, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the view. We both stared in awe at the pinks and oranges that swirled in the sky and the glittery curtain of yellow that danced across the water of Puget Sound as the sun sank behind the horizon. And then the sun was gone and the world was cast into twilight.
“If not for such beauty, I would find mortality entirely repugnant,” he said. “Photos and videos don’t do it justice.”
“No, they really don’t,” I agreed. The modern era is easier for vampires in some ways, and harder for them in others. Cameras are everywhere and criminal forensics are increasingly sophisticated, making it more difficult to destroy evidence of killings. But technology also means vampires are no longer barred from seeing the world bathed in sunlight without a layer of dark protective UV-proof glass. And yet, no video is as good as experiencing it firsthand.
Our waiter tore us from our reverie, asking if we wanted more wine. I shook my head. I’d had two glasses and was pleasantly buzzed. Caz, surprisingly, also refused, though he’d only had one glass. Lately he’d been polishing off entire bottles, so I was glad to see he wasn’t turning into a total lush.
“So I’ve been thinking,” I said as the waiter moved on to another table. “Maybe we should find a bigger place to live. Get you your own bedroom.”
All the light vanished from Cazimir’s face and he straightened in his chair. “Non. I do not intend to remain mortal long enough for permanent accommodations to be necessary.”
“No one is talking permanent,” I said. “I’m just talking about the next six months.”
Cazimir stood. “There’s no need. If you want me out of your quarters, I will find another place to go.”
I sighed. “You don’t have to be so goddamn dramatic about everything, Caz. I’m just saying—”
“I have business to attend to,” he said sharply, brushing cracker crumbs from his collared shirt. It was white with purple stripes and he wore it with dark denim jeans, which explained the charge from Nordstrom on my credit card. “Thank you for dinner.” He gestured toward the window. He certainly didn’t mean the food.
“You’re not going to tell me what you’re up to?” I asked, though I didn’t really expect him to. Cazimir and I were castaways, stuck together on an island awaiting rescue. We had to tolerate one another, but it didn’t mean we had to be best friends.
He walked out without further comment, passing our server on the way as he arrived at our table with a dessert menu. I asked for the check, but by the time I finished paying, Cazimir was long gone.
It was nearly dark outside, but the August air was still warm. It smelled like salt and fish here, away from the smog and urine smell that was so prevalent downtown. I walked along the waterfront, passing groups of tourists who were waiting in line for ice cream or making their way to the giant Ferris wheel.
> I crossed under the Viaduct and headed up toward Pioneer Square. I thought maybe I’d brave a drink at Underground and see if I could find out anything about the bloodless corpses or the vampire I’d seen on my street. Maybe someone had heard someone bragging about the murders, or there were bodies I didn’t know about. If nothing else, the current gossip might hold a clue.
I cut through an alley between buildings, a shortcut I’d taken a hundred times. I heard someone behind me and thought it might be Cazimir, so I turned around. No one was there.
I frowned and put my hand into my purse to fish out my Taser. It was a small one, about the size of a deck of cards. I closed my hand around it and checked behind myself again. Still nothing. I kept walking but didn’t let go of the Taser.
Half a block later, I heard another noise. As I was turning around, something slammed into me. The impact knocked me forward and I hit the pavement. The Taser skittered out of my hand. Pain exploded in my midsection and arms.
The weight moved off of me. I immediately rolled to the side. A silver stake slammed down into the pavement where I’d been just seconds before. I stared at it, my brain struggling to make sense of the image. Cold crept over me as I realized it would have slammed into my chest if I hadn’t moved. I clambered to my feet, using a dumpster to support my weight while I stood. The guy was already coming at me again.
Everything moved in slow motion. My attacker held the silver stake like it was a knife and ran at me, ready to slam the pointy metal into my flesh. His hair was dark and sweat beaded his forehead and upper lip. He was very human, his face red and blotchy with exertion.
My back was against a wall, literally. I could smell his noxious body spray and sweat.
“I’m not a vampire, genius,” I said, holding up my hands. “Stakes won’t—”
He brought the stake down in a stabbing motion. I ducked out of the way and it struck the brick wall inches from my arm. My heart slammed into my ribs. The asshole snarled at me and thrust the stake toward me again. I thrust my hand up to stop it and waited for the sharp point to pierce my palm.
There was a blur of motion as someone rammed into Captain Buffy. His silver stake hit the ground with a clank and he was thrown several yards away. I pushed off the wall and dove for my Taser, which was on the ground in front of me. When I looked up, Eva stood over my attacker. She was baring fangs. The douchebag was wide-eyed with terror, frozen to the spot.
After a long moment, he tore his horrified gaze from her to me and then scrambled to his feet. He bolted, leaving his stake behind.
“Who the hell was that?” I asked, but it was rhetorical. I didn’t expect Eva to know. I bent down to pick up the stake, and my side screamed in protest. I winced, gritting my teeth.
“No idea,” she said. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll live.” I tried to catch my breath. My lungs felt like deflated balloons.
Eva picked up the stake and held it by her fingertips like it was a live scorpion. “I used to hope someone would come along and put me out of my misery,” she said.
“Yeah, well, wish hard enough and maybe your dreams will come true.” I touched my other side, feeling for the ribs and then pushing against the injured side. One rib definitely felt more sore than the others when I pushed on it, but the sharp pain was gone and I hoped that meant it wasn’t broken, just bruised. The last thing I needed was broken bones. “Why the hell would someone attack me with a stake?”
“Did he think you were a vampire?” Eva asked, cocking her head like a dog as she watched me evaluate my injuries. “Maybe he was a vampire hunter.”
I scoffed, but it wasn’t impossible.
Vampire hunters exist, of course. Whenever monsters are real, you can bet that there will be people determined to destroy them. It’s a career that found a temporary resurgence in popularity after Buffy the Vampire Slayer hit the airwaves, but the percentage of humans who know about vampires is pretty small, and it isn’t a job with a long life expectancy. After all, even vampires who drink blood solely from butcher’s shops will kill a person in self-defense.
“I’m a pretty fucked-up target for a vigilante monster killer,” I said, shoving my Taser back into my purse. Eva was still holding the stake and staring down the street, like the guy might come running back to get it. I waggled my fingers in a “gimme” gesture and she handed it over. I examined it, but it was a basic steel stake. No helpful inscriptions like “Property of Vampire Killers United” or whatever. I put it in my purse.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Eva.
Her expression turned sheepish. “Hoping to find you, actually. I was told you hung out around these parts.”
“Of course.” We were only a few blocks from Underground, which was where I’d been headed. I looked down at my jeans and saw the knees were scuffed but not torn. My arms had been bare, though, and they were scraped to hell. I needed to take a bath in hydrogen peroxide. “I guess I should be relieved you scared him away.”
Eva smiled. “I can’t let one of the Sun Walkers die.”
“I’m not a Sun Walker,” I said. “This is not a miracle you see before you. It’s a hot mess of a woman trying to survive until I can get my vampirism back.”
Eva shook her head ruefully, like a teacher faced with a student who didn’t understand the importance of homework. “Why do the blessed never see their gifts?”
I didn’t roll my eyes, but it took effort not to. “I told you already, I can’t help you.”
Eva was not deterred. “But you can, Henrietta Dunn. You have been Cured.”
I sighed. “And I don’t have any more of the Cure. No one does. The lab where it was made was destroyed. It’s all gone.” Well, as far as I knew. Neha had never been entirely forthcoming with me, and I hadn’t spoken to her in a couple of weeks. I’d checked to make sure Sean hadn’t gone back to break her neck, and I’d driven by her lab once. She wasn’t working out of that space anymore, though, and had decided to sell the property. She was not, as far as I knew, working on an antidote, but she wasn’t working on recreating the Cure, either.
“I don’t believe that,” Eva said cheerfully. “There’s no way the universe would be so cruel as to invent a Cure and only allow two immortals to be Restored.”
This woman was unbelievable and I was in too much pain to put up with it. “The universe didn’t do anything. People did. A person invented the Cure. Another person stole the rest and used it up. It’s gone. I’m sorry. Trust me, I’d happily trade places with you.”
A thought clicked in my brain.
“Hey, there is one way you might be Cured,” I said.
Eva’s eyes lit up. She clapped her hands together in delight. “I knew it!”
“Well, there’s a theory that my blood is tainted. That if someone drinks it, they’ll turn human.”
Eva considered. “You’ll let me drink your blood and see if it works?”
She had so much hope in her face. “I want you to turn me back. Make me a vampire. Drink my blood, let me drink yours, and we both wait and see what happens.”
If it was true that my blood was tainted in a way that could turn another back, it was entirely possible that having a vampire drink that blood before giving me enough to make me immortal would ruin the process.
Personally, I didn’t think that my blood was anathema to vampirism, but even if it was, that was a win for Eva. So if we exchanged blood, what was the worst that could happen?
You could die, a more logical voice in the back of my brain argued. Or Eva and I would both end up human and I’d have to get a bigger apartment to accommodate the new Wayward Home for Former Vampires I would suddenly be running.
Eva was staring through me, her thoughts running as fast as mine, weighing her own fears and worst-case scenarios on an imaginary scale. Finally, she shook her head. “I swore to never turn another,” she said firmly. “Even for the price of being human again, I cannot put another monster into the world.”
My balloon of
hope popped. I should have known. Anyone who loathed being a vampire that much wouldn’t be keen on making more of them. But then, my situation was unique. I wouldn’t be a new vampire so much as a “Restored” monster, and Eva was all about Restoration. I pointed that out. Eva gave me a sad look and shook her head again.
“Then I can’t help you,” I said again.
“You have helped me, Henri Dunn,” Eva said. “You’ve given me hope that undoing the monstrous nature inside me is possible. I believe you will lead me to the Cure somehow, even if you don’t yet know how.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. She spoke with a religious fervor, like she’d been repeating words like these to herself for years. Now that she knew a Cure was possible, she wasn’t going to let it go. I guess I couldn’t blame her, not if it was what she really wanted. After all, I wanted the exact opposite and I wasn’t about to give up anytime soon. Didn’t mean her righteous conviction and the way she looked at me like I was some kind of savior didn’t irk the hell out of me.
She turned and gave me a wide, fang-filled smile. “Take care of yourself, Sun Walker.” And then she walked down the street, leaving me alone in an alley with a bruised rib and no earthly idea why I’d even been attacked.
It sucked.
* * *
When I arrived home thirty minutes later, my apartment was empty. Again. Wherever Cazimir was going, he wasn’t telling me about it and he wasn’t leaving behind any clues.
I plopped down on the sofa and turned on the television, flipping around until I found a marathon of Bones.
Cazimir came home three episodes later, at three thirty in the morning. He walked in and sat in the easy chair, nodding at me. His cheeks were a little pink and there was sweat beading on his forehead. He curled his fingers around the arms of the chair and sat straight-backed, as if the chair were his throne.
“Where have you been?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. I turned off the television.
“I had business to attend to, mon amie,” he said curtly, French accent thick. King Cazimir was back. I was both relieved and annoyed at the prospect of putting up with him.
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