“No, babe.”
“But Nice was a member and still has many allies among the council members. They will not vote against him.”
“I know, but what else could I do? If I preside and find him guilty, then the verdict’ll be questioned, and it’ll undermine my position. Everyone could vote to have our councils reinstated, which would result in Nice’s sentence being overturned.”
I see her point, and it is a valid one. Nice has been around for a long, long time and has many allies. Having him convicted by a group of council members is the only way to ensure the sentence will stick.
“Either way his fate is in their hands,” I conclude.
“Yes. But at least now I can testify as a witness.”
Another good point. Lula was there when Nice took Miriam.
Lula continues, “All this leads to my next point. I didn’t want to say anything—I mean, you had enough going on with Miriam—but I think something’s brewing, Michael.”
“Like what?”
“I’ve been hearing whispers that the council members are done with their partying, so either way I might be retiring.”
I doubt this will be a disappointment to her. Neither of us wished to be rulers. I was appointed king by the generals with support from the majority of our society leaders when the council members were all taken hostage by Clive. After the failed coup, the councils voted to keep the one-ruler system in place. Obviously, I didn’t spend much time ruling that first year while I searched for Miriam, and Lula held down the fort. When I had to return to reestablish order—aka lopping off the heads of a few treasonous council members—I handed Lula the throne. Really, it was something I should have done from the beginning, but I had been too absorbed in looking for Miriam to care. Then I was too heartbroken to continue searching, so Lula took over the hunt as promised. Meanwhile, Miriam was off having “fun.” Dancing, drinking, being Nice’s plaything.
“This must come as a relief to you, yes?” I ask Lula, also known for being a connoisseur of fun. “You can go back to your carefree life of wild weekends and orgies.”
“Trust me, that never stopped. But I will miss having an army at my disposal. It’s super entertaining to call them all in to make them march in little circles. Naked of course.”
“Lula, you didn’t.” I press my palm to my forehead.
“Just the one time.”
And that would be enough to lose the throne. No wonder the council is considering coming back. It’s not that vampires shun nudity—we practically invented it—however, those who serve in our armies are proud, fierce warriors. They would not appreciate being treated like man candy.
“Well, if the council does take over again,” I say, “I think you should keep the Ohio territory. You are well liked, and it’s a very respectable society.” Many of our wealthiest and oldest families reside in Cincinnati. It is Lula’s and my home territory.
“And what about you?” she asks. “You can’t possibly want to stay in Arizona. It’s hot.”
Hot is an understatement. Try ball-broiling inferno. No respectable vampire would ever wish to reside here. “I will appoint someone to take my place.” Next in line, because he is the oldest vampire in our region, is Jiffy. Unfortunately, he’s unfit to lead because he sleeps for weeks at a time, and then he wakes to gorge on peanut butter. Some humans never adjust to being vampires. They just sort of meander on couches.
“Then what will you do?” Lula asks.
“Maybe apply for a world travel visa and take a few decades off to reassess my life or search for real profession number ten.” Number nine was assistant librarian. Some could argue number ten was vampire king, though I never really felt the role in my heart. Not like I did during my days as a hunter/fur trapper in the 1600s or as an assassin, English professor, barber, detective, and several others.
“Ugh. No. You’re going to globe wallow, aren’t you?” Lula groans.
I do not reply.
“Michael, please, just come home to Cincinnati,” she whines. “You have a beautiful house, and I’m sure your old job would take you back.” I was a bioengineer before this chaos began a little over five years ago. I enjoyed the work because it allowed me to study my vampire blood after hours, but I cannot see myself going back to the life I had. I am a changed man. Some might say softer and less arrogant. I have lost the thick outer shell I once used to keep the world safe from my demons. And though I am required to have a human cover story, I certainly do not need the money. Just as long as I have a legitimate paper trail for nosy humans to follow should anyone inquire about my income. Luckily, Lula has people to help with such things.
“I am sorry,” I say, “but after the trial, I cannot stay in Cincinnati.” Lula is far too intelligent, so there is no need to explain that regardless of the outcome at the trial, I am not walking away with the girl. If Nice is sentenced, Miriam will hate me. If he is set free, she will run off with him again. “I need to go somewhere to forget my past. All of it.”
“Oh, puleeze… Gag. Gag. Ick. Pity party for one, and a barf bag for the queen!”
“This is no time for jokes, Lula.”
“Who’s joking? You are literally making me sick to my stomach right now, Michael. I wasn’t aware you traded in those huge balls of yours for a withered pair of raisins that resemble shriveled chicken labia more than a manly sack that has inspired generations of vampires and campfire songs, not to mention a few Highlander movies and more than one carnival ride.”
“Which rides? This is news to me.”
“What do you care? You’re too busy collecting tampons to plug up that enormous sad puss—”
“Lula! Do not push me.”
“Why the hell not, Michaela? Because if you recall, I had my heart broken once by my best friend and intended mate, who I waited two hundred years for. Then he banged me and darted faster than a quarterback on crack. But did you see me sitting around feeling sorry for myself? No. I put on my super-sexy garter belt, hiked up my silk stockings, and got right back up on the old stripper pole. Because failure. Does not. Define me.”
“Thank you for the reminder of our night together—the one you called rubbish. But this is hardly the same, Lula. I am not your soul mate. I am not the love of your existence.”
“Wrong. I’m not the love of your existence. Yet I carried on. I got over it. And I sure as hell didn’t surrender my self-esteem to the rejection I felt. But of course, what would the great Michael Vanderhorst understand about any of that? Rejection. Failure. Loss. You’re nothing but a spoiled alpha male who’s just discovered he can’t win every battle. Well, boo-fucking-hoo! Now you’ve joined the ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-nine percent of the rest of the world. Now you get what it means to be alive—immortal or not.”
I stand in the middle of my living room, feeling too heavy to move. She is right. Dear Jesus. I have been winning for four hundred years with the exception of two things: the love of my human parents, who chose coming to the New World to make money over raising me, and Miriam. Other than that, I have hit every challenge out of the park.
It’s a curse being so awesome.
Nonetheless, Lula has brought another point to light: I am a warrior. My successes in life and in battle were never handed to me. I fought for every inch, every moment of glory.
So why am I giving up now?
“Thank you, Lula. I know my friendship is not what you wanted, but you have it along with my loyalty.”
“Jeez. Thanks, Sir Cream of Wheat, the giver of mush.”
“I do not know what you mean exactly, but you are welcome. I must go now. There’s work to be done.”
“What work?” she snaps.
“I am going to get the girl.” I straighten my spine.
“But that’s not what I—”
“Sorry. I must go prepare now.” There is a battle to be won, and it is inside Miriam’s head.
CHAPTER NINE
A few days later, it is the morning of Nice’s trial, and I have learned what hotel
Miriam is staying at in downtown Cincinnati. I knock on the room door, knowing she is expecting someone else—one of the guards who are charged with ensuring witnesses appear on time. And alive. This is, after all, a vampire trial.
She opens the door, and her eyes widen like saucers. Panicked saucers. “Michael, what are you doing here?”
I straighten my tie. Today I am wearing a sleek black Italian suit, a tailored light blue dress shirt, and a royal blue tie. I needed to feel comfortable. “I wanted to speak to you before the trial.”
She looks me over, and I note a hint of desire in her eyes. I know, I clean up nicely. She does, too. Her normal outfits are generally dumpy—below-the-knee skirt, old threadbare cardigan, and a wrinkled blouse. Her blonde hair is usually an unkempt mess, wound atop her head and held in place with a pencil. I love it. I love how underneath all those loose, unflattering clothes hides a toned, incredibly sexy body. She works out, but rarely shows it because it is never about impressing others. Today, however, her long golden hair is braided down the back, and she’s wearing a skintight, low-cut white dress and red heels. It is almost as sexy as seeing her naked.
I wonder if she’s dressed up for him. The mere thought makes my innards sizzle.
“I can’t talk,” she says. “My escort will be here any minute.”
“I only need a moment.” I give her my predatory, “don’t argue with me” look. I won’t take no for an answer.
“Fine.” She steps aside and allows me to pass. The room is huge, the sort of suite one would expect royalty to stay in.
“This is impressive.” I take in the sunken living room with a fireplace and a view of the city. It is not her style. Not in the least. Miriam does not care about material things. Not the Miriam I know. The question is, has she truly changed?
Or perhaps this room isn’t for her at all. Because this is exactly the sort of luxury Nice favors. She must feel very confident of a not-guilty verdict.
I walk toward the large panoramic window, my mind poised to deliver the winning combination of words that will open the door to her heart.
“Well? What do you want to say? We don’t have much time.” Miriam keeps her distance by the cream-colored couch a few feet away.
I turn and face her. It is not easy to gaze into her spellbinding eyes and not want to shove my tongue down her throat. “I know you have been lying to me. I do not know why. I do not know what Nice has done to you or threatened you with, but I do know this: you are the love of my life, Miriam. And there isn’t anything I would not do for you or your safety. If that means turning my back on you forever, then I will. If that means raising an army against Nice, consider it done. But make no mistake, I am not a man who has survived this long by believing everything he hears. I trust my gut. It has led me in battle. It gave me conviction and the will to keep going when I thought my soul would burst into flames if I had to kill one more vampire in order to win the Great War and protect humankind.
“And right now, my gut is telling me that I have failed you because, though I believe your words to be lies, I should have trusted you.” I step forward and take her hands. “I love you, Miriam, but more importantly, I trust you. I have never met a woman as intelligent and kind, with the heart of a warrior like yours. So, if you stay with Nice, I will not fight you, because I know you’ve made the best possible choice for those around you.” I bring the top of her hand to my mouth. “The Miriam I know would never give herself to a psychopathic vampire like Nice for her own selfish needs. Whatever you are saving me or others from, I simply came to say…thank you. From the bottom of my heart, Miriam.”
She stares coldly, but if I have learned one thing about her, it is that she is the master of emotional disguise. Her parents taught her well.
“Nice speech, Michael, and if it makes you feel better to believe there’s something else going on, then I’m okay with that.”
“No. You’re not okay—not with me, not with this, not with the last five years. But if you are unwilling to fight to get your life back or unwilling to believe in me to fight for you, then I can only trust you have played out every possible scenario on the chessboard and determined that this ruse is your best move.” And she has convinced herself that she loves him in order to make it work. I see that now. I mean, what other reason could there be for what I felt in her heart? Still, I know she loves me and that love is real.
I drop her hands and step in closer, our bodies flush. I know she can step away and tell me I’m wrong, but I am gambling she won’t.
I bow my head and press my lips against her hot mouth. I do not care if she is married; she will always be mine whether we are together or separated forever. I slide my hand to the small of her back and pull her closer. She doesn’t resist, but she doesn’t open herself to me. Nevertheless, I hear her heart speeding up, and I know it is not from fear.
I release her and press my forehead to hers. “Simply know that whatever happens today, I will be here if you change your mind and want to gamble on another winning scenario: us.”
I turn and head for the door. I know that what I have said will need time to sink in. I simply wanted her to understand that the door is always open, that I will fight for her, come what may. She has an out.
I reach the door and hear the soft whisper of her voice. “Wait. Don’t go. There’s something I need to tell you.”
I take a seat beside Lula at the front of the courtroom, knowing all eyes are on me for showing up after the proceedings have begun. The defense is already giving their argument, which means I have missed the prosecution’s opening statement.
“Michael,” hisses Lula, “where the hell have you been? I sent you half a billion texts.”
“I am not sure exactly.” The last half hour has been a blur, mostly consisting of me going into a fit of rage fueled by such deep hatred and bitterness that if someone put a match to me, I would ignite and take down a few square miles. Boom! Which is why I had to take a few moments and gather myself before coming in here. Without a doubt, what I am about to do is the most difficult thing of my life.
“What the hell do you mean?” Lula asks. “How can you not know where you’ve been?”
I ignore her question. “Nice must go free,” I say. “Whatever it takes, he must walk out of here with Miriam. Today. No trial.” I look at Lula to show her the conviction in my words.
“Huh?” Lula cocks a brow. “Did you smoke something on the way here, dude?”
“Please. There is no time for discussion. Just do as I say.”
“But, Michael, you can’t just expect me to—”
I stand. “Everyone, may I have your attention, please?”
The entire packed room, including Mr. Nice, who is sitting at the front with his new, very short haircut, turns to face me. Miriam is seated a row behind Nice, and I do my best not to look at her. But God help me, I want to. I want to throttle her, hold her, kiss her, and yell at her. Unfortunately, there is no time for that.
I clear my throat. “Ladies, gentlemen, I am sorry to have wasted your time; however, after a brief discussion with the human Miriam Murphy, who I have claimed was stolen by Mr. Nice, I have come to learn that she had feelings for him all along. His…” I swallow down every kernel of pride residing within me and smooth down my blue tie, “incredible alpha-male-like sexiness was irresistible, and though she cared for me, it was not enough to overcome her insatiable, wanton need for him.” I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palms.
“Seriously? What are you doing right now?” Lula whispers.
I ignore her and continue, “Therefore, I must withdraw my complaint against Mr. Nice, a man whom I respect and admire.” I turn and face him. That short black hair, those soulless eyes, and pallid face make my heart simmer with disdain. I want nothing more than to end him, and if it’s the last thing I do, I will have my way. “Sir, please accept my deepest apologies for the inconvenience. Clearly she chose the better man.” Kill him. Kill him. Kill him soon.
L
ula stares up at me, her face almost as pale as Nice’s.
The lead judge on the council, a woman known as Pioneer Patty, because she was turned in the early 1800s and to this day wears a gunnysack dress and bonnet, taps her gavel. “Mr. Vanderhorst, I cannot lie. Your abrupt change of heart strikes me as suspicious. Were you coerced? Threatened in any way?”
“Nope. I mean, just look at him.” I gesture toward Nice, who is wearing an orange jumpsuit with a white lace shirt underneath, the poufy collar and sleeves flowing out beneath the tangerine fabric. “He is a handsome devil. If I swung both ways, I would be honored to bed such a specimen of masculinity.” The bile crawls up my windpipe. I can only pray they believe me and adjourn within the next few moments or my sick will betray me.
Pioneer Patty looks at me as if I have gone utterly mad, and I cannot blame her.
“Well then,” she pushes back her long braided pigtails, “I see no choice other than to close this hearing and set the defendant free.”
Thank God. I glance at Miriam, who can say nothing, do nothing. Still, I know she is grateful and feels ashamed for not trusting me sooner. But make no mistake, I might not ever forgive her for what she has done, but I do understand her choice. How can I not?
“Court is adjourned!” Patty strikes the gavel and Nice rises.
“Eeeehhh…well, do not leave just yet, my friends. The Nice has a few words to speak,” he says in that strange, unrecognizable accent. “I am very pleased that zi truth as come out.” He points an index finger toward the sky. “But I feel there iz a great problem to be addressed. Zi leadership of our vampire nation.”
“Sir,” says Patty, “with all due respect, our humble little courtroom doesn’t have the right vampires present to vote on such a matter. We need a majority of all one hundred and forty-four prior council members to weigh in along with a majority of the society leaders and generals. If you would like, there is a meeting next week. You may petition to get on the agenda.”
“Very well.” He dips his head. “Then I would like to petition the court to have diss man, Mr. Vanderhorthsssth, detained so I may rip off his head for kidnapping, filing false accusations, and for touching my mate.” Nice turns to me, his dark evil eyes filled with glib satisfaction.
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