I cleared my throat. “That doesn’t mean I want to start dating again. At least, not this soon.”
“Jeremy would be perfect for you.” She paused. “Although, he’d also be perfect for George, if you know what I mean. Don’t you love a man who’s flexible about certain things?”
Sounded like an episode of Jerry Springer in the making, actually.
“I appreciate the thought, but I need some time on my own right now.”
She nodded sadly and patted my arm. “Your heart is broken in a million pieces. Sometimes the best thing to do is to get back on that horse and gallop right out of town into the sunset with a new, perfect man.” She cocked her head to the side as she thought about it. “Or having a one-night stand with a super-hot guy would probably work wonders, too.”
“Wallowing in solitude is also a great use of time after a breakup. No one-night stands need apply.”
She sighed. “You’re not thinking there’s a chance you and Thierry are going to get back together, are you?”
I chewed my bottom lip and shook my head. “It’s over. Him and me were completely wrong for each other from the very start. This is all for the best.”
It sounded perfectly rehearsed because it was.
Amy nodded. “Well, you’re right about that. He was a pompous jerk who didn’t deserve you. I knew from the beginning that he was a complete waste of your valuable time.”
I blinked. “Yeah, except for that dirty little crush you had on him, you mean.”
She blanched at the reminder. “I thought we were going to forget about that.”
“The image of the goo-goo eyes you used to make behind his back is still burned into my brain cells.”
Her cheeks reddened. “Please stop.”
I repressed a smile. “Listen, don’t worry about me. Seriously. Every day is a little easier. I hardly ever think about Thierry anymore.”
Also rehearsed. Every morning when I woke up in my bed all alone I said it to the stucco ceiling—which rarely had any critiques of my acting ability.
“Have you heard from Veronique lately?” Amy asked. “I wonder if she’s planning on swooping down and grabbing him now that you’re out of the picture.”
“Haven’t seen her lately, so I have no idea what she’s up to.”
Veronique was Thierry’s wife. Yes, the man I’d been involved with had been married for hundreds of years to a woman who was the epitome of perfection—beautiful, charming, rich, and powerful.
Their marriage was in name only. They’d been separated for more than a century before I even met Thierry. Veronique unapologetically and frequently dated men a fraction of her age and enjoyed her own life, which she lived mostly in Europe with occasional visits to North America. There was no love there anymore between them.
Thierry had recently attempted to get an annulment from vampire contacts at the Vatican itself—apparently the only way to get out of a marriage the length of theirs—but she refused to sign the papers. She wasn’t evil, she was simply self-centered. Ending their marriage didn’t benefit her in any way so she didn’t see any logical reason to sign.
Her lightly French-accented explanation still buzzed in my ears like a swarm of Gucci-wearing bees.
“Love has very little to do with a successful marriage, my dear.”
The memory still made my blood boil with equal parts frustration and annoyance.
Amy and I returned to the bar, and I let Jeremy down as gently as possible. He took it like a champ.
“If you ever want to hook up, give me a call.” He handed me a business card, then turned to George. “Great talking to you.”
“Yeah, you, too,” George agreed as Jeremy walked away. Then he gave me a dirty look. “Big mistake, Sarah. He was H-O-T. He actually made working in Human Resources sound like fun. Which I cannot imagine it actually is.”
“Sounds like you liked him.”
“Well… I was getting a vibe.”
I handed him the business card. “He’s all yours.”
“Thanks!” He smiled at me. “Now I totally forgive you for spilling your nasty dollar-store shampoo on my carpet yesterday.”
I frowned and absently itched my scalp. I couldn’t help it if I was on a strict budget as the remainder of my meager savings trickled away like cheap shower gel down the drain. Hair doesn’t clean itself, after all.
Thankfully, the drinks tonight were on Amy’s tab. I couldn’t eat solid food without yakking, but for some reason mixed drinks didn’t bother me at all. Along with not having a reflection—definitely one of my least favorite parts of my new life—I racked that up to unexplainable phenomena.
Over the last couple of weeks, I’d been on a crash course to learn as much about vampires as I could. Counting on other people to guide me was unreliable at best, dangerous at worst. I’d learned that the hard way. The Internet, however, was a vast resource. As soon as I broke through the crusty covering of popular myths, everything I needed to know about real vampire culture was right there at my fingertips.
I might be getting carpal tunnel syndrome and becoming a fanged computer geek, but at least I was getting educated. Better late than never.
I sucked the remainder of my drink clean right down to the naked ice cubes.
Another Tequila Sunrise immediately landed in front of me.
I glanced up at the bartender. “You must be psychic.”
He shook his head. “This is compliments of the gentleman in the corner.”
I swiveled around on the stool to look where he indicated. Other than two slutty-looking vamps shaking their groove thing on the dance floor, nobody was there.
“Who did you say sent this?” I asked the bartender.
“He must have left. Tall guy. Good-looking in a dark and miserable sort of way.”
“Sounds exactly like Sarah’s type,” George observed, then poked me in the shoulder. “I need to dance. Let’s go dance. I love this song.”
“Not in the mood.”
“I’ll go.” Amy slipped off the stool and teetered precariously on her four-inch platform heels. She gave me a pointed look. “After all, somebody should have some fun tonight.”
Well, that was a bit rude. Accurate, but rude.
I watched the two of them depart to shimmy to Madonna and Justin singing about saving the world in four minutes. I absently twisted the gold chain I wore until it began to cut off the circulation to my index finger.
The chain was ugly. It looked cheap and heavy and didn’t go with any of my wardrobe. I’d never wear it if I had any say in the matter.
I didn’t have any say.
Thanks to my nightwalker curse, the chain was the only thing keeping me from biting necks and killing people for kicks. Nightwalkers had existed a few hundred years ago, their vicious nature caused by a rare strain of the virus that turned humans into vamps. They were the reason for all the untrue myths about vampires being totally evil. They were the reason that hunters exist in the first place.
Nightwalkers were wiped off the face of the planet by those hunters to protect unassuming humans—and other vampires.
Which meant that, currently, I was the only vamp in the world with nightwalker tendencies—an uncontrollable dark thirst that spread over me, a need to feed on humans or other vamps as if they were an all-Sarah-can-eat buffet. I also couldn’t go out during the day or the sunlight would fry me. There was no sunscreen on earth that could keep me from turning into a crispy critter if I wasn’t wearing the chain.
The witch who’d cursed me was dead now. No chance to get her to reverse the curse.
Which meant I had to find the answer on my own. If I ever lost my chain—the only thing keeping me from truly becoming a creature of darkness—then I was seriously screwed. And so was anyone who crossed my path and looked remotely appetizing.
I shuddered at the thought and willed myself to concentrate on something, anything, else.
I stirred the cocktail in front of me with a swizzle stick and stare
d down into its orangey depths. I pushed the cherry down, holding it under the surface as if trying to drown it. After a moment, I let it bob back up to the surface.
Dark and miserable.
Just my type.
I pushed the drink away. With my luck, Mr. Dark-and-Miserable had poisoned it.
“Hey, can I get a shot of B-Positive?” I asked the bartender.
A couple of seconds later he slid a shot glass filled with familiar red liquid in front of me.
Don’t get grossed out. It’s really not that bad.
Blood is sent to places like Darkside by professional blood delivery services. They get their blood from willing donors who are paid well for their contributions. It was all very civilized. The rarer the blood type, the more expensive the shot.
I stuck with B-Positive. It was my fave. Because of the name, I could fool myself into believing it would cheer me up.
I tossed the shot back and waited for the euphoria to hit me.
A couple of minutes later I was still waiting.
The complimentary drink rested on a Darkside coaster. Other than the logo for the club, I noticed something else on the thick, round piece of cardboard. Handwriting. In blue ink.
Sarah—
I took in a shaky breath and glanced around the club again, paying particular attention to the corner the man who sent me the drink had allegedly been in. Still empty.
My palm was sweating as I picked up the coaster and turned it over to see there was more writing on the other side.
Meet me out back. I must see you.
I casually slipped the coaster into my handbag. Without saying anything to Amy and George, still dancing their little hearts out, I slid into the shadows of the club on the other side of the dance floor, moved past the bouncer at the door, and emerged into the cold night air outside. With a quick check over my shoulder to make sure no one was following me, I swiftly walked around the building to the back where it was dark and silent. The nearly full moon cast a pale glow on the deserted alley.
“Hello?” I whispered, barely loud enough for even myself to hear. “Where are you?”
Other than the expected Dumpsters and snowdrifts, there seemed to be no one there. With my sensitive vampire ears, I could hear the bass thump of the dance music from inside very weakly. I hugged my arms tightly around myself. The temperature didn’t bother me much anymore, but it did seem particularly cold that night.
I took a few more steps into the darkness. “Don’t worry, we’re alone.”
I was answered only by more silence so I moved over to the other side of the building and peered around the corner. I didn’t have very long before my friends wondered where I’d gone. Although, considering how many drinks I’d downed, they’d probably assume I was in the washroom.
I froze when I heard footsteps behind me. The very next moment, strong arms came around me and my back was pressed up against the cold brick wall. A hand came over my mouth, since my first instinct was to scream my lungs out.
Luckily, it was the person I’d been expecting.
Thierry removed his hand, leaned over, and crushed his mouth against mine in a kiss that took my breath away. I gasped against his lips, but then kissed him back deeply, wrapping my arms around his neck before sliding my hands up into his dark hair. His body warmed me in the cold night.
It wasn’t the first time we’d secretly met after everyone thought we’d broken up, but I hadn’t expected it tonight. Everyone else thought he’d only just returned from a trip to France, but he’d never left the city. Since it was vital that nobody saw us together, it had been difficult finding a time and place to meet. I’d missed him a lot.
When the kiss broke off and my heartbeat came back to a normal pace, I looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “A message on a coaster? Is that seriously the best you could do?”
“I wasn’t sure you’d be able to get away. Calling or messaging you on your phone could be traced.”
“And being spotted in a nightclub buying me drinks is much less risky?”
“I’m very discreet.”
I managed to smile. “By the way, your handwriting is nearly illegible.”
His mouth quirked. “Yet you figured out what it said.”
“Barely.” I grabbed hold of his black shirt and kissed him again quickly. We were shielded by the very romantic trash holders on either side of us but I still felt nervous that somebody might see us together. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to see you.” His silver-eyed gaze moved down the length of me and back up to my face.
Just as the bartender had described my drink sender, Thierry de Bennicoeur was tall and knee-weakeningly delicious—my words, not his. Dark hair, broad shoulders, full lips, straight nose, stern black eyebrows over gray eyes that sometimes appeared to be silver. You’d never expect that he was pushing seven hundred years old, a vampire sired during the Black Death plague in Europe in the 1400s.
Not even my closest friends could find out we were still together. Amy and George were total blabbermouths. Since I wasn’t the best secret-keeper in the universe it had been sheer torture to keep my mouth shut.
I had to keep my mouth shut about a lot of things.
I even kept a few things from Thierry.
For example, if he knew that over the last week and a half I’d become Gideon Chase’s personal assistant and general errand girl, he wouldn’t be very happy about that.
And that was an understatement.
He considered Gideon the most dangerous man in the world—and somebody he wanted me to stay far away from for my own safety. But when the burned-by-hellfire leader of the vampire hunters wanted something, he could be extremely… well, insistent was a good word.
Gideon couldn’t find out that Thierry and I were still together, and Thierry couldn’t find out I was currently at Gideon’s beck and call.
Gideon usually checked in with me daily. In fact, he’d sent me to pick up a package for him earlier that day on the other side of the city. I got the impression he knew where I was and who I was with at all times. Just being in the alley with Thierry for a few stolen moments made me extremely nervous and more paranoid than usual. Which was saying something.
“Any luck finding Gideon’s hired guns?” I asked.
His expression was tight. “No. That’s one of the reasons I needed to see you this evening.”
“To tell me to be careful?”
“Of course.” He hissed out a long sigh. “I hate standing back and seeing you in harm’s way like this. It has to stop.”
“It will.”
“Not if we can’t discover his secrets. He has too much power at the moment, even if it’s only lent itself to verbal threats. If he harms you—”
“He hasn’t.” I stroked Thierry’s tense face. “Gideon isn’t going to hurt me.”
“Not until he gets what he wants.”
“Exactly.” I frowned. Wait. That didn’t make me feel much better.
“I will kill him,” he said darkly. “If he harms you in any way, the pain from the hellfire will be a pleasant memory for him.”
“I appreciate the offer of mayhem and torture, really. But it’s best if we stay calm and collected about this.”
“You seem calm and collected enough for the both of us.”
“I’m trying to stay Zen. I do yoga now, you know.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You do?”
“Well, I have an instructional DVD on yoga. Haven’t had a chance to watch it with all the drama going on lately, but I’m looking forward to it.”
“We must find a solution in three days. You cannot sire him.”
Thierry had a black-and-white attitude about pretty much everything. He drew his lines in the sand in permanent ink—and how he felt about Gideon was one of those lines. To him, Gideon was 100 percent evil incarnate. Couldn’t say I blamed him much for that impression. After all, Gideon was the leader of the hunters. They didn’t exactly make our lives a Technicolor mus
ical production number. And Gideon, from everything I’d heard about him, had no problem getting his hands dirty when it came to slaying. He was exactly like Buffy—that is, if she was a six-foot-five billionaire playboy with hellfire scars from slaying a demon. And a tendency to kill things that weren’t actually evil.
So, really, not like Buffy at all.
“I need to get back inside,” I said, “and try to act like everything’s normal—”
Another kiss managed to easily push my words and thoughts away. Thierry could kiss. Six hundred years of practice would make someone an expert, after all. I’d prefer not to give a lot of thought to how many women may have come before me. We both had our romantic histories. His was simply a little longer than mine, that’s all.
By about 650 years.
My heart felt heavy when we parted. This whole situation seriously sucked. Just when I found a man I could be completely crazy about—despite our many differences—and one who loved me in return, we couldn’t be together except for stolen moments like this.
“You shouldn’t try to see me again till this is all over.” I tried to ignore the lump in my throat. “I’m afraid he’s going to find out.”
“Perhaps you should have taken Amy up on the blind date she arranged for you.”
I eyed him. “So Gideon’s not the only one spying on me?”
He smiled. “If you had someone new in your life, or I in mine, Gideon would have no suspicions about us, would he?”
“Good point. But are you trying to say you want to see other people? Because I’m in the mood to kick some ass tonight and it might be yours.”
Amusement slid behind his gaze. “I’m talking about appearances, nothing more. In fact, I think it’s a very good idea.”
“You want me to start dating somebody else?”
“Desperate times call for drastic measures. And speaking of that—” He was quiet for a moment. “You need to know something important.”
That sounded ominous. “What?”
“I contacted the Red Devil. He’s in the city right now. I thought we could use his help.”
My eyes widened. “Really?”
He nodded gravely.
The Red Devil in a nutshell was this: a vampire vigilante who had been around for a thousand years, give or take a century or two. He saved innocent vamps from slaughter at the hands of hunters. He wore a mask so nobody knew who he was, and, in fact, most thought he was only a legend. Legend or not, he’d disappeared a hundred years ago and hadn’t been seen since.
Tall, Dark & Fangsome Page 2