Tall, Dark & Fangsome

by Michelle Rowen

  I had no idea she was that strong.

  The wounds at her wrists—from where she’d offered me her blood and from being secured with silver—were already healing.

  Gideon coughed and sputtered and touched his tender throat.

  “Not so happy with me anymore, Sarah?” he managed after a moment. “I suppose I can understand that.”

  I scrambled up off the hard floor and moved toward him again, but Veronique stepped into my path to stop me.

  “What are you doing?” Her strange behavior was really throwing me off. “And how did you get out of the handcuffs?”

  “With a key,” she said simply, her expression unreadable.

  “A key? What key?”

  “The key Gideon gave me earlier.” She said it very matter-of-factly. “I’m sorry. But as I said before, survival is my only goal.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Gideon came to Veronique’s side. He took her hand in his and brought her healing wrist to his lips to kiss it. “Poor Veronique. I’m sorry about the pain.”

  “It is nothing.”

  My vision had grown shaky, but that might be because I was trembling all over. “What in the hell is going on here?”

  Gideon smiled at me. “Do you remember the woman I told you about? The vampire who seduced me years ago to save her own neck?”

  “Best sex of your life?” I did recall that little fable. Then my gaze shot to Veronique as I remembered Gideon’s rumpled bedsheets from yesterday afternoon. I shook my head. “No. I don’t believe it.”

  “I’m sure you won’t understand,” she said simply, “but Gideon is very powerful and will only become more so after he is sired tonight, along with having a new outlook on what it means to be a vampire. As I said before, survival is my only goal. How can I not align myself with him, especially now? No one has to get hurt. You never would have drunk from me without duress if you thought I knew about all of this. This is the best decision for everyone involved. Trust me, my dear. I don’t do this to hurt you or anyone else.”

  Veronique was with Gideon? I could understand, although only partially, sleeping with him in the past to distract him from killing her—he was pretty hot—but to do so willingly now?

  I was stunned, but as the moments ticked by it made more sense to me. Veronique was always selfish. She valued her existence. She was one of the oldest vampires in the entire world. She was a survivor—no matter what it took.

  And I knew firsthand how very charming and convincing Gideon could be when he wanted something.

  Even though I resented her role in Thierry’s life, I’d believed in her. Hell, I even looked up to her a bit. Like a much, much… much… older sister. I was disappointed in her.

  “I have to get out of here,” I said shakily. “If I wanted to deal with a major daytime drama I would have set my TiVo.”

  Gideon shook his head. “It’s the middle of a very sunny day. Without your chain, I don’t advise that you go anywhere until after sunset.”

  I stepped slowly toward him again. He didn’t flinch away from me.

  “Are you going to attempt to kill me again?” he asked.

  “No.” I reached down to take his hand in mine. “I was a bit upset about you breaking my chain and, you know, burning my chance to break my curse. But killing you or getting mad about that won’t help, will it?”

  “No, it won’t.”

  With one quick yank, I pulled off the magically glamourizing watch from his wrist. A pulse of light moved across him and an instant later his scars had fully returned.

  His eyes narrowed. “Give that back to me.”

  “This?” I held the watch out to him for a second, but then stepped back out of his reach, dropped the timepiece on the floor, and stomped on it with the heel of my shoe. “Oops. Sorry, about that. I slipped.”

  It was petty, but it felt so good.

  He reached up to touch his scarred face and cringed. Veronique looked at him with shock.

  “Now I’m leaving.” I backed away from them toward the entrance. “Are you going to stop me?”

  His jaw tightened. “Sarah, don’t do this. Stay here. Don’t put yourself in harm’s way just to prove a point.”

  “Screw you, Gideon.”

  Yeah, real eloquent. I know.

  Without another word, I turned my back and walked out into the used bookstore.

  “I’ll find you, wherever you go,” Gideon called after me. “The ritual will go on as scheduled. A simple glamour won’t matter then. My scars will be healed for real when you sire me.”

  A tear of anger and frustration trickled down my right cheek as I pushed open the front door, but it was burned away the moment I emerged onto the sidewalk outside the club and the blazing sunlight hit me full-on.

  Chapter 16

  If I can explain what it feels like to be a nightwalker out in bright daylight it would be like this:

  Sheer agony.

  Multiplied by a billion.

  It might sound like an exaggeration, but I assure you, it wasn’t. Sun and nightwalkers do not go together. At all. Prolonged exposure, and we’re only really talking ten to fifteen seconds, would be enough to make me burst into flames and run around flailing my arms until I turned into the contents of a dirty ashtray to scatter over the sidewalk. And even then I’d probably still be screaming.

  So when I emerged from Darkside into the hot death sunshine, I pulled my shirt up over my head and ran like an Olympic sprinter toward the nearest subway entrance. I staggered down the stairs into the blissful darkness and tried to ignore the strange stares I was getting, for a moment, as my skin glowed red and wisps of smoke rose into the air.

  “Lady, you okay?” someone asked.

  “Fabulous,” I gasped. “Never better. Thanks so much for asking.”

  My hair was slicked to my forehead with the perspiration that poured out of me in buckets. I reached up to touch my eyebrows to make sure they hadn’t been singed off because that would really suck. They were still there. For now, anyhow. I stood in place, my back against the wall of the station until I came back down to room temperature like a sweaty soufflé that had been removed from the oven.

  Veronique was with Gideon. The thought swirled continuously through my head.

  I seriously couldn’t believe it. Sure, I knew she was selfish and self-involved, but was this what being a survivor really meant to her?

  She was so getting voted off the island, as far as I was concerned.

  And the worst thing was she hadn’t seemed to realize what she was doing was wrong.

  Well, okay. It wasn’t the worst thing.

  If I had to find one good thing about the whole situation, it was that her blood had given me some temporary control over my curse. Normally, at this point of being without my gold chain, I’d be wandering around sniffing the neck of any human that passed me trying to figure out who’d be the tastiest.

  But I wasn’t sniffing anyone. I could smell them, sure—dozens of humans brushing past me on their way to catch the subway. And it wasn’t only the disturbing scent of food they gave off. It was deeper that than. The smells helped me pinpoint their mood—if they were stressed out or scared or angry.

  It smelled… delicious.

  But my fangs didn’t lengthen at the moment. After all, I’d just had a very satisfying meal.

  God, what had happened to my life?

  Before the curse I had resented being a vampire. I always fought against the label of being a “monster.” I thought being turned into a vampire would change me, but it didn’t. I felt the same as I always had; that’s why it was so hard to understand why all of a sudden hunters wanted to kill me just because of what I was.

  But now I understood. Hunters would have been very necessary back when nightwalkers roamed the earth. This was the kind of vampire that people should be afraid of—what I was right now. Hiding from the sun, coming out at night when they were very hungry. Not being able to stop. Not wanting to stop.


  I was now the kind of vampire that deserved to be staked. An out-of-control bloodthirsty monster.

  I swallowed hard. I was in such deep shit.

  Deep.

  But it was good that I was still thinking straight. The gold chain had been great—a miracle, really—but it was gone now. Losing the chain had always been a possibility. It sucked. Hard. But it was gone and I had to make do without it.

  I could stay in control. I could.

  Dammit. Who was I trying to kid? Let’s stick with the “I’m in deep shit” direction of thinking.

  I needed to find Thierry.

  Thierry. His difficult-to-pronounce French name alone gave me courage—a teensy bit.

  I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and speed-dialed his number. It went directly to voice mail. Dammit. I shoved it back in my bag. I’d cooled off, both literally and figuratively, enough to start walking. One foot in front of the other. I got on a subway and took it to Union Station.

  Once I got back to George’s I’d deal with everything else. I wasn’t sure how I’d get all the way there, but I’d figure out a way. Without setting foot outside again. Sure.

  I’d channel the little vampire engine that could. I could do this. One thing at a time.

  I think I can, I think I can.

  I forced myself to find something good in this situation. It was hard, but I actually came up with something. Now that I’d reached Union Station, I’d entered the PATH system of downtown Toronto—sixteen miles of underground passageways that connected the transit system and a whole bunch of the buildings in the business district. It was possible to never have to go up to the surface level. Like, ever. There were shopping, theaters, and restaurants galore all below street level.

  A total nightwalker’s paradise.

  Still, the thought wasn’t much comfort. While the PATH was great to have in case of shopping and commuting emergency, it didn’t make potentially never seeing the sun again a pleasant prospect.

  I knew the PATH. I used to take it daily when I worked for an honest living. But now… everything started to look the same. My head felt foggy. I put one foot in front of the other and headed north, glancing at some people as I walked past them. They all gave me strange stares in return.

  Maybe I looked like hell. I felt like it so why shouldn’t I look like it, too?

  “Excuse me,” I asked a blond lady with a kid who looked around three years old. “Can you help me with some directions?”

  Her eyes widened and she took a step back from me. “Uh… I don’t know.”

  I looked down at the kid and smiled at him.

  The kid started to cry.

  I slapped a hand over my mouth. I’d probably just flashed him my fangs, which were longer—not to mention sharper—than normal.

  Sarah Dearly’s my name. Scaring innocent children’s my game.

  “Are you… are you wearing funny contact lenses?” the woman asked shakily.

  “Contact lenses?”

  Oh, shit. My eyes were still black. And my fangs were sharp. And I was a sweaty, skanky, runny mess. I glanced around to see that I now had the attention of several people, who looked at me like I was about to whip off my jacket and reveal a braful of dynamite.

  Then I glanced over to the wall next to us to see that it was mirrored. It reflected everyone in the vicinity of the donut store I stood in front of.

  Everyone except yours truly.

  The woman also noted this, and she began to shriek and point at me, while her kid started to howl even louder.

  I started walking again. Faster. I didn’t really care what direction I was headed in anymore as long as it was away from screaming peanut-butter-scented people. A glance over my shoulder showed that a few were tentatively following me, but I wasn’t sure if they were hunters who’d been alerted to the lost vampire or if they were simply curious onlookers. I couldn’t think straight so I couldn’t figure it out. The best thing to do was to run, which is exactly what I did.

  I turned a corner and found there was suddenly a solid figure in front of me. Tall, dark, and blurry. But familiar. And he held me in place by my shoulders, looked down at me, and stroked the stringy hair off my face.

  “Sarah,” Thierry said with concern. “Please, try to calm down.”

  I had to admit, it did take a moment.

  He pulled me into an embrace and held me there in the middle of the PATH while I slowly got hold of myself.

  “H-how did you find me?” I managed after a moment.

  “I’ve been searching for you since you hung up on me earlier,” he said. “I’m able to sense your location if I concentrate, thanks to the sire-fledgling bond we share.”

  He wasn’t my true sire but he was close enough. After my blind date from hell had been staked, it was Thierry’s blood that helped me not die. That sealed the deal in giving us the bond—which until now I thought only I had.

  “My chain is gone,” I said shakily. “Gideon broke it.”

  His jaw clenched. “What?”

  “And Gideon burned the grimoire.”

  “I see.”

  “Are you going to tell me you told me so? About him?”

  His expression was grim. “No.”

  “You should. I deserve it.”

  “Nothing I say will help to make this any better.”

  He was right about that.

  With an arm around my shoulders, he directed me down the corridor and we walked and walked for what felt like forever until we got to a parking garage.

  “I’ve kept this in a central downtown location in case we needed it,” he said, nodding at a white van.

  When I first discovered that I was cursed and sunlight had the potential to burn me to a crisp we’d had to use a similar van. It wasn’t a very pleasant drive, but it did the trick. Transport the sun-fearing nightwalker from point A to point B.

  “What am I going to do?” I asked him.

  He stroked the hair off my forehead and kissed me there softly before holding my face in his hands and gazing down into my black nightwalker eyes.

  “You’re going to get into the back of the van and we’re going to George’s.”

  “But—”

  “No. One thing at a time, Sarah.”

  “Are you going to tell me that everything’s going to be okay?”

  He tilted his head to the side. “Do you want me to say that?”

  “Only if it’s true.”

  “Then I think we should hold off any such proclamations for a while until we decide what to do next.”

  He couldn’t hide the worry that slid behind his gaze. He couldn’t convince me that all was well with the world. Out of everyone I’d known in my life, Thierry was the biggest realist. He’d seen a lot of years and it had definitely dampened any optimism he might have had. Some people saw him as Mr. Doom and Gloom, but now I knew. He was right. He didn’t put on a happy face when things were going to hell in a hand basket. He dealt with it and then he moved on.

  I had to be dealt with.

  I climbed into the back of the van. He let go of my hand and without saying another word, slammed the back door shut and I was plunged into darkness. There were no windows, no pretty view, because that would let in the sunlight.

  He’d prepared for this without telling me. He’d known this could happen—that it would happen.

  He might not be an optimist, but he definitely could have been a Boy Scout.

  I pressed my back against the cool side of the van as it started moving. From where we were, wherever we were—I’d kind of lost track—it took less than fifteen minutes to get to George’s house.

  I heard a knock on the back door, which warned me it was about to open. I scooted back and the door swung open. The light didn’t touch me but it seared my vision. Just a taste of the pain waiting for me outside the van.

  Thierry had a black blanket in his hands. A thick one. And he held it up.

  “Come,” he said. “George is waiting.” />
  Summoning up what little courage I had left, I threw myself into his arms and he covered me with the blanket. We ran as fast as we could to the front door. Only twenty feet but it was not a pleasant sprint.

  From the tiny peephole I had, I could see George standing there at the threshold wringing his hands anxiously.

  “I invite you into my house, Sarah Dearly!” His voice was pinched.

  Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten. I couldn’t enter people’s private homes anymore without an invitation.

  That would be very inconvenient.

  I’d experienced hitting a threshold before, and it was like a thick glass wall. Invisible but impenetrable. Luckily George had said what he needed to and I swept right past him with Thierry at my side into the blissfully dark interior. All the shades had been drawn.

  I tried to ignore the smoky wisps that drifted upward from my skin. It was minus zero on the last day of February, but that didn’t seem to make a bit of difference.

  Thierry was frowning at me. “Sarah, are you well?”

  Was I well? I didn’t think I could be less well if I tried. My vision was narrowing. Darkening. The room spun in slow circles.

  When nightwalkers existed, they tended to sleep through the day. Best way to avoid the sunlight was to be unconscious during it.

  “She’s very pale,” George said, studying me. “Pasty is definitely not the new black.”

  Then my eyes rolled back into my head and I fainted dead away.

  Chapter 17

  A dream. It had all been just a dream. Thank God.

  “Yoo hoo, Sarah. Are you awake?” a voice penetrated through my unconsciousness.

  I opened my eyes.

  George stared down at me. He had a cool, wet cloth pressed firmly against my forehead for the second time in two days.

  Not a dream. Damn.

  “Wh-what?” I managed.

  He waved a hand over his nose. “Yikes. Hello, morning breath. And it’s not even morning anymore. Or afternoon, even.”

  “How long was I out?”

  “All day. The sun has set. I figure that’s why our little Miss Nosferatu has arisen at last.”