A Girls Guide to Vampires

by Katie MacAlister

  A smile flirted with the corners of his mouth. It just made me see red.

  "Gah!" I yelled at him in frustration, then stomped off, swearing to myself about men who played mind games. I thanked God Raphael didn't do that. He might be secretive now and then, but at least he told me that he wasn't telling me everything.

  "Joy," Christian called after me. I kept walking. He took my arm and walked with me. I refused to look at him. "I will not apologize for my actions, since I cannot regret anything that makes you look upon me with a favored eye, but I do lament the fact that I caused you worry."

  "I can't believe you used me like that," I said, a tiny bit mollified. I didn't know if it was the magic his voice worked, or the sincerity in his eyes, but I did at least stop thinking about torturing him. "I can't believe you deliberately let me worry all night and all day about you." Something he said suddenly penetrated the layers of irritation. I stopped and turned to face him. "Hey! What do you mean,'the activities that followed'? How do you know what activities followed? Were you spying on Raphael and me?"

  He rubbed the top of my hand with his thumb. I pulled my hand away. I liked it better when Raphael did it. "No, I was not spying on you. I hold you in more esteem than to do that. But you are my Beloved; our minds are as one. I can feel when you are subject to strong emotions, just as you can feel when I am."

  A massive wave of blush washed up my chest and neck, firing my cheeks to egg-frying temperature. "You mean you can tell when I'm… when Raphael and I are… you know?"

  Distaste flickered across his face, something a whole lot more ominous darkening his eyes. "You may rest assured that I do not savor the knowledge that my Beloved is in the arms of another, but the answer is, yes, I know. Just as you would know should I betray you."

  The pain in his eyes was too much for me. I took both his hands in mine, pressing them to my bosom.

  Just as I was about to speak, a throat cleared. I turned my head and glared at Henri. "Go stand over by the statue of the horse. You can watch me from there."

  He looked a bit mulish about my order until Christian turned his gaze on him. Henri blinked a few times, then backed away, bumping into several people, a large potted tree, and finally colliding with a small iron table that held the cash box for the beer garden. He didn't stop by the statue, however, he kept going. I figured I had only a couple of minutes before he found Raphael and tattled.

  I squeezed Christian's hands until he looked back at me. "Christian, I'm so sorry you think I'm betraying you. I truly am, but we've gone over this and over this. I don't have the same feelings for you that you have for me. I just can't be what you want me to be, pure and simple." His fingers tightened around mine. "I know that's cruel of me, and selfish and self-serving, but it's the truth. I love Raphael. I will always love Raphael, and nothing and no one will change that. If you truly can share my emotions, you must know that I'm not deluding myself."

  "I know that he has bewitched you, yes. You are fascinated with him, and he arouses you sexually as I do not, but it is apparent from the fact that you have not taken the final step of Joining that deep inside you know the truth."

  My blush, which had started to die, was reborn with a vengeance at his mention of the attraction Raphael held for me.

  "I feel your emotions, Beloved, feel the depth of your passion and know that the source of them cannot be anyone but myself. You are my Beloved. Because I know this, because I know that ultimately you will be mine, I am allowing you time to rid yourself of the affection you feel for St. John." His eyes were as cold and hard as the hematite rune stones. "It has not been easy for me, but my belief that you will see the truth is the only reason I have allowed another to possess you."

  In hindsight, I guess I'd been around too many men that day telling me what I could and couldn't do. There is really no other explanation for what happened next.

  "You know, this macho 'I will allow you' stuff is really starting to irritate me. I'm not a possession, Christian. I have a mind. I can make decisions on my own. And I've made it! Now, I like you. I'd like to count you as my friend. I've promised to help you find your Beloved"—I held up my hand to stop the objection I could see he was about to offer—"OK, your other Beloved. I know you don't think it's possible, but what's to stop there from being two women for you, huh? Me with my wires crossed, madly in love with Raphael instead of you, and some other poor woman out there who is your soul mate and doesn't know it. Regardless, as I was saying, I'd like to be your friend, but I swear to God, if you tell me ONE MORE TIME what your high-and-mighty self is allowing me to do, I'll belt you one right on the nose."

  His eyes glinted dangerously at me for about three seconds before I was slammed up against his chest, his arms like iron around me. My mind was filled with his anger, his need to dominate and bend me to his will. I honestly don't know what might have happened if he had shown me the other side of his anguish, the desperate need for love and unbearable loneliness, but he didn't. Instead I was swamped with his belief that he had every right to take control of my life. "You… are… mine." His voice was like liquid metal, smooth and beautiful and hard with resolve. "You will always be mine."

  He made his mistake then. He pushed me with his mind, actually tried to push me into admitting what he wanted to hear. The rebellious me screamed a war cry of defiance as I curled my fingers into a fist. His head leaned in to kiss me. I slammed my boot heel down on his foot, watching with satisfaction as he jerked back at the unexpected blow, his eyes opened wide with surprise. As I brought my foot up from his foot, I kneed him in the groin, then swung my fist forward and punched him in the nose as he doubled over in pain.

  "Don't ever do that again," I yelled as he crumpled up. "My mind is my own! You are not allowed to force me to do ANYTHING!"

  I stormed away from him, ignoring the stunned expressions on the faces of his staff as they watched their employer writhe on the ground, rubbing my knuckles and feeling extremely pleased with myself.

  Until I remembered I wanted Christian to tackle reading Milos's mind for me.

  "Well, hell," I snarled, shocking a white haired old man who had his arms full of tablecloths. "Sorry," I apologized, and did an about-face. I walked back to where Christian was being helped to his feet by the big burly guy. The guy looked like he might give me trouble until I made mean eyes at him; then he backed off enough so I could see Christian.

  He wasn't clutching himself anymore, but he wasn't standing with his usual elegance, either.

  "Are you going to strike me again?" he asked, his normally smooth voice a bit spiky around the edges. "If that is your intention, please allow me to send my staff out of the garden. I don't particularly wish to have them witness you repeatedly bringing me to my knees."

  "I'm really sorry I hit you. And stomped on your foot. And kneed you. I hope everything is OK down there."

  We both glanced at the abused spot in question. His hand twitched as if he wanted to double-check things, but instead he straightened up and waved the hovering hulk away. "I accept your apology. I will request, however, that in the future if you take issue with something I do, you alert me to your intentions to strike me. I did not find the experience one I wish to revisit."

  I cocked a brow at him. Thanks to watching the master of eyebrow emoting, I was getting pretty good at it. "You mean that's the first time you've ever been punched?" I lowered my voice so no one else could hear me. I had no idea if his employees knew what he was or not, but I wasn't about to spill the beans if they didn't. "You're almost nine hundred years old, for heaven's sake. Are you telling me that in all that time, no one's ever socked you in the nose?"

  His eyes were dark as they held mine. "It has been attempted once or twice."

  The underlying menace in his voice was clearly a warning.

  "You let me hit you," I pointed out, ignoring the warning. "I know the power you wield, Christian. You could have crushed me where I stood. At the very least you could have kept me from kneeing you or pun
ching you in the nose, but you didn't. Why?"

  "You are my Beloved," he said. "I cannot hurt you. If it is your desire to harm me, I must allow it."

  "But I hurt you," I argued. "Doesn't this whole soulmate thing swing both ways? If I was truly your Beloved, wouldn't it be impossible for me to deliberately harm you?"

  The corners of his lips turned up in a wry smile as he gingerly felt his nose. "I had always believed so."

  I smiled and gently pushed his hand away to feel the bridge of his nose. "Nothing broken, just your pride damaged. And I'm sorry about that, although if it has made you rethink what I am to you, you won't have suffered in vain."

  He gave me one of his martyred looks.

  "I guess I'm really going to put our friendship to the test," I added, pulling out a tissue and dabbing at a tiny trickle of blood that seeped out of his nose. He stood perfectly still, but his eyes were dilated, black with strain. I backed off and put a little distance between us. "I wanted to ask a favor of you. If you haven't scratched me off your list of friends entirely, I'd like you to help me with a little problem concerning one of the fair people."

  He considered me silently for a moment, then snapped out a few orders to his staff, and held out his arm for me. I took it and we strolled out of the temporary sanctuary of the garden, back into the noise and bustle and general madness that was the All Hallow's Eve festival.

  "Why do you do this every year?" I asked, momentarily forgoing my request for his help. "It looks like it's a lot of trouble for you and your employees."

  "Trouble?" He looked out at the sea of faces, people in all sorts of costumes, Goth and non-Goth, families, teenagers, adults, everyone eating and laughing and dancing, a mass of humanity whose shadows flickered and shimmered upon the white stone walls of Drahanská Castle. "It is not trouble. I do it because for a very short time, I am allowed to believe I am one with humanity." His eyes turned back to me. "Just because I am who I am does not mean I shun the company of humans. On the contrary, I quite enjoy them."

  My eyes opened a bit wide at that comment.

  He smiled and leaned toward me to whisper, "And not always as dinner."

  He laughed at the look on my face, guiding me through the crowds.

  "Um," I said, trying not to wonder about who he might have fed on that night. "Is that why you write, too?"

  He nodded.

  "I assumed you were using the books to find your Beloved."

  He laughed again. "The books brought you here to me, did they not?"

  "Yes, but I'm not your Beloved."

  His smile lost a bit of its wattage. "I write because it gives me pleasure to tell the tale of my people, and because I can imagine a life that has thus far eluded me."

  Talk about laying a guilt trip! Uncomfortable, I changed the subject. "About you helping me—"

  "I am at your service, naturally. I can do no less for you."

  I stopped and turned to face him, oblivious to the fact that we were blocking traffic. "I might as well tell you right now that I'm only doing this to help Raphael. I want you to understand my ulterior motive. I don't want you to feel like you were being used," I said with particular emphasis on the last two words. "Or exploited. Or manipulated. Or—"

  He held up his hand. "I take your point. What is it exactly you wish me to do to help St. John?"

  I took a deep breath and counted to five. "I want you to get proof that Milos murdered Tanya."

  His eyes drifted lazily over my face. "I find myself surprised that St. John is allowing you to assist him in tracking down the murderer. Despite the obvious differences between us, I find myself in lamentable accord with him in regard to issues of your safety. I am having difficulty believing he has solicited your help in finding proof of the murderer's identity."

  "That's because I haven't."

  I didn't turn around. I knew full well what the expression on Raphael's face was going to be. I did, however, look at his shadow, as I nervously shifted from foot to foot.

  "Traitor," I told Henri.

  "He's not the one who has gone against orders."

  I turned around at that, my hands on my hips, my lips thinned with annoyance. "Who died and made you God?" I de-hipped one hand long enough to poke him in the chest. "I do not take orders from you. You do not have the right to give me orders. You do not have the right to dictate my actions. Got that?"

  Raphael sighed and grabbed my still poking finger. "You're going to make me do this the hard way, aren't you? You're going to be stubborn and foolhardy, and make me take extreme measures to keep you safe, isn't that so?"

  My blood was up now. I don't mind feeling cherished and wanted and protected, but Raphael—and Christian—were going overboard.

  "What we have here is a rampant case of alpha male-itis," I announced, glaring at Raphael. He raised one sleek brow in a "Who? Me?" question. "Well, guess what? I've suddenly become an alpha female, and that means I don't have to take any crap from either of you. So you can just stand here and beat your chests at each other all night, because I'm going to go read some damn runes and then find Milos and get the truth out of him one way or another. Gentlemen, Elvis has left the building."

  I tried to stalk off on that beautiful exit line, but Raphael ruined it all, blast him. He grabbed the scarf tied around my waist, twisting his hand into it so I couldn't escape. I slapped at his arm a few times, but when that did nothing, I started to pick at the knot holding the scarf closed.

  "I assume that, personal history aside, I can count on your assistance in this matter?" Raphael asked Christian. I snarled at both him and the knot and bent over to try to pry the material apart with my teeth.

  "Joy's safety is tantamount in my mind," Christian answered. "Given the circumstances, you have my full cooperation. There are one or two members of my staff I can put at your disposal if they are needed, and I myself will be available as soon as my duties as host are completed."

  "I'm never, ever wearing this damned scarf again!"

  "Thank you. I will appreciate your help," Raphael said with a polite little bow to Christian.

  Roxy raced up, breathless and pink-cheeked. "There you are! Renee has been waiting for you! She has to use the little girl's room. Come on, come on, you can eat your scarf later." She grabbed my wrist and started tugging me in the direction of the tables.

  "I am happy to be of service," Christian said, making Raphael an equally polite bow.

  "I don't like either of you anymore," I told them.

  Raphael just smiled and released his death grip on my scarf, taking me by one arm as Christian took the other. With Roxy clearing a path ahead of us like some deranged flower girl, I was frog-marched back to the rune table.

  Renee happily hoisted herself to her feet when she saw me approaching, waving an expressive hand as she waddled off for the nearest portable toilet Raphael put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me into the chair. I bit his thumb.

  "Stay here until I come to fetch you," he told me.

  "I no longer recognize you in the Republic of Joy," I loftily informed him. "Our diplomatic ties are severed."

  "Unsever them," he growled, "or the Country of Raphael will be forced to declare your republic a protectorate."

  "Dictator," I muttered.

  "For life," he agreed. "Stay here."

  "You sound like something's going on," I said suspiciously. "You sound like you're doing exactly what you told me not to do. You wouldn't be planning an attempt to prove Milos is the murderer and clear your name with Bartos, would you? You are! You are planning on catching him! Well, you can just let me help, buster I'm supposed to be the one you turn to in time of trouble! We've done the sixth step, I demand that you turn to me for help!"

  His gorgeous amber eyes lit with a fire from within. "You do an alpha female quite well. I expect our children will give us nightmares. Stay here."

  With a squeeze to my shoulder and a look that left no doubt in my mind that he meant every word he said, he waved Christian
ahead of him. The two stood talking together for a minute, then parted and headed off in opposite directions.

  "That's so romantic," Roxy sighed, watching them. "Bitter enemies pursuing the same woman, their love for you bringing them together."

  "Romantic my Aunt Fanny," I snapped, and would have said more but the woman waiting to have her runes read coughed politely. I apologized for the delay and gave her the "think of a question" spiel, using her moment of indecision to whisper to Roxy.

  "I'll need you to help me a little later Obviously, the Bobbsey Twins are going to make a stink if I try to talk to Milos by myself, so you'll have to help me get away from them."

  "Talk to him? Why do you want to talk to him? He's a killer! I have to say I'm with the guys on this, Joy. Let the police handle the situation. Let Raphael do it—if he's a spy, he'll know all about truth serums and stuff. Let Christian mind-meld with him, but there's no reason for you to talk to him by yourself."

  "Raphael doesn't see the truth, he's too stubborn. He needs my help whether or not he realizes it. Besides I won't be by myself," I said, shaking the amethyst runes in the bag. "I'll have you."

  There wasn't much she could say to that, not with me laying out the runes and telling the woman what they said, but she sure sent me a look that promised retribution at the earliest possible moment. I grinned back.

  Sometimes silence truly is golden.

  * * *

  Chapter Nineteen

  « ^ »

  I read runes for another two hours, looking up periodically to find either Raphael or Christian watching me. I ignored both of them, as well as the two men Christian posted on either side of the aisle. There were just no words to adequately express my disgust with either overprotective, pigheaded, domineering man. Individually, I could have dealt with them; working together, they were almost impossible to conquer.

  Almost.

  "Are you done here?" Raphael asked as I was tucking away my stones.

  I started to glare at him, then realized he was looking at me with a strange expression on his face. "What is it? Is something wrong?"