“No wonder you look upset.” Brandi sits down beside me. “I’m so sorry. Really. If there’s anything I can do.”
“I am afraid not.”
“So what will happen? Where will you…” Her voice fades.
“Where will I age to death?” I shrug. “I had thought to go to Paris or Seville, but I now have the urge to die here.”
“In Phoenix?”
“In this bed. I think it only appropriate to ruin it.”
Brandi frowns. “You want to ruin your parents’ bed?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Okay.” She pats my leg. “I should get downstairs and check the sauce.”
“I will find you some clean clothes and be down in a moment.”
“Thanks again.” She holds up my phone. “For everything, Racker.”
I nod and watch her leave. I have thrown my life away to save one tiny mortal, who will be dead in sixty years.
Smart move, Nice.
At least she is enjoyable company. Not too hard on the eyes either. Perhaps knowing she will have the chance to live her dream—find love, get married, have a family—will ease my sense of stupidity.
I pause and give it some thought.
Nope.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I find several clean T-shirts, a few of those light stretchy sundresses Miriam likes to wear in this summer heat, a nightgown, and sweats for Brandi to wear until her family can come for her. I take a shortcut through the house and use the spiral staircase in the library to go downstairs. But as I descend, I begin thinking about all the books I have yet to read.
I do love reading. But even I, the once great Mr. Nice, hardly had time for it. I kept telling myself I had eternity to read them all, but now it dawns on me how mistaken I was.
Tonight, I will begin reading The Lord of the Rings. Then I will work my way through Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, and perhaps even Jane Austen—all of the contemporary works. After that Voltaire, Dante, and Nietzsche. Perhaps I will treat myself to another Mimi Jean book. They do make me laugh. Her depiction of vampires is ridiculous.
I was always surprised how much Miriam gushed over this Fanged Love series I pretended to enjoy so much. Vampires who are destined only to love one person? A mate? I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous. That’s like saying there is only one sunrise for each person or only one pair of leather pants.
I enter the kitchen but do not find Brandi. Water is rapidly boiling on the stove, and a delicious-smelling tomato sauce is bubbling away in a saucepan. My mouth waters.
A murmur coming from the direction of the study catches my attention. I follow the sound and find Brandi looking out the window, pleading with someone on the phone.
“Dad, I promise I’m okay. It’s a long story, but I’m safe.”
Pause.
“No. I can’t come home just yet. And I can’t explain, so you’ll have to trust me.”
Brandi is telling her family not to come get her. Why would she do this?
She continues, “I will call you twice a day. And you have the address where I’m staying so you know where I am. I just need a few days before you come for me, all right? It’s something I have to do.”
I lean into the doorway and fold my arms over my chest.
“Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad. I love you. Say hi to Marigold for me.” Brandi ends the call and turns, jumping out of her skin the moment she sees me. “Jesus! You scared me.”
I cock a brow. “Mind telling me what you think you are doing?”
“Well, I-I’m not ready to face my family yet. I need to figure out how I’ll explain what happened and that there’s a vampire after me. I figured you wouldn’t mind if I stayed a little longer. I hope that wasn’t overreaching?”
“I thought that all you wanted was to see your family again.”
“I do, but…I can’t let them see me like this.” She swipes a hand in front of her body.
Like what? Brandi looks rested and, well, generally lovely. Her brown eyes have a lively sparkle, her olive skin is smooth and creamy, and her dark hair shines like a new penny. She is a natural beauty in a curvy little package. I especially like how her chin dips in the middle. “You look perfectly fine after your ordeal.”
“Ah, that would be the old Botellino genes in action.” She swings her fist through the air. “Never let ’em see you sweat.”
I rub my scruffy jaw, which is due for a shave. As a mortal, it is something I avoid. I loathe nicking myself. “So you wish to remain here and regroup.”
She nods.
I do not believe her, but her motives don’t concern me. “Make yourself at home, then. I placed some clean clothes in your room.” I turn and head down the hallway toward the back stairs leading to my room, and she follows along.
“Where are you going? You haven’t eaten yet.”
“I have lost my appetite. Good night.” I go to my room and draw a hot bath. I have much to ponder, including the question that weighs heavily on my mind. When I am done reading the classics, do I truly wish to sit around waiting for death to come? After so many centuries of living a calculated life, perhaps I should end things on my own terms.
Or should I hold out hope that I will find a way through this?
Miracles are not for the evil. The evil get lucky from time to time, but God does not watch out for us. Vampires especially.
The next morning, I wake to the smell of fresh coffee, warm bread, and bacon. I cannot help but feel my spirits lift. I march downstairs and find Brandi has prepared a feast of carbs.
Before, I would have shunned such a meal, but today I am all in. What does it matter if my body is not in tip-top shape? I am no longer worried about being frozen in time.
“Wow.” I inspect the spread she has laid out. “Is this all for us?”
“You skipped dinner last night, so I thought you might be hungry?” She tosses a dish towel over her shoulder. “I made blueberry pancakes from scratch, scrambled eggs, biscuits, and the rest, well, you can see.”
My mouth waters, and I take a seat. She serves me a little of everything.
I take the first bite of pancake drowning in butter and maple syrup. It is like heaven. I try some of the coffee, rich and dark. Like my librarian used to make. “This is very nice of you, Brandi.”
“Least I could do for the guy who saved my life.”
Something I regret, but I do not tell her so. What is the point? What’s done is done. I made my choice to exchange my life for hers.
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” she asks.
“I plan to spend some time reading. Thought I would stop by the library downtown first.”
“But there are so many books in this house.”
“The collection here lacks some of the modern works I wish to read. I will have to check those out.” Actually, Miriam is gone. I will just take them. The keys to the library are in the drawer. “You may stay here. Rest assured you will be safe, and if anything should happen, I will only be twenty minutes away.”
“Oh. Okay. But…I think I’d like to come with you.”
“Brandi, you do not have to. I promise you will be safe. Otherwise, I would not have brought you here.”
She takes a tiny bite of a biscuit she’s slathered with butter and honey. For a second, I am mesmerized by the action. She has such lovely lips. I wonder what her mouth would look like with a set of shiny white fangs. Hot.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks.
“I think I see why Julia wished to enslave you.”
Brandi’s smile melts away into a dreary look. She slides a hand over her breast, over the spot where she has been marked.
“You do not need to feel ashamed, woman.”
“Excuse me?” Brandi arches a dark brow.
“No need to feel ashamed.” Did she not hear me?
“You think I’m ashamed?”
“No?” I question.
“No. I’m angry. That monster had no right to take
me. She had no right to mark my skin like that.”
“She had every right,” I say flatly. “In her mind, anyway. Vampires are at the top of the food chain, and you were merely a thing, an object she wished to own.”
“Well, that’s just…fucked up.”
“It is the way of the world. One species dominates another, and if you have doubts, I urge you to look down at your plate. Oink. Oink,” I say dryly.
Her brown eyes drift toward the crispy strip of bacon next to her scrambled eggs.
“Everything must eat, Brandi. The animal kingdom is called so for a reason. Because we are all animals. Not saints. Not angels.”
“But—but—humans don’t taunt our food. We don’t bite them and tattoo their nipples with bats!” She pounds her fist on the table.
“Tell that to the cow marked with a branding iron.”
She narrows her eyes. “I’m not saying that humans can’t be cruel. We know they’re capable of brutality. And yes, we eat meat. But I don’t know many people who sit around salivating over watching an animal cry in pain.”
I shrug. “You think the cow cares whether or not you’re entertained by its death? All it knows is that it is not free, that it is about to die, and that there is nothing it can do about it.”
Brandi narrows her eyes. “So you’re basically saying I’m no different than Julia?”
I stare and say nothing. She knows the answer.
Brandi stands, nostrils flaring. “I see it now. I can tell you really were a vampire once.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that you think it’s your right to mistreat anything weaker than you, that the fact you’ve been given a soul and mind, capable of distinguishing cruelty from simple survival, means nothing.” She exhales. “In reality, though, you’re the cow. You’re trapped.”
I scoff. “How so, woman?”
“Because you don’t see you’ve been given a gift. You don’t have to accept being anything you don’t want to be.”
“I have been alive for over three hundred years, Brandi. So, while I applaud your valiant effort to enlighten me about the fine art of breaking molds, you are out of your depth. I have reinvented myself so many times, I cannot recall all of the faces I’ve worn.”
“And yet you still don’t know who you are.” She points to herself. “But I sure as hell do. So figure that one out, Racker.”
She marches from the kitchen, leaving me to stew in the juices of her words. “I know who I am! Thank you very much, human!” I am a vampire man! Vampire on the inside. Man on the outside.
But as I say the words, my mind fills with heavy thoughts. Yes, I know who I am, but so what? I am stuck in a body that will soon die, and I wonder what’s been the point of this long, long life if it’s all led to this moment. I have wasted my entire existence, planning for something that will never happen. No world domination. Had I known, I could have been out there, enjoying my life. Living instead of dreaming.
I tilt my head toward the ceiling. If I somehow get out of this, I vow not to waste another moment on such ridiculous goals. I will live life to its fullest.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Later that morning, I shower and dress in a low-effort outfit. Jeans, black T-shirt, biker boots. I barely had the energy to condition my wavy locks but somehow muscled through the task. Mostly because I know the days are numbered for us. Soon I will find clumps of shiny strands on my pillow when I wake.
I get in the SUV and start the engine. Day one of the last year of my life. I will make the most of it.
“Hey.” Brandi slides into the passenger seat, dressed in a peach-colored sundress that makes her skin look more golden brown than olive. Her long hair is in a high ponytail, exposing her long neck, and she’s wearing a pair of flip-flops we have for guest use around the pool. Her cute little toes are sticking out, the nails painted pale pink.
I stare at her inquisitively. She looks adorable, which is entirely inappropriate. I’m on a quest to fulfill my final wish before I die. Could she at least try to look less picnicky and cute?
“What?” she asks.
“Nothing.” I am not in the mood to quarrel again. If she wishes to come along dressed like that, then fine.
I hit the road and take us to the library that has become like a second home to me. Miriam’s parents founded this place, likely as a justification for their book-collecting addiction—something passed down for several generations. Her parents hadn’t expected her to make the library her calling, but she did. I think it was something I admired about her. She chose a path different from what others demanded of her.
“So your mom is the librarian here?” Brandi asks as we park in the lot. Oddly, there are several other cars here.
“My mother died long ago.” True. But really I do not wish to hear Miriam referred to that way. Not anymore.
“All right then. So the woman who took care of you these past five years is the librarian here?”
“Something like that,” I grumble.
“I love my family, so don’t get me wrong, but you kinda hit the lottery with your adoptive family.” Brandi hops from the SUV. “They sound pretty cool.”
“Sure. Cool.” I shut off the engine, get out, and dig for the library key in my jeans pocket. When I get to the door, Brandi is already on her way inside. I spot a woman waiting next to the empty checkout counter.
Hold on. Miriam is on “vacation” for a year. Who let people in?
“I’ll be over in the travel section.” Brandi turns for a nearby aisle, almost getting run over by a tall blonde with a huge bun atop her head. She’s wearing the chunkiest glasses I’ve ever seen.
“Oh, pardon me,” says the blonde.
Brandi gives her a quick nod, flashes a strange look my way, and then disappears.
The blonde glances at me, too, and then heads behind the counter, where she hands a book to the waiting woman. “All right, sweetie pie! Here is your book. It’s due back next Wednesday. Now don’t you forget, ’kay?”
“Tell Miriam I hope she enjoys her time off,” the woman says, “but we want to see her back soon for those awesome story times.”
Wondering what’s going on, I stare at the blonde. Her sweater is three sizes too large, and she looks like she applied her pink lipstick while four-wheel driving on the moon.
Yum… The nerdy mess before me is so over-the-top sexy that my heart stops beating for two entire seconds. I love the hot bookworm look. It’s right up there with naughty nurses.
Suddenly, her hand moves lightning fast to scratch her nose.
Gasp! She’s a vampire.
I wait until she is alone and walk up to the counter. “Who are you?” I whisper.
“Sorry, sir?” she says with a chipper tone.
“I know what you are, but not who or why you’re here when Miriam is out of town.”
“Oh. Well, Miriam and Michael are friends with my aunt Myrtle. They asked her to help out with the library for a few months, but something came up at the last minute, so my aunt asked me to come.”
Aunt, huh? She means one of her coven friends, possibly. “So which society do you belong to?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t believe we are acquainted. You are?”
I love that she’s pretending to have no clue who I am. “Nice.”
She giggles. “Aren’t we all. And even if we aren’t, who would admit to it?”
I frown. “Me. I would.”
“Ha! You’re funny. Well, I’m Liza.”
I nod, trying to puzzle her out. “And you have no idea who I am?”
“No. Should I?”
“It is simply that I…” I am about to say that I am a notorious vampire, but if she doesn’t know me, this could be the miracle I’ve been hoping for. Is it possible there is a vampire in the world who has never heard my name?
“You are…?” She arches a blonde brow.
“The name is Racker. And I am familiar with your kind.” I lift the sleeve of my
shirt to show the black bat tattoo on my bicep.
“Oh!” Her blue eyes go wide. “Wow. I never would have guessed it.”
“Why?”
“Well, the way you came in and just spoke to me. Very confident. You don’t strike me as,” she lowers her voice, “a human slave.”
“That is because I am not. Not any longer.” I lift my chin.
“Ah! A free bird. Congratulations. I never liked that practice. It’s forbidden by law, anyway.”
“True, but laws are really more like just guidelines when it comes to our—I mean, your kind.”
“I suppose.”
“So which society are you from?” I repeat. She has never heard my name, so it must be somewhere remote.
“I am what you would call a nomad. Sans société. I’ve been living as a yak herder in the Himalayas for the last few decades. Before that, I spent time on this really weird island in the Bahamas with this monk named Mr. Rook, who…”
As Liza goes on for the next ten minutes about all the places she’s lived, it becomes abundantly clear that she has been off the grid longer than I have been alive. Is it possible that this female vampire is older than Narcissismo?
“So you are an ancient powerful vampire, then?” I ask, practically salivating at the thought of someone like her turning me. In the vampire world, the pecking order is heavily dependent on who made who and how pure their blood is.
“We’re all equally powerful in my eyes, part of one big universe. Vampire. Human. Yak. Are we really so different at the end of the day?”
An ancient vampire can kill a hundred human men in sixty seconds, while a yak might do what? Nibble on your hair? Hardly equal.
“But you must be at least a third or a fourth generation. Correct?” I ask. Not that it matters which. As long as she is of superior strength compared to most vampires, she will do.
“Technically, I’m a second generation.”
What! Someone pinch me! Or better yet, someone bite me.
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