"What are you doing here?"
"Saving your unimportant ass, that's what."
I nodded and smoothed a clump of her long hair away from her frowning face. "Believe me, I appreciate that, but how did you know that. . . whatever he was . . . was here?"
She slapped my hand away. "Devereux expected trouble tonight and ordered me to keep watch on your house. He said I should bring reinforcements, just in case. I thought he was over-reacting because of his strange attachment to you, so I just hung out myself, looking through your window. I saw the skuzzy guy come in, summoned the others, and the rest is history."
She sat up.
I tried to help her and she slapped my hand away again.
"Who is that guy? Or, better yet, what is that guy?"
She shrugged. "I don't know, he was your gentleman caller, not mine. But Devereux's going to rip him a new one. I hope I get to watch."
"But, how is it he was able to control you and all the other vampires like that? I thought the mind control stuff only worked on humans?"
She nodded while tapping her index finger on her chin, deep in thought.
"It usually does only work on humans. It takes one helluva powerful vampire to control other vampire minds. The only one I've ever seen do it is Devereux. He's definitely going to go ballistic.
"Whoever the guy with the boner was, he's gonna find out what happens to vampires who mess with the Master's property."
Master's property?
I was way too exhausted and traumatized to open up that coffin of worms. But Devereux and I were definitely going to have to come to an understanding.
During the short time we'd been talking, the wounds on all of the vampire bodies had healed and, if you didn't count the blood all over every part of my living room, you wouldn't have known a life or death situation had just occurred. That I'd almost been dinner for a crazed vampire zealot.
How is it Brother Luther could have festering sores on his body? Why doesn't his body immediately heal them? Why didn't it occur to me he could be a vampire? Not too bright, Kismet!
But there was blood all over my living room.
A trashed office and a living room that smelled like a used sanitary pad.
Luna rose in a fluid motion, without the aid of bones, and brushed off her black ensemble.
I scrambled to my feet, not nearly as graceful, and noticed all the vampire eyes staring at me.
I was in room filled with vampires. Blood drinkers. Children of the night.
Well, hell
What was I supposed to do with a room full of vampires?
I couldn't offer them coffee and bagels. Should I offer them the use of my shower? My washing machine? Should I open up a vein?
The problem was solved when one of them—the huge one the crazy vampire had sucked on—stalked over, bowed from the waist and said, "We serve the Master. We will hide ourselves outside and keep watch over you until the sunrise."
He raised his hand, made a "come on" gesture, and a dozen undead walked out my broken front door.
Luna surveyed the wreckage of my living room and said, "Do you want to stay here? Would you rather spend the rest of the night at The Crypt?"
On automatic pilot, I'd already started picking up papers and books that had fallen off my desk. I was too emotionally wiped out to deal with Luna's prickly attitude.
If anyone was in dire need of psychotherapy it was Luna. Anger and hostility rolled off her like toxic waves. It was a good thing there were rules against doing therapy with someone you know, but even if there weren't, I wouldn't be caught dead having her as my client. Oh, wait. Bad choice of words.
I probably would be dead.
I sighed, my voice shaky. "I'll stay here. There's no blood upstairs and I need a shower."
"Then I'll stick around, too. Devereux would stake me if I left you alone tonight."
Swell
She walked to the kitchen door and looked around.
"Where's your washer and dryer?"
I pointed.
I reached down to retrieve another pile of papers, and when I turned to see if Luna had figured out how to operate the washing machine, she walked back into the living room, na**d, her hands on her hips.
"Do you mind if I take a shower first if you're going to clean up down here?"
"Uh, sure. That's fine. Make yourself at home."
And it just keeps getting weirder.
I heard the little popping sound that indicated some vampire or another hadjust made an unscheduled arrival or departure, and then the sound of the shower running.
What was up with all the na**d vampires? Was nudity a requirement to join the club?
The mentally ill sometimes act out childhood shame issues by getting na**d and being sexually aggressive. Masturbation as an anxiety relieving and self soothing technique was common. That didn't surprise me.
And I wasn't a prude. I'd spent as much time as any other woman in health club locker rooms, making small talk with other na**d women. But a na**d vampire, built like a silicone-enhanced supermodel, calmly cruising around my kitchen was a little out of my comfort zone.
It was natural to be curious about a body that perfect, but actually gawking at it had to be out of the question. But what was I supposed to look at while I spoke to her?
I wondered how many times Devereux had seen her na**d?
Geez. Together they'd look like a god and goddess.
Insecure? Me?
Chapter Twenty-Three
I guess it made sense that a vampire wouldn't worry about human rules.
I mean, once you were undead, who were you trying to impress? And who would get in your face about anything, anyway, if the result would be having your throat torn out?
Luna glided down the stairs, moving with feline grace. Her calm exterior only partially camouflaged the power and violence lurking just under the surface. She was still na**d.
She strolled over to the washing machine, noted the cycle wasn't complete and sat down at the kitchen table.
How weird was it to have a sky-clad vampire wandering around your house? I'd replaced the light bulbs and done everything I could in the living room. Now it would be up to the cleaning crew. I heard the washing machine spin cycle click off and walked over to shift her clothes into the dryer.
Like the moment in a horror movie when the forest goes strangely silent, and we know the monster is watching us through the trees, a chill ran through my body, sliding an ice cube down my back. I turned to look at Luna.
She was watching me, eyes narrowed, the tips of her fangs peeking out through parted lips.
"I need blood."
Terror took me hostage. In three seconds, I'd gone from being in denial about the predator padding around my kitchen, to having every ancestral alarm bell in my psyche clanging madly.
My stomach contracted, I felt hot and cold at the same time, my knees rubber.
Smart-mouthed, cynical Luna was gone and in her place was a vampire. A creature that drank human blood. A hungry predator.
I only had one card to play. My mouth had gone totally dry and I was only partially successful at keeping the fear out of my voice. I knew she could sense it, anyway.
"If you're thinking about having my neck as your entre, you'd better consider what Devereux will say. He is, as you said, attached to me."
My anxiety escalated. Her intention saturated the air. I knew exactly what she meant to do.
She stood and stalked very slowly across the room, closing in on me. She locked her eyes on mine, which caused me to get the fuzzy, floating feeling that meant she was pulling me into her gaze. Taking control of my mind.
I visualized the protective wall that usually kept me from drowning in other peoples' energy and felt it collapse. Nothing in my repertoire could hold up against the kind of power Luna wielded.
This wasn't vague energy. It was laser-sharp mind control. I threw my hands up, palms out, in a reflexive action, which did nothing but give her something to grab onto. Pinning me against the washing machine with her lower body, she ran her hands up and down my arms, holding me still. Her silver eyes were large and foggy, as if the lights were on but no one was home. Her pointy fangs elongated as she caressed them with her tongue.
She leaned in and slowly licked the side of my neck.
I braced myself for the shock of pain I was sure would come and was surprised to hear a scream.
She'd slid her hand across my chest and encountered the necklace. It had the same reaction to Luna that it had to the bald lunatic. There was a flash of light and a sensation strong enough to cause Luna to drop the necklace and leap away from me.
As she stood snarling, the fog in her eyes cleared and her fangs retracted into her gums.
I wrapped my arms around myself and trembled. The part of my brain that had wanted nothing more than to do whatever Luna commanded threw cold water on itself and woke up.
I stared wide-eyed at the creature in front of me.
She'd known about the necklace, but the bloodlust apparently didn't waste time on frivolous details.
I didn't think there was any way I could ever truly understand the craving for blood. To have blood obsession to the point of being enthralled by the need. But I'd just gotten a psychic encyclopaedia full of information that horrified and sickened me.
Mental postcards of all the bodies she'd drained, all the destruction she'd caused slammed into my brain. She might not have wanted to kill me, but she would've. Even if it meant Devereux would destroy her. My body shook, a delayed reaction to my second near-death experience of the night.
Luna backed away and reclaimed the chair at the kitchen table, still watching me, her fists clenched. She clearly struggled to regain control. Her eyes were dull with dark smudges underneath, her skin pasty white.
She cleared her throat then spoke, her voice husky. "You're lucky Devereux gave you that necklace. If you hadn't been wearing it, I'd have bled you. I would've tried to only take enough to sustain me until I could find another source, but I probably wouldn't have been able to restrain myself. Hunger after being wounded is the worst.
"'There's nothing in the human experience that comes close to being as powerful as the need for blood. Not even a he**in addict's craving for a fix." She sighed and licked her lips. "I have to go and feed. Until I do, I'm a danger to you. Not that I care, but Devereux does.”
"Necklace or no. Even now I can't think of anything but the taste of your blood and the pulse pounding in your neck. I'll go and find one of my regular sources. One of my vampire addicts. It won't take long. Then I'll come back."
It was probably stupid to question a hungry vampire, but I couldn't help myself. "Do you mean you're going to go kill someone?"
She shook her head. "No. I'll find one of the humans who regularly donate blood and sex. Getting both my needs met at the same time seems to take the edge off." She cocked her head and stared at me with cold eyes, her voice deep and serious.
"Don't make the mistake of thinking that vampires are just eccentric humans. That we simply have a nasty little habit or two. We're not human. We take blood from willing and unwilling victims. Killing is what we do. We enjoy it. All of us. You might be surprised to know what pleasure it brings me to fantasize about draining you dry." She rose, sauntered over and gazed at me through her thick eyelashes, a cold grin on her face.
"In fact, you could say you and I have a date the moment Devereux dumps you."
I started to ask another question, but she flicked her fingers dismissively and said, "That's enough. If I don't leave now, you'll be sorry."
She blinked out and I slid to the floor, my back against the washing machine. Exhaustion swamped me.
I woke up in sunlight, lying on top of the covers on my bed, Devereux's voice an echo in my mind.
"My love. Luna told me what happened last night. I am sorry I was not there to protect you. Something very strange is happening. I was tricked into journeying into a difficult reality and was intercepted once I arrived there. The power necessary for someone to deceive me is beyond any I've seen before. We must be vigilant. I will come to you as soon as I rise. Oh, yes. Here is the address of your new office: 984 Lincoln Ave., #505. The building manager is expecting you. Until tonight."
A phantom vampire lover, a religious fanatic killer, and a beauty queen predator. Just another day in Oz.
My first glimpse of the emergency room decor in my living room was depressing. For one brief moment I hoped it was a bad dream and I'd find my living space just as normally-cluttered and blood free as usual.
But no.
I spent a few minutes on the phone, interviewing cleaning services, being very up-front about the bloodstains, and settled on the one that specialized in taking "the jobs that nobody else wants."
The woman started to tell me about the last crime scene they'd been hired to restore, and how no one would ever have known that an entire family had been brutally murdered there, and I cut her off, saying I was sure they could handle my situation. Too much information.
They agreed to come later that day.
I also tracked down a handyman who'd done some home |
repair work for me in the past, and said I needed a new front door.
Luckily, he was also available.
I showered, dressed and decided to focus on finding another office. I wanted to make a change regardless of what my current building manager chose to do.
Unfortunately, I discovered immediately that my infamy had spread, and, suddenly, none of the vacancies in the paper were still available after the rental agent heard my name.
I couldn't really blame them because what property manager in her or his right mind would want to rent to someone who'd had her office recently trashed by a murderer?