Kiss Noir (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Robynn Clairday

"Thank God you're home," she panted. "Have you listened to your machine yet?"

  Dameon drew her inside. "I got your message," he assured her as he slipped his arm around her shoulders, steadying her.

  Jen was trembling. She wrapped her arms around herself. Her hair and clothes were damp, and she had brought in with her a draft of cold air.

  "Come in quickly, and stand near the fireplace. You're shivering and almost wet. You'll catch a chill," he said while guiding her to the black and white room. Their room, he thought with a wave of longing. Where they'd almost made love. She held out her cold, red hands before the fire.

  "Don't be silly. It's not your fault." She stopped and closed her eyes wearily.

  "There are robes and slippers in the guest bathrooms if you want to change out of those clothes." His eyes hungrily feasted on her face.

  Inching closer to the fire, she said, "Maybe later, but this feels wonderful now. I'm just glad that you're safe. I was so frightened when you were fighting with..." She hesitated. "Tatiana."

  He looked down at his hands, which he'd clenched and unclenched. "I would have given anything for you not to have been witness to such a scene. I only wish you hadn't met her...I am afraid it's my fault that your life has been brushed with such evil." He bit his lip. He was furious with himself.

  "That's not fair," she burst out. "You can't blame yourself for Tatiana's behavior. She's responsible, not you. You were saving my life and that man's."

  Her eyes were luminescent and doe-like in the flickering light. She was an innocent, prey for the demon he'd brought in her life. He remained still and silent, unable to forgive himself.

  "But we're not out of danger yet." She spoke in a low voice. "I wanted to warn you in time..." Distractedly, she attempted to smooth down the wild mass of curls the mist had turned her hair into. "Tatiana put some kind of spell or trance on that person she attacked. He was telling some crazy story to the neighbors who found us. He convinced them that you were to blame." Her eyes flashed with anger in remembrance.

  She finally broke through his reserve. He reached to massage her shoulder soothingly as he pulled her closer with his other hand. He laughed softly, a faint note of sardonic amusement creeping into his voice. "You sound mad at the poor fellow, chérie. After all, it's not his fault if Tatiana hypnotized him."

  She turned toward him. His hand slid down the side of her face, smoothing a drop of fog moisture from her cheekbone. "I just wish none of it had happened."

  "Tatiana was behind it all. She hypnotized him and he was willing, of course," Dameon said tiredly. "I didn't notice. I was blind, and she took full advantage. She was hoping, of course, to lead the authorities to my doorstep. And it looks like she's succeeded."

  "You're in real danger, aren't you?" Her voice trembled with urgency. Her eyes, too large for her white, pinched face, were swimming with tears. "Do you think the police are on their way now?"

  He didn't immediately answer as he stared off into space. "No, I sense it will take them a few days to find their way here." A strained smile curved his lips. "Bureaucrats," he said with a shrug.

  Jen touched his arm. "We can stop them. They'll have to listen to reason," she insisted.

  Dameon sighed and gazed down into her hopeful face. If he could make everything right, he would. But it was senseless to worry now about the future. That would come soon enough and he would have to decide what to do. I may have to leave, he thought, but maybe Jen will come with me. Maybe I'm fooling myself, but she's here. She cares about me. There's still a chance...

  He pulled her close and let his lips travel from her forehead down to her cheek. She reached up, her mouth seeking his. The kiss deepened as need exploded inside of him, in turn, igniting her own hunger. He pulled her tightly to him, her body arching instinctively toward his like a flower reaching for sunlight. A noise behind them caused them to break apart.

  Calvin was hovering in the doorway, his face carefully bland.

  "As you can see, Jen has found her way here. Where I can keep an eye on her. There is nothing more to fear tonight." Dameon spoke naturally, unperturbed at Calvin witnessing their moment of passion. Jen, though, was blushing and fidgeting. Calvin silently communicated a message to Dameon. "Thank you, but no," Dameon replied. "My friend, there is nothing more we need. Nothing, that is, that we can't do for ourselves." A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as his glance rested on Jen's bemused face.

  Calvin stood motionless for a split second, then bowed before disappearing from the doorway. The long, midnight blue curtains were pulled open around the domed window. Fog crawled up the window pane and shut out the world beyond. Cold poured through the glass. Dameon crossed the room to close the curtains and returned to Jen's side. She was so close that he could feel the quickness of her breathing and sense the leaping of her pulse.

  Finally, he spoke. He had reached an important decision. "Let us sit and talk." He bit his lip and looked away for a moment before continuing. "Remember, I promised you that I had much to tell you. Now seems an appropriate time. Will you listen carefully before you...make any decisions about me—about us?" His spirits were plummeting and it was hard to meet her eyes. His hands knotted themselves into clenched fists, knuckles white. She sank back into the chair, her face tender and concerned. Would she still wear that expression once he told her everything?

  Sitting next to her, Dameon gathered up his resolve as he poured them each a glass of red wine from the tray on the teacart.

  Jen watched him closely. "Do you think Tatiana will leave us alone now?"

  Dameon shook his head. "It's difficult to guess what that harpy will do, Jen."

  She bit her lip. "But you think she'll try to hurt us again, don't you? You don't think it's over."

  "No," he said quietly, "I don't, but I think she's retreated to lick her wounds. She's probably back in Germany...at least for now." He stared into the vermilion, dancing flames for a long moment before speaking. "There is so much to tell, but"—his eyes flickered to hers before continuing—"you have already guessed certain details, chérie. Tatiana's young victim, seeing me carrying units of blood." He stopped and looked down. "I believe that you have realized the unimaginable, what I am, and what Tatiana is." His voice had grown hoarse with strain.

  Jen reached and covered his hand with hers. "It doesn't matter to me. You must believe that." She was so earnest that it broke his heart.

  He rubbed his eyes removed her hand, squeezing it before returning it to her lap.

  "Wait, wait, before you promise anything," he said. "It all happened a long time ago, Jen. My mother was a human, a beautiful, intelligent woman, raised by a father who was a very progressive scientist. He taught her everything." A log in the fireplace split and cracked with a shattering, shotgun explosion. Jen jumped. "My father was a very rich count from Austria. Of course, where he was from originally, who knows?" Dameon shrugged. "He was very, very old. But he looked handsome and young to my mother. Lucien was a vampire." Dameon let the word drop like stone, its very syllables seemed to echo through the room. "He was not a bad man, contrary as that sounds."

  Jen interrupted him eagerly. "I believe you, Dameon. I do..."

  "Wait." He held up his hand to stop her flow of loving words. "But, he was a vampire. Not in the tradition of the infamous Dracula, supposed descendent of Vlad the Impaler of Romania. But still a creature who depended on blood for survival. The true story of his origin is quite different. Perhaps someday I will write and publish his version. So that people may understand how inaccurate the fictitious portrayals of vampires are." He rubbed his jaw, lost in another time and world. "The story Lucien told me began thousands of years ago, before the birth of Christ..."

  45 B.C. Yucatán (Mexico)

  A man named Koramu was a well know priest among the Mayan people. He was very advanced as a mystic and spiritualist, and while he wasn't the highest priest, the Ahau Can Mai, he was a Chilan, a very respected personage. His one desire was to learn the secret of life a
nd immortality.

  One day, while wandering through the caves searching for the perfect retreat for his meditation, he came upon a large vampire bat with its wing caught in a bush. The bat was obviously tired from its struggles to free itself. The bat spoke to Koramu, revealing that this was no ordinary animal, but an animal god. The bat said if Koramu freed him and promised to pledge his undivided, lifelong devotion to the bat spirit, Koramu would be blessed with the ability to see inside of men's souls and, most importantly, would be blessed with the gift of immortality.

  Koramu agreed, and rejoiced in his new powers. Easily, he could now peer into the souls of humans. Magically, he could transport himself through the skies. But his most treasured power was that of his immortality. He became even more respected and revered by the Mayan people.

  All was well until, one day, he fell in love with a beautiful girl from a village near Yaxuná. The girl refused to marry him unless he converted to her people's faith, which was centered around the worship of the stars, especially the North Star, the Xaman Ek. Koramu had to think carefully. It had been years since he’d encountered the bat god, and he had never once seen or heard from him since. It had been ten years ago, after all. He decided that, by now, his powers were so great that the bat god couldn't hurt him. And he very much wanted the beautiful girl for his wife.

  First, he had to go through an elaborate religious ritual where he pledged his soul and body to the star, and only then was he allowed to wed the girl.

  A year passed before the bat god appeared before him to hand down his punishment for Koramu's broken promise. He cursed Koramu. Condemned him to a life as one of the undead whose days would be filled with misery and anguish, who would be driven by an eternal hunger and a need for blood as sustenance, and who would be an outcast among mankind. Koramu was damned for all eternity.

  Vampires were nearly impossible to destroy, and Koramu knew he was doomed to a very long, hellish existence. The bat god had a dark sense of humor. Knowing that the bat animal was universally despised by mankind because of its consumption of blood, he had passed on that very trait to human vampires. In man, such a craving was much more malevolent.

  Sprintz's and Dameon's research had revealed that the curse was in actuality a pernicious blood mutation, one which caused extensive and dehumanizing changes. The mutation was also a transmittable one.

  The Present

  "From Koramu, legend has it, all breeds of vampires descended. Lamias, like Tatiana, other shape-shifters, the dream-stalkers, the soul-thieves, all of them. Lamias are always female and beautiful and usually dangerous, and they possess a wide array of powers. Dream-stalkers need little blood, but thrive on the dreams and fantasies of humans. They are often artists, most likely to be successful and well-known. Soul-thieves are rare, but they are the ones who can inhabit bodies of unsuspecting humans. Of course, there are others walking this earth. My antecedents were known as the mind masters, an overblown label if ever there was one. We can, in a limited way, influence others and read others’ thoughts, but there are consequences. My father was well known for his powerful psychic abilities. But even his powers were not enough to save him," Dameon concluded

  Jen looked dazed, struggling to absorb his amazing story. Dameon was closely watching her, his face stiff with fear of rejection. His voice was colorless. "That is the story and legacy my father left me. Fact or fantasy, it's all I have to go on. In my opinion, his version could be authentic, more so, at least, than the myths and fictions circulated over the centuries." The hardness in his eyes softened as Jen reached to stroke his hand.

  He continued, " My father allowed my mother to remain a human. He could have forced her to become a vampire with him, but he loved her. It was a true act of kindness and decency on his part. Of course, his decision condemned me to life in limbo as a vampan—half vampire and half human. I am neither one nor the other.

  "You asked me once where my homeland was and, the truth is, it doesn't exist. I was born in Germany and lived my early years in France, but for vampires, we have no real home. We are, after all, offspring from the darkest recesses of mankind. I can wander anywhere I choose and have all of eternity to explore this world, but there is no place I've called home. We can fit in anywhere, but we belong nowhere. My mother worried and wept often about my plight. I was sentenced to a never-ending life, one afflicted and dominated by a need for human blood. I didn't want live as such an abomination, a feared monster and predator." He halted. His voice had thickened. He sucked in his breath and forced himself to continue.

  "My mother would not give up on my future. She worked hard to come up with an antidote. Her fear was that I would suffer the fate of my father, who I met only once. Lucien was generous and kind to me. But he shed much blood and ruined many lives during his life span. My father was hunted and killed, beheaded." Dameon's voice faded and died, and his eyes glazed as he remembered. Visions of shouting, filthy peasants carrying torches that illuminated the dark, cold night. He saw the spears, knives and crude sticks waved in the air. The blood-hungry cries. His father cornered, unable to teleport because of the iron-headed arrow in shoulder. Backing away, raising his hand in defense. The blade descending. Blood spattering everywhere. His father—his father's head...And, afterwards, what they did to his father's body.

  Dameon closed his mind to the ache that still seared. He shut the door on the scene and brought himself back to the present. His breath came cutting and harsh. Jen raised his hand, which she was holding, to her lips. One of her tears slid down and dropped onto his knuckle.

  Dameon shuddered and struggled to give her a weak smile. "This…vision of my father's fate drove my mother to find a treatment for me. The treatment has violent side effects. At times they have been nearly deadly. Despite that, my mother was partially successful. I took over the research after she passed on. She died over a hundred years ago." Dameon looked up, his gaze locking with hers, gauging her reaction.

  "I was born nearly two hundred years ago." He answered her unasked question somberly. The fire suddenly blossomed, flames shot up toward the flue, illuminating Jen's face in a brilliant flash. He went on. "I began my research of bats, initially, as a joke, a macabre attempt at humor. Why not study the species of my alleged origins? But I grew intrigued, as I did with all nocturnal animals. Especially the misfits. It filled my time and kept my mind occupied. I researched, wrote books, and sometimes, I've taught at universities." He smiled grimly. "Humans would be horrified if they realized what is instructing their young in many of the schools around the world. I always told myself that teaching gave me a chance to do something productive, but the truth is, vampires can't resist the opportunity to influence young minds." He glanced at her once and then looked away. "Any chance to connect with another is desirable. You see, chérie, over the many, many years, I have been alone. There have been friends, but I was never close to either human or vampire. I had human lovers, but not one ever knew me, knew who and what I truly was. I would rarely consort with female vampires because intimacy with them would compromise my treatments. I always kept my true identity a secret from my human acquaintances, except for Calvin, and now, you. Other vampires, even those I was friendly with, distrusted me because I was a vampan. They all are deathly afraid of my treatments. Many of them dream of living as mortals do, freed from the necessity of drinking blood, but they are unwilling to experiment with the unknown. Most importantly, they do not want to risk losing their immortality or their other powers."

  "But," Jen spoke suddenly, "you...still have your powers and you take the drug." She stumbled awkwardly with the unfamiliar words. He released her hand and turned to stoke up the fire.

  "True, mon petite, but I am an anomaly, a vampan. There have been very few like me throughout our history. There are few vampires as it is. Who knows how the drug would affect a full vampire? I have my personal theories, but full-bred vampires are unwilling to take the chance." He examined her face, reading the inquisitiveness there and guessed what was c
oming. "Do you have any other questions, anything else you are curious about?"

  Jen caught his eye and spoke quickly but bravely. "I don't understand how you can move about so freely in the daytime. I always thought...well, you know." Her confidence began to ooze away. She stammered, unable to complete her sentence, and looked down at her lap.

  Dameon's smile spread into a full, teasing grin. "Ah yes, that particular myth. At one time, daylight was an inhibiting factor. But those days are long past, thankfully. Sunlight can be uncomfortable, but more in the manner that humans experience temperature extremes. However, we'd hardly be ideal models for tanning commercials." An involuntary answering smile flashed across her face.

  "And, let's see, what are the other popular stories out there? Garlic and salt don't prevent us from entering a room, and holy water doesn't do a thing. Few of us can turn into bats, but some can shape-shift or take over an animal's body. Mirrors, as you witnessed, can pose a problem. Sometimes we lose our reflection if we don't have sufficient control. But some of the myths are true. For some, silver weakens. For others like myself, the deterrent is pure iron. These are the only physical weapons a human could effectively use. " He smiled. "You see how I trust you? To give you such powerful knowledge?" His voice grew more serious as the smile died on his face. "The silver helped protect you from Tatiana."

  "As your ring did. As you have, all along, protected me, watched over for my well-being," she said, fingering the ring's smooth, red stone. He watched her, a wave of tenderness turning his frozen heart into melted cream. He felt a sense of relief. The terrible truth was out in the open, and the intimacy between them felt more powerful than ever.

  "There are so many things I want to ask," she said. She turned to him, her eyes quizzical as they searched his face. "You mentioned your father's psychic powers. You have them, too, don't you? You used them on the carjackers. So many times it seemed our thoughts connected or you read my mind so accurately. But those dreams I had, those dreams when I first met you..."