Courted by the Vampire

by Sandra Sookoo

  “You mean you’re dumbing yourself down to my level?” She grinned at his outraged expression. “Never mind. Where are we headed this evening?” She squealed in delight when he pulled her onto the bed and rolled her on her back, the sheet intertwined between them.

  “I have no idea. I cannot seem to track down a life pattern for Corinne the Wise.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “It seems you distracted from my original goal.”

  A solid lump of guilt lodged in her chest. “I’m sorry. If it weren’t for me you could have finished this job by now and gone on to your next one.” She turned her face away from the brilliance of his gaze.

  “That is not true. I could not have completed this mission without you, even if I wanted to. You are part of it, plain and simple.” He tipped her chin so she looked into his eyes. “Our partaking of physical pleasure is a happy side effect of our working relationship.”

  Joy surged through her mind in splashes of peachy pink. “You’re sure I don’t hold you back?”

  “I am sure. We will find Andre. There is no rush. If the demon lord grows impatient, he will find you. The end result will be the same.”

  “What?” The knot in her stomach doubled in size. “You mean it doesn’t matter if we don’t locate him since he’ll come to us anyway?”

  He slid his hands over her curves to linger about her waist. “Yes. I believe our destinies are meant to collide eventually. How or when does not matter.”

  “But shouldn’t we talk about this? I mean, he haunts my dreams, but I’ve never seen his face.” She inhaled his scent of apples and oak. Even it failed to bring her comfort. “I don’t want to see him.”

  “You will not do it alone. Now, we can talk about the demon lord or we can play with a bit of self-indulgence, sex kitten.” He swept the curve of her cheek with his fingers. “It is your choice.”

  Hannah met his gaze, still hooded and unreadable. “Guess which one I choose.”

  Self-indulgence was a huge understatement of what Edwin had in mind.

  *****

  Hannah hummed snatches of popular music as she paced about the small confines of the watchtower. Shortly before midnight, Edwin had stepped out to see if he could find a fresh water source. Half an hour passed, and he hadn’t returned.

  As much as she enjoyed sleeping in an actual bed, she’d be ecstatically happy to be in a sanitary environment with a real toilet. Using nature as a lavatory was beginning to grate on her nerves and she longed for the comfort of quilted bath tissue and a little dignity.

  The bed and metal desk were the only pieces of furniture in the tower besides a file cabinet. A scratched wooden shelf reposed on one wall. On the opposite wall, a bulky portrait of older woman in twentieth century period clothing hung in silent censure. She frowned at the picture. Why would a park ranger choose to decorate a watchtower with such an item? It was out of place in a naturalist habitat. Large picture windows occupied the other two walls, the bed shoved under one of them, the desk under the other. Sparse and utilitarian.

  Still humming, she focused her energy on a faded coffee can on the shelf. Hannah smiled with satisfaction when it left its resting place to float drunkenly in the air toward her. As she grasped the empty container, she sneezed from the accumulated dust on its lid. Two seconds later, white Gerber daises covered every surface of the watchtower.

  Magical side effects are a bitch to live with.

  With another sneeze, she pulled off the plastic lid. Why would anyone keep such a thing if it were empty? As a sharp stab of pain etched itself over her left eye, she turned her attention to the can.

  A shower of blue sparks shot from it while small pebbles rained down on her face and shoulders.

  “You finally decided to let me out, eh? You human scumbag! I’ll show you not to mess with me!” Another volley of pebbles followed the outburst.

  Hannah held her arms over her head to protect her face. “Stop it, whoever you are! I let you out, that’s all. I have no idea who put you in there!”

  A few more pebbles assaulted her, the last of which bounced off the tip of her nose as she looked at her attacker. Standing a short two feet off the ground was a fairy, and an angry one at that. Fiery red hair bristled from his head, freckles splashed across his face. His tunic and leggings of red leather provided a direct contrast to the snowy white daises that littered the room.

  Her lips twitched when she spied a slingshot dangling from his hand. “Hi.”

  “Who are you anyway?” the fairy demanded. He shoved the weapon into his pocket then planted his hands on his lean hips.

  “I’m Hannah Weybourne. I just spent the night in this watchtower, nothing more. You popped out of this can when I opened it.” She narrowed her eyes. His ruddy skin had very thin red scales incorporated into the design. I never knew how different the fey races were. “What’s your name?”

  “Shakespeare.”

  She bit her lip in an effort to sabotage the laugh that threatened. “Really? That’s your name?” And I thought Roosevelt was bad!

  He glared then stalked about the room, savagely kicking at the flowers on the floor. “What’s wrong with my name? I think it’s quite grand.”

  “It is if you’re a dead playwright.” Hannah sat on the desk with her feet propped on the chair. She cocked her head and regarded him. “So, you’re free to go. You needn’t stick around.”

  “I’ve been here so long I don’t remember where home is. I got into a bit of mischief when I pestered the man that used to live here. He captured me. How was I supposed to know he had a magical can?”

  “Well, I have a solution to your problem.” She rummaged in her bag and brought out her jar. “If you wish to travel along with me, you may. I have three other fairies in here. The last time I checked, they were having a great time playing a rousing game of poker.” She tapped the glass. Where they’d procured the green visors and sunglasses, she didn’t know, but they were pretty annoyed to be disturbed.

  “I suppose I could hitch a ride with you for a while. I have no other plans.”

  Hannah grinned. How large would the transient community in the jar get before they demanded an upgrade or freedom? “Since you’ve been in the area for a while, can you tell me where I might find Corinne the Wise? I’ve been searching but haven’t had any luck.”

  “There.” He gestured to the portrait on the wall. “She’s there in the picture. Just tap the frame three times and call her name.” He blinked. “Can I join the party now?”

  She said the words of the binding spell. Shakespeare morphed into the jar with a shower of blue sparks.

  “If you wished to receive floral arrangements, I would have arranged to bring you a more exotic mix than these common weeds.”

  “Funny, vamp.” Hannah stuffed the jar into the depths of her bag then hopped off the desk, teetering on the unfamiliar heels. “When I levitated a coffee can off the shelf, I sneezed. The daisies are the result.” She scooped a handful of the blooms from the desk and brought them to her nose. “What?” She caught his gaze over the flowers and her cheeks warmed under his scrutiny.

  “I will remember you as you are now for the rest of my days, spatzi. You make a fetching picture. I suddenly wish I chose painting over bounty work.” He stood immobile near the window, staring, his eyes hooded, and a thoughtful expression on his face. “Were you talking to someone just now?”

  “Yes. Can you believe there was a fairy imprisoned in that coffee can? I let him out. He opted to travel with us for a while. Oh, and he also told me where to find Corinne.” Warm chocolate brown color swirled into her mind as Edwin’s desire made itself known. When he slipped his arms around her, her libido flared.

  “Is there nothing you cannot accomplish? You are truly remarkable.”

  She lifted her lips for his kiss. Being stranded in the middle of a forest on an impossible mission with certain death at the end didn’t lend itself well to romantic liaisons. It’s not fair!

  “What is not f
air?”

  She kept her gaze fixed on a button of his shirt. “I just found you. I have a feeling Fate plans your death.”

  His sigh was one of long-suffering. “Why do you think these things now?”

  “I can’t help it.” She shivered when he nibbled a path down her throat. “I take it you approve of me with all of my odd faults and quirks?”

  “Most definitely.” He ran his hands under her tank top and drew circles on her back. “They make you all the more endearing.”

  She allowed him one more searing kiss then gently pushed him away. “There will be plenty of time for that sort of activity. Right now we need to talk to the lady in the picture.”

  “Pardon me?”

  She grinned and pointed to the Victorian-era portrait. “That, my dear bounty hunter, is Corinne the Wise.”

  Edwin gazed at the picture, a dark frown marring the perfection of his lips. “I do not see how that is possible.”

  “After everything that’s happened to us in the last five days, this is what you find hard to believe?” She tapped the frame three times and crooned Corinne’s name. “Watch and learn, ye of little faith.”

  The painting came alive before her fascinated eyes. A spectrum of colors seeped into the black and white drawing until the picture resembled a regular windowpane. Experimentally, Hannah touched a finger to the canvas and marveled at how that digit disappeared into the canvas.

  “Ready?” She took Edwin’s hand when he nodded. “See you on the flip side.” Taking a deep breath, she stepped through the painting and into another world.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hannah looked about with interest as Edwin squeezed her hand. They stood in the middle of an authentic Victorian-era parlor. Oil paintings in heavy gilt frames lined walls papered with striped wallpaper. Floor to ceiling windows covered with damask draperies in a dusky mauve color overpowered the intimate space.

  Just think of how much easier researching different periods of history for books and movies would be to the writers if everyone could just jump into a portrait.

  Fantasy clouds your brain again. Be wary.

  “Come in, come in and sit down. I’ll make you two a nice cup of tea and we’ll have a proper gossip.”

  She spun around. The ghost of the woman in the portrait bustled over a teacart, busily pouring out three steaming cups of the beverage. She glanced at Edwin and shrugged. He wore the same perplexed expression.

  “Sit down, ducks.” The ghost pushed the cart over to a grouping of chairs and waited for them to settle.

  “Thank you.” Hannah took in lacy doilies and china knick-knacks that littered every available space. She imagined the chair she uncomfortably balanced on would cost a fortune in today’s market. She accepted a delicate porcelain cup of tea from Corinne, surprised to find it really was hot. The irreverent part of her brain had expected it to be make-believe. She slid another glance at Edwin and her lips twitched as he handled the dainty china.

  “Now, there’s sugar and milk on the cart here. Please help yourselves to some of these delicious almond cakes or cucumber sandwiches. If you desire something else, let me know, and I’ll be happy to have Cook bring it out.”

  “This will be fine, thank you, Corinne.” Hannah calmly dropped a decorated sugar cube into the amber tea and stirred it with an impossibly small teaspoon. “Is this your home?”

  “Of course, dear. Me and the Mister just moved here not two months ago and we rub along quite happily.” The older woman handed Hannah a plate of delicate cucumber sandwiches.

  She passed it on to Edwin, resisting the urge to laugh as he tried to balance the plate on his lap along with a starched linen napkin as well as his teacup. I don’t like cucumbers. They’re disgustingly slimy. But she did accept the plate of cookies she was handed her next.

  Her jaw hung open as Corinne drink from her own cup. She followed the course of the tea as it made its way through her transparent body to pool on the Oriental rug beneath her chair. The ghost—for that’s what she was—didn’t seem to notice.

  “Hannah, you’re gaping.” Edwin jostled her arm, causing her tea to slosh into the saucer.

  “I’m sorry.” She mopped up the spill with her napkin and peered again at their host. Her white hair twisted into the pompadour style popular in that day, she wore a cameo brooch on the lace at her throat, and her gown was of navy worsted-weight wool. Just as Hannah opened her mouth to ask a question, Corinne interjected words of her own.

  “In my day young ladies never wore pants like the men. They wore pretty dresses and skirts of whites and pastels.” She simpered, the only purpose it served was to highlight the wrinkles on her ghostly face. “A young lady should retain an air of allure and mystery if they hope to attract a man.”

  Edwin choked on his tea.

  Hannah gave him “the look,” but he smiled back with the grace and charm of a Victorian gentleman. Belatedly, she realized according to his age, he probably had grown up in this same period.

  Damn the man!

  What did I tell you the last time you said that? He cleared his throat. “You are wearing a lovely frock, Corinne. Perhaps you could school Hannah in her wardrobe choices.”

  Bastard! She munched an almond cookie and glared at the vamp, thinking black thoughts of the tortures she would like to inflict upon him.

  The ghost smiled at him.

  Hannah rolled her eyes. If Corinne possessed hormones, they would definitely be churning. What is it about him that has the spectral babes sniffing? Vampy pheromones?

  Jealous?

  You wish. She ignored him to focus on the ghost. Did the woman even know she was no longer living?

  “I would be happy to be her mentor. My daughter is about your age. She wears only gowns of beige and pink. She’s hoping to catch the eye of the squire’s son in the village. Quite a prize and he’ll inherit a nice property when his father dies.” She sent a smug glance Edwin’s way and nodded. “Hannah, you would do well to grow out your hair. I suppose there’s nothing we can do about that rather shocking red color, but if it were longer we could really work with it.”

  Edwin’s deep chuckle reverberated through the small room. “I agree. I think Hannah could be the belle of the ball in a gown made of sapphire silk with an overskirt of silver tulle. Perhaps a glittering comb in hair, above her ear, just so.” He scooted next to her on the sofa and held back a lock of her “outrageously” red hair. “What do you think?”

  Corinne clapped her transparent hands, bounced up and down in her chair with apparent excitement. “How marvelous! Between the two of us we could launch her into society to find her an extremely suitable match.”

  Hannah ignored her irritation with some difficulty. Her heart went out to every heroine of Regency and Victorian romances. They knew what it was like to be pimped out too. She slapped Edwin with her eyes then set her half-empty teacup down with a noticeable clink. Intending to tell her companions exactly what she thought of their “help,” she took a deep breath.

  Edwin shoved a cucumber sandwich into her mouth. “You must taste this, and may I give my compliments to your Cook, good lady,” he said to the ghost, his voice smooth and soft as baby oil.

  “Alas, all of your efforts in finding Hannah the perfect mate will fall on deaf ears, I’m afraid.”

  She chewed furiously on the sandwich. The soft bread stuck to the roof of her mouth while the taste of cucumbers flooded her palate, making her gag, while Edwin’s expression clouded with fake sadness. She glared, her mouth still full. He continued to schmooze the ghost.

  “Why do you say that?” Corinne fell hook, line and sinker for his tale.

  “It is such a tragic story.” He moved from the sofa to the chair beside their hostess, his features perfectly schooled into melancholy. “I am afraid Hannah has already given her flower to another man. She found herself alone one evening and was swept off her feet by his overwhelming charm and handsome good looks.” He paused for effect, leaning closer. “She succ
umbed to her dark desires and passion.”

  Corinne gasped and pressed her napkin to her spectral lips. “What happened?”

  “Of course she became besotted with this fellow. She follows him everywhere, making her unfit to be with another.”

  Hannah gagged as the bread stuck fast to the roof of her mouth. She gulped tea hoping to dislodge the wad but finally had to resort to freeing it with a finger. She swished her mouth out, and with another gulp of tea, glared at the vampire. Two can play this game.

  “The most tragic thing about this story, Corinne, is the man who, uh, deflowered me refused to marry me. He resists all my attempts at reconciliation. It’s all so sad.” She pinched the inside of her arm until tears sprang into her eyes. She raised her gaze to Corinne’s and slipped an evil smile at Edwin. “You see, I’m carrying his child. I’ve been cast into the streets with the brand of a loose woman.”

  “Oh, no!” Corrine’s jaw dropped.

  “Yes. No home, no family, no way to take care of myself. It’s too much to bear!” Hannah hoped her few drama classes from back in high school would send her performance over the top. She flung herself prostrate across the sofa. Draping a limp hand over her forehead, her eyes fluttered closed.

  Cold air whispered across her cheek. She knew the ghost touched her face but didn’t want to risk opening her eyes to confirm that fact. “Oh my dear, you mustn’t let it bother you. Why, even I succumbed to my husband’s persuasion before we were married.”

  When Hannah opened her eyes, she caught Edwin’s dark scowl over the back of the sofa. “My only comfort is the knowledge he’s somewhere in Indianapolis. His name is Duncan, but it’s such a large city, I’m afraid it will be impossible to find him.”

  “Tread carefully.” The warning hissed between Edwin’s teeth. He rolled his eyes as Corinne busied herself pouring out another cup of tea. “What Hannah is hinting at in her overly dramatic way is we think you have information on this man’s whereabouts.”