Wait Till Your Vampire Gets Home

by Michele Bardsley

  Archie and the fireman backed out. I didn’t understand the look on Archie’s face. Like he didn’t know me.

  The door shut and we heard the lock snick.

  Ralph and I looked at each other.

  “That was weird.” He stepped back, wiping off his face and shaking the foam off his hands. Then he scrubbed at his hair.

  “Yeah.” I flipped the wheel on the Bic. Flick. Flick. “It won’t work.” Panic wormed through me. I thrust the lighter at Ralph. “Fix this.”

  “No, Libby.” He held up his hands. “I don’t want the fire. It’s . . . wrong.”

  “Wrong? How could it be wrong?” Was he insane? I needed the flame. We needed it. “Please, Ralph.” I was desperate to have fire again. I knew I was acting a little crazed, but I couldn’t stop myself. Fire was life. Desperation made me flick the wheel over and over, but it never sparked.

  “Libby. Stop.” He plucked the useless lighter from my hand. I reached for it and he pushed my hand away. “Damn it! Enough, already.”

  I sucked in a breath. I was shaking. And cold. Had they kicked up the air-conditioning again? “What’s wrong with me?” I whispered. “Why do I need it so much? And why can you resist?”

  “Two reasons,” he said. “Michael and Stephen.”

  I stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

  “My sons,” he said. “What I feel now . . . what I feel for you, it can’t be more important than my sons. They’re only three, and they need me. I need them. You . . . me . . . this fire thing . . .” He shook his head. “I can’t do this. Feel this way. No more fire.”

  No more us. My heart dropped to my toes. He thought our attraction was just about the flame. The dragon magic. The implication still hurt.

  He tucked the lighter into his pocket. We were covered in puffs of white. I wiped off my face and arms. I tried to rein in my emotions, but they were a tornado.

  The door opened and Archie poked his head in. “Ralph, come on.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “What about me?”

  “I’ll be back for you,” said Archie.

  I looked at Ralph. He stepped toward me, hand stretching as if to take mine, and then he hesitated. He dropped his arm. “Everything’s going to be okay, Libby.”

  He turned and slipped through the door. After it was shut, I heard the lock engage.

  I was a prisoner. No fire. No Ralph. No hope.

  My eyes opened. What the hell?

  The last thing I remembered was Ralph leaving the examination room.

  I was lying on a somewhat comfortable bed in a small, white room. These people really had a thing about white.

  I’d been dressed in a pair of pink silk pajamas that were way too big. Patsy. She was at least half a foot taller than me and pregnant. Good thing the pants had a string tie.

  My bare feet touched the floor, but it wasn’t cold. It wasn’t tile, either. I scrunched my toes against the slick surface. I’d never felt anything like it before.

  My head felt fuzzy, but I didn’t need all my faculties to know I was in a prison. Well, what did I expect? One of the royal suites?

  I stood up and looked around.

  Behind me was a small door. I pushed a silver button next to it, and the door slid open. The bathroom was tiny. A stand-up shower, toilet, and sink with mirror. One shelf on the opposite wall with towels, wash cloths, and a small assortment of soaps and shampoos.

  I used the facilities, then wandered back into the other room. Other than the bed there wasn’t any furniture. No TV or magazines, either. I looked at the ceiling. I couldn’t detect any video cameras, but I knew I was being monitored. I knew Archie . . . no, Stan, had probably built this facility.

  He was brilliant. Stan wasn’t just a gifted scientist; he also held degrees in medicine and engineering. He understood things about the world most people never would.

  An intense paranormal experience had drawn him into PRIS, and soon he left his highbrow research job at a pharmaceutical company to work full-time with my parents. I was three or four years old when he joined us, so I’d grown up with him. Stan wasn’t the kind of person you could get close to. He was too analytical. He picked apart everything, which made him a great scientist and a lousy conversationalist. The man had no social skills.

  Still, when he died, I’d cried for weeks. He’d been part of our family. I didn’t know how to feel about his betrayal. I couldn’t decide if I was mad or sad about him walking away from us so easily.

  And he joined up with the very creatures we’d tried to find. My whole life my parents had researched the paranormal. Oh, they got lucky every now and then, but mostly they got nada. Their enthusiasm and persistence never waned. My mother didn’t know the meaning of rejection. She didn’t care that other people laughed at her and PRIS. Usually when she and Dad were invited as “experts” on talk shows, it was only to make them look like crackpots.

  I sat on the bed and let my feet swing back and forth. My wrist still ached where I’d slit it to feed Patrick. I remembered Ralph had said vampire saliva had an enzyme that healed feeding wounds very quickly. He was puzzled about why mine hadn’t healed.

  I sighed. Were my parents looking for me? Were they okay? I had to believe the best, because the worst was unthinkable. You’ve never met two people who so believed in things that couldn’t be proven. My mother had faith. The kind of faith that was unshakable. And my father believed in her—even when she claimed to be kidnapped by aliens and used for experimentation. You could never accuse my mother of being boring.

  Once again I stood up, then I walked to the clear door of my cell. I tapped my fingernails against the plastic. It was at least a foot thick. The cell across from mine was empty. The hallway was dimly lit and I couldn’t see down to either end. I heard nothing.

  I turned around and assessed the space. There was enough room to do yoga. I didn’t know how long I would be kept here. I didn’t think the queen would let me go. Unless they figured out a way to make me permanently forget everything I’d seen. Or killed me.

  Fear uncoiled and slithered through me. I didn’t know what would happen next. I couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t just kill me. Ten years ago I would’ve said Stan would never have allowed such a thing. But I didn’t know him anymore.

  I wanted to think Ralph would prevent them from doing anything too drastic. He was one of them, though. And he hadn’t stopped them from putting me in this prison. I couldn’t stop the little bump-de-bump my heart did when I thought about Ralph. But he didn’t feel that way about me, obviously.

  What was with the fire? What was with the dragon? How had the dying woman changed me? And how had I changed Ralph?

  He was a father.

  I couldn’t wrap my brain about that fact. He was damned sexy for a daddy. Not to mention he was undead. How did a vampire raise mortal children? How did a vampire even have kids?

  For all our studies of these creatures, we had to rely heavily on mythology, folklore, and eyewitness accounts. It had never occurred to me that vampires might have the same hopes and worries as humans.

  And Ralph didn’t want me. He thought the fire bound us, and maybe he was right. But I wanted him anyway.

  I’d never really had a boyfriend. I’d never settled anywhere long enough to meet men, much less date them. Only one had stuck around long enough to meet my parents—on the slim chance he might actually make it into my pants—and that had been the end of the relationship. Hey, love me, love my parents. So far, no man I’d managed to date had been able to do either one.

  Honestly, Ralph was the first guy to whom I felt va-va-voom attracted. Most of the time, I knew I was supposed to feel a certain way. I could look at Brad Pitt and think, “He’s cute and, hey, nice abs.” But that heart-pounding, knee-shaking, palm-sweating attraction between two people had never been mine to experience . . . until Ralph scooped me into his arms and kept me safe from the wolves.

  Oh, what did it matter? Talk about being from two different worlds.
Sheesh. I shut out the rest of my worries. I couldn’t do anything until they let me out. I needed a clear mind and to restore my sense of calm. The clothes were too big for me to do a yoga routine, so I shucked them. Luckily, I still had on my underwear, but no bra. Oh, well. My parents and I once lived in a nudist colony, where the phrase “let it all hang out” was taken literally. I was very comfortable with my body. Nudity was nothing to be ashamed of, and I wasn’t.

  I shucked off the pajamas and put them on the bed. Then I put my palms together and stood in Mountain pose. Breathe in. Breathe out. I decided to do Sun Salutation.

  I focused on the poses and pushed away mental distractions. I did Cobra pose: I stretched out on my stomach, then put my palms flat on the floor, lifted my torso off the ground, and bent back, my eyes raised to the ceiling.

  After a few seconds, I realized someone was watching me. I released the position and rolled to my knees, crossing my arms over my breasts.

  Through the clear door of the cell, Ralph pried his baby blues off my chest and grinned sheepishly. “Uh . . . hi, Libby.”

  Chapter 9

  “Please turn around so I can get dressed.” Being comfortable with my naked body was one thing; showing off my assets to Ralph was something else. I was angry. He’d left me. He had fire issues, too, but they were letting him walk around free.

  He dutifully turned around. I put on the pajamas and then strode to the metal door.

  “Okay, I’m decent.”

  “The adjective I’d use is spectacular.” Ralph turned around, his cheeks flushed.

  “Are you blushing?” I asked. “Can vampires do that?”

  “No. And no.” He cleared his throat and held up a white paper bag. “I thought you might be hungry,” he said, talking a bit louder so I could hear him through the door.

  “Aw, that’s so nice of you,” I said in a saccharine voice with a similarly raised voice. My sarcasm was ruined by my growling stomach.

  “I brought you a hamburger with the works, large order of fries, and a chocolate shake. It’s my specialty.” His smile dimmed. “I’m a short-order cook at the Old Sass Café.”

  “Too bad you’re not a prison guard. With a key.”

  He flinched. “This is just until we figure out what’s going on, Libby.” He placed his hand on the plastic window. “It’s for your safety. And ours.”

  “Because you already have fire power, right? Or did you avoid a cell just because you’re one of them?”

  “I’ve been taught how to control my fire. You’ll learn how, too.”

  “In here?”

  He had the grace to look uncomfortable, maybe even ashamed. “I’m sorry.” His gaze flicked to mine, and I saw the fire dancing in the blue orbs. He really did look sorry, and I felt an answering fire inside me. We were part of the same magic, the same passion. I felt it even with the barrier of the door between us.

  I wondered if Ralph did, too.

  Desperation flailed my pride. I pressed my palm against his, although the plastic prevented us from touching. “Please, Ralph. Let me out. I’ll leave. I’ll . . . never come back.”

  He looked at me, and I thought he might say something, something that would bridge the gap between us. That would reassure me.

  “Libby . . .”

  “Yes?”

  He shook his head, but couldn’t quite pry his gaze from mine. The fire was inside him, calling to me. I heard its song.

  “You hear it, don’t you?” I whispered.

  “Yes,” he admitted. “I crave it, too. More than you could ever know.”

  Oh, I knew. The difference between us was he could push it away, probably even lock it up. I didn’t have the strength to deny the flame. It wanted Ralph. I wanted Ralph. It was like my heart couldn’t beat without his.

  Finally, he broke eye contact. He pointed to the right side of my cell. “They’ll give you the food through a slot in that wall.”

  “Ralph.” Censure vibrated.

  “Please, Libby. Just . . . don’t.”

  Disappointment weighed heavily on me. I guess I should give the guy a break, but I had hoped he would rescue me. I was getting used to it, after all. Ralph, my undead knight in shining armor.

  I sighed. “I’m a vegan.”

  His eyebrows rose. “So . . . hamburgers aren’t your thing.”

  “I don’t eat animals or wear their flesh. Anything made from animal by-products is out, too.”

  “By-products?”

  “Milk, eggs, cheese . . . you know, by-products.”

  “Ah. Chocolate milk shakes are out, too.” He nodded. “Got it. I’ll figure out something vegan-ish for tomorrow night’s dinner.”

  “Thanks.”

  An awkward silence fell. He seemed reluctant to leave. Why? He’d made clear his intentions. Maybe he couldn’t quite resist the fire, either. Dragonfire was not the same as his vampire power. Oh, what did I know? Fire was probably fire. And I was still a prisoner.

  “They might let me out of this place, but I’ll still be a prisoner. Won’t I?”

  I waited for him to deny it.

  His gaze captured mine and I saw his regret. “I know this isn’t fair. I’m sorry. I really am.”

  Hurt settled like a cold lump in my stomach. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  “My sons lost their mother and they nearly lost me, too. Being a vampire isn’t something I chose, but it’s better than being six feet under.” He blew out a breath. “You’re not the only one dealing with new changes, Libby. You’re not the only one with something to lose.”

  I strained my neck to watch him walk to the end of the hallway. He was swallowed by darkness. I heard the faint clang of a metal door as it opened and closed.

  Then I was alone.

  “Patient Monroe, please enjoy your dinner.” A mechanical voice startled me. I looked up, which was kinda stupid, especially since the voice didn’t emanate from the ceiling. I couldn’t determine its source.

  A square door opened about two feet above my bed. The bag sat on a metal tray that slid out. My parents were vegan, too, and had raised me in the lifestyle. I had veered from veganism only once, and eating the steak made me so ill I vomited. I couldn’t stand the smell of leather, either. We won’t talk about my views on milk. Yuck.

  I removed the bag and took out the fries, which were still crispy and hot. I returned the bag, but not before I peeked into the little doorway. Shoot. It was closed on the other side.

  Usually the smell of cooked meat made my stomach lurch, but for some reason the hamburger made me salivate. Ew. No. Still, I unwrapped it and inhaled the scent. Oh, man. I was tempted to take a bite.

  What was happening to me? I was in love with fire. And now I craved meat. I threw the hamburger back into the bag. I ignored the chocolate shake.

  “Hey, Mr. Roboto! You got any water?” I munched on the fries.

  “Please enjoy the water available in your personal bathroom.”

  “Gee, thanks. Do I have to use my hands or can you give me a cup?”

  “Cups are available in the convenient dispenser next to your sink.”

  What dispenser? I got off the bed and went into the bathroom. I hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a little silver dispenser with tiny paper cups. I filled one up and drank the water. Then I refilled the cup and carried it with me to the bed.

  I used to think my weird life couldn’t get any weirder.

  Was I wrong, or what?

  I’m not sure what woke me up. I lay on the bed, my eyes still closed. My muscles ached from the cramped sleeping quarters. I turned on my side and let my mind drift.

  Once I’d finished the fries and put my trash on the tray, it zipped back into the wall. I tried to make conversation with Mr. Roboto, but he only offered instructions related to my cell. I figured out that I could control the lights simply by voice commands. Finally, I got so bored I turned off the light and went to sleep.

  “Libby.”

  Stan’s v
oice sounded strained and raspy. I opened my eyes. The lights were on full and the brightness stabbed my eyeballs. Ugh. I covered my face and said, “Lights fifty percent.”

  They dimmed and I stumbled off the bed and toward the cell door. Stan looked pale. Sweat poured off his face and the fringe of hair surrounding his bald spot stuck straight up. His white lab coat was wrinkled and stained.

  “You look like hell. How long have I been out?” I asked. Hope surged. “Are you letting me go?”

  “You’ve only been asleep a couple of hours.” He studied me, frowning. “I’m afraid we can’t release you.”

  I didn’t like how he was looking at me. I stepped back and hugged myself. Foreboding swirled in my belly. “What’s going on?”

  “Just tell me what you did to Patrick.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “I already said I was sorry! I didn’t mean to stake him. And he was fine. Just ask Ralph.”

  “Did you give anything to him?”

  “Other than my blood?”

  “Yes,” he hissed. His gaze cut down the hallway and then he looked back at me. “Please, Libby! Did you jab him with something? Did you slip him a pill or . . . or a tincture?”

  “A tincture? C’mon! I’m not a spy,” I said, annoyed with his questions. “I slit my wrist and let him drink my blood.”

  “Maybe you coming to Broken Heart isn’t a coincidence, after all.” His expression turned cold. “You have an unusual background. They found me. They could’ve found you, too.”

  “Who?”

  “Vampires. Only the Wraiths or Hu Mua Lan got to you.” He scowled and stepped back, shaking his head. “I don’t think you’re Lia’s minion. I mean, not on purpose.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked. Dread squeezed my stomach. “I don’t know anyone named Hu whoever. I don’t know what a Wraith is. And I didn’t do anything to Patrick.”

  “Yes, you did,” he said in a shaking voice. His gaze pinned mine. “You poisoned him.”

  Chapter 10

  The shock of Stan’s accusation nearly buckled my knees. I grabbed for the wall and sucked in a steadying breath. Oh my God. Did they think I tried to kill someone?