Murphy's Law of Vampires (Love at First Bite Book 2)

by Declan Finn

  The bastard only smiled. “Did I say that?”

  Merle narrowed his eyes. “You’re playing both sides against the middle again.” This means one of two things: he’s actually a double agent and he’s on my team, or else… “These people are onto something big, aren’t they? Something big enough to kick you out of your position with whatever circle of Hell you run with.”

  They stared at each other a moment. Dalf smiled slightly, leaned against a glass case, tucking his wolf’s-head cane under his arm. “Whatever could you be talking about?”

  “Something international… someone has something up their sleeve at the UN, don’t they, Dalf?”

  Merle blinked, and Dalf was gone… But maybe I should bring a camera to tonight’s events… maybe I should sleep first…

  The doorbell rang in front, and Merle sighed. Of course someone would have to do this now ! What illiterate pothead can’t read the Closed sign?

  Merle stood slowly, making it to the door, and then Merle saw a glimpse of honey-blonde hair… Kristen and Arthur were there, waiting.

  Merle smiled. Well, maybe I can stay awake for a little bit longer.

  He unlocked the door and Kristen smiled. They exchanged a few pleasantries, and when Arthur had to go to the washroom, she took the opportunity to stay behind and asked, “One thing, Merle, I may need your professional help with something.”

  He raised a brow. “Yes?”

  “Do you know anything about several destroyed crypts lately? From the remains, they look like they were made into homes, but the way they’ve been destroyed, it looks like someone was having fun with napalm.” Kristen shook her head and sighed. “If I didn’t know any better, Merle, someone out there has personally declared war on… someone. Maybe the homeless? As far as I can tell, it could either be a strike team, or a one-man operation. You’re the expert in weird—you know anyone like that?”

  Hello, Marco. Nice that you found a hobby. “You could say that.”

  * * * *

  Marco walked into his dorm with Amanda about three minutes before the sun came up. He sat back on his bed and sighed. “Remind me to sleep before this is over.”

  Amanda sat on the foot of the bed. “You can do that now. I’ll make sure you’re not eaten by big bad demon.”

  He smiled. A good point. As good as when she pointed out… “Wait a sec.” He shook his head to clear it. “You said you know Day’s anatomy. You said you saw his insides… when did you do that?”

  Amanda leaned back, stretching out along the foot of his bed. “1984… I was in Afghanistan at the time.”

  Marco’s eyes drifted down her body. Wow, she was looking really rather good today. He could even see her legs were… very fine. The cheongsam stopped at mid-thigh, like a miniskirt, and if he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn that she wasn’t wearing underwear.

  Why am I even thinking that? What’s wrong with me?

  He cocked his head at her words. “Eat any good Taliban while you were there?” She smiled and nodded. He chuckled. “Well, since Day was with the Russians, he probably followed them into the sandbox during the war. What happened, you opened him up with a scimitar?”

  Amanda shook her head. “Nope. He was hit by Soviet gunship.”

  He started, sitting straight up. I’m awake now. “An attack helicopter? Crap…” I can’t imagine what else could do the job. Fine, I’ve a plan, and it involves circumventing Day’s defenses with non-traditional attack methods… but a gunship? Sigh.

  Marco pressed his fingers into his eyes, rubbing them, slowly massaging them. He had been up too long, and doing too much. The pressure behind his eyes was starting to build into nearly a headache, and it was almost enough to make him feel as though his eyes were going to pop out of his head.

  Marco groaned. He was starting to understand why Merle Kraft looked like hell so often lately.

  Amanda touched him on the arm. “Marco?”

  “I’m fine,” he lied. He forced himself to grin, and then to lean back against the headboard. “So, what brings you here, darling? When you showed up, I was so thrilled that I wasn’t in the mood to ask questions. You’ve already had a building drop on you, and even that has to slow you down for a little. Heck, how did you get here? Did you run the whole way? I didn’t exactly see you show up at the airport. And I don’t think you own anything like that, so I’m guessing you got the clothes here. Day would keep.”

  Except he probably would have already killed me if you hadn’t shown up. I’m getting tired of needing my backside saved every few minutes today.

  “I had some help with getting a plane ride. The clothes… are on loan.” Amanda gave him a small smile. I could feel your rampage from 3,000 miles away, and I thought you would need help before you were eaten.”

  A grin. “Kind, sweet, gentle me?”

  “Marco, you are the only one I know who even speaks sign language with attitude.” She grew somber, reaching out and putting a hand on his leg. Even that casual touch warmed his whole body. “How are you?”

  He shrugged. “Armageddon arrived and didn’t send a memo, how rude…” How am I? Amanda, my dear, I’m still pissed. Not only has this bastard nuked parts of my city, now Day’s come by to threaten people I love. If I could find a way to beat Day to death with my bare hands, I would. It won’t make a difference, but it would make me feel better.

  Instead of all that, he simply asked, “How bad was it? Really?”

  Amanda swallowed. “The hospital is gone. It’s quite gone.”

  Marco rubbed his eyes again. The pounding was no longer just behind his eyes, it was a plain and simple headache. “Great… Just… great.”

  Amanda touched Marco on the shoulder, and he wanted to wallow in her touch. He wanted to turn to her, wrap himself around her, and hold on for dear life. He could feel it coming back. Everything

  “Did you know,” he whispered, “that I can’t listen to the song ‘Pompeii?’ ”

  Amanda considered the lyrics. And winced. She knew that Marco had been very young when he had watched the entire 9/11 attack, from the very beginning until long after the towers had fallen.

  “Full flashbacks?” she said.

  Marco’s smile flickered, more as a wince. “From start to finish.” He pressed the palm of one hand into his right eye, the pressure building as though to pop it out of his head. “It’s been all day. Ever since I got the news. It’s usually a bad day for me, but this… Day had to do it on the anniversary, didn’t he?”

  “That was part of it.” She rubbed a hand over his back. “He tracked rage. You lit up. He knows you.”

  Marco frowned, and it actually hurt his face. “Seriously, why come after me? I know I helped kill off Mikhail, but why come after me first?”

  Amanda smiled. “You are troublesome mortal?” she asked in her Natasha and Boris accent.

  “Maybe.” He thought it over a moment longer. “Though let’s face it. He didn’t know where I was, and he now has you, me, and Merle in the same place. It’s not stupid, I’ll give him that.” He took a deep breath. “Before we make our next move, you should probably tell me about the entire fight in the hospital.”

  Amanda nodded, and did just that.

  He nodded, did some math, and figured a few things into the plan he’d already been constructing. “Good. That’s useful.” He paused a moment and reviewed what she said again in his head. “Though the speeds you’re moving at—is that new? You hit Day so fast, I thought I clocked you going somewhere between Mach 1 and full Barry Allen as the Flash.”

  Amanda smiled slightly. “I asked God directly for speed. He gave me speed.”

  Marco gave a chuckle, and nodded. Well, if her power comes from how good or evil she is, prayer would be a good way to up the power scale. I wonder what happens if she joins a nunnery? Aside from inspiring me to join the priesthood.

  Come to think of it, why don’t I do that anyway? It’s not like being out in the world is doing wonders for my social life. But
then, a priest with homicidal tendencies? That wouldn’t go over well. Then again, the founder of the Jesuits was a soldier, so… Focus, Marco. Focus.

  “Prayer is good. Prayer hurts him. A lot. I don’t know if you saw it, but I did, during my first confrontation.”

  “You think that would stop him?”

  Marco frowned, then nodded, thinking aloud. “It would certainly stop him for a while. If we had everybody in a room, praying constantly, it would certainly act as a shield. But how long does that serve? It’ll drive him off, but we don’t want him driven off. He can be driven off, but he’ll only come back. He’s got my scent now. God can protect us, but we’re human. And humans slip.” His eyes started to slide off to the side as he fell deeper into his own head. “We can’t afford to do slip, since he’ll leap from the dark and drag us into it at the first opportunity. We’re going to have to kill Day, because that’s the only way to stop—”

  Amanda leaned forward just then and kissed him on the lips. Marco didn’t even think to wrap his hands around her, just touched her on the shoulder. Her hand lay on his cheek as she pressed her lips to his.

  Amanda pulled back at long last, Marco’s lips following her for a split-second before he remembered himself and pulled back.

  She looked deep into his eyes, her hand staying on his face. “Thank you.”

  Shouldn’t I be thanking her? “For what?”

  “You included me in being human.”

  “You are human. With fangs.” And a body to kill for, and a soul to die for, and I love you. And why am I not telling you this out loud? Because between the two of us, I’m the monster. “You’re more human than some non-vampires I know.”

  Amanda leaned forward again, only this time, she kissed Marco on the tip of the nose. “Thank you anyway.”

  Marco’s smile widened a little. “Though if you ever do decide to leave, I might look up Lady Bosley. She sounded cute on the phone.”

  Amanda laughed and slapped his arm. “You’re miserable.”

  He laughed. “You know you love me anyway.”

  She grinned. “Yes. I do.”

  They stayed that way for a long moment. Marco could only imagine what she was thinking. Could she have pieced together what he had censored when their minds were linked before? Could she have realized that what he wanted to say was that he had meant every word said to her during that trap in the cemetery?

  “I love you, too, buddy,” he said casually. It was a brother saying it to a sister. A salutation between comrades. It was nothing more than that. Nothing for either of them to be worried about. Just like her kiss.

  “Listen,” he said, breaking the moment like a hammer tapping on candy glass, “I’ll need a favor.”

  She smiled. “A favor? From what you’ve told me, the last time you asked anyone for a favor, you crippled that high school senior.”

  He growled in frustration. “But I only broke his knee, blast it!”

  “With a baseball bat!”

  “Golf club,” he corrected. “I needed it; I was only in the third grade. In any event, I need you to get me something.” He told her as quickly as possible. “So?”

  She raised a brow. “Do you think that will work?”

  “It had better.”

  “I’ll work on it right away.”

  Marco checked the time. “But it’s daylight out.”

  She waved it away, and laughed sweetly. “But it is San Francisco, the mists cover the entire city.”

  Marco smiled and closed his eyes. Even without seeing her, he felt Amanda’s presence next to him. She smiled back, and took his hand, giving him an encouraging squeeze.

  “It will work.”

  “I hope so.”

  Amanda squeezed his hand again. It was warm and comforting, and he felt her warmth spread throughout his body, despite how much time he had spent in the mists of freezing San Francisco. “The plan is to make him mad. If anyone could do it, you can.”

  Marco grinned, and opened his eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment and run with it.”

  Her eyes flashed with… something. He wasn’t certain what. “Good. You should.”

  Marco laughed, and she departed. As usual, he prayed for the thousands who died on 9/11, and added the dead from the hospital. He also prayed that any of the other guilty bastards who were involved would swiftly be brought to justice. But he didn’t cry for the attacks, the people who died.

  After all, I can’t cry.

  * * * *

  Amanda Colt stepped outside Marco’s dorm room, and let out a shuddering breath.

  She just kissed him!

  She told him she loved him!

  Then, nothing.

  Well, it could have been worse. A lot worse.

  “You realize that you’ve been up and around for over a day, don’t you?”

  Amanda blinked. Standing at the elevator door was Father Rodgers. “You’re here?”

  “Of course!” he boomed quietly—which was most people’s conversational volume for down the hall. “I had sleep on the plane ride over here. I had my men go and pick up plenty of blood from the local bank. That can get you out and to the local church, if you want to drink from the chalice during mass.”

  Amanda smiled. “That would be so very nice.”

  Rodgers smiled. “Of course, my dear! You should also sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

  “I know.”

  The priest smiled at her kindly. “I also have two men at either end of the hall. Nothing will happen to Marco without a lot of noise waking him up first.”

  “He needs me to do something.”

  “Can someone else do it?”

  “Depends. Do you have access to chemicals?”

  * * * *

  At ten in the morning, Marco opened his eyes to a knocking at his door.

  “Who?” he asked flatly. Four hours of sleep, and you want to wake me up? Do you value your life and most of your sensitive body parts?

  “Me.” Yana’s voice.

  Catalano reached over and grabbed the water pistol filled with holy water. “Come.”

  The redhead came in, looking well rested. The New Yorker sat up in bed and swung his legs over the side. He still hadn’t had a chance to change since his rampage. “Morning.”

  Her smile fluctuated, unsure of herself.

  Marco started. “Oh… Oh! Sorry about that, this seems a little more worrisome than something that’s over—the initial attack, I mean. We still have this threat right here in River City.”

  “Where?” Yana asked.

  Sigh… “I’m fine as long as Day doesn’t come through my door.”

  “And you’re not worried about the hospital?”

  “Why should I?” he said, almost disinterested. “I can’t do anything from three time zones away, and neither can you. We’re saving the world, smoking one demonic schmuck at a time. The lives in New York can’t be retaken, and remember, death doesn’t bother me—mine or anyone else’s. The hospital can be rebuilt, and probably will be built bigger, if only to piss off the people who destroyed it in the first place. Every other monster behind it will be hunted down and staked, probably with a 2,000-pound missile through their front door.”

  A shrug. “It was horrific, monstrous, evil; but I let nothing interfere with my life unless I have no choice in the matter. Besides, if I give blood today, it’ll probably be without a needle and a lot more painful.” He took her shoulders gently. “Nothing to worry about, eh?”

  Hope sparkled in her eyes. Yana nodded. Marco looked at her wonderful pale skin, and his thoughts drifted to his attacker. To Day.

  The demon’s skin had been tan, a very deep tan.

  If he had spent most of the past fifty years in Russia, he wouldn’t have developed a tan of any kind in the almost year-round Winter.

  However, he would’ve done well working in the Middle East. Especially if he stayed when the Soviets left. There would have been blood in the streets. Had he been there earlier, he could
have been involved in the Iran-Iraq war, Lebanon, Palestine, an intifada or two…

  “Son of a bitch,” Marco said aloud.

  “What is it?” Yana asked.

  “Oh. Um. Nothing important. Why?”

  “You’re doing it again.”

  Marco arched a brow. “Doing what again?”

  “What you did last night. What attracted him. I can… almost feel you. What are you?”

  Marco rolled his eyes. Yana was a true San Francisco native—borderline pagan. As long as she doesn’t talk to me about mystic crystal revelations and the Age of Aquarius, we’ll be fine. “Human, like most people.”

  Yana tossed her head from side to side. “Uh-uh, not like other people. You’re different.”

  “So are you. Your point?” He shrugged, and thought about how to explain it to her in terms she could understand, something that would sound good to a Wiccan, or a mystic, or something like that. “You’ve hung out with me, so you’d be more attuned to me than you are to 90% of this town, and I was possibly the only one out there last night with any emotion. The planet was numb in comparison.”

  Yana’s eyes locked on his without any distraction. “Which is how he found you.”

  He nodded. It was hard to disagree with something that even a vampire like Rory could figure out.

  She leaned forward and put her hand on his arm. “And you feel responsible for bringing him here.”

  He blinked at that. A total fallacy! Slander, I say!

  She stared deep into his eyes, as though trying to read something through frosted glass. “And you’re going to do something, aren’t you? Something you’re not telling us.”

  Catalano smiled weakly. “I need some rest, Yana. I’ll see you tonight.”

  She frowned. “Okay.”

  “Great…” After a moment, she still wasn’t leaving. “Something else?”

  Yana gave a brief, thoughtful frown, then, shrugged quickly. “I dunno, you felt different last night. You feel stronger than you look, stronger than most. George feels that for Tiffany, Tara and me… But you feel that way all the time. The longer I’m near you, the more you feel that way.”

  San Francisco, Pagan. She believes in getting in touch with your feelings, listening to emotions, empathy, insert your superstition here. I think I’ll take a real Wiccan, even a real Druid. At least they know how to kill people.