by Shona Husk
Waiting for Finley to call.
She remembered why boyfriends were a pain in the ass. She didn’t have time to wait around for them to get their act together. This time he was an actual actor. She put her hand over her heart. Hopefully he wasn’t getting behind the wheel again.
* * * *
Finley had been welcomed back on set, but they weren’t letting him near the track. And he didn’t need to be there for a few weeks as they had what they needed between the lines he’d done and his stunt double doing some extra driving. The scenes they’d done today were the kind he was never sure he pulled off. The arguments, and long spiteful stares, and then the make-up scene. God, he hated those scenes even if he never had to get totally naked. Kissing someone because the script called for it had once been fun, now it was just another day on the set and he’d rather be doing something else.
He missed doing pure stunt work.
It was late by the time he was on his way home. He’d promised Alina that he’d call, and he’d meant it at the time. Hearing her voice had given him a lift he hadn’t expected. He’d smiled far too much for the first take when he was supposed to be furious with his on-screen lover.
Now, though, he didn’t have time for a girlfriend. He was supposed to be finding an Albanex, but he had no idea where to start. If his father knew it was here, surely someone must have some more information, in which case the person who had the information should’ve done something. Unless it just a best guess and rumor, which was probably closer to the truth.
But he wanted to call Alina back and if he didn’t, that would be it. There would never be another chance. The ball was at his feet. He had to pick it up or walk away. He’d never been able to walk away and Alina wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before. That made him hesitate. She wasn’t another model or starlet. She wasn’t using him for her own career.
He wasn’t even sure if she was human or Albah. He was starting to hope she was Albah, if only so he didn’t have to hide what he was. First he had to work out if she was.
There was only one way to find out.
He called her before he could come up with another reason not to. If she was already asleep, he’d leave a message. He was hoping that she’d be asleep so they could talk tomorrow when he had a better idea about what to say, or even what he was hoping for. Alina answered.
“Still awake?” It was clear she was, so it was a dumb thing to say.
“I found something interesting to watch.”
He heard the theme song from Out of Control in the background. “You aren’t watching—”
“Did you know there are old episodes running back to back? And showing highlights of your racing. You actually drive?”
He hadn’t known about the highlights. “I started off as a stuntman.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. I’ve been in a few big movies, but you wouldn’t know it was me and my name will be tiny in the really fast credits.” He’d had fun, but he hadn’t made much money, when he’d first joined the soap he’d become caught up in his own fame.
“Interesting.”
It wasn’t that interesting. “Is that what you’ve been doing all day?”
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It was a little too close. He pushed thoughts of stalkers aside. She was just showing an interest in what he did; that wasn’t weird. He’d done a search and watched a few clips of her skating while he’d eaten lunch.
Then there was his actual stalker to consider. He shouldn’t be putting Alina at risk. But she’d already been snapped with him. She was already in his web and the tabloids would be expecting more. They’d be wanting a story now he was out of hospital and back at work. It was about time he had a new girlfriend.
“I had nothing to do all day, but lie on the sofa and watch TV. It was lovely.”
“Well, how would you feel about getting off the sofa and going somewhere with me?” He had no idea what they were going to do. Maybe dinner. Something simple so they could get to know each other.
“I was hoping you’d ask.”
He wanted to ask why. Surely she’d read some of the stories about him. He knew they weren’t all that flattering. “You know what you’re letting yourself in for?”
“I got a taste at the hospital. Do you warn all your dates?”
“No, most of them either want it or bring their own. It’s all about being seen.” Did Alina need the lift to her career and she’d stumbled over him and seen an easy way to get talked about? He was getting far too cynical, but his last girlfriend had used him for the exposure before moving on. They’d had fun, but he’d liked her a little too much and been burned when she’d attached herself to a bigger name. The media had thought exactly the same thing, which had made it even worse.
Alina was quiet for a moment. “I’m not sure about all of that. I’m kind of boring and unless it’s competition time no one knows who I am.”
“We’ll go somewhere quiet. I can get out without a following.” It might be nice to do that more often. He’d forgotten what it was like to go out and not expect to be photographed. If he hid in his apartment then the stalker won, and he was a sitting target. He had no desire to restrict his life because someone else needed to get one. At the same time, he’d never had anyone get so close. He still needed to call the cops. It was probably too late now.
His father would tell him it wasn’t too late. He’d do it tomorrow. He should’ve photographed the bear and flowers before flicking it away. Next time. Hopefully there wouldn’t be a next time.
He was only a few blocks from his apartment and his unease was growing. While he’d made a show of washing his car this morning, he’d actually been warding it, just in case the race car had been tampered with and the person tried to make it more personal. If someone meddled, the magic would make sure that it didn’t start. No risk of an accident if he couldn’t even drive it. That it had taken him all morning to do had revealed how out of practice he was.
Given the pause from Alina maybe he was out of practice there too. For so long he hadn’t even had to try to get a date.
Alina sighed. “I’m not sure I’m ready to share your spotlight. If we could go somewhere quiet that would be nice.”
“I don’t share.” He laughed. “I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow?”
“Where are we going?”
“No idea.”
“You realize I can’t dress for that.”
He smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Something nice but not too nice?” He’d find a place well away from the hungry lenses. “Text me your address.”
“Will do.”
He hung up and parked his car under his building. For a few moments, he didn’t get out. Nervous sweat formed. Would another gift be waiting for him? He sat there for a few more minutes before finally getting out.
This was ridiculous. He should be able to feel safe in his own house.
But he didn’t.
Besides one stalker was less of a worry that Guardians who were hunting Albah because they might become undead Albanex.
He blew out a breath.
The accident had shaken him more than he cared to admit. And not just because he’d nearly broken his back. The Guardians were active and Albanex were being made here.
The goddamn Albah who was making Albanex was putting them all in danger.
He was going to find the maker, and the Albanex, just so he could have his life back. Then he’d find his stalker and get them to back off too.
The first thing he needed to do was actually read the e-mails his father had sent and then see if there were any reports of vampires in the area. In a city full of weirdos and wannabes, that would be a fun exercise.
He got out of the car, a smile on his lips. Given that he could do actual magic and was descended from an ancient civilization most people would co
nsider him weird. Some would call him dangerous.
Chapter 7
Searching for signs of vampire activity wasn’t as easy as Finley thought it would be. No one was claiming to have been bitten and if bodies were being found drained of blood no one was talking about it.
Yet his father was certain something was happening here. Gwinfor, a businessman who’d decided he wanted to try his hand at immortality—which hadn’t lasted long as he’d been turned to dust—had visited L.A. before settling in Australia to start his new undead life. All of the new Albanex had stopped off here.
Archie, his mother, had left a message that the nearby tomb of a Keeper of the Law had been disturbed. She didn’t say where it was exactly, only that she would keep a closer eye on it. That had been from a year ago, and nothing since. Maybe some campers had pitched their tent on it or something. He could call her and ask for more information, but if his relationship with his father was strained, with his mother it was worse.
He knew that she had an important job to do, but she’d left him. It still burned. He’d asked his father once why she’d left him, and the answer had been simply that it was better this way. That he’d be safer with Quinn and his new stepmum.
That hadn’t been an answer then and it wasn’t one now.
When Archie was around she acted as though she loved him, but didn’t know what to do with him. His stepmum had never made him feel like he wasn’t hers. For a few years, he’d had a real family. A mum and a dad and brothers and it had been great.
He’d been twelve when his stepmum had been killed in a car accident, caused by a Guardian hoping to kill all three of the Ryder boys. They preferred to kill male Albah. The Guardians had screwed up. He hadn’t been in the car and Julian had saved Kirin. Only their mum had died. After that nothing had been the same. Archie had come back for a bit with her new baby and new husband to help Dad. But she hadn’t felt like his mother, she’d been a stranger. He’d been the son she needed to have for the Albah people, and she’d done it with a friend. His father had clearly thought it was a good idea and they could both feel good about doing their duty without actually thinking about what that meant for the baby they were creating.
When he’d left home he’d vowed not to make the same mistake. He wasn’t putting the Albah before his own life. He had a good life here. He didn’t want to be involved.
He opened a new e-mail to ask for more information. The cursor blinked at him as he considered all the questions he needed to ask even though he didn’t want the answers.
Where was he supposed to look for this Albanex? Where was the tomb of the Keeper? Did he need to check that? And if he found the Albah making vampires what then? It was one thing to kill an already undead Albanex, another to kill a fellow Albah. He couldn’t do that. His father couldn’t ask him to do that. But he couldn’t hand the maker over to the cops because making vampires wasn’t a crime.
He was getting sucked back in when he’d done so well at cutting himself off. If he did nothing then other Albah were at risk. The Guardians were hunting them, and his fame wouldn’t protect him forever.
For the last five years, he’d been on the daytime TV and in the gossip magazines. Anyone who knew about the Albah would know what he was in about half a second. He wasn’t even trying to live safely, whatever that meant. If it meant cowering in the corner hoping that no one would notice, fuck that.
This was his life. He wasn’t going to let some idiot human who didn’t know shit about the Albah control his life. His hand started shaking and his stomach turned as though the car was once again weightless. If it had been a Guardian they’d come close to being successful.
He had to find the damn Albanex, gift wrap him or her, and send it to the Guardians so they’d leave him alone. Which was a shit plan. As he still had no idea where he was supposed to be looking. It wasn’t as though anyone was out there advertising the fact that they were undead blood drinkers.
L.A. was full of people who would kill to halt aging.
The Albanex was literally killing.
There should be bodies.
He glanced at the time. He had to get to work then he’d be racing to pick up Alina and he still had no idea where they were going. Somewhere not trendy, somewhere not in the city center.
He dashed off an e-mail to his father that he couldn’t see any vampire activity. Job done.
He knew it wouldn’t satisfy his father, but Finley wasn’t a cop and he had no idea what to do. Part of him didn’t want to take on this fight. He had other things to worry about, like what had happened to the race car and how he could work his way back to driving again. There was a fear that formed every time he got behind the wheel that he needed to work on.
He was not going to let fear of what might happen turn him into a hermit.
He checked his public e-mail to see if there was anything he should reply to, knowing that if he didn’t leave in three minutes, he’d get stuck in traffic, and then be late.
One message caught his attention immediately.
You don’t deserve Alina. She could do better.
That was charming and slightly different from the marriage or one-night stand proposals that he usually got. Those he didn’t mind.
The message was from the same e-mail address that had been calling him a filthy slut for the past six months. One had accused him of ruining all the nice girls. He’d started saving them. While he hadn’t reported them, he wasn’t an idiot. He hesitated then sent the whole lot to his manager, asking that they get someone to take a look at them. He apologized for not doing it sooner, but he hadn’t taken them that seriously. He didn’t mention the gifts left at his door.
One thing at a time.
He hit send and hoped that someone would deal with that so he didn’t have to. It was a pity he couldn’t pass off the Albanex problem in the same manner.
* * * *
“Where are you going?” Alina’s mother said as she passed the open bathroom door.
Alina adjusted her hair one last time and checked her teeth for lipstick before answering. It was pretty obvious she wasn’t spending the evening in her pj's in front of the TV. “Out.”
“I can see that. With who?” From her mother’s tone, it was clear she’d already guessed.
“A friend.” Alina turned to her mother, daring her to argue. What was she going to do? Ground her? Hardly.
“With him.” Her mother sneered.
“Yeah. With him. He asked me out to dinner.”
“You could’ve said no.”
Alina shook her head. “I want to go.”
Mom pressed her lips together and shook her head. “He’s bad news, Alina.”
“I know his reputation.” She shrugged. “And I don’t care. He’s a short-term good time.”
“There are a hundred other guys. Why him?”
“Why not him? Why are you so against him?” Alina held her mother’s stare.
Unexpectedly, Mom looked away first. “You need to be thinking recovery and training. Now is a crucial time in your career.”
Unwilling to continue this conversation and start her night on a sour note, Alina brushed past her mother. “I don’t have a career, Mom. I am out, injured and who knows if I’ll skate again. I’m using this time to think about my options.”
“After everything I’ve done—”
“When is it enough?” Alina rounded on her mother. “When are you satisfied that I’ve earned back the money you’ve spent? What if I’ve achieved everything I was ever going to achieve? When do I get to live my life instead of the one you want me to lead?”
Mom stepped back as though she’d been struck. “Is that what you really think?”
“Sometimes.” All the time lately. Her phone buzzed.
“You love skating.”
“I did, before it became all about the next competiti
on. The next medal. And if I didn’t do as well as you wanted then I had to deal with the failure and the disappointment in your eyes. I knew I was skating for both of us. That isn’t fair. I can’t do it anymore.” This wasn’t the conversation she’d wanted to have before heading out on a date. It was a date, wasn’t it? It was dinner, so that made it something. Her phone buzzed again and this time she checked it. “I have to go.”
“When will you be home?”
“I don’t know.” Hopefully not tonight. She was hoping Finley lived up to his reputation and she had a really good time. If he didn’t call her afterward, that would be fine. She picked up her heels and went to the front door.
“Be careful, Alina. People like him bring trouble.”
She was counting on it.
Chapter 8
The Mexican restaurant was busy but it wasn’t one of those fancy five-star places. She hadn’t expected him to take her to one of them after their discussion. She wasn’t here for the celebrity to rub off on her. This wasn’t a PR stunt for either of them. This was an actual date. Her stomach grumbled as she read the menu. It had been ages since she’d gone out for dinner with a man.
“I probably should’ve asked if you had allergies before I booked the place,” Finley said as he picked up his menu.
“I’d have said if it was major.” Technically, she was allergic to kiwi fruit. Her lips had swelled the first time she’d eaten it. But she didn’t think that was going to be a big issue tonight. Pineapple salsa was listed. She usually avoided pineapple too. “But I’ll skip the pineapple salsa unless you want to go back to the hospital and reenact our first meeting.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Good to know. So fruit salad must make you nervous.”
