by Devon Monk
She must really love knitting.
Maddie walked out. As she turned to shut the door, she noticed the woman’s bag. Black, bulky, it looked more like an old-fashioned doctor’s bag than a knitting bag. And as the woman climbed the stairs, she opened it and pulled out a pair of metal needles, each as thick as a tent stake, filed to a razor’s edge.
*
One thing Maddie could say for Jan, she was a cop, through and through. Even though she was off-duty and had probably had more than one beer, her smile faded as soon as Maddie stormed into the bar and plunked down on the stool next to her.
“Gin and tonic,” she told the bartender. He nodded. But instead of getting on with the drink mixing, he leaned forward and flirted with the little jail bait downing shots of tequilla in front of him.
Men.
“Did you get a look at his driver’s license?” Jan asked.
“What?”
“The guy who pissed you off. It will make it easier for me when I pull his files and find out if there’s anything worth throwing him in jail for.”
Maddie put both elbows on the bar and rubbed at her temples. “That obvious?”
Jan shrugged. “You almost burned a hole in the back of the bartender’s head. Want to tell me about it?”
“No. There was a man at the yarn store, he said there was a class and invited me to stay, and I thought, I thought . . .” She took a deep breath and crossed her arms on the bar, looking over at Jan. “I thought he was coming on to me. Flirting, you know? So I flirted back. But he was just playing me to fill out the ranks of the knitting class. Some other women came in, younger than me, prettier, and he tossed me to the side. I felt like such an idiot.”
“Glad you decided not to tell me about it. Did you get this cad’s name?”
“Stop making fun of me.”
Jan grinned. “Stop making it so easy. I can’t believe you’re upset because someone flirted with you and you liked it.”
The bartender finally sauntered over, placed her drink down without even looking at her, and walked away.
“Fine,” Maddie said. “I liked the flirting. But did he have to crush my fantasy?” She smiled ruefully.
Jan raised her eyebrows in question.
“You know, that we’d fall in love at first sight. His favorite pastime would be doing dishes and going grocery shopping. I’d find out I was the long lost heiress to a fortune and we’d run away to someplace warm and sandy and make passionate love . . .” Maddie lifted her glass. “To reality. What a bitch.”
“That’s the spirit,” Jan said, raising her own glass. “To Fantasy Crusher what’s-his-name.”
“Saint Archer,” Maddie provided.
Jan’s mood changed. She frowned. Took a drink of her beer.
“You know him, don’t you?” Maddie asked.
“Yes.”
“Is he a criminal?”
“No comment.”
“Interesting. Witness protection program?”
“Okay, we’re going to change subjects now,” Jan informed her in her no-bullshit cop voice.
“Come on. You know something about him. Something bad, right?” Maddie took another drink, the warmth spreading out in her stomach and echoing back through her muscles. “It would cheer me up,” she said. “Indecent exposure? Tax evasion? He runs a pornographic flower shop in his basement?”
“Not that I know of,” Jan said. “Just the yarn store.”
“What?” Maddie said. “I thought he worked there.”
Okay, the truth? One look at him and she had stopped thinking.
“So he owns the store?” Maddie asked.
“Yup.”
“So . . . he’s gay?”
Jan laughed so hard she snorted. “It’s not on record, if that’s what you’re asking. Still. You know better than to assume things about people.” She lifted her glass and muttered into it, “No one in this city is what they seem to be.”
“But he has a record?”
Jan just gave her a look and took another drink of beer. She emptied half the glass, thunked it on the counter and refused to answer.
Maddie took another drink and thought it over. Maybe it didn’t matter, but she had to ask anyway. “Do you think he’s dangerous?”
“Would I let you go anywhere, alone, if I thought you were in danger?” Jan downed the last of her beer. “I’m going to the bathroom. Get me another beer, will you?” She was no longer smiling.
“Sure,” Maddie said. And she didn’t even point out that Jan had not answered her question.
Jan got her smile back when Tony Brown strolled into the bar. Tony worked for the city and he and Jan had the kind of history that lead to him buying Jan another couple beers, and them getting a table.
Maddie moped her way through another gin, then decided to call it a night. She handed her card to the bartender and her elbow brushed the little bag Archer had given her. She’d been so angry walking to the bar that she hadn’t even looked in it.
She opened the bag and angled to see inside.
Two skeins of yarn caught light like summer fire, and a slick set of needles glinted dark beside them.
Maddie couldn’t help herself. She gasped like she’d just found a kitten and pulled the yarn out of the bag. The fiber was exquisitely soft, with enough loft it promised warmth and shape and drape. Cashmere and silk. With a beautiful set of knitting needles.
Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was her sense of pride, or maybe it was watching Jan and Tony inch closer and closer together at the table.
Yeah, probably that last thing.
But whatever it was, Maddie knew she wanted to keep that skein of yarn near her forever, to hold it and fondle it and savor the possibilities of what it could become with a little time, a little hope and a lot of patience.
And she knew, just as quickly, that she had to return it.
This wasn’t a token. This was a gift with strings attached. Well, just one long string, but still. That was attached. To a man whose name took her best friend’s smile away.
Maddie settled her bill and told Jan she was headed home and was going to catch a cab.
Jan told her she shouldn’t go home alone and even started to put on her coat, much to an obviously disappointed Tony, until Maddie finally convinced her that she was plenty old enough to get home on her own. And then she made Tony promise to call a cab for both of them when the night wound down.
But instead of going home, Maddie marched back to the yarn shop.
The lantern outside the door was still on, and a light from one of the upper windows glowed brightly. The front window was dark, though. Maddie wasn’t sure if the shop was open. Archer said people lingered, and it had only been maybe two hours since she left.
She walked up to the door and tried it. The door opened, so she stepped in.
The lamp at the back of the room near the counter was on. But other than the faint light tumbling down the staircase, it was dark.
Something felt wrong about the room. Maddie thought about dropping the bag on the counter for Archer to find in the morning, but the door was unlocked, which meant they weren’t closed for the night. Someone still had to be here.
A shuffling sound, like something being dragged across the floor on the upper floor made Maddie’s heart pound. Okay, maybe she should just go back outside, get a cab, and get the hell home.
Forget about leaving the yarn on the counter. Maddie hurried to the love seats and placed the bag on the table between them. That would have to be good enough.
The click of the door closing behind her made every nerve in Maddie’s body scream.
She turned, hoping, and dreading, it would be Archer.
“Hello, pet,” a woman’s voice cooed.
It was not Archer. It was the beautiful woman who Maddie had let into the shop. She held two very bloody knitting needles in her hand.
“I just came back to return the yarn,” Maddie said, trying to think faster than her heart was beatin
g.
“Aren’t you sweet?” The woman tipped her head to one side, her ear nearly touching her shoulder. She inhaled. “Had a hard time of it the last few years, haven’t you?” She straightened and clutched the knitting needles tighter. “Cancer. How sad. How alone.” She glided forward. “Leyola can cure your pain,” she sing-songed. “Leyola knows just what you crave.”
Maddie was caught in her gaze. Even though it was dark in the room, it was as if a single light shone on the woman, illuminated her, made her incandescent, beautiful.
Something in the back of Maddie’s mind was screaming — her reason, she thought — but she couldn’t care less. She wanted to do anything the woman told her to do, wanted Leyola to take her pain away.
The woman was close now. Close enough that Maddie could see her more clearly. Her beautiful face had gone feral, eyes black without even a speck of white or color, jaw elongated, fangs dripping with blood.
Holy shit. She was a vampire.
Okay, maybe it was a little late in the game for her to put two and two together, but vampires weren’t real. Sure, she’d heard of kids who liked to pretend they were vampires — it was popular in the high schools — but this chick wasn’t a kid. And from the bloody knitting needles and fangs, she sure as hell wasn’t playing around.
“You will give yourself to me.” Leyola opened her mouth and bent toward Maddie’s neck.
And even though every nerve in her body ached for this, for her touch, for her mouth, Maddie took a step backward.
“No.” It came out low, strong, born of years of anger against a disease that had nearly destroyed her. Maddie focused her mind, calmed her thoughts and put all her will behind it. “My body is my own,” she said.
The woman jerked back as if she had been slapped. “That,” she said, “will be your end.”
She lunged.
Maddie got her hands up, banking on her coat to keep Leyola’s teeth from tearing into her skin. But Leyola slammed into her, knocking her backward. Maddie stumbled, trying to catch her balance and landed hard on the couch.
She needed a weapon. Now. Maddie scrambled back on the couch, her heels kicking into the soft cushions. The bag was just behind her, and in it were the needles.
Leyola strolled over to her, fingernails tapping against the needles in her hand. “You may deny death,” she purred, “but you will not deny me.”
Maddie yelled. She stretched to reach the bag.
A roar filled the room. Maddie rolled off the couch, caught up the bag and pulled the needles out.
She crouched, and thrust the needles upward.
But Leyola was not there.
Maddie blinked, trying to make sense of the scene before her.
Someone was fighting with the woman. A man. Archer.
His shirt was off revealing the hard, defined muscles of his chest and stomach. The low light from the lamp painted him gold — a warrior from some ancient time. He and Leyola circled each other, speaking a language that made Maddie wish she’d taken Russian in college.
Maddie caught a glimpse of a tattoo spread across the back of Archer’s shoulder — an angel in flight — and a trail of blood pouring over his ribs.
Leyola had circled so that her back was now toward Maddie. Archer said something to her, a warning. A command.
But Leyola only laughed and threw herself, needles and fangs, at Archer.
Everything suddenly seemed to happen very, very slowly.
Leyola, in mid-air, contorted like a gymnast, her feet hitting the ground lightly as a cat, then pushed, not toward Archer, but toward Maddie.
Archer launched, a growl escaping his lips, his arms, hands, body, straining to reach Leyola.
Maddie still crouched, set herself, feet strong beneath her, shoulder forward, knitting needles in her hand, ready for the impact.
Inhale.
Leyola bore down on her.
Archer plucked Leyola out of the air. Rolled her over his hip. Pinned her to the floor. He shoved his knee in her back and held both her wrists in his hands.
Exhale.
Time snapped back into real speed again.
“Maddie,” Archer said, his voice a little husky. When she didn’t respond, he glanced over his shoulder at her.
His hair hung wild around his face, and his eyes burned electric blue. Leyola beneath him squirmed and cursed. Archer’s muscles flexed, but he kept her pinned.
Maddie found she was breathing hard, caught by his gaze and fully aware of how much she liked the primal hunger in his eyes, his anger, and his fear for her.
But it was his mouth that fascinated her most. His lips were parted, revealing fangs that grazed his bottom lip, pressing against the soft curve there, almost puncturing. Maddie wondered what it would feel like to kiss those lips, to feel the scrape of his mouth against hers. To open herself to his tastes, his textures.
“Maddie,” he said again, his voice a soft growl that she could feel roll beneath her skin. “Are you hurt?”
Right. This was not the time to fantasize.
She did a quick inventory: no cuts, maybe a bruise on the back of her legs where she’d gone over the arm of the couch, but she was no stranger to bruises.
“I’m fine.”
He smiled softly, a strange mix with the wild edge in his eyes. “Would you help me then?”
“You?” She glanced at the vampire pinned beneath him. What could she do that he hadn’t done already? “Of course.” She stepped out from between the couches. “What do you need?”
“Behind the counter, there is a drawer. A corner drawer.”
Maddie crossed the room, let herself behind the counter, and opened the little triangular drawer. A strange assortment of things were gathered there, medallions, knives, bullets, paperclips and a small leather-bound book.
“Do you see the twine?” he asked.
Leyola spat obscenities.
Maddie picked up the ball of twine so small she could close her hand around it to hide it.
“Yes,” she said.
“Bring that to me, please.”
Maddie walked over to him. Her adrenalin was starting to wear off and her knees felt a little like cooked noodles. Still, she held out the yarn.
“Unwind a length of it.”
She did so. The twine was strange. It clung to itself and it gave off the scent of green grass and something else she could not place. It was also cold, as if she’d just pulled it out of the freezer. She had no idea what it was made out of.
Once she began unrolling it, the entire thing seemed to release, flowing free from itself, and falling into a pile of string in her hand.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It is something very good at holding vampires until the police arrive.” Archer shifted his grip, so both of Leyola’s wrists were in one hand. He took the end of the string and tied her wrists together with the kind of unconscious ease that said he’d done this before.
Leyola moaned and squirmed harder, aiming a kick at Archer that did not connect.
“Enough,” he said. “Your game tires me.”
Archer leaned a little more weight on his knee in her back. He put his free hand on the back of her head and bent his face down, his eyes closed.
He looked like he was praying. Maybe he was. After a moment of silence, he cupped Leyola’s head and thunked it into the floor.
She relaxed and was still.
Archer took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. When he stood he didn’t look at Maddie, but instead walked over to the wall and flipped on the lights.
Only one bank of the lights in the ceiling caught, but Maddie’s eyes had gotten so used to the darkness she had to blink a couple times to handle the glare. When she could really see again, she looked at Archer.
Still shirtless, it was no trick of shadow — he really did have the body of a god. A thick line of black liquid — blood, she could only assume — ran across his ribs, already dry.
In this light, his skin was pale,
unfreckled, no chest hair, though there were several thin scars across his chest, one intriguingly low scar at his hip bone, and one scar near his collarbone that looked like a perfect pink circle the size of a coin.
The man had seen his share of violence.
And survived it.
Once her gaze lifted to his face again, she noted he was smiling at her.
And she was blushing.
“I feel there is some explaining in order,” he began.
“I only came in to return the yarn,” Maddie said. “I didn’t know, I don’t know, I shouldn’t have even come here. Vampires? It’s a joke, right? Knitting vampire dinner mystery theater.” She didn’t believe that, not at all. But the reality was suddenly too much to handle.
Then Archer was in front of her, having somehow crossed the distance in an amazingly short amount of time.
“Maddie,” he soothed, “I meant I should explain this to you. If you want me to.”
He placed his hand gently on her arm. When she did not pull away, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
“I don’t know if I want to know,” she finally said.
“Then let’s start with an easier decision. Would you like some tea?”
Maddie closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of him. One moment he looked like he could tear the building apart with his bare hands, and the next, he was holding her like she was made of fragile glass.
She nodded. “Tea would be nice.”
He quietly led her away from the fanged, unconscious vampire chick tied up on the floor, into the adjoining room. Another couch and chair sat snug in the corner.
He left her there on the couch with the promise to bring her mint tea.
Maddie thought about leaving, about walking out of this mess, but she had some questions she needed answered. Questions about her half-remembered time in Jamaica, and the long nights he spent with her there.
The police showed up before Maddie’s tea had time to steep.
No sirens, no flashing lights, just a knock at the door that made Maddie jump.
Archer, who had been sitting in the chair next to her, explaining that people in the city weren’t always what they appeared to be, and how everyone needed a safe place in a storm — even vampires, maybe especially vampires, and how he had spent many years taking vampires in like Luka or taking them out like Leyola — stopped talking and gave her a reassuring look.
