Dave sniggered. “We’ll talk about it when we get these jokers out. Come on, gentlemen.”
The ambulant one staggered, and he forced the other to his feet and frog-marched him out. He might have missed a meal, but he had landed in a much more intriguing place. Feeding could wait.
Dave turned to him, offered his hand. “Thanks for your help.”
“Want some help behind the bar?”
“I don’t know you.”
“I do.”
He hadn’t expected her—Cerys—to say anything. He’d offered out of sheer boredom and a definite interest in the ethereal Cerys, especially now that she’d come out to him.
He had no idea other vampires existed in Llandudno. Until he’d left, he’d only known one. Him.
Cerys gave him a smile, a mere baring of her teeth. “He’s a Tryfanwy.”
Dave stared at him with new interest. “I thought the last Tryfanwy died last month.”
Rhodri shrugged. “My family left here a long time since. Looking for work, they were. They found it. But when old Gareth died, the lawyer looked for relatives and found me.”
“So where have you been?”
“Around. London, New York. My job takes me to a few places.” Anywhere Cristos or Will Grady sent him. He worked from New York for Cristos usually, but a recent operation had drawn him back to England. The rest was true. The lawyer had contacted him about Gareth Tryfanwy’s estate. He grinned. “I don’t know why he bothered, except that he needed someone to tie up his loose ends. Once the estate is sorted out, there won’t be much left.”
“He was in debt?”
No, of course he wasn’t. Rhodri had seen to that, even if he’d done it from a distance. “Not really. I get the house, apparently. Pretty little place, if a bit run-down.” To say the least. Gareth had been a collector. Newspapers and old bean cans were his specialty.
The two staff left at the bar were coping, but already the place was fuller than it had been when he arrived. “Shouldn’t we get to work?”
“Five pounds an hour, cash. You sign the book when you’re done,” Dave said. Meaning he wouldn’t use his real name, and he’d get the five an hour without deductions. Otherwise he could demand minimum wage. Five an hour was almost half that. As it happened, money was the least of the attractions in working behind the bar in a place like this. His background, his training urged him to discover more about the place, and what better way than to act in a role that many people hardly noticed? The fact that he’d be closer to the woman who’d fascinated him from the minute he’d seen her was only a byproduct. Didn’t matter at all.
Sure it didn’t.
“Thanks.” Did he look that indigent? He was sure he didn’t, but maybe Dave thought he’d come back out of desperation. Hardly. Which made him wonder something else. Why was she working here? Vampires weren’t usually short of money. His mentor had always said, “Show me a poor vampire, and I’ll show you an idiot.” They had family, and anyone who couldn’t make enough money to be comfortable in the first hundred years of their existence had to be doing something wrong.
Maybe she liked it. Or maybe she had a thing for Dave. Big, strong motherfucker like that had to be attractive to women.
He’d find out. It would enliven his so-called vacation.
Chapter Two
Cerys kept sneaking looks at him. Big, bad vampire for sure. The man wasn’t as large as Dave, but he didn’t have to be. Few people were that huge, anyway. Rhodri had that brooding look that most women adored, and as far as she could tell, it wasn’t put on. Something was bothering him for real. It just added to that sexy aura he effortlessly projected. She wondered if he knew he was projecting it.
From the first moment she’d seen him, she’d been drawn to him. That was the only reason she’d decided to serve the group of rowdies at the back. They’d been looking for trouble, that crew—or a good time—and Dave had been just too slow to stop her from going over there.
Then she’d picked up Rhodri’s aura and knew he was a Talent. Only when she opened herself did she realize he was a vampire, when he showed her his family sigil—the symbol impressed on his brain like a tattoo—that identified the kind of Talent he was and his clan. Not that clans meant the same thing they used to, before migration and travel became more common. In the old days, vampires stuck together in clans, but once hunters had isolated them and wiped some out, vampires had made it harder to find them, deliberately dissipating. Clans weren’t clever. But the memory remained in the sigils.
She’d been alone for so long the recognition had thrilled her like she’d stuck her fingers in a light socket. Not that she’d avoided her own kind, precisely. Just not many of them holidayed in Llandudno. And she’d grown used to being the only one around these parts. She’d had all those veins to herself. Working here helped, because it put her in touch with her potential blood donors. People wouldn’t remember things clearly in the morning. Easy prey.
She wondered if she was breaking any obscure vampire laws and decided she didn’t care. But this man intrigued her, and she could learn from him. He worked well, knew his way around a beer pump and optics. She watched him neatly finish pouring a pint, and wondered why it looked so good, then realized. It was exactly right for pints around here. Drinkers in some parts of the country demanded no froth, some wanted a lot, but here they wanted a neat quarter-inch head, and he did that with precision.
She watched him pour a Guinness—always tricky to get precisely right—and had to admire his prowess. “You really have worked behind a bar before,” she said on her way past to fetch a packet of peanuts. “Some people lie about it to get the job.”
He grinned. “Yes, I’ve done it once or twice, but not for a while. Nice to know I still have the touch.” He finished the pint off with a flourish. “They put a pattern on the top of the froth in the States sometimes.”
“We do it here now. You’ve been abroad much?”
He grinned. “Once or twice.”
Yes, although she could detect the lilt in his voice that spoke so distinctively of North Wales, it was barely there. He’d traveled, but this was home. “Where have you been?”
“A few places.” He waggled his dark brows. “I’ll tell you later if you like.”
She snorted. “Sure.” She’d heard a lot better than that. But not from a vampire. That in itself intrigued her. Not that she was about to tell him that. She walked past him, back to her customer.
A wave of pure heat hit her, and she had to put out a hand to steady herself against the bar. Had he sent that, or did she pick it up all on her own? Whatever, it made her instantly horny, her nipples growing extra sensitive and her panties dampening.
Bastard probably could do it with psi.
A few hours later, she pushed back her damp hair. Without Rhodri, she’d have been a lot more tired. Plus, she needed to feed. That only made it worse. She glanced at Dave, and he jerked a nod. She could go. After collecting her jacket, she looked back. Rhodri was still serving, but Dave had closed the doors and customers were drifting out. The rush had thinned to a trickle an hour ago, when the clubs were gearing up. Now she had to get home. She didn’t live far away.
Dave was always telling her that she should get a taxi or a car, but he didn’t know how well she could look after herself. Not that she had to. And she’d feed on the way, maybe get a nice hit from a drunk clubber if she was lucky. It would wear off as soon as her body processed the blood, but it would be nice while it lasted.
After leaving the club by the back door, she strolled down the road toward the seafront. Llandudno was a pretty, Victorian seaside town, and it had the white-painted wrought iron to prove it. She walked along the covered walkway, busy by day and by night, but tonight company was thin. She stepped down from the walkway and prepared to cross the road.
A hand snaked out and grabbed her around the throat, fingers pressing either side of her windpipe. She didn’t stand a chance, the movement too fast for her to do anything
about it. Which meant her attacker knew something about vampires, that they could be choked to death by pressure on the trachea, that a blade against the carotid would slow them down, if not kill them.
Being an old town, Llandudno was also possessed of back alleys, and her assailant dragged her down one now. Raucous laughter surrounded her, and for a moment, fear rose in her throat and choked her. He could have killed her. For all her strength, she wasn’t invincible. A strike to her throat would have put her down. As it was, she had difficulty catching her breath. The hand around her throat slackened as another curled around her waist and dragged her back against a hard male body. Unmistakably male, unmistakably aroused. His cock jutted against her backbone. She considered playing dead but decided against it.
She’d feed and get out of here. And she was in luck. This gang was drunk.
She’d seen them before, surely. Ah shit, the men Rhodri had helped to eject earlier. They’d hung around instead of going on.
“Well, who have we here?” the one holding her taunted. He ground his cock against her ass, rotating his hips. His friends whooped and rotated their hips, like a stupid chorus or a particularly bad imitation of the Chippendales.
“A pretty little barmaid. Hey, pretty little barmaid, what’s your name?”
She raised her hand to her throat when the man holding her released it, rubbed at the mark he’d have left there had she been mortal. “Cerys,” she mumbled. No need to hide her name. She needed a moment to get her breath back, but after that…
Without warning, someone flew into the alley. He put the first guy down with a well-aimed kick to the jaw and went for another without hesitation. A normal man, even a vampire, would stop to take stock before going for someone else. The man previously holding her grabbed her again, but Cerys decided otherwise. With a swift jab of her elbow, she winded him. When he released her and doubled over, she spun around and stunned him with an openhanded snap to his jaw, pushing his head back against the filthy wall behind them.
When she turned back, Rhodri had already dispatched the fourth man and stood over him, glaring. “Are you all right?” he asked as he turned his attention to her.
His eyes burned, intensity and something else taking over. Excitement? She hoped not. Anyone who got off on hurting mortals didn’t hold any interest for her. “What do you think?” she said with a curl of her lip. “He grabbed my throat. I was just getting my breath back.” She nudged one of the men with her foot. “Did you have to be so—dramatic?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I needed to feed tonight.” She stopped, caught her breath. It had been a long time since she’d shared that with anyone, and it made her almost giddy now to articulate her simple need.
“So feed.”
“With you looking?”
His eyes widened. This alley was lit dimly from the streetlight at the end, but he was half turned toward it, and she saw the telling gesture of surprise. “It’s private? I never thought of it like that before.”
“My mother brought me up properly.”
He laughed then. “If it makes you feel any easier, I’ll turn my back. But if you don’t mind, I’ll take one of these specimens. I haven’t fed for a while.”
How old would that make him? Older vampires didn’t need to feed as often, as their body became more efficient in processing the blood. Shrugging, he grabbed the nearest body and dragged him up the alley, turning his back to her. That made her feel a little better.
Her parents had emphasized the need for neatness when feeding. She’d always felt a little ashamed, a little shy about this, even feeding in front of her mother. But needs must, and she’d get very tired if she didn’t. She grabbed the man she’d knocked out and pushed aside his jacket and shirt. He’d already removed his tie and undone a couple of buttons, so she didn’t need to do more than that to reach the juicy artery close to the surface of his throat.
She extended her fangs when she had her mouth against his throat. Nice and neat. Although tempted, she didn’t glance Rhodri’s way.
Hot blood flowed up her fangs, warming her body like fine, old brandy. She sighed, her breath coming back at her and warming her cheek. The man groaned. When she fed, she gave out endorphins, a kind of vampire thank-you for the blood. It flowed. She let it, with very little effort.
He’d been drinking heavily. Lassitude filled her, and she vaguely wondered if he’d taken anything else. But it was too good not to feed.
“Stop.”
She blinked, and heat flooded her cheeks. He was watching her. How dare he?
Without looking, she withdrew, sealed the wound, and let her prey slide gently to the ground. His hands floundered. Then he was still. She heard them hit the hard concrete, probably bruising his knuckles. Rhodri took her elbow.
“They had more than alcohol in them. We’re both stoned. You’re not used to it, are you?” He shook his head and blinked. “Good stuff, whatever it was. Come on, we need to get out of here.”
She remembered one thing, like an instinct. “We can’t have them remember.” She needed to give them a false memory or at least remove the one about them feeding. No, in this state, she couldn’t be sure of doing that.
“I’ve dealt with it. They’ll think they got into a fight, that’s all.”
She blinked at him. “How’dyedothat?” She took a breath. “So fast?”
“Practice.” He tugged her elbow. “Come on, let’s go before somebody comes. The clubs will be emptying soon. We need to leave.”
She waved her free arm vaguely. “They party till dawn round here. Especially weekends. They come down from Man-Manchester and Liverpool and have fun.” She moved one leg, then two. Then she was walking.
At the end of the alley, he paused. “Which way?”
“Down. To the seafront.”
He nodded and led her in that direction. She took a gulp of fresh air, and her head swam. She felt sick, but the nausea was part of the high. “What did they take?”
“I have no fucking idea, but it’s a wonder they stayed on their feet.”
They’d reached the seafront. The tang of salty air welcomed her, and she immediately felt better. “Wow.”
“Yeah. I’m taking you home. Which way?”
Somehow that sounded natural, right. She had no idea why or how, but she didn’t question it. Only leaned on him when he slid his arm around her waist. It felt good, held close to his body, her head resting on his shoulder. And she needed the support. Only habit took her home.
The pavement swayed under her feet. No, that was her swaying. Rhodri chuckled and pulled her closer, leaning down to murmur in her ear. “There are people around. Just lean on me, pretend we’re lovers going home.”
The sound of police sirens startled her, but they didn’t come in her direction. Perhaps somebody had found the four men in the alley. A night in a jail cell would do them good. So instead of their nice, comfortable hotel rooms, they’d have hard benches. Served them right. Shit, they were going to have hangovers.
Vaguely she realized she shouldn’t be this intoxicated, even on drugs and alcohol. Would they even survive? “Did we leave them in the recovery position?”
“Sure we did.” He sounded assured, but she didn’t know him. Realization shot through her. He was a vampire, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a rapist or a serial killer. And he was one of the few beings who could overwhelm her. But when she tried to pull away, he effortlessly drew her close. “I’m not that. Look.”
And he opened his mind. Enough that she could sense his lack of the elements that would disturb her. The fact that he’d done that—that he’d let her into another layer of his being—showed a trust that boded well. Vampires didn’t trust easily. And she couldn’t do anything about this, not now. He seemed less affected than her.
“It’s show. And I don’t think I took as much as you did.” He nuzzled her ear, no doubt in an effort to appear loverlike, but the feel of his damp breath made her shudder, and not in disli
ke.
“That’s nice.” She leaned against him.
“Easy. Let me take the strain.”
It wasn’t much farther to her flat. Lucky she had her keys on a chain, so all she had to do was pull on it and draw them out of the depths of her skirt pocket. Unlocking the door proved a bit more difficult, but eventually she managed it by dint of closing one eye and focusing. For some reason, that seemed hilarious to her, and she giggled before clapping her free hand over her mouth as if she’d done something wrong. “Shhh,” she warned him.
They crept into the house. Her flat was on the top floor, so they had three flights of stairs before they got there. This had once been a private house, many years ago. Now it contained flats and bedsits, all occupied by locals, most of them people on unemployment benefits or Social Security. Which accounted for the relatively low rent and the run-down quality of the property. She’d never really accustomed herself to the strong smell of damp in the house that had got worse in the last few years, but she could successfully ignore the shabby paintwork on the doors and the faded, peeling wallpaper.
When they reached her floor, neither of them was panting from the exertion. Not vampire skills but simple physical fitness, and in her case, she was used to the climb. But this time she couldn’t find her keys at first and had to grope for them. The bulb in the overhead light had died long ago. Usually she didn’t need it, but while she fumbled for her little flashlight, he calmly took the keys from her and unlocked the door. Either he hadn’t taken as much, or he coped with it better. In the dark, lights zipped in front of her eyes, blue and silver, with the occasional bright yellow. She didn’t like it. She wanted it to stop.
Once inside she flicked on the light. She had a large, open room that served as bedroom and living room, and a tiny closet of a bathroom, which, despite its name, didn’t contain a bath, only a shower, washbasin, and toilet. She had a microwave and fridge in one corner of the big room, hidden behind cupboard doors that she’d picked up at a kitchen equipment sale, and a small table with a hot plate and toaster.
Department 57: Bloody Crystal Page 2
