"Wow," he breathed, "that's the best orgasm I've ever had."
"Get up from there," I muttered. Reaching down, I grabbed his arm and pulled him upright, setting him on his feet in less than a blink. "Let's just keep this between the two of us, all right?" I said, dusting him off a little and turning him toward his car. "And stop selling to that kid. He still has pimples, for Christ's sake."
Another myth dispelled, I know, I'd just said Christ and hadn't gone up in flames. "Oh, yeah, thanks for the uh, you know," I couldn't bring myself to say it.
"Baby, you can give me a hickey any day," the man was grinning and dazedly attempting to open his car door.
"Well, we'll see," I told him. "Now, go home and take a bath, willya?"
"Sure," he laughed, flopping onto the car seat. I closed the door for him and trotted toward the Cadillac. The car was still running obediently in the middle of the road where I'd left it, the driver's door hanging wide open. I climbed in, checked my appearance in the mirror and discovered a tiny bit of blood drying on my chin. Wiping it off, I adjusted the mirror and drove away, wondering where I might find a place to spend my daylight hours.
While I drove, I did have a thought—one of my neighbors had an outside storm shelter. I didn't want to go back to my neighborhood but I knew plenty of people in Oklahoma had storm shelters. It was a good bet there wouldn't be any tornadoes during the day; the weather was still too cold. I found a shelter about a mile away after parking the Cadillac in a strip-mall parking lot. The lock on the shelter door twisted off easily in my hand and I climbed inside half an hour before dawn, determined to stay awake as long as I could. It wasn't long, as it turns out. I was out like a light the minute the sun peeked over the horizon.
* * *
"You're only now looking at her license?" Harry stared at the older vampire who held a purse in one hand, an Oklahoma driver's license in the other.
"We overestimated her age," Edward Desmarais grumbled as he frowned at the birth date. The driver's license indicated the woman was forty-seven years of age, when he and Sergio had believed her nearly sixty. Shoving the license inside the purse, Edward handed the bag to Harry and instructed him to destroy it. Edward wasn't quite as handsome as Sergio, although he still turned heads with blond hair that curled slightly and gray-blue eyes that might smile if the woman was pretty enough.
"You know the Council is going to ask how you managed to turn a female before they take your head, don't you?" Harry asked a second question while stuffing the purse inside his briefcase.
"The Council need not know," Edward sniffed. He was more than three hundred years old and felt superior much of the time, while Harry was a mere eighty-four and beneath Edward's notice. "Sergio and I intend to track her down and eliminate the problem." Edward examined his fingernails. They were perfect, as usual.
"Edward, you know how scarce females are among our kind," Harry was nearly begging. "At least turn her over to the Council—anonymously if you can."
"There is too much danger that we will be discovered. She was, as you might say, not an ideal candidate in the Council's eyes."
"That doesn't alter the fact that she exists," Harry pressed. "For good or bad, she's vampire. Can't you give her a chance?"
"We dare not. There are more lives at stake than hers." Edward was finished with the conversation, Harry could tell. He sighed a little. "Fine. If I hear anything, I'll let you know."
"See that you do," Edward gave Harry a final look and turned quickly, leaving the younger vampire standing in the alley outside the cellar. Harry was originally from Missouri, born in an era when Jazz and Swing were popular. He'd never even heard of the Flaming Lips.
* * *
The hunger wasn't debilitating when I woke at sunset so I lay there, staring at the ceiling of the circular, prefab tornado shelter I'd slept in while thinking about Don. Since everyone knew I was missing, I wondered if Don's brother David had gone ahead and planned a funeral. Sighing, I slipped off the small bench I'd slept on and walked up steep, narrow steps, cautiously lifting the door. My ears and nose told me more than my eyes; except for a dog barking far off, it was safe to come out.
Once outside the shelter, I headed toward to the Cadillac. It sat there, thankfully, in the same spot I'd left it. A trip to Walmart was in the offing—I couldn't keep wearing the same clothes and I needed a shower. The synthetic, elastic-waisted slacks I wore were threatening to drop if I moved too quickly and my blouse had twisted around me while I'd slept in it.
The envelope I'd taken from home held exactly six thousand dollars in cash. It was Don's funeral expense money, but what else was I supposed to do? Wandering the aisles in Walmart later, I picked up jeans, blouses, socks, bras and underwear. A couple pairs of athletic shoes—white and black—went into my basket, too. A coin-operated Laundromat was my next stop, where I washed my new clothes. Perhaps someone else can wear new jeans without washing them. I can't. The smell of the dye alone offended my senses now. I'd picked up a cell phone too, while I'd been at Walmart, the kind you can pay for your minutes in advance. I called David's number on it, since that was the only way to find out where things stood.
David was Don's only brother, and he'd be the one making arrangements in my absence. We'd never been close, but I had to find out what was going on. David's wife, Sara, answered the phone. Disguising my voice as best I could, I identified myself as a cousin from out of state.
"I just heard the news," I said. "Can you tell me what's going on?"
"Well, we buried Don two days ago," Sara replied. "They found Lissa's car in the Oklahoma River, but they haven't found her body yet."
I had to clap a hand over my mouth to hold back the gasp that threatened to escape. The Oklahoma River was several miles away from the bar where I'd been attacked. Ed and Serge had gone to great lengths to hide their crime. "So, they're pretty sure she's dead?" I asked after getting myself under control.
"Yes. A shame, don't you think? Probably suicide." Sara clucked for a few seconds as she imagined a more mundane death for me. "Lissa and Don were really close, you know," she continued. "We've already talked to her place of employment—Lissa took a leave of absence while Don was in the hospital. She worked for one of the judges downtown, you know."
"What's next, then?" I asked, working to keep the quiver from my voice. My job, my friends, my home—everything was gone, now. I knew David and Sara would have to get the courts to declare me legally dead before claiming any insurance money, but I figured that was already in the works.
"David's already got a lawyer," Sara was reading my mind. "We're working on getting everything straightened out. You're not going to believe this, though. Somebody broke into the house, stole Don's old Cadillac and a few other things and then ransacked the place. We have to put new doors on and we're getting a security system installed so it won't happen again." My house was worth around two hundred thousand and it was paid for. Yeah, they'd get a security system to cover their assets. I also had two hundred thousand in a life insurance policy. Sara had always been a little on the mercenary side, so it was no surprise that they had a lawyer. I'd have to ditch the Cadillac, too, since it was reported stolen.
After loading my freshly laundered clothing into the Cadillac, I drove to a nearby motel, hoping I could get a room without having ID or a credit card. The young man behind the front desk might have been torn between calling the police and hiding behind the counter when I walked in. Getting a good look at myself in the mirror behind the desk, I could see why. My eyes were red. Not red from lack of sleep or crying for hours. These eyes were bright red. Blood red. I'd smelled blood the minute I'd walked into the place. Someone had been bleeding. I caught sight of the desk clerk's hand; two fingers were bandaged. It was his blood I'd scented.
"I need a room," I almost growled at him.
"Y-yes ma'am," he stuttered.
"Stop being frightened, I'm not going to hurt you," I snapped. The immediate difference was astounding. The guy straightened
right up and became professional.
"I'll need your ID and credit card," he said.
"I don't need to give my ID and credit card. This will be cash only, for one night," I growled.
"Yes ma'am," he tapped at his computer. "Your name?"
"You don't need my name. Give me a key."
"Yes, ma'am." More tapping. "Room 206. Elevator is around the corner. He handed a key card over. I gave him cash for the room.
"You don't remember what I look like," I added as a precaution and went to get a few things out of the car.
The shower felt really good. Vampires clearly appreciate warm water as well as anyone. I changed into new jeans and a long-sleeved T afterward. I hadn't been able to tuck in my blouses since I was in high school but I did now, taking a good look at my image in the mirror. My hair was strawberry blond again, like it had been in my youth and my eyes were a clear blue. My skin was now flawless, whereas it hadn't been before and well, I had a figure. A nice one. I was having difficulty reconciling what I'd been only a few days before and what was reflected in the mirror now. My jeans? A size six, thank you. When Ed and Serge had attacked me, I'd been a size sixteen and for somebody five-one, that's big. I'd always joked with my co-workers at the courthouse that I resembled an egg. No more egg. And I looked to be in my early twenties, on top of that. Trashing my old clothes on the way out of the motel, I slid into the Cadillac and went looking for a place to leave it.
There's a cemetery on Sunnylane Road in Del City that you can drive around in. It's pretty in the spring and summer with all the trees and sculpture. Now it was dead grass and darkness. I left the Cadillac parked on the south end and took the keys with me when I walked away. Don's key ring was probably the only thing belonging to him that I could keep. I couldn't see that the police would come looking for me either—my fingerprints would have been in the car anyway. After all, I was Don's wife and I'd driven the car a few times just to keep the battery charged up. All I had to do now was find somebody who wanted to donate blood and then find a place to stay while the sun was up.
* * *
"I was hoping she'd return and make things simpler for us," Sergio glanced around the cellar. He and Edward had rented it as an emergency hiding space and it would have been the perfect place for the female to spend her daylight hours. Instead, her scent had gone cold inside it. She hadn't come back.
"She can't be all that intelligent," Edward said. "Did you see her? She looked like hell, didn't take care of herself and didn't have a drop of make-up on. No wonder we both thought she was nearing sixty."
"See her?" I turned her, if you'll recall," Sergio snorted. "I almost gagged doing it, too."
"I cannot understand this," Edward raked fingers through his hair. "She hadn't changed all that much when we saw her last. How did this happen, my friend?"
"No idea. I've been checking the local news for any information regarding unexplained deaths or missing humans, but have found nothing out of the ordinary. If she's feeding and killing, she hasn't yet done anything to raise suspicion."
"You know that's all it will take to bring the Enforcers in," Edward paced inside the cellar. "We must find her first and eliminate our little faux pas."
He and Sergio walked out into the alleyway only a short time later. The woman had one advantage over them; she'd lived in the city all her life and they'd only been there a short time, stopping briefly on their way to the west coast. Their stop had been extended due to their own foolishness. Now they had to eradicate the evidence of that foolishness before moving on.
* * *
"Hey, sugar, what's your name?" The man's breath was so loaded with alcohol I almost choked. I'd decided earlier that a drunk might not remember much if I bit him, and with the little bit of persuasion I seemed to have, that would make it even easier.
"How about you and me, over in that corner?" I had to get close to the man's ear; the music was playing so loudly inside the dimly lit western bar it was painful to me. Smells too were assaulting my now-sensitive nose—perfume, beer, sweat and sex. The man I'd chosen was plastered already and willing to agree to anything, especially if a female proposed it to him. I took his hand and led him over to the darkest corner, got him settled into a booth and waited until nobody seemed to be looking to do my thing. I was holding his head while I drank so any casual observer would think we were necking. I licked the last few drops of blood off his throat afterward and let him sit back in his seat. He blinked at me a few times while a slow grin spread across his face. "Sugar, that was some kiss," he slurred. I patted him on the shoulder and got up to leave the bar, learning quickly once I was outside that drinking from a human that was already drunk makes the vampire drunk as well. I wobbled my way across the street that ran alongside the bar. There were businesses and furniture outlets nearby and I wanted to see if any one of them might have a spot where I could sit for a while until the drunk wore off.
* * *
Drinking from a drunk was now on my list of things never to do again, I vowed when I woke the following evening. I'd gone to bed in the basement of a warehouse under renovation, and since it was Sunday, nobody was scheduled to work. I was lucky to be in one piece—I'd gotten into a car the evening before with four crazed frat boys from a local university after a tiny bit of coaxing. They'd slowed down as I'd walked toward one of my targeted furniture stores, asking if I needed help or a ride. The young men were out looking for fun, and after they'd convinced me to ride with them, we'd done a bit of a pub-crawl. I know. I'd intended to go looking for a place to sober up, but alcohol inhibits your judgment just as they always said it would. I did have something I didn't have before, though. Pulling the fake ID out of my jeans pocket, I examined it carefully.
My frat boys knew somebody that might help me, they'd said after mentioning their goal of going to as many bars as possible during the evening. Since I had no ID, I'd lied to them and spun a tale of woe about having my purse stolen. I'd gotten my meal in the first bar by using the mojo I seemed to have, but that didn't guarantee it would work everywhere. Plus, I was learning to lie like a professional, I suppose, and those boys ate it right up. They had a friend who was in the business, they'd said. For two hundred dollars, that friend fixed me right up. The braces-sporting geeky youth cranked out a new ID for me in a matter of minutes. It even had the hologram that everybody checks.
I was Lissa B. Haddon, now. We'd lived next door to some Haddons when I was little and the name just popped into my head. According to my ID, I was twenty-three and weighed one-ten with blue eyes and blond hair. I hoped the ID was good enough to get me out of town—Ed and Serge had to be looking for me still and I didn't want to hang around and wait on them to show up. A cab drove me to Target where I purchased a rolling suitcase and then asked the driver to take me to the bus station. If you have a sensitive nose, the bus station might be the last place you want to go. I shoved all my clothing into my new suitcase and used my new ID to buy a bus ticket. I was heading to Denton, Texas, just as fast as I could get there.
There was a bus heading out at three in the morning and arriving in Denton around six. According to the schedules, Denton was as far as I could go with the amount of time I had. It also left me a little time to find a place to sleep once I got there. My blood donor for the evening was hanging around a bar about a block over, and he had a big grin on his face when I left him.
* * *
After my arrival in Denton, I found a nearby hotel to spend the daylight hours. I figured I was risking my life sleeping in a motel room to begin with, so I made sure the door was locked and the drapes drawn. Even then, I curled up on the windowless bathroom floor, wrapped up in all the bedding I could drag off the bed before I went to sleep. Well, sleeping might be a misconception. One minute I'd be awake, the next I was unconscious. I know I breathed while I was awake, that allowed me to speak. As far as a heartbeat went, I didn't have one. That myth was no longer a myth. Whether I breathed or not while I slept—I had no way of knowing.
The newspaper crackled as I turned the pages after nightfall at the nearby Denny's, searching for a job. The money I had would only get me so far, after all, and clothing, hotel rooms and bus tickets had already put a hefty dent in my cash. A job was in order so I could take some time, build up a larger reserve and review my limited options. It would have to be a night job, too—that was a no-brainer. After all, plenty of people worked at night: hotel desk clerks, all-night service station attendants, fry cooks at Denny's—the list was narrow and far from perfect. I sighed, pretended to sip my black coffee and kept looking.
One job fit my requirements; cleaning offices at night. The work hours were ten at night until six in the morning. I circled that and hoped somebody would be there before dawn or late at night so I could interview. I also circled a waitress job, a job delivering bundles of newspapers to hotels (I'd need a car for that one) and a night security guard. That was a possibility since it was for a nearby college. Belatedly, I wondered if I needed to know how to shoot a gun. There was also an ad for a personal bodyguard, asking for night hours. I circled that.
My evening meal came from a man in the motel parking lot who was climbing into his car to go barhopping. He was smiling and asking me to go with him after I finished. "No, I just want you to go have a good time and forget about me," I instructed, patting his shoulder cordially. His eyes went blank as he started his car and drove away, almost running over my toes when he left me standing there. After hopping aside to keep my toes from becoming tread toast, I resolved to phrase my instructions more carefully from then on.
The phone rang four times at the number for the personal bodyguard before somebody picked up. It was the last and only number answered by a human on my list. "Yeah?" The voice didn't sound happy.
Blood Wager (Blood Destiny #1) Page 2
