To Love

by Jackie Ivie

“Are you saying last night did na’ happen?” he countered.

  She shook her head again.

  “Then you’re claiming it meant...little?”

  He didn’t realize how he’d tensed up for her reply until she shook her head again. The relief was tangible. Just about every muscle felt it as they uncoiled and cooled.

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that you aren’t lying. You fully believe you’re a vampire. You also believe you’re seven hundred years old. That’s what I said. That’s what I meant.”

  Cullen smiled. Stretched. Used the time to elongate his canines. He’d have a slight slur when he spoke, but that couldn’t be helped.

  “I am a vampire, Marla-love. It isn’t a belief. It’s nae story. It’s a fact. And I have some more truth for you, if you feel up to hearing it.”

  “Really? What?”

  “You are partway to becoming one yourself. Perhaps more. I already told you. I was na’ careful enough last eve. I lost control. We shared blood. It has been so long. And you are so bonny. So womanly. I said I may have gone too far. I meant it.”

  She turned her head, and gave him the open-mouthed look he’d seen before. Her eyes were just as wide. This time she really did look close to fainting. And then the most obnoxious pounding happened from somewhere above them. It sent heavy throbs of sound through the crypt and disturbed all kinds of dust and cobwebs and other things he’d rather not name. The area beyond his shroud was alive with the accumulation of centuries of debris as it rained down, dimming the light. She was right. No man brought a woman to a place like this. Especially one he loved.

  “Hello? Anybody down there?”

  The roof opening to the crypt lifted, flooding the interior with late evening light. Marla immediately cried out. Cullen had her bundled in his plaid and atop his lap before another ray of sun could reach her. And then he tilted backwards so he could yell up at the open portal.

  “Nigel! You asshole!”

  “Oh. Fine. Call me names. Hello to you, too, Mister Big, Bad and Bully-the-little-guy MacCorrick.”

  “Shut the hatch!”

  The door slammed. More debris filled the air. It was accompanied by a dark shape that swooped down, banged into the rectangular holder of Cullen’s shroud, ripping it free before the kid landed with a grunt on the floor. Cullen shoved ancient cloth off his head and pushed it behind him. He ran a hand through his hair to clear any dust next. Then he swore under his breath as Nigel regained his feet. The kid was completely covered with a black cloak that doubled his size. It took a few moments for him to unfasten it and pull it off.

  “Sorry. I thought you were immune. Wanna share my new UV blocking cape?” He shook it out before folding it to hang over an arm.

  “What do you want?”

  “What do I want?” Nigel picked at dust specks on his cape as he talked. “Well. A couple of blond bimbos with big boobs would be nice. I don’t even care what blood type. Course, there’s not a blond anywhere in sight except me, and I’m only that shade in direct sunlight. What am I saying? I’m in ‘back-of-beyond’ Scotland. There’s rarely any sun and nothing in sight except a few sheep. Well. I suppose if I get desperate for a snack, I’ll know where to look.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Nigel finished picking at his cape and looked over at Cullen. “Is that a joke? I feel like I finally got ungrounded. I’m here to assist as needed and learn what I can. Dad sent me.”

  “Dad?”

  “Uh...don’t repeat that to him, okay? I mean the big guy. Akron.”

  “Akron sent you?”

  “He actually accompanied me. He’s worried about something. Won’t say what, but I can tell. It’s like I’m the baby chick and he’s not ready for me to leave the nest or something. And it’s stupid. It’s not like I haven’t been in the field before. Just because I didn’t tell him Angelique had taken up with a Hunter—”

  “Akron’s here?” Cullen interrupted him.

  “Not here, exactly. He’s at the airfield near town. If that place is really a town. I mean, I’ve seen shopping malls with more inhabitants. So. Hey. Tell me. Where’s the babe?”

  “Babe?”

  Marla was stirring beneath the mound of blanketing. Cullen hoped she wasn’t blistered. If she was, he was taking it out on Nigel’s hide.

  “Yeah. You know. Petite brunette type. Has some information we need in order to close out the Lang hit. Marla Something-or-other. Hails from Nevada. Killer looks if her passport photo is accurate. Disappeared from the Wiltshire Station near London yesterday eve. They’re saying she got sucked right out a bathroom window by some random vortex or something. It’s all over the web. I’m betting it’ll be featured on an alien show with crop circles. Come on. Don’t tell me you lost her. Geez.”

  Cullen unwound some of the wool from her, but when he pulled it down, static electricity made her hair stick to everything. She really had a lot of hair. The light made it glow like a cloud about her. Nigel gave a wolf whistle. Cullen sucked in a breath.

  “Whoa. Mama. That’s her?”

  “Marla? Meet Nigel. The youngest member of the Vampire Assassin League.”

  She stiffened, putting her back against him. Cullen felt immediate warmth start radiating from where they touched while Nigel bent the cape-covered arm in front of his waist and did some weird bow.

  “Hi, sweet cheeks.”

  “The youngest member of—? What? Did you just call me sweet cheeks?” Her voice rose on the last word.

  “Well yeah. You are. And then some.”

  “You have got to be kidding me. What are you...twelve?”

  “Look. Babe. I am a lot older than I appear. Okay?”

  “Oh. Really? You, too?”

  “Me? Oh, you must mean, Cullen MacCorrick, Mister Big, Bad, and Gruesome behind you. Nah. I am not as old as him. Then again, very few of us are.”

  “Us?”

  Nigel looked from Marla to Cullen and back.

  “You didn’t tell her about us?”

  “I was just getting to that part.”

  “Man. You Scots need to talk a little faster, or something. Then again, you don’t do anything rapidly. Heck. I thought MacKettryck was archaic. He doesn’t have one computer or television in his entire castle. Not one. That guy doesn’t even know what digital age means. What am I saying? He missed the industrial revolution. Then again...he’s starting to look like he’s got cutting edge technology compared to you. So. Hey. Marla. Babe. You have a little free time later? After we finish business? And maybe you like heavy petting? I mean I’m really good with necking. Trust me.”

  Cullen growled again. It radiated through the crypt, making him sound even more menacing than before.

  “What now? You’re acting all big, bad, and jealous, like she’s—. Oh. Wait a sec here. Is she—? No. I am not hearing what I’m hearing or seeing what I’m seeing. You can’t be serious. She’s your mate?”

  “Aye.”

  “Oh. Corn stuffed sheep balls. That is not fair. Just like that? No stinking way.”

  Marla answered. “Corned stuff—? Are you seriously standing there, saying this? And expect me to believe you’re an adult?”

  “Cullen, my man. It looks like you have got yourself a cougar.”

  Marla didn’t seem to like the term. The instant stiffness of her back wasn’t the only indicator. She was also pulling in quick breaths that dragged his into rhythm with them.

  “And I repeat myself for lack of better words – you are one lucky bugger. But maybe she has some rocking hot cougar friends. Can I ask her?”

  “What is a cougar?” Cullen asked.

  “A cougar is a lady who is into younger men. And since I have that permanent condition I am all over this concept. A cougar has experience. Self-confidence. They don’t play games. They have fantastic sex drive. They are ready, willing, and I can go on if you want me to.”

  “I can’t possibly be a cougar,” Marla spoke up. “Soun
ds like I’m hundreds of years too young.”

  “True. But in our line of existence, time is a measurement, and age is nothing more than a number. And I repeat myself. You are one lucky bugger, MacCorrick. Why can’t I get that lucky?”

  The sound of a heavy metal guitar interrupted. Nigel jumped slightly.

  “Oh. Excuse me. Sounds like I have a call. It’ll be the old man. Gotta take this.”

  Marla watched as Nigel turned sideways, slid a slim phone from a pocket in his skin tight pants and opened it. Cullen saw it peripherally. He was too fascinated with his mate. She was seated atop his crossed legs. Leaning back against him. Showing off the most perfect neck. Right within piercing distance. She exuded the most amazing scent, too. Like...warmed vanilla and honey.

  And then Nigel started talking.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Hello, Sir. Yes. I’m here. Yeah. In the crypt just like you said. MacCorrick really needs to work on his castle. The place is an absolute dive. And he’s got millions in his accounts. There is no excuse. I could help him, if push comes to shove, although I’m not into architecture and design. Last time I decorated, we were into shag rugs and black lights. No, Sir. I don’t have the information yet. I just dropped in. Literally. What? No, Sir. I haven’t any access to the internet. Have you seen Corrick Castle? It doesn’t even have doors.”

  Nigel chattered on. Cullen listened with half an ear. He didn’t have a choice since the kid wasn’t remotely stealthy and the crypt was solemn and quiet, as usual. Then Cullen’s attention span got harder to maintain. His mate tipped her head slightly to one side as she listened. That gave Cullen direct access to her throat. A blue-tinged vein drew his eye. It was tapping with her pulse beat right beneath her skin. Situated between the already-healing dual evidence of puncture wounds he’d given her last night. Cullen fangs reacted, tingling as they elongated. Preparing. Remembering.

  Ah. Last night...

  What the devil?

  Cullen’s body responded without the slightest command from him. His hips bucked upward slightly, and even with the layers of her skirt and the mass of woolen plaid on his lap, Cullen could swear he felt her. He tightened his frame to still movement, but nothing stopped the tremor that scored him, and then transferred to her. The reaction was instantaneous. Massive. And completely foreign. He didn’t recall anything like this when he’d lived.

  She tipped a glance toward him, snagged his gaze for a second and then looked away. A smile curved her lips while a spot of blush appeared on the cheek he could see. Cullen might be sitting on cold stone, but he didn’t feel anything but warmth. All-over warm. His fangs got even longer. Sharper. And then Nigel’s voice interceded.

  “Yes, he’s right here. Yeah. Her, too. You want to talk to him? No? Okay. Cool. Oh. No, Sir. I told you. I don’t have any internet. You should just get us all the new phones. Why not? We’re starting to look like dinosaurs. Never. I know they’re easier to trace, but what if I promise not to go beyond the time frame? I know it’s addictive, but I am a mature adult, you know. I am perfectly capable of monitoring my time online. Oh. You know about that, too? Well, I didn’t know she was a transvestite. She was really hot. And her website was a trip. All right. Her name was Sam. So? Could have been short for Samantha. Okay. Fine. No internet linked phones. Geez.”

  “Who is he talking to?” Marla turned her head toward Cullen to whisper it, sending breath over his neck and chest. His heart thumped oddly. Hers may have, too, if the glance she gave him meant anything.

  “I would guess its Akron Profit. The head of VAL.”

  “Of course it’s Akron,” Nigel interrupted. “Who else is this snoopy and controlling? Oh. You heard that, Sir? Crudballs. Listen. I may have been referring to you, but I meant it in a good way. You keep asking that. The answer is still no. I am not checking any colleges. I’m not the university type. That was the argument behind my motor vehicle accident, remember? Really? Paul Henry is enrolled there? Is that a coincidence or what? How do I know his name? Good question. Um. Gotta go now, Sir. ’Bye.”

  He slapped the cover of the phone closed and deposited it on a statue base beside him before turning back to them. “Damn, he’s good. Now you know why I call him dad. It’s impossible to keep anything from the guy. Even if you’re really sneaky. You don’t think he’s suspicious, do you?”

  “Of what?” Marla asked.

  “Paul Henry. He’s my grandson. He’s in college up here. Not far from where we are, actually.”

  “You have a grandson?”

  “Yeah. As far as I can tell from his internet profile, he’s the spitting image of me, too. Real handsome kid.”

  “I’m having a difficult time wrapping my head around that image.”

  “Oh. Burn. Ouch, lady. Thanks.”

  “No. I didn’t mean that. I meant it’s difficult to believe you have a grandson. You look...maybe sixteen.”

  “Almost twenty. Okay? About four years younger than your mate there. But in human years, I’m sixty-ish. If I had a job, I’d be checking retirement options. You happy now?”

  “Wow. Cullen. I’m beginning to believe you.”

  “Believe that I’m na’ lying or believe that it’s true?”

  He smiled, putting full length canines on display. This time when she looked up at her, he watched her take in his fangs and then move to match gazes with him. She didn’t look frightened. Her expression was more thoughtful. Considering. Pondering. And really endearing. He lowered his head a fraction.

  “Well. I’m beginning to feel like I’m in a debate. And somebody started without me.”

  “This is a private conversation, Nigel,” Cullen informed him without looking his direction.

  “And you have a very small crypt with great acoustics. So. What do you say we ditch this place and go someplace a little more modern? Like...the university campus.”

  Marla turned back to the kid. Cullen followed the movement, but he was slower.

  “What? I never said I’d interact with anyone. I just wanna check on him. You know. Take a gander at posterity and all that. Don’t give me that look. You ever have a grandson?”

  Cullen shook his head.

  “Then don’t knock it. I mean, damn. I have a grandson? And he looks just like me? Man. I might have to get responsible or something. So. Hey. Let’s get cracking. Find out what your old lady knows already, so we can close out the Lang file.”

  “My old lady?”

  “Yeah. Your mate, there. Didn’t you pay attention to lingo in the seventies? Man. Geezers. I’m telling you, I’m surrounded by old farts. I mean, you were around then. We didn’t just have elephant-bell pants, pet rocks, and 8-track tapes.”

  “Elephant bells?”

  “Yeah. I loved those pants. If I’d known they were going to quit making them, I’d have bought every pair I could find. I still can’t find a designer who’ll make them fit right. Nobody knows anything about fashion anymore. Well? What do you say? She gonna tell us what she knows, so we can all split this joint?”

  “What I know...about what?” Marla asked.

  Nigel looked heavenward before looking back down. “We got the intel about an Edwina. We’ve come up empty on that so far. We’ve got the series of numbers, too. You need to be a little clearer on the starting number. Was it sixty-eight or sixty-six? You gave conflicting reports.”

  “How do you know this?” She sounded strange. Choked. Cullen’s arm tightened automatically, pulling her a little closer to him.

  “We are part of the best covert killing team in the world, toots. We know all kinds of things. So. You gonna cough up the info or not?”

  “Excuse me. Did you just say covert killing team?”

  “Well. Yeah. For the right price.”

  “You kill people?”

  “Not indiscriminately. Come on lady. We’re the Vampire Assassin League. We assassinate. People have been paying for that since the beginning of time. And, since we’re vampires and need blood to survive, it’s a w
in-win. You got a problem with that?”

  “Well. If I do, I know who to take it up with. And it isn’t going to be you. You’re an Aries, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe. Why?”

  “I’m an astrologer. I’m pretty sure you’re an Aries. Your sign is the ram. Nothing subtle about a young ram, is there?”

  “Subtle is for losers.”

  “Yep. Aries.”

  “Oh. Let me guess. He didn’t explain the vampire assassin part, either. Geez, Cullen. How slow do you Scotsmen talk? You had all night.”

  “We did na’ spend last eve...talking.” Cullen voice deepened. It wasn’t the words. It was at how the cheek in his line of sight darkened with an even more vivid blush.

  “Oh. Fine. Thanks. Really. Thanks a lot. I have to wait centuries for a mate, and you gotta remind me what I’m missing. Thanks again. Jerk.”

  The last word ended with another heavy metal guitar riff, as if for emphasis. Nigel grabbed his pocket and pulled out another cell.

  “That’s your ringtone? Heavy metal?” Marla asked.

  “Best music on the planet. Don’t knock it, sister. Hello again, Sir. Nope. Still don’t have the info. Hang on. I’ll ask.” He looked over at Marla. “The boss wants to know if it’s possible there was a clerical error with your statement and you meant Edina not Edwina.”

  “I never said Edwina,” Marla replied.

  “Try Edina,” Nigel answered into the phone. “No. I didn’t know that, Sir. Edina is the Latin name for Edinburgh? Who knew? Well, of course you would, Sir. You know everything. What? Oh. Good one, Sir. Most of the world’s problems probably could be solved if we communicated correctly the first time. Well. Sounds like we know the starting place. I’ll ask.”

  He turned back to Marla.

  “Lang didn’t tell you what station, did he?”

  “Who?”

  “The guy in the fake beard. Lang. He was the hit. He left us some problems. We’re still trying to eliminate them. Permanently. You know. Like our advertisement says.”

  Marla shook her head. The movement wafted vanilla-honey scent toward Cullen. He inhaled a deep breath and held it. She had a wondrous aroma. He was already addicted.