Dalton, Tymber - Brimstone Blues [Brimstone Vampires 2] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Tymber Dalton

  “All right.” He took their bags, leaving the photo albums and other things until morning. He followed her up to their room and she put the laptop case on the floor on her side of the bed. She’d deal with it tomorrow. For tonight, she needed to sleep.

  “You don’t really want to sleep, do you, Taz baby?”

  She froze. The voice had remained mostly silent on the way home from Atlanta.

  It had to be the guilt. That was it. Her subconscious was adding Rafael’s voice to her own guilt. It didn’t matter that everyone else kept telling her it wasn’t her fault.

  “That’s because it’s not your fault.”

  She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and tried counting backward from ten.

  It didn’t return.

  She took a shower while Matthias was downstairs talking with her dad and Albert. She wanted to stay awake until he returned, but by the time she heard their door open she was nearly asleep. She felt him kiss her cheek before he slipped his arm around her waist and spooned against her back.

  “I love you, Taz,” he whispered.

  She smiled. “I love you, too, Matthias,” she mumbled.

  As she drifted off to sleep, the voice chimed in one last time. “That makes two of us, Taz baby.”

  * * * *

  Matthias was asleep upstairs when Taz went down for breakfast the next morning. Albert held a small box in his hand. “This came while you were gone.”

  She took it, looked at it, and nodded. “Thank you.” She placed it in her lap, out of sight under the table.

  Albert hesitated for a moment before realizing she wasn’t volunteering any information, and left the room. After finishing her meal, she took it upstairs to their bedroom. Matthias was in the bathroom. Taz hid the box in a drawer. She didn’t want Matthias to see it. Not that it mattered, she supposed, because eventually he’d see her wearing it, but there were some things she needed to do privately to deal with her grief.

  It was so late when they returned she didn’t ask about Rafe’s ashes. But when she walked through the living room, she spotted the urn sitting on the mantel. How she’d missed it earlier was a mystery.

  She walked over to it, touched it, and closed her eyes.

  I won’t cry. I will not cry.

  * * * *

  She finally took her shower.

  The Mustang needed another oil change. Thumbing through the phone book, Taz found a local oil change place that could fit her in.

  “Don’t do that, goddammit! Do it yourself.”

  She closed her eyes, willing the voice to shut up. She didn’t feel like changing the oil. Besides, she didn’t have any tools.

  “You’ve got my tools.”

  This was too much. The voice was gaining strength and clarity in her brain. Beating herself unconscious with the phone book was a tempting option.

  Albert chose that moment to walk in, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Taz, can I talk to you for a moment?”

  She sat up. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I need to show you something.” She followed him out to the separate garage where he opened one of the bays. Everything from Rafe’s garage was there, arranged as it had been at the condo. Even cabinets from the wall were hung in nearly the same places. “I had the movers take detailed pictures and measurements before they brought everything down so we could arrange it as closely as possible. Matthias said you’d want it.”

  She felt her tears fall and threw her arms around Albert. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He hugged her back. “It’s quite all right, love.” He kept his arm around her. “Rafe was, as I’m sure you guessed, quite fond of his cars. He loved working on Matthias’ Mustang. He’s the one who took care of yours, too, before Matthias gave it to you. Rafe came down several times a month. When he was here, he would check it out, start it, drive it for a few minutes to make sure it was running fine, did the oil changes.”

  Her tears fell and she didn’t care. Rafe took care of her car? Yet another reason to cherish it beyond the fact that it once belong to her father.

  “Why doesn’t Matthias like to work on cars?”

  Albert shrugged. “He’s handy. He can, but he doesn’t enjoy it the way Rafe did. I remember when cars first came out.” He looked at Taz and laughed. “Oh God, that sounds horrible, doesn’t it?”

  She smiled. “Go ahead.”

  “Rafael loved horseless carriages. He was positively fascinated by them. I’m sure a psychiatrist would say he transferred his energy into his cars to avoid relationships. Maybe that’s true. I remember a period several decades ago where he didn’t date at all for a couple of years, too interested in learning about cars and working on them. Eventually he settled down, and when he’d get a car he’d, well, as you see from his Mustang, bigger, better, faster.”

  “He was a racer?”

  “Not really, surprisingly. Like you, he enjoyed going fast on the interstate. I think one reason he loved coming to visit was because it afforded him time to be alone in the car on the highway with his foot to the floor for hours on end.”

  “I can understand that.” She did her best thinking in the car.

  “Bastard’s not so bad after all.”

  Taz stiffened. That snippet from her phantom voice sounded the clearest since Yellowstone.

  She realized she had to know. “Albert, what was going on between you and Rafe?”

  Albert’s turn to tense. He pulled away from her. “We had our differences of opinion over the years. It’s not that we didn’t like each other—”

  “Bullshit!” snorted the phantom voice.

  “—but we tended to butt heads from time to time. Personality differences.”

  “Why?”

  Albert met her eyes. She felt his mental barrier strengthen. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Taz. Truly.” She would never force him to tell, and he knew it.

  “Okay.” She needed to lighten the subject. “I need to get the oil changed in the GT—”

  “Goddammit, Taz, do it yourself!”

  “—but do you know a good place to have it done?” She hoped she didn’t wince when the voice chimed in. Fuck, that would drive her over the edge if nothing else did.

  Albert eyed her carefully. “Are you all right, dear? You look a little peaked.”

  “I’m tired.”

  Her dad walked up, looked inside the garage, and nodded. “I’m sure he would have approved.”

  Taz gritted her teeth, preparing for another onslaught from the phantom voice. “I need to get the oil changed—”

  “No, listen to me—”

  Tim patted her on the back. “I’ll do it for you, sweetheart.”

  The voice shut up. The sudden silence startled her, almost as deafening as the voice.

  She blinked in surprise. “Really?”

  “Of course. I don’t mind. Rafe never let a shop touch his cars if he could do it himself. I certainly wouldn’t call myself a mechanic, but I’ve changed the oil enough over the years, I don’t think I’ll bollocks it up.”

  No word from the voice, and she took a deep, relieved breath. “Okay. Thanks, Dad.” She hugged him and handed him the keys.

  One problem solved. The voice left her alone for the rest of the day.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Matthias found Tim in the kitchen later that afternoon.

  “I think I’m starting to feel human again after that drive.” Tim smiled, and Matthias laughed. “Don’t say it, Tim.”

  He shook his head. “She’s a handful. I did warn you.”

  “Yes, you did.” Matthias rinsed an apple under the tap and took a bite. “You certainly did, and I love everything about her.”

  “Shall I remind you of that in a few years?”

  “I wish I could make it up to her. You know this isn’t how I wanted things to happen.”

  Tim leaned against the counter. “Quit feeling guilty, Matthias. This wasn’t your fault.” He softened his voice. “You haven’t even h
ad time to grieve for Rafe properly. You need that as much as she does, you know.”

  Matthias suddenly lost his appetite. “I don’t want to deal with that right now. I need to help her through this.”

  “She’s strong, Matthias. Stronger than you think. The worst is behind her, and we all need to heal and move forward. You cannot deny yourself this.”

  “What can I do for her, Tim? How do I make this up to her?”

  “Simply show her you love her.”

  * * * *

  Taz needed to snack. She walked downstairs and stopped outside the kitchen door when she heard Matthias and her dad talking. She knew it was wrong, but she eavesdropped anyway.

  “Tell me how to do that, Tim,” Matthias said. “Tell me how to show her I love her. I thought we’d have years to get to know each other, and now I feel like I’m flying blind.”

  Anger and admiration tangled inside her for control. He was pumping her dad for information. That was both sweet and…

  Lazy.

  “Matthias, she is a very complicated woman in some ways, very simple in others. She wants honesty and straightforwardness in her life. The two of you have many shared interests, you’re well aware of that. I think the best thing is for you to open up and talk with her.”

  “She doesn’t seem to want to talk to me.”

  Taz flushed with embarrassment. He was right, she hadn’t been very talkative in some ways, but dammit, he hadn’t asked, either.

  She burst through the door, startling both men, an unexpected wave of anger taking her over. “You can’t do that, Matthias.”

  “Do what?”

  “You have to get to know me. You do. You are not allowed to call him up and ask, ‘What does Taz like about this or that?’”

  “Why not?”

  “That’s cheating!”

  * * * *

  Matthias looked at her, certain he’d either misheard her or lost his mind. “What?”

  “It’s cheating. You cannot ask him about me. You need to do the work, buster. You need to put in the time, get to know me. If I have to find out about you, you’re not allowed to cheat and just ask him what’s right or wrong.”

  Tim was staying out of this. Matthias looked to him for help, and he shrugged, holding up his hands in surrender. “You’re on your own, sorry.”

  Matthias looked at Taz. “What is going on?”

  “I’m sick of you knowing everything about me and I know practically nothing about you!”

  “Then ask me, ask Albert! I’ve already told you, my mind is open to you—”

  “No!” The force of her objection startled him. “This isn’t a pick an entree from column A and a side dish from column B menu. I want to get to know each other like normal people.” She knew she wasn’t making much sense, even to herself, but something inside her chafed at the thought of them talking about her behind her back.

  Christ, please don’t let this be another episode.

  Matthias smirked. “Taz, if you haven’t noticed, we are anything but normal.”

  “I know. That’s the point! I want some stupid thing, one goddamn thing, just one, in my life, to be N-O-R-M-A-L. Is that too much to friggin’ ask?”

  He stared at her, stunned into silence.

  She continued, her wrath mostly abated.

  “Matthias, I want to get to know you. I fell in love with you, yes, but we haven’t even had a first date. We haven’t been to the movies. We haven’t danced. I haven’t cooked dinner for you.”

  “Wouldn’t let her do that, mate,” Tim said.

  She glared at him. “You stay out of this, Dad.”

  “Taz, darling, you are a superb lawyer and a talented woman, but you are a danger to yourself and others in the kitchen.”

  She jabbed a finger at him. “Nobody asked you.”

  “I know. I felt it my duty to warn him as an officer of the court.”

  Matthias bit his lip to keep from smiling. It was funnier than hell, yet he knew if he laughed, she would most likely castrate him, and he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her wrath.

  Any worse than he already was.

  “Matthias, I have never had anything even remotely normal in my life. You said you’d give me anything I wanted. I want normal. I want to date.”

  He took her hands, gently squeezed and kissed them. “You tell me where you want to go, and I’ll—”

  “No!” she screamed, back in full bitch mode. She threw her hands in the air and turned from him. “That’s the whole point. You need to do it. You ask me on a date. You make the plans.”

  Matthias looked at Tim, who shrugged again. Matthias carefully weighed his words. “Taz, you’re my fiancée. We sleep in the same bed every night. I’m not sure exactly—”

  She wheeled on him. “Then you damn well better figure it out, and fast!” She stormed upstairs to their bedroom, slamming the door hard enough to rattle pictures on the wall downstairs, and they heard the lock snap.

  Matthias looked at Tim, who held his hands up.

  “If you think I’m helping you, you’re off your nut. She’s mad at you, and I don’t want her mad at me, too. One of us needs to remain on her good side to talk her off the ledge.”

  Matthias shook his head. “What did I do wrong? What does she want from me? Doesn’t she understand how much I love her?”

  “She does, but she’s scared. She wants you to work for it. Part of her fear is she’s scared because your relationship came too easily. Remember, Eric Proctor wasn’t exactly a stellar role model of a husband and father for her. She’s still learning to trust you.” He pointed at Matthias. “If you tell her I said that, I’ll deny it.”

  “She wants me to date her?”

  “Well, you always said that’s what you wanted. I think she feels cheated out of that.”

  “Is she always like this?”

  Tim glanced at the kitchen door, then whispered, “No. She’s not. This is totally unlike her. That’s why I’m so concerned. I know it’s partly because of all that’s happened the past few weeks, and her powers awakening, but there’s something else I can’t put my finger on. I noticed it out in Yellowstone the morning of the day she was shot. And if you tell her I said that, I’ll kill you myself, you bloody idiot.”

  He walked away, leaving Matthias to ponder that.

  * * * *

  When Matthias went upstairs around nine that evening, Taz had unlocked their bedroom door. He found her on her side, asleep, turned away from him. He debated waking her and decided against it. Instead, he tried to reach out to her with his mind and bumped against a barrier.

  He knew she was grieving, trying to make sense of her new life. Any other woman would be doped up with tranquilizers by this point, but somehow, in her own way, she was dealing. All he could do was stand by and be there for her, do the best he could to help her through it as much as she’d let him.

  And if she wanted to date, that’s exactly what they’d do.

  After tossing and turning in bed for nearly an hour, he went downstairs to his study to work. Around midnight he returned to the kitchen for a glass of water, then heard a noise.

  Matthias paused at the kitchen door. In the library, someone played the piano. Chopin, he thought, one of the nocturnes.

  His heart froze. Rafael.

  Rafe didn’t have room in his condo for the grand piano, and when he visited, he spent at least an hour at it every day, if his schedule allowed.

  With his heart in his throat, Matthias slowly forced his feet toward the library. The door wasn’t closed all the way. Taz was seated at the piano, her eyes closed, the look on her face…

  Her style was exactly Rafael’s. Matthias didn’t know she played. To the best of his knowledge, she’d never sat at the piano.

  He watched her for several long minutes. When she finished Chopin she moved into Beethoven, the Moonlight Sonata. Hauntingly, achingly beautiful, her hands floated over the keys with assured confidence.

  Yet another of Rafe
’s favorites.

  Mozart’s Rondo alla Turca, if he wasn’t mistaken, was next. He felt he shouldn’t interrupt her, that to do so would be a mistake for reasons he didn’t dare contemplate.

  When she finished, she looked like she was in a trance. He quickly moved to the kitchen and watched as she slowly climbed the stairs to their bedroom. He followed her a moment later and found her sound asleep in their bed.

  Sleep playing? There were crazier things. Rafael had played for years. It wasn’t unusual for him to pick up women at parties or bars by playing a bawdy ragtime number and making up his own hysterically funny lyrics to go with it.

  But he was also a classical virtuoso in every sense of the word. It was one of the skills he mastered to keep his sanity after losing Cassandra.

  How did Taz know Rafael’s favorite songs?

  * * * *

  The next morning, Matthias let Taz sleep in. He paused by the library door, then found Tim in the kitchen. When sat down to eat breakfast, he finally asked.

  “How long has Taz played the piano?”

  Tim laughed. “What?”

  “The piano. How long has she played?”

  “She doesn’t. She’d be doing good to pound out Chopsticks. Why did you think she played?”

  Matthias shook his head. “Never mind. I thought you’d told me she played.”

  “No. She never showed an interest. I tried her with a few lessons and she didn’t want to. She loves listening to music, appreciates it, but has no interest in playing. Why?”

  “I’m tired, and it doesn’t matter. Really.”

  That night, Taz slept throughout the night even though Matthias awoke repeatedly, making sure she was in bed beside him, still wondering about not just her skills, but her choice in music.

  There’d been no sheet music on the piano, all of it tucked in the bench. Rafael rarely used music when he played unless learning a new piece.