The Truth about Vampires

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The Truth about Vampires Page 9

by Theresa Meyers


  “You’ve missed the deadline for tomorrow’s paper.” She’d pegged Hollander’s reaction. Pissed.

  “I know. But I’m still doing interviews and research for the next vampire article. This is far bigger than anything we anticipated.”

  “How big?” Hollander pushed, the angry edge of his voice softening a touch.

  “Pulitzer big.”

  He let out a long, low whistle. “When can you get it to me?”

  “Probably on Monday. Don’t you want any details?”

  “Hell, of course I want details. Let’s start off with where the hell are you?”

  “In Seattle’s main vampire enclave below the city.”

  “The Underground?”

  “Yep. Turns out it’s not just a tourist trap.” He sucked in a startled breath. “Holy shit on a shingle. They’re real? Bloodsucking, fangs and all?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you okay? Have they tried to eat you?” Kristin sighed. “I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” Hollander coughed a little. Clearly he was shook up.

  “There are still some things I need to get details on—like how they feed, what’s exactly in the vampire ichor that converts people into vampires, and the history of their race, and how else they are similar to normal people.”

  “Give me the address,” he told her, and Kristin heard papers rustle. His desk was as messy as her purse. “Okay, shoot. I’ll send you a photog right away. We need pictures. Plenty of pictures.”

  Now, wouldn’t that be great? Too bad it wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t exactly sure where she was herself. The Underground had to span more than twenty city blocks. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell they’d allow that. Besides, I don’t have a street address.”

  “What about the club?”

  Dmitri wasn’t going to allow that either; she was absolutely positive. She had a sudden interesting—no, make that fascinating—thought. “Honestly, I don’t even know if they’d show up in the image.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that. See what you can get. We’re going to need something.”

  She would try to get some shots with her cell phone, but the images would be crappy. Grainy and not good enough for the front page. Her mind spun a mile a minute searching for options and discarding them as fast as they popped into her brain. “If nothing else, maybe I can get the manager to let us take pictures of the decor in the club and perhaps some of the donors.”

  Hollander grumbled something indistinct under his breath. “You just take care of yourself. And report back in by Monday.” Kristin was surprised to hear the concerned tone in his voice.

  She spent the rest of her day working on the article and doing a little bit of online research into the late fourteenth century—the time Dmitri said he had lived before being turned. He came from the era of Chaucer and his Canterbury Tales, a time rife with superstition and dominated by the church. No wonder he’d seen his transformation as one huge negative.

  She tried Dmitri’s bedroom door, but it was locked. Instead, she trekked to the kitchen, where she found most of the cupboards bare. By dinnertime she was hungry enough to call the operator and order one of those pizzas Dmitri had mentioned.

  It smelled like heaven as she peeked inside the box. Holding it with the palm of one hand, she lightly rapped on his bedroom door with the other. “Hey. I got pizza. You interested?” Nothing. Nada. Zip. Who knew, maybe he was a deep sleeper.

  She knocked a little harder. No response. This time when she tried the knob his door swung open effortlessly. Her latent curiosity got the better of her. Exactly how did a vampire like to sleep?

  She tiptoed in and found the dark room was vacant except for the massive bed covered in a simple tailored duvet in stark white and little else. It looked as if it hadn’t even been slept in. It was a little disappointing when she’d somehow expected something far more dramatic, like a coffin.

  The whole room radiated masculinity in a black-white way. Black carpet, black walls, white bed and white bathroom with sleek black-and-white tiles and chrome fixtures. The only picture was a black-and-white photograph of the same crumbled church from the other room, but from a different angle. The face of the stone angel carved into the fascia looked as if it had been crying. Dark tearlike stains from centuries of rain marred the stone’s surface.

  She turned away from the image and walked to the bed, reaching out to touch the pristine covers. A faint stirring of chocolate tinged with citrus and musk clung to them, but the covers were cold to the touch. He’d been gone awhile then. He must have transported while she’d been working.

  A twinge pulled inside her chest. He was clearly avoiding her, but why? He was a contradiction of hot and cold. One minute he looked at her like a starving man, and the next he turned away as if she offended him.

  Suddenly it seemed as if she was intruding on a personal place where she had no business. Kristin snatched her hand away from the covers and left the bedroom. She blew out a quick breath. Well, she wasn’t going to just sit around and wait for him to return. That had gotten her nowhere fast in her experience. She had no idea when he’d be back and she still had questions she’d like answered before her next deadline.

  She dialed the operator again. “Can you please connect me with Achilles?” She somehow doubted there’d be more than one.

  His voice rumbled sleepy and languorous into the receiver. “Has he left you to your own devices so soon? Clearly I need to give him a refresher course on what one does with a beautiful woman.”

  While Achilles was no doubt the stuff of many a female fantasy, Kristin wasn’t tempted in the slightest. Dmitri’s darkness, both inside and out, were far more alluring to her. She shifted the phone to her other hand, and a whiff of the scent from his bedcovers tickled her nose, making her shiver thinking of him naked in that big bed. “Do you know where he is?”

  “This time of night you’d usually find him at Sangria. Would you like me to take you there?”

  Her heart stuttered for a moment. It was a risk, but one she needed to take. All she knew was that she needed to find Dmitri now. “How soon can we go?”

  Chapter 8

  Ten minutes later Kristin wound her way through Sangria toward the shuttered crimson velvet curtains Achilles had pointed out. But before she could pull them back, someone on the other side spoke. “Go away.”

  The moment she heard his voice she knew it was Dmitri. Her heart pounded harder.

  She yanked the curtain aside. Dmitri had a lithe young brunette snuggled up on his lap, her arms curved around his shoulders, her head arched back, his head nuzzled against her neck. A spark of anger flamed to life deep inside, but Kristin quickly snuffed it out. There was nothing between them. A kiss. That’s all. And he’d done a fairly good job at avoiding whatever it was that was simmering between them whenever they were within eye contact of each other.

  For a moment it looked like any other make-out session, until Dmitri lifted his head from the curve of the female’s neck where throat met collarbone. Red glistened along the edges of his mouth like bright cherry lip gloss. Kristin’s stomach twisted and she quickly turned away, fighting back the gag reflex pulsating in her throat.

  Truth was she’d always been a bit squeamish when it came to blood. Others’ blood, not her own. Her knees suddenly felt spongy. In a heartbeat all those useless warm, mushy things she’d been feeling for Dmitri disintegrated in her chest.

  “Kristin—”

  “You’re busy. I’ll see you later.”

  In an instant he was blocking her escape. He wiped the blood from his mouth with a black hankie, the red all but disappearing into the dark fabric. “I didn’t want you to see it like this.”

  She stiffened as if he’d slapped her. “Oh, because you think it looks more civil if you use a straw? I don’t give a rat’s ass who you want to sleep with, or feed from, or whatever it is that you vampires do. It’s none of my business.”

  His features darkened, looking more distant and more th
reatening all at once. A flash of fear skittered from her nape down her spine. She glanced behind her and saw the girl sprawled motionless in the chair. The swift shush of fabric made her whip around to look back at Dmitri. He had yanked the curtains closed, shutting them off from the view of everyone out in the club. He stepped closer, pushing into her space. She involuntarily took a step back. “I was only feeding.”

  His face, his mouth, which he’d just used to feed from a human being, were mere inches away from her own. She swallowed hard against the lump blocking her ability to breathe. “I thought all warm-blooded creatures could sustain you. That you didn’t need to feed on humans.” His face hardened into the same sad look as the stone angel from the black-and-white photograph.

  “Sustain, but never fill.”

  “Please, don’t let me stop you.” She glanced back at the brunette, who had a languid smile on her face, as if she was high. “Get whatever fill of her you need.” She stepped sideways trying to avoid touching him.

  He caught her arm, his fingers branding her skin. “For an unbiased reporter you’re awfully quick to judge.”

  She spun around, yanking her arm from his hold and crossing both firmly over her chest. “You were freakin’ eating her. What other explanation do you have for that? You want me to get a photographer in here to shoot it? Because, believe you me, if people get a shot of this alongside the article, there’s no way they’ll get to the article. A picture speaks a thousand words. They’ll draw their own conclusions.”

  He pulled back, giving her enough space to breathe, but even then Kristin wasn’t sure she could drag in enough air to stop her shallow breathing.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and interview Beth? Ask her how she feels.”

  “Yeah, like I’d interview a chocolate-chip cookie. Besides, for all I know, you did your mind-control thingy on her.”

  “It’s called a glamour and, no, I didn’t. Many of our donors, like Beth, are willing enough. They don’t have to be glamoured.”

  Somehow that was even less reassuring. “Fine.” She turned back to Beth. The girl was cleaning the remaining blood from her neck with a damp washcloth, a big whacked-out smile on her face.

  “Um, hi, Beth, is it? I’m Kristin.” Kristin couldn’t take her eyes off the two deep puncture marks on the girl’s neck, but forced herself to look back into her face. “Dmitri’s told me you’re a donor, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions for an article I’m writing about the club.”

  Beth grinned. “Sure. Any friend of Dmitri’s is a friend of mine.”

  Kristin glanced back at Dmitri, who was leaning against the door frame. At the moment she didn’t feel too friendly toward him. An unfamiliar mixture of heat and uncertainty churned in her stomach. Jealousy? She squeezed her hand tighter. No, she certainly didn’t want to be his juice box. But then, she definitely didn’t like the idea of him snacking on some random woman either. It bothered her, but not in a way she could easily define.

  His big brooding width filled the doorway completely, distracting her. “I thought you wanted me to interview her.”

  “Just pretend I’m not here.”

  Yeah. Like that could happen when the room fairly pulsed with the energy he was throwing off in her direction.

  “I’d like to interview her alone, if you don’t mind.” She pulled a small spiral notepad out of her purse along with a pen.

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll make certain you aren’t disturbed.” He slipped through the part in the curtain, then pulled it firmly shut, leaving her alone in the tasting room with Beth. The girl’s eyes were closed, her head relaxed against the back of the black leather couch. God, she looked so young. She must be barely twenty-one.

  “Beth.”

  “Ummm.” The girl’s eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open. Kristin reached out and gently touched her hand.

  “Are you all right?”

  Beth gave her a lazy, satiated smile, her eyes cracking open. “I’m great.” Yeah, she bet. If this wasn’t the aftereffect of a glamour, then clearly she’d been drugged.

  “What are you on right now?”

  “On?”

  “Did he drug you?”

  Beth sat up straighter, her eyes losing a little of their glow. “No! I stay pure for the experience. It’s more intense that way.”

  “Why do you do it? Why do you let them drink from you like that?”

  A small knowing smile curled Beth’s lips. “You’ve never done it, have you?”

  “I don’t even like donating blood to the blood bank.”

  Beth bit the end of her index finger then smoothed the wet tip of it across her lips in a sensuous slide. “It’s better than sex. There’s no sweaty pawing or groping or sloppy kisses, just total orgasm one after another after another.” She slowly closed her eyes. “And you don’t even need a condom.” She giggled.

  “Really?”

  Beth leaned forward as if confiding to a good friend instead of a reporter she’d known barely five minutes. “Yeah. It’s probably the most erotic thing I’ve done in my whole life.”

  An uncomfortable hollowness settled in the pit of Kristin’s stomach. The initial repulsion was replaced by something worse. Anxiety liberally doused with insecurity. If this was what feeding was like, how many others had Dmitri shared it with? And why did he seem so clear about not wanting to do that with her? Why did he insist it was merely sustenance when the exchange was clearly more? And what had she done during their kiss to so clearly turn him away?

  “Is it always like that?” she asked the donor.

  Beth ran her fingers into her hair, resting her head in her hand. “With the right vampire. You can feel their need. It’s too intense when you’re with one that’s too hungry. Then there are the ones that can nearly suck you dry. Had that happen once and ended up in the hospital needing a transfusion because I was so drained.”

  Kristin shifted in her seat. The discussion about blood was making her uncomfortable in more ways than one.

  “So when did you start being a donor?”

  “When I was sixteen.”

  “And how old are you now?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  Kristin scribbled a note on her pad. “How did you get into donating?”

  “In high school my friend Envy was into cutting. She had heard about a cool place to hang out. She got us some fake IDs and we’ve been doing this at least once a month ever since. As long as we didn’t try to get a drink at the bar, they let us stay until we were old enough to get in on our own.”

  A thought struck Kristin. “Do you think vampires can read minds?”

  “Yeah, they totally do. Well, they talk to each other telepathically, anyway. But sometimes you can almost feel them reading what’s on your mind too. That’s why you can’t lie to them.”

  Kristin’s face burned with heat. Had Dmitri been reading her mind? She’d thought something was happening when she’d seen him look at the doctor at the vampire clinic, but she hadn’t been sure at the time. If he could read minds, did that mean he could see into her dreams too? A cold sluice of mortification instantly replaced the heat.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  Beth’s question jerked Kristin back into the interview. “Have you ever transported with a vampire?”

  By the way Beth’s eyes lit up, Kristin could tell this was news to her. Interviewing was a delicate balancing act. You sometimes needed to give a little information to get more from a source. In this case perhaps she’d given too much.

  “They can transport, you mean, like, ‘Beam me up, Scotty’?”

  Kristin tapped her pen on her notepad, schooling her features to reveal nothing but slight interest. She’d already revealed too much emotional reaction during the interview, as it was. “I was asking you.”

  “I’ve never had one take me from the club, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Kristin nodded. “Are there any other perks, beside multiple O’s, to being a donor?”
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  Beth let her smile get wider. “Sometimes they let you have a little vampire blood in return.”

  A sick, oily sensation slid through Kristin’s stomach. Being fed off of was gross enough, but then turning around and sucking on the bloodsucker? No, thank you. She pressed her lips together hard at the thought.

  Of course, she could understand the appeal was not in the act, but in the aftereffects. You felt incredibly strong, had better health and felt younger. Hell, in some cases, if Dr. Al Kashir was being honest with her, it could even heal terminal human diseases.

  “And have you ever done that?” she asked Beth.

  “Once. And it was the most incredible week of my life. Like being some kind of comic-book superhero.”

  Kristin was writing notes as fast as she could, the heel of her hand smudging the black ink slightly. The low buzz of conversation and the thump of the music intruded through the curtain. She shut them out so she could concentrate. Too bad she couldn’t shut out the slight hint of chocolate, citrus and overbearing male that spiked the air.

  But was it worth it? She still didn’t know exactly how the vampire ichor worked on the body or, for that matter, how vampires were created from it. It seemed like an awfully big risk, but then so were street drugs, and it didn’t stop people from risking everything for their next high. “Sounds interesting. I see how people could get hooked on feeling like they were invincible.”

  “Yeah. The problem is, they really aren’t supposed to let you do that. I only got to because the vampire who let me doesn’t always follow all the rules. Ya know?”

  Kristin was getting a real good idea. “Does this vampire come to the club often?”

  “No. Only seen him once or twice before.”

  “Could you describe him?”

  “Blond, real blond, spiky hair. Intense red eyes. Cool black leather duster. Badass.” Bingo. Mystery note-slipping vamp identified. “Do you know his name?” “Vane.”

  A pair of glowing red eyes swam into Kristin’s vision and she shook her head to erase the image so she could see clearly to finish her notes. She wondered if Dmitri knew who else had been snacking on his little chocolate-chip cookie.

 

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