by Lisa Olsen
“Where else should I be naked but in my own bedroom?” I muttered, digging into my dresser to look for something to put on. Even though I was reasonably covered up, I still felt plenty vulnerable in just the towel. I settled for a simple white nightgown with pretty eyelet lace around the bodice. While my comfy pj’s still felt nice against the skin, I found I didn’t crave the warmth as much, especially after a hot bath. I didn’t even need to sleep with socks on anymore.
“I’m sorry, I should have knocked first. Maybe I should go…”
“Don’t be silly, you’re already here.” I caught his arm to keep him from going for the window and I felt his body tense at my touch. “You couldn’t have seen much anyway.” I tried to keep my voice light, but as he turned around, I had my doubts over how much he’d seen from the look on his face.
“Right,” he nodded, eyes sweeping over my body with undisguised hunger and I wondered if the nightgown had been the right choice. Maybe I should have gone with a Snuggie? It might have made things easier for both of us. All too soon, he regained his composure and the moment passed. “You ah, you said you needed to talk to me about something important?”
“Oh right. Is there anything you want to tell me about where you went last night after I saw you at the club?” I could tell he hadn’t expected that question at all by the way his brow crumpled in confusion.
“No, should there be?”
“No violent altercations I should know about?”
“I didn’t say that, but I’m not in the habit of having to account for my time or my actions to anyone,” he replied sternly.
“I’m not in the habit of having the police show up at my door accusing me of murder either, so I suppose it’s a night for new things.”
“Who did you kill?”
Something about the way he asked it really irked me. No surprise whatsoever that someone had died. As though he fully expected me to be capable of such a thing and was merely annoyed at being dragged into it. “No, that’s what I’m asking you,” I scowled.
“It just so happens that I didn’t kill anyone,” he scowled back. “Last night.”
“Well someone did, and the police came here to ask me about it.”
“Why do they think you’re involved?”
“Because it was my ex, Trent who was murdered.” I launched into a brief rehash of the conversation with Detective Lucas, grateful to see I had his interest at least, and that annoyed look had disappeared from his face.
“What do you think, does that sound like a vampire related death?”
“It could be. Anytime you see neck trauma, it’s a fair assumption, but you don’t normally see that with a beating. Torture yes, but not a general beating.”
I didn’t want to know about his experience with torture, and gladly glossed over that. “You really don’t know anything about it?”
“No, I give you my word, the guy wasn’t even on my radar. Though it sounds like maybe he should have been,” he frowned.
“Is it possible that I killed him and blanked it out?” The question had plagued me for the past couple of hours.
“I’ve never heard of that happening before, but I suppose it’s possible,” he shrugged. “Look, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. The cops don’t have anything on you, you said he didn’t even really suspect you. I’m actually a little more worried about this guy that showed up at the auditorium that same night. You said you didn’t get a very good look at him?”
“No, he was half in the shadows, but I could tell he was tall, and I did see he had blonde hair and blue eyes. Though how I could have managed to see his eye color from such a distance is beyond me.”
“I’m starting to think you only saw what he wanted you to see.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s very unusual for you not to remember the vampire that turned you. It’s not that strange to be disoriented at first, but there’s no reason to block it out entirely.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could remember him, but… I’ve got nothing. Just a jumbled dream, and I still didn’t get a good look at his face, or hear a name.”
Bishop was silent for long seconds as he paced the length of my bedroom. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I toweled off the damp edges of my hair while he wrestled with it. “You did well with what you told the police, though I would have rather you’d kept The Hart out of it. Thanks for keeping my name out as well.”
“I figured you and Aleksandr probably wouldn’t want the police poking around in your business.”
His face changed at the mention of the Russian, the cold mask reasserting itself, and I braced myself for the mood swing I knew couldn’t be far behind. “Something came for you from Kursik,” he said softly, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a small envelope.
“For me? How did you get it?”
“He must have checked up on you. My address is listed as your residence, remember?”
“Oh, right, thank you,” I nodded, accepting the stiff envelope, immediately tearing into it. Inside was a small white card covered in smooth, flowing script.
Something to remind you of the old days. I look forward to spending new days in your lovely company. Please do me the honor of joining me tomorrow night for cocktails. Eternally your servant - Aleksandr
“Huh. He wants me to meet him for drinks tomorrow night.”
“That’s not all he wants,” Bishop muttered.
“Huh? What do you think he means, ‘something to remind you of the old days’?”
“He also sent over this.” He produced a black lacquer box with a gold clasp. With a surge of excitement, I opened it, the breath whistling through my teeth as I beheld the ornately carved cuff bracelet worked in gold.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmured, immediately slipping it onto my wrist. I wasn’t any kind of expert, but it looked like an original piece, very old and very valuable. The symbols on it reminded me of my ring, and upon comparison, some of them were identical.
Bishop’s face gave nothing away, but his voice sounded strained. “It’s… I had no idea he… I didn’t think it was his to give,” he managed to get out.
“Why? Do you recognize this piece?”
“Yes, it belonged to my Sire. But I haven’t seen it for a long, long time.”
“Your Sire?” My mouth dropped open in surprise. I’m not sure why, but I hadn’t expected his Sire to be a woman. Of course it made perfect sense, but it threw me for a loop. “Maybe she gave it to him?”
“She must have.”
“You don’t think he took it, do you? I’d hate to accept a gift that shouldn’t belong to me.”
“No, it’s yours, it’s right that you should keep it.” His eyes remained fixed on my wrist.
“If you say so,” I replied, watching him carefully. “So you know Aleksandr then? From way back?”
“Not very well, it’s been fifty years easy since I last laid eyes on him, but I’ve seen a dozen vampires like him. Ruthless, power hungry, he’s not to be trusted.” There definitely wasn’t any love lost between them, but I wasn’t sure why.
“I’ll keep that in mind then.”
“Wait, you’re not going out with him, are you?” His expression darkened.
“Why not? Maybe he’ll have some answers for me, look at this thing. It’s obvious he’s got connections with the older vamps. I’m hoping I can get him to talk to me a little about them.”
“I don’t think he’s interested in you for conversation.”
“Does that surprise you? That a rich, powerful man might want to spend time with me?”
“Vampire. Not a man, it’s not the same thing at all.” Bishop seemed more and more agitated, and I could tell he was scraping for an argument to talk me out of it.
“So what? I’m a vampire too. I’m stronger than I look, remember? I’m sure I’ll be fine. Besides, I have a feeling he might know something about who my Sire is.”
“He thinks you’re hundreds of years old,
remember? He’ll find your game of twenty questions suspicious. Besides, Kursik won’t have any more information than I do.”
“You don’t know that, Bishop. I still think it’s worth a shot.”
“Don’t do this, Anja.” His hands slid up my bare arms as his voice took on a pleading cast, and I fought what those eyes did to me.
“Can you give me a reason, any reason at all why I shouldn’t go on a date with the rich, good looking vampire who wants to ply me with gifts?” To be honest, I hadn’t given much thought to Aleksandr since that night, especially not after the kiss in the alley with Bishop. Kursik might be attractive, but he also scared the hell out of me. Okay, so I was using the invitation to try and provoke a response from Bishop, but it was the only tool I had at my disposal.
“I told you, he’s dangerous.”
“That’s not what I mean. Can you give me a reason to hope for anything better?” My eyes pleaded with him to forget his silly objections and admit he felt something for me too. Something more than obligation, or the heat of the blood. I felt his thumbs brush across my skin, and for a moment I thought he might break, but he was more stubborn than I gave him credit for.
“I can’t.”
“Then you don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t go out with.” I pulled away from his hold before I did something stupid like try to smack him. Or possibly kiss him. When I turned around again, he was gone.
* * *
The next evening I awoke to find I’d accidentally demolished my alarm clock. Either that or Bridget came in and smashed it and I hadn’t moved a muscle. My last class of the day was long over, but I still had time to make it to rehearsal if I didn’t take too long getting ready. I would have to figure out what to do about school before they tossed me out. Maybe sooner than later, as I saw I had a voicemail from my mother.
I seriously considered deleting it without listening to it, because I knew I’d be tempted to call her once I heard her voice. Curiosity won out, and I listened to it anyway.
“Baby, the Dean called today. He said you’ve been out sick for a couple of days, are you alright? I hope you’re taking your vitamins, and did you try that new tea I sent you? I hope it’s nothing too serious, you need to take care of your instrument, sweetheart, it’s your gift. Give us a call when you get a chance, and let me know if I should come up with some soup and those bath crystals you like.”
A lump rose in my throat as I sat there listening to her voice. I knew I should call her back to keep her from worrying, but instead I deleted it. Not because I didn’t want to talk to her, but because I’ve never ever been able to successfully lie to her. Not even over the phone. If she asked something too close to home, I’d be in deep trouble. In the worst way I wanted to call her and tell her everything that had happened to me, but I knew she couldn’t handle it. A problem to her was a gravy stain that wouldn’t come out, or how to balance the budget. My problems would be completely out of her depth.
Suddenly I was much less eager to get up and go to rehearsal. Who was I kidding? I wouldn’t be able to keep going to college, at least not at CCA. Even if I did manage to find a way to shift my course schedule to classes later in the day, what about my future? I couldn’t conceivably travel with a jazz ensemble or even stay put in San Francisco if I fell into a death-like coma as soon as the sun rose.
Sure, I could still get my degree online, or at night school, but then what? I couldn’t keep sponging off of my parents indefinitely, especially if I kept missing school. The best I could hope for was to find a job singing in a little vampire club. Surprisingly, that didn’t sound so bad, but it would kill my parents to think of me as a lounge singer.
That alone propelled me to get up and get ready for rehearsal. I’d have to talk to the Dean, maybe tell him I had mono or something, see if I could work around the class schedule.
There was no sign of either Bishop or my mysterious blonde visitor when I got to the auditorium, but everyone was abuzz with gossip about Trent’s death. Keeping mostly to myself, I found I could listen to several conversations at once, and still keep a general gist of what they were talking about. No one had any real idea of how he’d died, but there was all sorts of speculation that he’d been killed by a jealous boyfriend. I found out his reputation as a bastard was more widespread than I’d thought. Why hadn’t any of them warned me when I dated him?
I made it home again without incident, nervous about getting ready for my date with Aleksandr. Bridget was already dressed for work when I got there, eating a bowl of Fruit Loops and chocolate milk.
“How was priss club?” she asked around a mouthful of cereal.
“About what you’d expect,” I shrugged, no longer bothered by her comments on my chosen profession. “Working tonight?”
“No, this is the latest in club-wear. Speaking of which… stay out of my closet, okay? I don’t want you getting blood on any of my clothes.”
“When have I gotten blood on any of your clothes?”
“Still. Not all of us have Daddy to buy us new clothes whenever we want. I can’t afford to have you regularly raiding my closet.”
“Don’t worry, I have a date tonight, but I won’t be borrowing anything of yours.” I figured something more refined was in order.
“No? Bishop has a thing for the school girl look, huh?”
“Actually, I don’t know or care what Bishop has a thing for.” I knew it wasn’t the club look; he hadn’t stopped scowling over my legs the other night. “I have a date with Aleksandr Kursik.”
“The Russian from the Bloody Hart?” she blinked. “I thought you had a thing for the vampire cop?”
“He’s not a cop exactly, and it doesn’t matter if I had a thing for him or not. He’s made it extremely clear he’s not interested.”
“Yeah, okay,” Bridget snorted, and I shot her a scowl.
“What?”
“He’s interested alright. I could tell by the way he looked at you. Why don’t you just ask him what’s up his butt?”
As lovely as that turn of phrase was, maybe I didn’t want to know what Bishop’s reasons were? It was easier to pretend he kept me at arms length because of some deep, dark secret. If I came right out and asked him, he might actually tell me it was because he found me disgustingly naïve, clumsy or plain, or all of the above. I preferred to keep my cushion of ignorance against heartbreak.
“Because… I’m not going to waste my time chasing after him anymore. He knows where I am if he changes his mind. In the meantime, I have a date, so excuse me, I have to get ready.” For once she respected my privacy enough to back off, and I escaped to the sanctuary of my room to get dressed.
Chapter Eighteen
I went with the little black dress, suitable for concert premieres, dinner parties and cocktails with Russian vampires. Since I was going for more of a sophisticated look, I twisted my hair up into a loose chignon, set delicate gold hoops at my ears and I kept the makeup to a minimum. Of course I wore the cuff bracelet he’d given me, and my ring, which I still hadn’t taken off. At that point, I wasn’t sure if I was capable of taking it off at all; the very idea made me uneasy.
I decided to splurge on a cab to the hotel. Though the cold didn’t bother me, I didn’t want to take the chance of mussing my hair on a longer bus ride. That, and I wanted to look as though I didn’t care about money, even if it wasn’t true. The opulence of the Fairmont Hotel wasn’t lost on me. I’d stayed in my share of fancy places over the years on vacation with my parents, but when I was ushered up to the penthouse, I couldn’t help but gawk like a country bumpkin as the elevator doors opened.
There were two men dressed in identical gray suits standing outside his door, and they immediately stepped aside, opening the door for me to pass. Another gray suited man met me on the inside, ready to lead me through the suite to the living room where Aleksandr waited. They all moved in perfect silence, like they took their cues from an unseen and unheard presence, and it made me wonder… Was my host able
to command them with the power of his mind? Or had they simply gone through the routine so many times, it was a symphony of synchronization?
Kursik was there for the handoff, extending his arm to me. “Thank you for joining me this evening. You look radiant, milaya,” he smiled, his eyes bright.
“Thank you for inviting me.” I slipped my arm onto his with my best Regency impression of manners, and hoped for the best.
“My gift suits you.”
“It’s exquisite, thank you. I ah, haven’t seen anything like it for a long time. Where did you find it?” Belatedly I hoped I hadn’t asked something gauche, like how much something cost, but he didn’t seem to mind the question.
“From a shared acquaintance, I believe. Please, join me for a drink. Champagne?”
Nodding absently over the drink, I took a seat on the couch, far more interested in what he’d said. “A shared acquaintance?”
“More than an acquaintance on both of our parts, I expect,” he chuckled. “I knew your maker well. Did she never speak of me?”
She? I tried not to choke on the champagne, but ended up with some of it going up my nose and it took me a second to keep from coughing, not having to breathe definitely coming in handy. “Perhaps. There are some things a lady never discusses,” I tried for a mysterious smile. This was better than I could have expected! He had a direct pipeline into my Sire, or at least, he thought he did, since he believed I was a few hundred years old. But it could be the same person, especially since Bishop recognized the bracelet and it fit the style of the ring. That meant… my Sire was the same vampire that turned Bishop!
Kursik seemed to find my response amusing, and his blue eyes twinkled as he raised the crystal flute to me in a salute. “Good, then I can count on your discretion for anything that passes between us as well.”
“Of course,” I pledged, trying to figure out how to steer him back to talking about my Sire, or maker as he called her. “How did it end up in your hands, if you don’t mind my asking? This was one of her favorite pieces, as I recall.”
“You know Carys, she didn’t want to leave me empty handed when she moved on. I do miss that girl,” he sighed, draining the remainder of his glass and a gray suited sentry immediately sprang forward to replenish it.
