by Hughes, Mary
“I’d need a local household business,” she said.
“You’re not rebuilding Fangs to You. Black leather lederhosen is not an image we want.”
“I couldn’t make any money anyway, not since your professional marketing campaign has established Meiers Corners as disgustingly wholesome.” She snapped her fingers. “Give me that cute little Nieman’s Bar and I’ll drop all my lawsuits.”
Julian grimaced but he said, “Done.”
“Camille,” Nosferatu said. “You can’t possibly want to give up the power I bestow upon you.”
“What power?” She spoke without turning. “With you I get backstabbing and lies…and used. It’s getting old. Time to move on with my life.”
She turned to me. “You know, my mother was a serf. She worked her fingers to the bone just for the privilege of starving while rich men ate. I trained as a courtesan so that some day I could wield power through a man. But you said it, Rocky. Some people are worth it.” She sneered over her shoulder at Giuseppe. “And some aren’t.”
She sauntered to Julian and handed him the head.
“You’ll regret this, Camille!” Nosferatu spun and stalked out.
Giuseppe, with a thoughtful, narrowed glance at Camille, followed slowly.
Dragan said, “Now we’ve wo—”
“Don’t!” I put my fingers over his lips. “Haven’t you learned Murphy has a spy satellite?”
We gathered the Soul Stealer’s head and body to be destroyed. Mr. Miyagi searched the choir loft and found all Dragan’s fingers, which miraculously reattached, good as new. Dru staggered in, only a little the worse for wear, as he was flexing them. Apparently Mom had found her and taken care of her until she recovered.
A call to Elias was on Mom’s horizon.
As for Elias, he deactivated the Shield, the refugees returned from Iowa along with extra v-guy help to mind-wipe folk from the ball, and everybody, not just Camille, moved on with their lives.
A few weeks later we all sat in the living room of my mother’s new house, its down payment courtesy of an advance for my first world solo tour, with Dragan conducting. I admit I was scared at the idea, but knowing Dragan would be at my side, I was also excited.
Mom was in her element, pouring drinks and smiling up a storm. A dozen of her new line of upscale garden decorations watched us, gnomes and frogs and fiddle-playing crickets made out of a material so lifelike it felt as if they’d join the discussion at any moment.
Julian was grumbling. “Yes, all right. Only Zajicek could have changed the plan fast enough to get us past Nosferatu’s vamps. And he was instrumental in keeping the monster from Rocky long enough for her to put her flute together and play the C#. That took courage, I guess.”
“I can’t believe it worked,” Bo said. “I thought for sure when the plan FUBARed, that was it.”
“Luck,” Luke said.
“It’s unfair to be that damned lucky,” Julian complained. “Anybody else as black-hearted would end up in the shitter. He ends up smelling like roses.”
The music in Julian’s voice told me here was the real reason he was so unrelentingly antagonistic with Dragan. I wondered what was in Julian’s past that caused it.
“Well I can’t believe you took down the megavamp without us.” Elena bounced baby Rorik in her lap. The boy laughed delightedly.
“You had more important work to do.” Bo smiled down at his son.
“I know it needed to be done,” Mr. Miyagi said in his deep, rough voice. “But I have never taken a life before. It weighs upon me.”
“I’m not sure that monster counted as a life,” Bo said.
“A sentient being.” Miyagi shook his head.
“It was war,” Julian said. “Him or us.”
“There’s a cost to killing,” Logan said suddenly. “A heavy one. There always is. I destroyed Nosferatu’s old lieutenant. I’ll never forget it.”
“He threatened children, Logan,” Liese said. “It had to be done.”
“Yes. But it will always be with me.”
“You did the right thing.” My mom refilled Mr. Miyagi’s drink. “You saved my little girl.” She beamed at me. “So she can have her debut solo tour and marry Lambo-man. And make lots of grandchildren for me.”
“Mother.” I blushed. But “Bolero” played in my head with its relentless, driving rhythm.
Dragan rubbed a gentle knuckle on my cheek. “I will never tire of that.”
“Her blushes?” Nixie said from where she walked with Jaxxie. “Or making grandbabies?”
My cheeks flamed. “Enough! Or you won’t be my matron of honor.”
“I’ll be good.” She smirked.
“One last thing.” Dragan pulled a pair of thick eyeglasses from a pocket inside his jacket. “Or rather, two.” He pulled a second pair from another pocket.
“My backup-backup glasses,” I said. “Where did you find them?”
“Where didn’t I find them? Drahý, when you need real glasses, I’ll get you the best money can buy myself. But these—” He crushed them to powder between his palms. “Are an abomination.”
“You’re right.” When everyone turned to me in surprise, I shrugged. “I’ve kind of gotten used to not having their weight on my face.”
“Effin’ finally,” Nixie said. “But jeez, all this good stuff going on scares me. It means Murphy’s gonna be joggling the handle of the commode, and sooner rather than later.”
“How about the blond with the man-shoulders and the braid I saw the night of Dr. Vilyn’s murder, heading for the sanctuary? We never did find out who he was.”
“That’s a start.”
“Maybe he wasn’t real,” Elena said to me. “Maybe you only thought you saw him. Elias did wipe you a couple times after that.”
I just glared at her.
Help came from an unexpected quarter. “I believe her,” Luke said. “It wasn’t me, but I’ll do everything I can to find out who it really was.”
Nixie groaned. “Don’t try to fix it. We need one bad thing, to fly us under Fate’s fuckup radar.”
“I can help with that,” Logan said. “Bo, remember last July when we found that phone video, revealing the healing properties of vampire blood? And we were worried a bad guy shared it?”
“Unfortunately.”
“I’ve been trying since then to trace where the video was sent. I finally made some headway recently.”
“More good news,” Nixie groaned. “We’re getting Murphyized for sure.”
“Hear me out. The video was indeed sent to another phone. A stolen burner. I’m good, but even I can’t trace that.”
Bo growled. “You have to keep trying.”
“Sure,” Logan said. “But it doesn’t look good.”
“That’s really crappy,” Nixie said. “Crappy enough that I feel better now.”
“Glad someone does.”
The vampire hung suspended from the steel cable in Paris, not by his claws, but sitting on a securely attached trapeze. He analyzed the crisscross of laser beams below him.
“Do you need any help?” The human’s whisper was neither harsh nor impatient.
Dragan Zajicek, orchestral conductor, part-time international courier and newly married man, smiled. This was certainly different from the last time, when he’d been beset by one fuckup after another.
Lust shuddered through him. Fuck. Up. It conjured very pleasant images. “I’m good,” he whispered back. “Although, this isn’t how most women would want to spend their honeymoon.”
Rocky snorted. “I’m not most women.”
She most certainly wasn’t. Once she’d learned to embrace risk, she’d shown herself to be his match in every way, including, surprisingly, this. He said, “Is the alarm signal jammed?”
“Yes. I did it while you were playing with your trapeze.”
“Playing?” He aimed a cutting laser at the glass case below him. “I’m an international conductor and professional courier. I don’t pl
ay.”
“You’re a boy. Everything you do is play.”
He smiled. He couldn’t help it. She put joy in his life. Bantering was only part of it. But since they hadn’t a bed—or backseat—right at the moment, banter would have to do.
There was plenty of time for it. The guards had been doubled since the last time he was here. Even so they had fifteen minutes because their entry was so smooth. Oh yes, with her, there was time for banter.
He tightened his abs, curled into a ball, slid his toes over the trapeze and reversed, hanging upside down. He uncurled until his head hung inches above the glass.
Snaking a mechanical claw through the crisscross of laser beams, he grabbed the uncut diamond, big as a child’s fist. It was the real thing tonight.
A flip sent the thing sailing through the air toward her. “Hey.” She snagged it, barely.
“That’s for the ‘boy’ comment.”
“Which only proves it’s true.” She muttered it.
He laughed. Reversing to sit again, he triggered the rewind and the trapeze smoothly rose.
With her helping, it took three minutes to pack the gear. They escaped with five minutes to spare.
Enkidu would have his children’s hospital, and his vampire coup. And Dragan, for the first time in 1600 years, had his heart.
Arm in arm, he strolled with his wife into the warm Paris night.
“Where are we going now?” Rocky said.
“Where would you like to go?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Somewhere mad.” She laughed. “I’m still pumped with adrenaline.”
“A tavern?” He twirled her into an embrace and kissed her, long and sweet, to let her know his preferences right now didn’t run to crowds.
“Well, no. Not after that amount of tongue.”
“I know just the place.” He hooked her arm and strolled her along a few more scenic sidewalks, then stopped and gestured at five stories of tall narrow windows and cream stone. “Ta-da.”
“That looks old.” She cocked her head doubtfully at the building. “Like an 1800s townhouse. You know, the kind subdivided nowadays into mansion flats? One bathroom per floor, cranky plumbing. Although the Eifel Tower makes a rather dramatic backdrop.”
“That’s its appearance,” he agreed. He took her hand and led her to the gold and glass door. The lock clicked as they approached, courtesy of a very modern proximity lock. He opened the door for her.
“It was unlocked? It’s a public building?”
He only smiled.
The tiled entryway had been restored to its late 1800s glory; he’d enjoyed the Belle Epoque, the optimism and flourishing arts when they’d all stood on the cusp of modern times. Dark walls held post-Impressionist paintings and old photographs. Graceful Art Nouveau furnishings with countless carved details stood on lacquered wood floors accented with hand woven rugs.
“Is this a historical site?” she said.
“Here, yes.” Upstairs was completely modernized, with polished mosaics in colored woods for floors, off-white walls with ceiling moldings and crystal chandeliers. He’d had it completely remodeled the moment Rocky agreed to marry him.
But the ground floor was indeed like a museum. He led her into a large room with gold-veined mirrors on every wall and waited for her reaction.
“It’s gorgeous.” Her eyes were big and blue as she spun to take in the whole thing. “It looks like a ballroom.”
“It was a ballroom. Balls, musical soirees and the odd ballet.” He held out his hands. “Would you care to dance?”
“How romantic.” She came into his arms with a sigh. “It’s nice this place wasn’t broken up into flats. How long has it been a museum?”
He kissed the top of her head. “You like museums?”
“I love museums.” She snuggled into him. “Thanks. This is perfect.”
“It will be,” he murmured, and sang the introductory strains, after the solos, of Strauss’s “Tales from the Vienna Woods”. When he got to the main theme, he launched them into the first broad swirl of a waltz.
She squealed. “Dragan! I don’t know how to waltz.”
His answer was to twirl her around the room, singing loudly. She was feather light in his arms and moved with him as if she’d been born to it.
When he swung her in a particularly tight loop, she laughed. “This is fun! I thought it’d be like the one-two-huh? of boys tripping in gym class. This is better than a carnival ride.”
He continued to sing through his joy. She joined in, the flute part, naturally. He loved her a little more right then. So he had to, he really did.
He twirled her to a stop and kissed her. Her lips were soft and inviting and her tongue slid like velvet into his mouth. Other women’s tastes had paled in time; hers became richer more intoxicating with each kiss.
She began tugging him toward the door.
“What are you thinking, drahý?”
“Same thing you’re thinking. Let’s find a hotel room and—” she stood on tiptoe, pulled his head down to her and whispered in his ear, “—get naked.”
“Still so demure?” He kissed her temple down to her jaw. “Why leave? We can get naked right here.”
“Ooh.” She started to tremble under his lips. “But someone could walk in on us.”
“I know.” He licked her delicate earlobe. “Isn’t that naughty?”
She trembled harder. “That’s hot…in fantasy. But in reality? It’s public. Seduction doesn’t work here.”
“On the contrary, seduction works extremely well here.” He slid his hands under her top, gliding up the silky skin of her ribcage, enjoying her delighted shivers of response. “Baroness Dudevant may have seduced Jules Sandeau in this very room.”
“You mean George Sand?” She gasped when he cupped her breasts. “Maybe if we were hidden by a crush of people we could get a little naughty.” Her cheeks turned pink and he knew she was aroused imagining it. “But right in the middle of a bare room, the outside door unlocked?” He pinched her nipple and she shrieked. “Dragan! What if someone shows up?”
“They won’t.” He lifted her top and bra and licked one round breast. The nipple puckered prettily. “Since I own the place. It’s a home, not a museum.”
“Why you…” She stepped back. Her voice was dark with emotion.
Self-preservation would suggest he look at her expression to see if it was anger or arousal. But she’d left her top crumpled above her beautiful breasts and they claimed his complete, hungry focus.
So he didn’t see it coming when she punched him in the jaw. That got his attention. He blinked up at her. She was standing with her hands over her open mouth. He said, “Why did you do that? You said this was romantic.”
“It was. It is. It’s also mortifying. I’m so sorry for the punch…but, Dragan, you let me believe we were in public. You knew I’d be embarrassed.” She winced, and started shaking her hand like it hurt. “Damn, you have bones of steel.”
“Beloved Rocky, I’m so sorry. I deserved that punch and more. My only defense is I also thought you’d find the danger of voyeurism erotic.”
“I did, sort of.”
He smiled slightly. Dared to tease, “Then you should know better than to go hard to hard.”
“I should, shouldn’t I?” She smiled ruefully at him. “I should have gone hard to soft. Hard. Soft.” A luscious full-body shudder went from head to toe. “Like hard in soft. Guess it was more erotic than I knew.”
“Shall we get naked then?”
“You mean more naked?” She glanced down at her breasts. Touched one puckered nipple and grimaced in pleasure. “I think I’m a bit beyond that. I don’t suppose there are any beds in this romantic place of yours?”
“As the matter of fact, yes. Let me show you.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her upstairs, where the next phase of seduction awaited. Although he got a little sidetracked when she pulled off her top completely and threw it away, then twined her arms around his neck,
pressing her naked breasts against him, and began doing some interesting things to his ear with her hot mouth.
He was breathing raggedly and staggering by the time he managed to reach the bedroom and kick open the door. The perfume of a thousand rose petals filled the air.
She lifted her head. Her face glowed like the sun. “Oh, Dragan. It’s gorgeous.”
The bed was dressed in red silk and rose petals. Champagne chilled in a bucket nearby. He lay her reverently on the coverlet, kissed her, then took up the bottle. “Let’s celebrate.” He popped the cork, champagne gushing forth in exuberance.
She laughed. “What are we celebrating? The job?”
“Us.” He poured two glasses and handed her one. “The miracle that is you and I together.” He clinked his glass to hers, twined arms with her and sipped.
Watching him with big eyes over the rim, she sipped at the same time.
Even in this, they were matched. “You amaze me, drahý. Without rehearsal we move as one, in perfect ensemble.”
“We’ve had some practice. And frankly, while this is lovely, I’m ready for a more up-tempo tune.” She drank off her glass, set it on the nightstand, grabbed him by his shirt—and fell back onto the bed, using her weight to pull him down on top of her. He could have resisted, but why? He wanted to see what she had in mind. He still had his glass though, and it splashed champagne onto his chest.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that.” Her cheeks were bright.
“Didn’t you?” Voice darkening with a sensual purr, he stood. “Because I’m all wet now. I’ll have to take off my clothes.”
Her eyes began to twinkle. “Aw.”
“You pretend innocence, but I think that was your plan all along.” A brief clench and release of his will blew his body into mist. He dropped his clothes but nothing else, so when he snapped back naked, the champagne trickled down the skin of his chest.
Her stare widened. Her blush traveled down her neck and flushed her breasts, which heaved prettily. Her nipples stood erect, tightly furled. She really had the most perfect breasts. He knelt with one knee on the bed and reached for them with both hands.
