Since we chose to stay in England, the animal forms we took on were limited. Foxes were a good bet in these forests, although it was also dangerous as we had to watch for hunters. On family trips, we’d venture to more exotic locations where we could experiment.
“Falcons,” I said.
Jayne said, “You always say that.” Nevertheless, she was the first to change.
We all followed suit and spent the morning flying in the forests. By high noon, we returned to my cottage and said goodbye. With them gone, what would I do to take my mind off Layla?
Joey
Angelica called me from Logan Airport and said she was back in Boston.
“Can I come over?” she asked.
I paced my apartment waiting for her. What would I say? What happened to her? Did I dare ask?
When she walked into my apartment, seeing her again after all this time was like being able to breathe again after being underwater for an extended period. All that pressure settling on my gut was suddenly relieved. She was back, in front of me. Her image was burned onto my mind, but I studied every part of her again as if seeing her for the first time. Her hair was now a rich chestnut-brown, but the rest of her was just how I remembered—the delicate features, the warm eyes the color of honey and the unbelievable body. She was wearing casual clothes, jeans and a Motorhead T-shirt with black riding boots. And even in an everyday outfit, I salivated imagining the curves of her body underneath her clothes.
“Angelica!” I ran to her.
“Joey.” She threw her arms around my neck.
“You’re safe. You’re okay.”
“I am.”
“What’s been going on? Where did you have to go?”
She inhaled deeply. “There’s so much about me that you don’t know and you’re better off that way. I just wanted to tell you I’m okay.”
“You’re wrong. I want to know everything about you. You don’t have to keep anything from me.”
“I do. Trust me when I say I do. I’m not who you think I am.”
“Who are you?”
“I can’t tell you everything. But I can tell you I was on the run from someone. There was a big misunderstanding and this guy was after me.”
“What guy? I’ll kill him.”
“Calm down. It’s all been taken care of.”
“Taken care of? How? What happened? Was it that guy from the club? I knew it.”
“No,” she protested. “Not him.” Her face appeared pained. “Someone else. It’s not important. Let me get back to the story.”
Not wanting to stop her from continuing, I forced my questions aside. “Go on.”
“My life was in danger so I changed my name before I found you guys. And you know I changed my appearance when I joined the band. You were my lifeline and I thank you so much for it. I could start over, be someone new.”
“Who are you then?”
“I’m still the same person. Just had a different name. Not so much makeup.”
“Why were you in danger? Who was after you?”
She shook her head, indicating that I wouldn’t be hearing these answers any time tonight. “I’ve loved playing with you guys. It was one of the best experiences of my life and I’ll never forget my time with you, as short as it was.”
“So you’re leaving us?” The very idea pained me.
“I don’t see what other option I have.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not on the run anymore.”
“So wait—you were just using us?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m trying to figure out who I am. You don’t understand. My life changed so radically a few years ago in ways that I can’t explain. And then when I had to run off, it changed again so much when I joined the band. So now I’m just trying to figure out who the hell I am and what I’m supposed to do.”
“Do you want to leave Bloodlust Diamond?”
She thought about it. “Not necessarily.”
“Then don’t.”
“What about my whole trying to figure myself out thing?”
“What about it? Why can’t you do it while you’re with us?”
“Even with all my baggage?”
“What baggage? You just bring a little carry-on compared to some of the nutjobs I’ve met in my life.”
“I don’t want to lead you on and have you think this is forever. And I don’t want things to get awkward between us. I don’t know what I want to do with my life anymore.”
“How about who you want to be with? I mean, I practically spilled my guts to you on the phone telling you how I cared about you.”
“I’m sorry, Joey. You know I care about you. A lot. But not in a romantic way. If you’re asking if there can be anything more between us, there can’t.”
“So all that stuff onstage—all that chemistry—you’re telling me it was fake?”
She rubbed her temples. “I don’t know. Yes, I guess so. We went into it as a gimmick. Maybe parts of it felt real sometimes when we got into it, but I think it was just fantasy. It’s not real.”
“I think you’re wrong. There was something real to it.”
“We were characters on a stage, the same as actors in a movie playing a part.”
“Maybe initially. But I know there’s something more there. Something between us. Even if you deny your feelings, I can see them more clearly.”
If she wouldn’t see them, I had to show her. I walked toward her and put my hands on either side of her head so she’d look up at me. Her eyes were swimming with uncertainty. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t do what?” My eyes focused on her lips and I bent closer to her. She didn’t pull away. “This?” Then I kissed her. I’d make her see that all that chemistry onstage wasn’t just staged. Some sort of whimper escaped the back of her throat, but she didn’t pull away. She pushed at my chest gently, but then reached around and pulled me closer to her. The way she kissed me back showed me she had more feelings that she’d been willing to admit to.
But then she pulled away. “Please don’t kiss me again, Joey. I don’t feel for you the way I do for—someone else.”
“Who?” My heartbeat raced as I waited to hear.
“Does it matter?”
I thought about it. “Yes. Yes it does.”
The guilty look in her eye helped me figure it out.
“That guy from the club last weekend? The one I warned you about?”
No, please say it wasn’t him. Maybe because all the focus we placed on finding this guy to lead us to Angelica made me cringe about her having feelings for him. Anyone but him.
“Angelica, are you crazy? Did he take you that night? Force you on the run? Have you been with him all this time?”
“There’s so much you don’t understand, Joey. So much that I can’t explain. Just know it’s for the best that you don’t know. You deserve someone better than me. A nice, normal girl without so many—complications.”
“Have I been a fool this whole time? I thought there was something between us. I felt something in that kiss. Don’t tell me you didn’t.”
“I don’t know. There was something. Interest, maybe. Attraction. Curiosity. But not love, Joey. You can’t honestly tell me you love me.”
I thought about that. Love was monumental. Did I love her?
I cared about her. I thought about her. I was crazy attracted to her and desperately wanted to sleep with her. But love? The I’d do anything for you, I only want to be with you kind of love?
“I care about you,” I finally said.
“But it’s not love. At least not that kind of love.”
“Do you love him?” I asked.
She thought about it. “I don’t know. I think so.”
“Why him, Angelica? You just met him.”
Her brows furrowed as she tried to find words. “It just feels—right.”
Layla
I left Joey’s more distraught than ever, walking through the city to lose myself i
n the bustle of night. I missed Devon with a fierce longing and needed some sort of distraction. When Joey kissed me, I’d responded. He was right, the underlying attraction between us wasn’t all for show. There was a reason why women threw themselves at him at our shows. He looked like a bona fide rock star, long wild brown hair, sensuality oozing through his eyes—what woman could resist a hot guy playing guitar? A part of me wanted him, had always wondered what it would be like to kiss him, maybe do more.
But when it actually happened, I thought of Devon and how badly I wished it was his lips kissing me.
If I’d never met Devon, would I have felt different about Joey kissing me? Could it have led to something more?
No, I didn’t think it would. It was just attraction, not love, just as I’d told him.
I needed to focus on something else, anything else but wanting someone who lived an ocean away. On the way back to my apartment, I decided to throw myself into the band. If there was any place where I could lose myself, it was in music. I could be anyone onstage, the subject of whatever song I sang.
Hopefully it would help me take my mind of Devon.
Chapter Thirteen
Three weeks later
Devon
I was out of my mind. That’s the only explanation I had as I left my flat.
“Heathrow Airport,” I told the taxi driver.
“Right, mate.”
As we skirted in and out of London traffic, I tried to talk myself out of what I was about to do.
She left England. She left you here. She hasn’t made any effort to contact you, nor have you made any effort to contact her. Don’t you think you should call her first and see if she even wants to speak to you before you see her?
She must be relieved to have everything that happened here in London behind her. Nothing but bad memories of vampires who tried to frame her, kill her, and a goddamn shapeshifter who led her right back to them.
The memories weren’t bad for me, however. I remembered the times we spent together in my flat. Even when she was tied up and we declared our contempt for each other, a part of me enjoyed having her around.
What about you helping her in the end? Doesn’t that count for anything?
No. It just means you were less of a dickhead than you started out. You don’t get any brownie points for finally figuring out how to do the right thing.
The traffic eased a bit as we headed away from the city. We circled many roundabouts and I read the signs for Heathrow’s terminals. This time I didn’t have the luxury of being transported with one of Stefano’s light-blocked jets through his undercover methods. It was British Airways coach class for me.
After the driver dropped me off at the terminal, I knew each step I took closer to the plane led me closer to Layla. And most likely to being rejected by her. I was a fool for going. I should have talked myself out of going by now and climbed into another taxi. Instead I checked into my flight, went through the rigorous security screening and sat down at the gate to wait.
I had to see her, though, to know that my feelings for her were real. I’d been thinking about her nonstop since she left England. I’d hoped that as the days went by I’d think of her less and less, but if it was even possible, I thought of her all the more. Seeing her face everywhere I went, wondering what her reaction would be to something I’d encountered, creating conversations in my mind on what we’d say if she was with me.
Even though she wasn’t physically with me, she was a part of my everyday life. She dominated my waking thoughts and penetrated my dreams. I was turning into a madman. I had to see if I’d just created this reaction to her in my mind due to her absence. Or would I feel the same way if I saw her again?
Only one way to find out.
What the hell was I going to say when I saw her?
Layla
Bloodlust Diamond was booked at a fairly new club on Commonwealth Ave. The owner grew up in the Boston rock scene in the eighties and nineties. Since many venues for playing live rock music had disappeared and been replaced by more upscale establishments, he thought it was time to create a new club in the spirit of the old Rathskellar, Channel, and Bunratty’s. Those Boston rock clubs that no longer existed, but were still reminisced about fondly online by regulars—the headbangers, punk rockers and hardcore crowd that frequented the shows.
“You going to be okay with this?” I asked Joey when we had a moment to ourselves backstage.
“I will,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Then why are you scowling?”
“I didn’t say I’m okay with it right now, I said I will be. I get it, Angelica, we’re not going to be together. Nobody likes being rejected, but I’ll move on.”
“Thanks, Joey. Someday you’ll find someone who is a much better match for you than I could ever be. She’ll blow me out of the stratosphere!”
Joey’s scowl gave way to laughter. “Then I better start looking for her. Plenty of hot little numbers here tonight.”
“So we’re still friends, right?”
“More than friends. We’re bandmates. Live, work and breathe together.”
Technically we didn’t breathe together since I didn’t need oxygen, but I didn’t feel the need to correct him on the matter. I’d kept my existence as a vampire from him for so long now and was hoping to keep it as a secret.
Devon
I spent two days in Boston walking around the city, trying to figure out what my next step would be. My hotel was a short walk from Park Street Station at Boston Common so I could walk through the Common for a bit of green space, down the Freedom Trail to distract myself with bits of history from the American Revolution, an odd experience in itself for a British bloke. The Tea Party ship amused me as did the stories about the Battle of Bunker Hill. These Americans were really fixated on that time. Didn’t they realize they were just one part of what was once the mighty British Empire?
One part of Boston I enjoyed was the North End, an Italian neighborhood near the waterfront, which had excellent food. I feasted on pizza and pasta, cannolis and gelato and too many cappuccinos.
When I picked up a newspaper listing local entertainment, I saw Bloodlust Diamond was playing in a club on Friday night. That would be my next move. I’d go there and watch her sing, staying at the back of the crowd so she wouldn’t see me. If I realized I had been sporting rose-colored glasses idolizing her in her absence and my feelings were no longer real when I saw her in person, I could slip out of the club and return to London without her even knowing. No harm done.
And if I did realize my feelings for her were real—well, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
The club was within walking distance from my hotel, which was both good and bad. The good being that I could get there easily, the bad being that it gave me more time to think as I walked, which gave me more time to second-guess my plan. It was only a half-assed one and could be go wrong due to any variety of factors.
What if she sees you and freaks out, thinks you’re stalking her? What if she sees you, only you’ve realized you don’t want her anymore, how are you going to explain being there? What if that jealous guitarist sees you and starts something? What if…
Enough! I couldn’t debate on what would or would not happen. I was a man of action and sitting around thinking about things was not something I was good at. When I reached the club entrance, I paid my fee, had my hand stamped and steeled myself to focus on the moment.
An opening band was playing, one I didn’t recognize. Since this club catered to mostly local rock acts, that wasn’t surprising. Besides, although I appreciated the music Layla and her band sang, I was definitely more into classic rock, jazz and blues than the heavier rock they played.
I bought a Guinness and tried to disappear into the shadows in the corners of the club while I waited for Bloodlust Diamond to take the stage. The worst thing that could happen right now was for Layla to catch me here. I wouldn’t even know how to explain my presence in the US, let alone at her
show.
Shit, a couple of guys came to the bar who I recognized and it only took me a moment to figure out why. They were in the band. I had seen the band twice last month when I was—ahem—hunting Layla, some might call it stalking, but I’d reserve that term for the crazy celebrity worshippers or jealous ex-boyfriends. It was a simple client-service business transaction.
How things had changed since I first agreed to take the job. Stefano was dead. The other vampires were dead. Layla was safe and back in America. And I’d been brooding over her like some bloody fool.
While the guys waited for their drinks, they watched the opening band. I tried to slink even more into the shadows, if that was possible. If two of the band members were out here, it could be any moment that the other two arrived. When the bartender brought them a couple of Sam Adams, they found of stools where they sat to watch the opening band finish their set. When the band left the stage, the two guys left the bar and walked up to the stage area. After they disappeared, I figured they went backstage to prepare for their set.
Layla must be back there.
The live music was replaced by music playing on a jukebox. Over the next fifteen or twenty minutes, I heard songs by The Clash, Johnny Cash and a few bands I didn’t recognize while various people moved equipment around onstage. Layla wasn’t one of them.
A flash of panic went through me. How could I be sure she was even still with the band? How reckless of me to just assume she’d come back here to resume the persona she had invented, one as a cover while she was on the run. For all I knew, some ugly bloke would be coming out with the band while Layla had started yet another life under another name in some other city.
If I was looking at this situation analytically as a bounty hunter doing a job rather than a guy going after a girl, I would have analyzed all these possibilities long before getting on a plane. Funny how my feelings for a woman had clouded my judgment. I’d been vacillating between excitement over seeing her and anxiety over her reaction that I failed to look at the bigger—and possibly more realistic—picture. Layla could be someone else in another city by now. My heart sank. Had I crossed an ocean like a damned fool?
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