Christmas With a Vampire

by Merline Lovelace

  Abby grasped the dead heart within Margaret’s chest and ripped it out.

  Even though it did not beat, without the heart the vampire could not survive. Margaret looked at her own heart, she screamed, and then she and the heart turned to dust and a sudden night wind took it all.

  Abby dropped to her knees beside Leo. His face was pale as death. It was death. He had not been dead long, there was time, but still, it was a risk. Only the strongest could survive being turned, and some were different after the change, as if who they had been inside did not survive. If the man she loved wasn’t present in the monster she created, would she be able to end him as she’d ended Margaret?

  With the nails she’d used to rip out Margaret’s heart, Abby sliced a vein in her wrist. Blood dripped, and she quickly led that wrist to Leo’s colorless lips. “Drink, love,” she whispered. “There is life in my blood. Take it. Drink it. I swear, I don’t want to live in a world without you in it.”

  Drops of blood hit his tongue, those drops seeped through his mouth, down the throat. After an agonizingly slow passage of minutes his heart beat once, weakly. Only Abby could hear it. It beat again, and a few minutes later again. His eyes snapped open and that heart beat stopped with a final thud.

  For a moment he was terrified of the face above him, and Abby under stood why. For all Leo knew she had been the one to kill him. But she watched as his expression changed. Terror, suspicion, confusion, then relief. “Blonde,” he said hoarsely. “Not you.”

  “Yes, dear,” Abby said sweetly. “Blonde. Not me.”

  “You smell like cookies. She smelled like death.”

  “Cookies?”

  He nodded weakly.

  “Leo, darling, I want you to drink something.”

  “Drink what?” he asked, still ignorant to what was happening, to what he had become.

  “Me,” she said, lying beside him and placing her wrist against his mouth. “Drink of me.”

  Leo instinctively latched his mouth to her wrist and suckled there. Gently at first, and then harder. He was starving, and did not know how or why. A basic survival instinct urged him on, forced him to drink long and deep. They lay on the ground entangled, joined in a new way. He took too much; she did not care, not even when she passed out.

  Abby had not slept in more than four hundred years; she had not needed sleep. But then this was not sleep, it was oblivion, a result of the loss of blood. Eventually, Leo slept, too, when he had drunk his fill. She knew he slept because he joined her in her dream world. They were together in her mind and soul, and in his. They were linked. She would never again return to an existence where she was alone. In her dream she clung to him. Though she had only recently discovered the depth of this bond, she knew that to be without it would be worse than death.

  Hours after she’d passed into oblivion with his mouth at her wrist, she woke slowly to find Leo on top of her. He kissed her healed wrist, licked her throat, rubbed his body against hers. Already he had discovered a vampire’s enhanced sensitivity, and a new urge drove him. Without a word he pushed her skirt up, over her hips. With in sis tent hands he spread her thighs, he touched her intimately, his fingers dancing on and inside her. He freed himself and filled her quickly, thrusting inside her as if that connection was as necessary for him as the blood with which she’d given him life.

  She came almost instantly, sending yet another cry into the darkness of the night. Her body shook; she trembled in an entirely human way, and yet she did not think it a weakness. Leo’s movements slowed. He was still hard, still moving in and out of her in a fine, easy rhythm.

  “Everything has changed,” he whispered.

  “Yes, love.”

  “I see, even though it is dark. I see you with a startling clarity, and you are more beautiful than you have ever been. For a while I was gone, gone from everything, and then I woke with your scent in my nostrils and when I touched you I found you warm. Not cold, as you have been in the past, but warm.”

  “I will always be warm to you now.”

  “Yes. Nothing has ever felt so in credible, so right. I’m inside you, you’re inside me. I do not know where one of us ends and the other begins.”

  “We are one,” she whispered, knowing it to be true. Beyond the physical joining of bodies, to the pit of their souls—if they had souls…

  He moved faster, harder, and then he, too, came.

  Leo lifted his head and looked down at her. He had already found his vampire eyes, and he saw her very well. “Abigail Smythe.”

  “You remember.”

  “I remember everything now. I see everything.”

  “I could not let you go,” she whispered. Would he hate her? Would he hate what he had become when he under stood fully how his life—his existence—had changed?

  “I could never hate you,” he said gently.

  “You read my mind.”

  “Did I?”

  A vampire who found his gift so quickly could only be a very powerful one. Then again, perhaps it was only her mind he could read, since they were so close. No, more than close, they were one being sharing two bodies. She had tasted his blood; he had tasted hers.

  It was time to run again, to make a new home, to change her name, but this time…this time she wouldn’t be running alone.

  LEO PACED ABBY’S apartment, still amazed at the vividness of the colors around him, still child like in his wonder at all the sensations being a vampire afforded. Abby had him on pigs’ blood for the time being, with an occasional nip of her blood, when the time was right. She wasn’t certain he could control himself with human blood in his mouth. Not yet. With his strength he would be unstoppable; even Abby couldn’t best him, and she was pretty damn strong herself. She would teach him control, she said. The strength that had come with the change was incredible, and the sex was so good he was amazed he and Abby ever left their bed.

  The case of Marisa’s murder had been solved, though no one beyond the vampire community could ever know that justice had already been served. He’d presented the case to the ABI, along with a sharp gardening tool which would explain away the wounds at Marisa Blackwell’s throat. A lot of people knew Remy had been seeing Marisa, and just as many people knew that Margaret was crazy jealous. A convenient statement from Abby’s follower Charles indicating that he’d seen the two women together less than an hour before Marisa’s death sealed the deal. A manhunt was on; they’d never find her, as there was nothing left to find.

  He and Abby—and all the others, he assumed—would be leaving town, soon. He’d be able to explain away the fact that he went to the station after dark for only so long, before his coworkers started getting suspicious. Maybe there wasn’t a Sherlock Holmes among them, but they weren’t complete idiots, either.

  Abby was still afraid, now and then, that he would hate her for turning him. He not only read her thoughts, he was washed in the emotions she claimed not to possess. Love and fear, guilt and joy, need and trepidation. Behind a stoic face she experienced them all, and he experienced them with her.

  “We’re going to be together forever,” he said as he caught a snippet of a thought filled with doubt.

  Though Abby’s gift had never before allowed her to access a vampire mind, she was often able to see into his. Words and images, stray thoughts, every day that link grew stronger and clearer. When it was complete and eternal, as he suspected it soon would be, she’d have no more doubts.

  She looked at him from across the room. When they were alone she didn’t like clothes much, so she’d wrapped herself in that length of soft cloth that was some times draped across the back of her sofa. “You don’t yet know what a very long time forever can be.”

  “Marry me.”

  She laughed in surprise. “Vampires don’t get married!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because as I already said, forever is a very long time.” She squared her shoulders. “Besides, can you imagine a bitter divorce between two immortals? It’s best to just le
t a relationship run its course and then, when the time comes, move on.”

  He crossed the room to stand before her, looking her in the eye so she would have no doubts about what he had to say. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere. I suspect forever will not be long enough where you’re concerned.”

  The strength that came with his new body was taking some getting used to, as was the speed. He actually had to make an effort not to move too quickly in the presence of humans, or to display his strength. But with Abby, he had to hide nothing. He picked her up now, as if she weighed nothing, and held her close as he very gently tasted her throat. The fabric she’d had wrapped around her body fell away. And in that moment, forever seemed very fine.

  EPILOGUE

  THE SUNDOWN BAR, located on a county road in northern Wisconsin, did a brisk business with hunters, vacationers and a handful of locals, especially on Friday and Saturday nights. During the week the human crowd was sparse, but the vamp crowd didn’t change. Every one had followed Abby when she’d left Alabama. Where else were they going to get properly prepared pigs’ blood and the company of their own kind? Where else could they get instruction from a powerful elder? The building had changed, the weather and the people had changed, but what went on inside the Sundown Bar had not changed much at all. Remy played piano, usually sticking to the jazz he loved. Abby waited tables. Leo tended bar. There was a small but very nice apartment on the second floor, where they made their home for now.

  Outside, a thick December snow fell, blanketing the ground. The human customers often talked about Christmas coming. The presents, the food, the traveling. Over the river and through the woods…

  To the locals the owners of the new bar were Abby and Leo Johnson. He’d wanted to choose a more exotic surname, but with the blasted Internet you couldn’t be too careful. The more common the name, the better. In the interest of distancing themselves from what had once been, Leo had accepted that he was going to spend his life being a Johnson or a Smith or a Jones or a Brown. He really didn’t care what anyone called him, as long as he had Abby beside him. If anyone ever got too close to the truth, they likely wouldn’t even be able to keep their given names—in public, at least. A worry for another day.

  The police chief in Budding Corner hadn’t been too pleased when his newly hired detective left, running off with a local bar tender in a flurry of scandal and leaving the pursuit of one Margaret Harris—who would never be found—to others.

  It had been a couple of months since they’d left Alabama, and there was still much to be done to tie up the loose ends. Leo called his family now and then, but he knew he couldn’t ever see them again. If they saw his face they would know he was different. His eyes were a lighter shade of blue, his skin was smoother and paler. He looked slightly different; just enough that the people who knew him well would notice. Even if he could hide his strength and speed, those who knew him would be able to see that he moved differently. He could make his voice sound the way it once had, but he had to work at it. Yes, they would know he was not the Leo Stryker they knew and loved. A part of them would fear him, no matter how familiar he tried to appear.

  One of these days he’d fake his death, he supposed. He hated to do that to his mother, but it was preferable to the truth—for her, at least. It had been hard enough telling her he wouldn’t be home for Christmas this year. This Christmas, every holiday, every day of his existence to come, would be spent with Abby. Only Abby.

  Abby’s rules about munching on the customers still stood, and everyone knew it. No hunting within a ten-mile radius. But now and then the two of them made a trip to Milwaukee or Chicago and enjoyed a night on the town. Humans were weak-minded and easily swayed, he’d discovered, and damn, they tasted good. He and Abby could hook up with another couple, take a bit of blood—enough to sustain and gratify, but not enough to kill the donors—and then they’d leave the couple alone, with no memory that they’d ever met Abby and Leo Johnson or Smith or whatever.

  Thanks to Abby he had never killed. Maybe he would, someday, if he had no other choice, as Abby had had no choice but to kill Margaret—a twisted vampire who had discovered joy in taking lives. He had enough human left in him to disdain the idea of unnecessarily taking a life. For now.

  Now and then Abby asked him if he missed being human, but in truth there wasn’t much to miss. Cherry pie, which now tasted like card board. Jack and Coke, which tasted like piss, these days. Cigarettes. He no longer had to worry about the health risks and they tasted like old socks. Didn’t that just figure? Sunshine, which would instantly burn his skin like acid and would kill him if he stayed in the light long enough. Or so he’d been told. He hadn’t worked up the nerve to test that particular lesson.

  And yes, he did miss his family. They’d been a pain in the ass at times, but he had loved them. He loved them still, but they were better off not meeting the creature he’d become. In time, he wouldn’t miss them at all, Abby told him. Already, his memories of them were fading. He knew who they were and he did care, but his memories of them were as if through murky, distorting glass.

  Other than occasion ally missing those things, which he could certainly live without, he was content. He passed his nights tending bar with Abby at his side, and his days in a thickly curtained suite of rooms deco rated in shades of red and orange and the occasional hint of pink. They made love and read and danced. Naked. Abby was teaching him to paint. Maybe in a hundred years or so he’d be a decent enough artist, but he didn’t think so.

  Maybe he should take up the piano.

  He’d discovered a new talent, since the change. Abby was surprised, but pleased, that he had found this new power so quickly. She considered it a sign of great strength, and great strength equaled survival. In the same way that she could see into the heads of humans when she so desired, he knew when they were telling the truth and when they were lying. Even something as simple as a “No, honey, that dress doesn’t make you look fat” sent his radar pinging. Unlike Abby’s gift, his was just as effective on vampires as it was on humans, though the signals themselves were different. A lie was a lie, no matter who told it. Abby thought it was hilarious, since he’d been a cop in the old days, that he was now a walking, talking lie detector.

  He’d never caught her in a lie. He didn’t expect he ever would.

  It was a busy night, and Abby had her hands full with a table of thirsty hunters. While she took their order she looked at him and smiled.

  Love you. She thought, and he heard the words as if she had spoken them, just for him.

  Love you, too.

  Remy played a lightning-fast version of “Take the A Train.” The vampire customers put their heads together, whispering as they waited for the humans to leave so they could claim their time and enjoy their late-night sustenance.

  Leo didn’t feel like a monster, though he knew there were those who would disagree, if they knew the truth. As long as he could love, he wouldn’t feel like a monster in the truest sense. As long as Abby loved him, she was much more than the stuff of nightmares. Together they were better than they had ever been apart, no matter what the cost.

  One of these days, she was going to marry him. She’d come around. As she said, forever was a long time.

  Abby walked to the bar with the hunters’ orders in hand. With a nod of her head she signaled to Charles, who’d been filling in now and then and doing a decent enough job. Leo tossed his bar towel down and followed Abby toward the door, in sync with her, following her lead without conscious thought. As she opened the front door one of the hunters called out, “You two better grab your coats! It’s cold out there!”

  Abby smiled at him. “We won’t be long.” Then she closed the door behind her, and hand in hand, they walked out into the parking lot, into the snow. Leo lifted the hand Abby did not hold and let a few snow flakes land there. “It’s not cold at all. Feels like a whisper of rain, only lighter. A mist off the water, maybe.”

  “Close your eyes.”

&
nbsp; He did.

  “Feel the fall of snow on your face.”

  He did.

  “It’s a little like sunshine,” Abby said. “If you use your imagination, you can almost feel as if you’re standing on the beach on a summer’s day.”

  She had often asked him if he missed human things, but he had never asked the same of her. He did now, as they stood in the snow and imagined another place and time.

  “There have been moments,” she said, after a short, thoughtful pause. “I used to occasion ally miss apples, and the sun on my face, and even the release of shedding tears. There have been times when I missed the beat of my own heart, and good dreams and the feel of waking up in the morning and stretching out sleepy muscles.” She looked up at him and her mind joined with his.

  But I don’t miss anything any longer, because now I have you and I can ask for nothing more from this existence. Kiss me, Leo, kiss me in the falling snow.

  He did.

  NOTHING SAYS CHRISTMAS LIKE A VAMPIRE

  Lisa Childs

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lisa Childs has been writing since she could first form sentences. A Halloween birthday predestined a life of writing for Harlequin Nocturne. She enjoys the mix of suspense and romance. Readers can write to Lisa at P.O. Box 139, Marne, MI 49435 or visit her website at www.lisachilds.com.

  CHAPTER ONE

  SIENNA BRIGGS STOOD alone beside her grandmother’s casket. Twinkling lights, wound around pine boughs, reflected back from the shiny surface. Her hands trembled against the lid as she closed it, hiding her grandmother’s beautiful face. “Goodbye,” she whispered into the silence, the funeral home empty but for her. “Tell Gramps Merry Christmas.”