“News about what?”
“About the lady from last night. Miss Danya Evans.”
Ramsey stopped. Nadine rammed into his back. “Hey! I would like to keep my face intact, thank you very much.”
“And?” Ramsey asked without turning around. Nadine grumbled about how running into him was like hitting a brick wall.
“She made a full recovery and was discharged from the hospital a few hours ago.”
“You really should apologize to her.” Nadine rubbed her nose. “You shouldn’t take blood without asking. That’s the difference between you and them.”
Ramsey looked over his shoulder at Marcos. “Must you tell her everything?”
Marcos shrugged. “I need at least one person to gossip with.”
He wanted to remind Marcos how old he was, but that was probably futile. Ramsey glanced down at Nadine. She beamed. “You can confide in me, too, Ramsey. We can talk about your problems. I could even give you advice about women.”
He rolled his eyes and continued to the family room where Nadine would stretch out on the couch and he would drink from her wrist as she watched one of her shows. “The day that I confide in a girl a fraction of my age, would be a very sad day indeed.”
Chapter Five
Angelina ran the stone nail file across one of her manicured nails. She liked her fingernails filed into perfect Vs. Actually, she preferred them that way—sharp and pointy. If she had died with them shaped this way, she wouldn’t have had to file them every night. Too bad. Because she hadn’t planned appropriately she was stuck with her nightly routine.
The price of perfection. She sighed.
Antonio and Nicoli, two of her newest fledglings, rattled on about how they’d beaten up Ramsey, the Original who claimed New Orleans as his own. The numbskulls had even acted out a few of the scenes for her.
Angelina didn’t watch. She concentrated on her nails as the two rambled on, hoping that she hadn’t caught on to their stall tactic. When she finished, she blew off the excess nail dust and admired her work. Perfection.
“So, what you’ve been telling me for the past twenty minutes is that you stole one of my precious artifacts and took it out on a little joy ride?”
Antonio and Nicoli went silent. Their jovial demeanor quickly dropped, and anxiety wafted from them. Her predatory instincts homed in on them immediately. In less than a second, she could behead them both and still have time to lie back down on her chaise and start a new nail.
“Um, well … we…” Antonio started. He then looked at Nicoli, begging for help. Nicoli took a small step back. Antonio glared at him. Antonio and Nicoli were friends, but it seemed that every man was for himself at the moment.
“We only took the dagger in case Ramsey caught us sneaking around and tried to jump us.” Antonio straightened his back and held his chin up. “We didn’t think you would mind just as long as we brought it back safely.”
The Deus Mortis Dagger. She’d found it during an expedition in Egypt. She’d been with a team of highly professional gravediggers at the time. They had hunted for the jewels and gold left behind by a Pharaoh while she’d gone for the dagger. A supernatural object that had the ability to kill gods. Or so that was the description provided in the ancient texts. She’d killed many vampires with it, but sadly no gods—as of yet.
Angelina pulled her gaze from them and started on her next nail. “And if you killed Ramsey what kind of wrath from the other Originals do you think would be brought on my head? Hm?”
Neither answered. She gave two more passes of the file then looked up. “I’m not in the habit of repeating myself, gentlemen.”
Training new vampires was so tedious. Gone were the good old days when fledglings took to their new life with soldier precision. Now there were just too many things that competed for their attention. Five hundred years ago her fledglings would’ve woken every night wondering how they could best serve her.
She let out another sigh, longing for the good old days again.
The fools in front of her had been gone for five straight nights. They were supposed to be laying low and not getting into any trouble. But no. If their radiantly flushed skin was any indication, they’d been hunting in a city that all vampires—save for the few who had special permission from Ramsey—had been banned from. They’d finally returned with an uninteresting story about her ex.
Antonio stammered. “We’re sorry for killing him, Mistress.”
She raised one eyebrow. “You actually think that you killed Ramsey Moreau? A vampire who’d been made by the Creator herself?”
“Um, yes?” Antonio answered.
Why had she turned Antonio in the first place? Because he’d been pretty to look at? When would she learn not to turn men who appealed to her most carnal nature? She glared at him. “Ramsey is my sire. I would’ve felt it the moment he passed, you idiot. Ramsey is alive and kicking. That’s the only reason I haven’t ended your pathetic lives myself.”
Antonio crinkled his face. “Are you sure? We really did a number on him.”
Angelina shook her head in disbelief. “Your stupidity knows no bounds. No, you did not kill him.”
It was probably her fault for not training them better. One of these days she would take the time to explain how the vampire sire and fledgling relationship worked, but not tonight. She was already bored with their presence.
“But we felt his life force draining from him. And we made sure to slice up the tendons in his legs. He couldn’t even walk by the time we finished.”
“You stabbed him how many times? One? Two? Three?”
“Many times.”
“Um-hm. Then what?”
Antonio and Nicoli exchanged glances again. “We … we…”
Angelina shook her head. “I want to hear it from him.” She indicated her head at Nicoli. “Why aren’t you talking?” Nicoli was pretty, but not as pretty as Antonio. Maybe she’d turned him because he was good in bed? She couldn’t really remember.
“I’m sorry, Mistress. I just thought Antonio could explain it better.”
“Ah, so between the two of you Antonio is the great storyteller here?”
Nicoli nodded.
Antonio cursed under his breath.
“I want to hear it from you, Nicoli. What happened after you stabbed Ramsey?”
“He, um … begged us to stop and—”
She was nose to nose with Nicoli before he could finish his sentence. “You expect me to believe that Ramsey begged you for his life?”
Ramsey was an Original. She’d never seen him beg for anything. Ramsey’s blood was in her. It was strong. He was strong. She was strong.
She eyed Nicoli. What he said next would be a direct reflection of her.
Nicoli didn’t sense danger because the fool nodded. “He … he did.”
Angelina reached into his mouth and ripped out his tongue. Blood splattered. Nicoli slapped his face, trying to feel for an appendage that was no longer there. He screamed and howled out a broken sound.
Antonio lifted his chin and held his ground. “After we stabbed Ramsey he was in a weak state. He was about to die. But instead of finishing him off we thought his death would be more fitting if he met the sun.”
Nicoli cried and pawed at his mouth.
Angelina dangled the tongue from her hand, blood dripping down her arm. “You dare lie to me?” she screeched.
Black blood rushed from Nicoli’s mouth. He wouldn’t answer her anytime soon. She turned to Antonio, and he flinched. “Why did you try to murder my sire?”
“I-it was a mistake, Mistress. Please give us another chance. We won’t disappoint you again.”
Angelina did her best to control her temper. She flung the tongue to the floor, and Nicoli scrambled after it. She settled her icy stare on both of them. “I told you there was a reason why we had to move to Shreveport and not right into New Orleans. I have big plans for us. All you had to do was lay low and let me work my charms and New Orleans could�
�ve been your playground.”
All of her planning was about to go down the tubes because of them. She needed Ramsey to want her again, not be pissed because her fledglings tried to kill him. Ugh. Why was good help so hard to find?
“Now I have to smooth this over with him. Eventually he’ll find out that you fools belong to me. I can’t have him thinking that I’m sending out incompetent hit squads to kill him.”
Antonio dropped his head low, clearly realizing how much he’d fucked up. “We didn’t understand that you wanted to be his mate again. We thought that you wanted to take over New Orleans. We wanted to give it to you.”
“Did you actually think that I wanted New Orleans when I could have the world?” she snapped. Then she took a few calming breaths. She didn’t have to breathe anymore, but it helped to get a handle on her temper. “Your only job was to spy on him, my dears. To find out what he did, who he did it with and how often.” She hadn’t seen or spoken to Ramsey in over a hundred years. If she showed up unannounced he would automatically think that she had ulterior motives—she did, but she didn’t want him knowing that.
“I’m sorry, Mistress.”
Nicoli tried to reattach his tongue. “I’m surrounded by idiots,” she said as she passed him. “Get up, you fool. Your tongue will grow back by tomorrow night.”
If Ramsey hadn’t been ignoring her calls she wouldn’t have to stoop to spying. What was going on in his life that he was refusing telephone calls from her? Most Originals sired many vampires. Ramsey had only sired one—her.
That made her special.
She’d been his world once. And she could be again.
She tilted her head in thought. Now, how could she get Ramsey to meet her? She snapped her fingers. “He keeps a handful of blood donors that he protects. Have you at least done part of your job and found out anything about them?”
“There are two humans living with him, an older man and a girl. We found out their names, Marcos and Nadine. They could be the blood donors.”
She tapped her fingers on her chin, trying to think through the jumbled thoughts in her head. “Go see Ramsey. Tell him that I request a meeting and if he declines to come back with you take the girl. That’ll make him follow you here.” Then she leveled her eyes on Antonio. Out of the pair he seemed likely the smarter. “Bring her alive. She’s just a means to get his attention.”
“So don’t kill her?”
It was like talking to children. “No,” she said slowly. “The girl will be used as a bargaining chip. Do you know how to bargain?”
Antonio nodded.
“Then do it,” she said dismissively. She made her way back to her chaise. Her nails weren’t going to get filed by themselves.
“And what if we can’t get a hold of the girl? Did you want us to go after the old man?”
Angelina whirled to face Antonio. He froze. Nicoli shrank away. He’d already felt her anger and didn’t want to be on the receiving end again. She narrowed her eyes, enraged that they would think to put their filthy hands on her descendant. “If you so much as go near Marcos I will make you regret the day that you were ever born. Do not even look at him. Do you understand?”
Antonio nodded so fast that his head was in danger of snapping from his neck. “Y-yes, Mistress.”
“Now go.” She dismissed them both with a wave of the hand.
Both Antonio and Nicoli left the room in a blur.
Angelina settled onto her chaise lounge. How long had she waited for her chance to rule? Too long. The time was almost near. She was giddy with excitement.
****
Ramsey maneuvered his way through the Friday night Bourbon Street crowd. He moved like a shadow, not standing out to anyone. People with glazed over eyes didn’t focus on him. Others were too busy taking in everything else: the sounds, the partygoers, the food, the drinks. Bourbon Street was sensory overload central. The only humans who did notice him were the children. Why parents would bring their kids to a place like Bourbon Street was a mystery to him. Nothing around them was kid-appropriate.
There were people throwing up, pissing, and propositioning in every direction. Large, courageous rats scuttled from one trash bin to the next, hunting for food, not bothering to hide from humans. The children that noticed him didn’t know what he was, only sensed that he was different. He kept going, not pausing.
He hated Bourbon Street. There really wasn’t a good reason for him to be there. Most vampires who preyed on humans wouldn’t hunt on the busiest street in New Orleans. Even the fledglings from last night had the sense to stick to the shadows, stay hidden.
Then why was he striding down the street like he was out cruising for women?
Because he had unfinished business with Antonio and Nicoli.
Yeah, right. Even he didn’t believe that. If they were still in the area, he wouldn’t find them here.
Ramsey wanted to catch a glimpse of Danya.
I just want to make sure that she recovered.
He’d told himself that the hospital could’ve lied to Marcos when he’d checked on her. He wasn’t her relation. They hadn’t owed him the truth. But if she had recovered, she would be here. Tourists in New Orleans on the weekends seemed to always find themselves on one of the most famous streets in the world.
One glimpse and he could forget about her and tamp down on the guilt that kept rising in his gut every time he remembered what he’d done. He hadn’t stolen blood in ages. The shame that had always plagued him afterward had almost driven him insane. Finding willing blood donors had been a godsend. The arrangement was a mutually beneficial relationship. He drank from his donors, and in exchange he paid them more money in a week than they would’ve made in a month at a regular nine-to-five job.
After Ramsey had walked up and down the street four times, he finally gave up and realized that she wasn’t out. Remorse rose in his chest. He was left with only one choice. Go see her.
It didn’t take long to reach the small boutique hotel off of Canal Street. He strode through the lounge, not acknowledging anyone. The woman at the front desk wouldn’t notice him and wouldn’t remember him if pressed. He bypassed the elevator and took the stairs to the third floor then followed the arrows pointing to the room number Danya had given the officers.
Before he knocked he placed his ear to the door and listened. She’d mentioned that she was in town with two other women. If he needed, he could make them sleep, but that would most likely confuse Danya.
Wait. What did he care if she were confused? Glimpse her then leave. His only concern was to make sure that she’d made a full recovery.
He heard one person breathing, the television on, and small pecking. He knocked on the door. The pecking noises stopped. He waited. The pecking noises continued again. He knocked again. Someone let out a deep sigh, and then the bed rustled. Light footsteps became louder and louder. The door opened.
He stared in awe at the beautiful woman in the doorway. Her dark hair hung past her shoulders. Her bangs were severely cut above her eyebrows. Generous lashes framed vibrant green eyes. He’d thought that he’d imagined how pretty she was. But no, she was even prettier.
While he looked at her, drinking the sight of her in, she however, startled, screamed, then tried to slam the door in his face. A well-placed foot stopped her before she could.
“You. You.” She grunted as she pressed her body against the other side of the door. When that didn’t work she kicked at his foot, trying to dislodge it. “No. No. No. You aren’t real.”
He glanced down at his body. “I’m very much real, sweetheart.”
Her eyes fluttered closed. “This is all a figment of my imagination. I am delusional. This is a symptom of anemia. One. Two. Three.” She took a deep breath, then opened her eyes again.
He gave her a wicked smile. “Still here.”
She screamed.
He cupped his hand over her mouth and wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her body close to his. She smelled of vanilla
and brown sugar. He leaned in to take another languid whiff. Delectable.
She opened her eyes wide, and panic was behind them. He didn’t allow himself time to enjoy how her soft body was against his. He had to get her back inside before she had everyone on her floor spilling into the hallway to see what all the commotion was about.
Ramsey walked her back into her room and used his foot to kick the door closed behind them. He stopped only when her back was pressed against the wall. She shook with terror.
First attack her. Then scare her to death. Perfect.
A sharp pain hit his palm. He pulled away from her mouth to see the red bite mark. “You bit me.” Her bite didn’t do any damage, and the pain was gone already. His body worked quickly to make the repair. It was confusion that made him pull away. He hadn’t expected that.
Another pain, worse, like lightning, hit his groin. He doubled over and backed away. Being kneed in the balls felt the same whether he were human or vampire. It hurt like hell. “Why did you do that?” he asked in disbelief.
The scared woman that she’d been just moments before was gone, replaced by spit and hellfire. She balled her fists and took a step forward to kick him in his chin. He’d let her beauty distract him but recovered quickly and caught her bare foot mid-air and pushed it, slamming her back against the wall. Before she could react, he was against her body again and in her face.
“Why are you trying to hurt me?” His nose was less than an inch from hers.
Her stare turned icy. “Because. You’re. Trying. To. Hurt. Me.” She punched his sides then winced. “Ouch. What the hell are you made of? Steel?”
“Dammit. Stop that.” He pinned her hands above her head.
She wiggled in vain, doing nothing but making his body react to hers. He lifted her arms higher, raising her to her tiptoes. She tried to knee him again, but he blocked her by maneuvering his hip and sliding his leg between hers.
He tried to ignore her warm heat spreading over his thigh. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
She stopped struggling long enough to glare at him. “Really? What do you call this or what you did last night?”
When a Vamp Falls Page 5
