I'm the Vampire, That's Why

by Michele Bardsley

  Suddenly dizzy, I felt a distinct POP in my mind. The rapture wrapping me in a nice, fluffy cloud of indifference abruptly dissipated.

  Pain roared through me. Horrible, throbbing, sharp… I was bathed in fire. In acid. In broken glass. And there was a terrible keening that made my head ache.

  Then I realized the long sad noise came from me.

  I was screaming.

  I bit on my lower lip hard and swallowed those awful sounds. I mentally sought Bryan and Jenny. Patrick's command to sleep had not been broken. They were safe. Thank God, they were safe. So much for Damian, the bodyguard. So much for any guards. Where the hell was everyone?

  It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. My kids were safe. I was ready to let go now. I didn't have to fight anymore. I didn't have to hold on.

  "Jessica."

  "Bigfoot," I croaked. "I'm sleepy."

  "No, Jessica. Stay." He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. The feel of silky fur against my skin felt so soft, so nice.

  "I'm not afraid," I said. "It's okay." That was the truth. The pain had faded into nothingness. I felt like a bubble, about to rise and float away, and I looked forward to the journey.

  "Stay," he demanded. You are Patrick's happiness. I will not let you go.

  Don't bully me. And stay out of my head. You're as bad as your brother.

  I rose up, up, up… through the ceiling… the roof… the sky… I rushed toward the bright and beautiful stars.

  The last sound I heard was the anguished howl of Lorćan O'Halloran.

  Jessica. Jessica? Jessica!

  What?

  Where are you?

  I don't know. I'm safe. I'm okay. It's nice here.

  Come back.

  No.

  Come back, love.

  I can't. I don't know where I am. I don't know how to return.

  I'll guide you, a thaisce.

  I don't think I'm supposed to leave.

  Please, Jessica. Please come back to me. To Jenny and Bryan. Is't mo shonuachar.

  I don't speak Gaelic, you doofus.

  Jessica… you're my soul mate. Come back to me.

  I woke up without opening my eyes. My body felt so heavy, so clunky, I could barely stand to be inside it. I took several deep, cleansing breaths. Wait a minute. I could breathe.

  "A dream," I muttered. "Just a dream."

  I wasn't a vampire. There'd been no ravaging beast eating citizens for dinner. Broken Heart wasn't turning into a community filled with paranormal residents. I'd had a very realistic, long-lasting nightmare. I was in my own bed, snuggling under my thick, warm comforter, dreaming of the weird and the wild.

  Stretching my arms above my head, I slowly opened my eyes.

  And looked straight into the face of Satan.

  "Aaaaahhhh!"

  "So you are awake," said the Devil.

  "You're a woman." I pointed weakly at her nose, which was closest to me.

  "Yes, I'm a woman. It's delightful to know that you recognize gender." She peered at me, her green eyes narrowed. She had skin like fresh cream, the sort of cheekbones most women had to buy, and a full mouth as red as fresh-picked cherries.

  Strange gold patterns pulsed on her face. I swear the color shimmering on her flesh seemed alive. But even with the markings on her face, she was utterly gorgeous.

  Satan is a woman. She's a tall, tattooed, redheaded woman. And she likes to wear pearlescent white robes. And she has minty fresh breath.

  "Padriag has been pacing outside the door since sunset."

  "What for?"

  "Hmmm." She straightened and I realized how tall she was. Wow.

  "Are you an Amazon?"

  "I'm a healer." She smiled. "My name is Brigid."

  She had a lyrical, soothing voice. Her accent reminded me of Patrick's, but though she was probably Irish, too, I wasn't sure. Brigid… that name sounded familiar. Oh, wow. Was she that Brigid?

  "Are you related to Patrick?"

  "Yes." She waved her hand at me to forestall other questions. I realized the gold patterns covered her entire body. They swirled and changed into different symbols and shapes.

  "Holy shit. How are you doing that?"

  "The draíocht senses what spells you need and changes to accommodate your health."

  I felt the magic. I didn't know how to describe it. A tingling in the air around me, I guess. As a kid, whenever I got sick, my grandma would arrive with her stock of cures. One thing she always did was rub menthol on my chest. The magic produced by Brigid was like a menthol full-body rub. I looked at the ever-shifting gold designs in total awe. "It's alive? Like a… a parasite?"

  Her eyebrows arched. "It is a sacred gift, one that I am honored to have and duty bound to use. I will allow Padriag to enter and speak with you. There are many others who wish to see you, too. But they will have to wait."

  "My kids? Are they okay?"

  "They're fine. They have come in every day and whispered prayers for you."

  I felt relieved that Jenny and Bryan were okay. I felt weak and dizzy and very, very thirsty. I scooted around to find a comfortable position. A nap might be in order. What had happened to me? Vague images flashed, but nothing fit together in a way that made sense. Then what Brigid said penetrated my thickheadedness.

  "Wait a sec. What do you mean my children came in every day?"

  My question remained unanswered. Brigid opened the door and beckoned Patrick inside. As he strode across the room, she left and shut the door behind her.

  Patrick stood over me, his silver gaze sweeping across my blanket-covered body. Then those eyes settled on my face. He said nothing, just gave me the Inevitable Doom Look until I wanted to squirm all the way under the covers and hide from him.

  Instead, I managed to squeak, "Uh… hi."

  "You will feed."

  "I'm fine, thanks for asking." I pouted at him.

  "Brigid is the best healer in the world. Of course you are fine." Then why did he look so damned relieved? What had happened to me? I'd been viciously attacked. Panic wormed through me.

  "Stop thinking about what happened," said Patrick. He climbed into bed and gathered me into his arms. "There will be time enough to figure out the details. You will feed now, Jessica."

  "You're in my presence for five seconds and you're already bossing me around."

  "Get used to it." He cradled my head and adjusted positions so that my mouth pressed on the pulse that beat in his neck. "Take what you need, love."

  "What about spontaneous combustion? I can't control myself around you. My lust meter goes off the charts."

  "Jessica…"

  My fangs had already elongated in anticipation of feeding. I punctured the vein and almost moaned when Patrick's blood gushed into my mouth. I drank until my thirst was assuaged. Then, reluctantly, I pulled away. The holes healed instantly; I licked away the tiny dribbles left behind.

  "It's not quite as good as the thigh," I said. "But it'll do."

  I pushed back so that I could look at his face. He looked so sad. I brushed my knuckles across his cheekbone. "Are you all right? I didn't slurp you dry, did I?"

  A small smile curved his lips. "No, love."

  "What happened?"

  "I don't know." His jaw clenched. "Everyone was glamoured. Damian, the security guards in the front and rear of the house, the kids, and… you. The electricity was shorted out. Then you were attacked." His hand burrowed under the covers, under my pajama top, and flattened on my belly. I shuddered at the contact, relishing the warmth of his palm, the coiled strength I felt in the sensual flexing of his fingers against my skin. "I will never shut you out again, céadsearc. If I had not closed my mind to yours, I would've known you were in trouble."

  "It's not your fault."

  "Yes, it is." His seeking hand found the curve of my hip. He traced it with the tip of his forefinger. "I Turned you and it is my duty to protect you. I failed in that. But you are so much more to me, love. We belong to each other. You are my soul a
nd I abandoned you."

  "Patrick, please…" I wasn't sure I could think about the whole soul mate thing. I enjoyed how he made me feel, but handing over my heart to another man, to an immortal no less… No, I couldn't face that kind of commitment.

  "You amaze me, Jessica." The wandering hand found my buttock. He cupped it and squeezed then decided to explore my thigh. "I vow that I will not fail you again."

  "Could you stop with the self-guilt trip already? I'm not blaming you. Sheesh." I thought about how Patrick seemed to fall back into formal speech patterns, which also seemed to increase his brogue, when he was emotional. I found it really sexy that he could talk like modern-day guy then go all warrior-king on me.

  Or maybe I was just getting hot and bothered by the skirting of his fingers along my inner thigh. A few inches to the left and the man would touch the sweet spot.

  "There is one more thing I must tell you," he said in a low voice that sent a sensual thrill zipping up my spine, "and then I will touch your sweet spot."

  "Patrick!" I wiggled closer, content to let him touch me. Even though I'd fed, I still felt tired. I knew that feeling exhausted and feeble was probably a bad thing. But I was alive (mostly). Obviously, I hadn't gotten the whole story out of Patrick yet. "Don't keep me in suspense. What's this 'one thing'?"

  His hand stilled for a mere second. Then his gaze snared mine. "I would've never thought my brother capable of such brutality. Before he was changed, he would've plunged a knife into his own heart rather than harm an innocent. I know now that the soul of Lorćan is dead. I cannot risk that the creature might hurt you again."

  The languorous desire spreading from belly to nipples instantly fizzled. Dread weaved through me. "Oh my God, Patrick. What did you do?"

  Chapter 13

  "The Consortium council has charged Drake and Darrius with hunting Lorćan—and when they find him, they will destroy him," admitted Patrick in a strained voice.

  The dark and painful images of the attack swirled and coalesced until one moment stood out in sharp relief. I gave Patrick the equivalent of a mental brain poke and showed it to him:

  "Jessica."

  "Bigfoot," I croaked. "I'm sleepy."

  "No, Jessica. Stay." He stroked my cheek with the back of his furry hand.

  "I'm not afraid," I said. "It's okay."

  "Stay," he demanded. You are Patrick's happiness. I will not let you go.

  Don't bully me. And stay out of my head. You're as bad as your brother.

  The last sound I heard was the anguished howl of Lorćan O'Halloran.

  Patrick stared at me, shock and hope etched on his face.

  "There were two," I said. "The first one hurt me. Then your brother showed up and saved me."

  "I don't understand," said Patrick. "Surely we would've known if there was another lycanthrope in Broken Heart."

  "Who cares! If Drake and Darrius are tracking Lorćan, you gotta stop 'em. Then come back and tell me what the hell happened after I passed out and why I feel so wonky."

  "A thaisce," he whispered gently. He brushed his lips against mine and sparkled out of sight.

  "I've been out a week!" I yelled. "An entire friggin' week?"

  After Patrick left, I closed my eyes to take a little nap. And woke up the next night. Once again, Patrick let me feast on his neck until I was sated. Then I was able to sit up without feeling woozy and I no longer felt like baked dog shit. I checked mentally on Bryan and Jenny several times and they were fine. Worried about me. Missing me. But okay.

  I wasn't up to seeing them, not yet. I hadn't gotten my balance back, emotionally or physically. And… well, I was afraid they'd be scared of me. Scared of what I'd become. I'd been out of their lives for a full-on week. I'm sure they felt abandoned. What would I do to ever make it up to them?

  I'd have to think on it later. Right now, Linda and Stan and Drake and Darrius and Brigid and the dark-haired French dude, François, who had watched over Emily's body, were all in my bedroom. Patrick lounged next to me, his arm loosely draped over my shoulders.

  "So how did the your-parents-are-vampires meeting go?" I asked.

  "We did it, just like we planned," said Linda. She sat on the end of the bed. Stan hovered behind her like an agitated ghost. "I brought Jenny and Bryan. We explained everything. Took some doing, I tell you. But it's settled now."

  "We've started the children on the night schedule," added Stan. "It's not easy for them. I think it'll be better when they return to some sort of routine. We're working on getting a school set up for the fall, but we don't yet have qualified teachers."

  "I can't wait to see who shows up for that job." I worried my bottom lip. "I'm sorry I missed Emily's memorial."

  "It was a beautiful service," Linda said softly. "She's resting next to Mama now… and we've said our good-byes." She sounded stronger, like the old Linda. I was glad for it, too. Then she snorted. "Girl, you about had a memorial of your own. Your man wouldn't let you go. He stuck to you like frosting on a cake." Her gaze met mine. "It was bad, Jessie. It was real bad."

  "Yeah. Sorry I scared the bejeebers out of everyone." I sighed. "I'm kinda tired of waking up dead."

  Everyone laughed and it broke the tension that had been building among us. We had a lot to worry about—not the least of which was figuring out what to do about the rogue werewolf running around Broken Heart. If Lorćan was self-aware enough to save my life—he wasn't a mindless beast.

  "My friends, we must discuss what happened to Jessica." François pushed off from the wall he'd been leaning on and crossed to the bed. His pale fingers curled around one of the cherrywood posts as his blue gaze met mine and then Patrick's. "You say there were two creatures?"

  "It's kinda jumbled up. But there were definitely two creatures." I remembered the flash of his blue eyes, filled with anger and madness, right before he ripped off my skin. "Its eyes were blue. Lor's are silver."

  I saw the look that François and Patrick shared before they both looked at Stan. Then Drake and Darrius joined in all the caveman oh-ah-ugh eye language. I could practically hear the Morse code being tapped out among all the males in the room.

  It bothered me that I couldn't remember the details of the attack. Maybe it was best that I didn't. Who wanted to remember getting killed for the second time? Reliving the first attack at weird moments was bad enough. Then again, looked at through the perspective of a creature that had been starved, that was beyond control, and that needed to feed until it regained its senses made me understand Lor's behavior. He'd fed on eleven people. But he hadn't killed them. Well, he hadn't meant to kill them. That thing that had attacked me in my living room had murder on his mind—not a quick and convenient dinner.

  "Why did all eleven of us Turn?" I asked. Everyone looked at me. I waved my hand impatiently. "Patrick told me most humans don't make the transition to vampire. But Lorćan drained eleven of us. And we all made the Turn. Why?"

  "It has to be something to do with the lycanthrope blood transfusion," said Stan. "Ten females and one male… so we don't think it's gender related. You're all different blood types. As for DNA… none of you are related or have any common genetic factors or flaws."

  As Stan attempted to bore us into another universe, I felt an Oprah-worthy aha moment.

  "We're all parents," I blurted. "We're all single parents."

  Stan looked at me, surprised. He seemed to mull over my brilliant observation before he shook his head. "Coincidence. Or laws of probability. Broken Heart has the highest number of single and unwed mothers in Oklahoma. Seems only a matter of odds that he'd get eleven single parents."

  "Why does Broken Heart have the largest number of unwed mothers in the state?" mused Drake… or Darrius. I still wasn't able to distinguish between those two.

  "Because it's named Broken Heart, I figured," said Linda. "Maybe people move out here after relationships go bust because they, like the irony of it. Maybe they wanted to be reminded why love sucks so they wouldn't fall for it again."r />
  "You think love sucks?" asked Stan, his tone wounded and confused.

  "Oh, honey," said Linda, looking over her shoulder to talk to him, "I think I'm too old, too tired, and too dead to worry about falling in love again."

  When Linda faced me again, I saw the expression on Stan's face. He was hurt by her words. Well, hell.

  "What if we Turned because we are parents?" I asked, partly to distract Stan from becoming too overwrought.

  Stan frowned. "I don't see how it's relevant."

  "How many moms and dads have been Turned in the last few hundred years?"

  "Not many," admitted François. "It is against the Consortium's Code, though not all vampires follow our guidelines. Even so, rare is the vampire who Turns a mother or father."

  "I noticed you didn't say rare is the vampire who kills a mother or father."

  François shrugged. "Not all vampires share the Consortium's vision."

  "Especially the Wraiths," said Patrick. "They want to rule over humans."

  "Superiority complex," said Stan, nodding. His gaze strayed to the back of Linda's head. The look of tenderness and longing he directed at my friend reminded me of a puppy's adoration for a soup bone. Oh-ho. Interesting. Did Stan really have a thing for Linda? Or maybe he just suffered from hair envy. I bit back a laugh. Yeah. Right.

  François shook his head. "Ron and his Wraiths cause us more and more problems."

  "Ron?" I laughed. "You're kidding. Their leader's name is Ron! That doesn't exactly inspire fear, does it?"

  "He decided a few decades ago that Ronald was better than Ragnvaldr," said Patrick, "which was the name his mother gave him three thousand years ago."

  "Oh," I said. "I see his point. Is he… droch fhola?"

  "No. He's just an asshole," said Drake.

  "Where's the rest of the Brady Bunch?" I asked. The room was missing several Panel of Doom members, including Nasty Nara. "Why is it just you guys in this powwow?"

  There was another male-to-male exchange via significant glances. I sighed. Hey. Finally! "Something's going down in the Consortium, right?"

  "Few can be trusted, liebling" said one of the D-men. "We believe some of our problems stem from our own community. Unfortunately, there are traitors among us. They work for the Wraiths to discover what we know about the Taint and they wish to sabotage the Consortium's efforts."