Stakes & Stilettos

by Michelle Rowen

  Any move I made would send the stake directly into my jugular so I tried not to budge, even though my entire body felt like a live wire. Perhaps a different tactic would be a good idea.

  "The Slayer of Slayers doesn't take kindly to threats, asshole," I growled, trying to sound as tough as I could through the fear as sharp as the stake at my throat.

  He snorted at that. "We know it's just a rumor that you killed all of those hunters. However, everything else about you isn't a rumor. You've drunk the blood of two master vampires. That makes you very special. But you don't have to bite me. The virus is in your blood as well as your fangs. Doesn't matter if you're alive or dead. All I need is enough of your blood." He dragged the tip of the stake along my neck and I felt a stinging pain and a warm trickle of blood slid down my throat. "See? Not so tough after all."

  "Let me go right now." My gaze whipped over to where Heather stood, hoping that she would see that her darling boyfriend was actually a violent sociopath, but she just looked at him with love and devotion.

  "Kill her," she prompted. "We can save the money we were going to pay her for our honeymoon."

  I breathed out, trying not to shake with the fear I felt, and tried to think as calmly as I could. This wasn't the first time I'd been in a life-or-death situation. However, I wasn't quite the victim I'd been ten weeks ago when I was made into a vampire by my blind date.

  "Josh," I said shakily. "Listen, we can talk this out."

  The stake eased off a bit from my throat. "Can we?"

  "Not really." I stomped on his instep and twisted away from him. Then I curled my hand into a fist and socked him as hard as I could in his jaw. Not too much vampire strength, but since he was only human it was enough to knock him back a few feet. Enough for me to get away.

  That is, if I didn't suddenly have his vampire girlfriend behind me, pinning my arms down at my sides.

  "Let go of me, Heather," I snarled at her. "Right now."

  "Not a chance."

  "I thought we were friends? Why would you do something like this to a friend?"

  "Because I love Josh. But I guess somebody involved with a cold, emotionless jerk like Thierry wouldn't understand what true love feels like, would you?"

  "This isn't love," I managed.

  "We're going to be together forever."

  "You've only known him for a few weeks, haven't you?"

  "It doesn't matter. I know it's forever." Her fingernails dug painfully into my arms. "Do it, Josh. Do it now."

  "Let go of me!" I yelled and struggled so hard against her that I almost broke free. She had a fight on her hands to keep me in place. I wrenched to the side, twisting my body to possibly bite her on the nose, but then I felt something very bad slam into my chest.

  I gasped.

  It was something sharp.

  Something extremely painful.

  Heather finally released me. "Sorry, Sarah. I wish you'd given us another choice."

  My eyes widened as I looked down at the wooden stake protruding from my chest. I touched the end of it with shaking hands, blinking hard.

  "Wh-what…?" My mouth was dry. I fell to my knees on the cold, hard ground and stared up at Heather, who'd gone to stand next to Josh. They both looked down at me coldly.

  Oh, my God. I'd been staked. They'd staked me.

  I couldn't breathe. The pain in my chest was like a living thing that was burrowing into my body. The night that surrounded me began to fill my vision with a growing darkness.

  I thought she was my friend. I trusted her.

  Too good to be true.

  I gasped for breath and fell to my side, my head landing on a patch of thick white snow.

  I couldn't see anything. I was blacking out. I was going to die.

  Then suddenly there was a whir of movement in my now dark and cloudy peripheral vision. I heard both Josh and Heather yelling.

  And then there was only silence.

  I felt hands on me, pulling me up to a standing position. Gloved hands prodded at my chest, pushing the camisole to the side. I wanted to protest being groped by whoever it was, but I couldn't find the words at the moment. The world began to fade.

  A sharp smack resounded on the side of my face. "Stay with me, Sarah."

  Unfamiliar deep voice. Male.

  "Who… wh-what—?"

  "They won't hurt you again. The stake… it's not in your heart. Almost, but not quite. You're a very lucky woman. I'd heard that about you—that you're damned lucky. You'll be all right. I promise."

  I forced myself to focus my vision enough to see the vague outline of a man close to me, his face mostly covered by a black winter scarf. I couldn't see his features other than a glimpse of his eyes. He wore dark clothes—a long black coat. His hands were encased in black leather gloves. He was tall and strong and he lifted me up into his arms.

  "Th… the… st-stake… ?" It wasn't more than a whisper. It hurt to talk.

  "I'll let someone who knows how to remove it properly do the honors. I don't want to hurt you. I can't stay, though. I'll get you back to your friends."

  I blinked and that hurt, too. "Wh-who are you?"

  "They call me the Red Devil."

  Frowning also caused pain. "The R-red Devil?"

  What the hell kind of a name was that?

  "Shh… save your strength. You're going to need it."

  The Red Devil—or whatever his real name was—pressed me protectively against his chest and swiftly began walking out of the park. I sensed that we were headed back to Haven, at least I hoped so, but I couldn't be sure since after another moment I passed out from the pain and shock.

  It was official.

  Being staked sucked.

  Chapter 2

  "She's dead! Sarah's dead!" It was George's voice. He was a vampire waiter at Haven and one of my very best friends. "No wait… she's not dead! She's still breathing!"

  "We need to go to my office," Thierry said tightly. "Now, damn it. Hurry up."

  The fact that I could hear voices was a good sign. It meant that I was conscious. Or sort of conscious. I currently couldn't see anything, although that was probably because my eyes were closed and they wanted to stay that way. I groaned.

  "She's waking up! Sarah! Don't go toward the light!"

  "Wh-where did h-he go?" I managed.

  "Who? Sarah, please don't try to talk. There was no one outside. Only you. You knocked on the door or we never would have known you were there."

  I didn't knock. I couldn't have. I'd been much too unconscious to knock. The Red Devil… he brought me back here and he must have left before the door to Haven opened.

  "George," Thierry said. "Please help me bring her to the office."

  There was a scuffle. I heard more voices murmuring as we passed through the main area of the club. I was being carried in someone's strong arms. I forced my eyes open a crack to see that it was Thierry. He held me tight against his chest, and his expression was tense as he focused on the direction he was quickly moving in.

  "Thierry…" I moaned against his black shirt.

  His jaw clenched and he glanced down at me. "Shh, Sarah. Conserve your strength."

  He kicked open his office door and entered the room to place me as gently as possible down on his black leather sofa. It still hurt like hell.

  "Close the door," he told George.

  I opened my eyes wider. George stood by the door wringing his hands. He was a vampire who was over eighty years old but looked like a twenty-something Chippendales dancer with shoulder-length sandy-colored hair, a tall, ripped bod, and a tendency to wear leather pants and tight shirts. He closed the door and came over to my side.

  "Sweetie," he said with an audible shake to his voice. "You're going to be okay."

  "Really?" My mouth was very dry.

  "It might not feel like it right now, but it'll be fine."

  I coughed. "Thanks for the vote of c-confidence." I looked down at my chest. The stake was still sticking straight out of it.
My breathing was ragged. "That is s-so going to leave a mark."

  "Who did this?" Thierry asked.

  I swallowed and cringed at the pain that caused. "Heather's b-boyfriend. He… he wanted me to sire him." I gasped for air. "There was no job. She let him stake me when I told him n-no…"

  His silver eyes narrowed. "I will kill him for this."

  "One thing at a time," George suggested.

  "Yes." Thierry's jaw clenched and his expression was grim. His eyes reflected a brewing storm inside. "Sarah, please be brave for me. I need to remove this stake, and since it's so close to your heart, I will need you to be very still."

  "Do you want me to leave?" George asked.

  "No," Thierry said quickly. "I need you to stay. The blood… there will be too much blood. You need to keep Sarah safe."

  Anyone else might wonder what he meant by that. Was George a trained nurse? No. Was Thierry squeamish when it came to blood and worried he might pass out and George would have to finish the job?

  Nope.

  I glanced at the bright red blood already soaking through my nice new white lace camisole. White, of course, because that's always the way, isn't it? Then I looked up at Thierry. His eyes had already turned from their normal silver shade to the black of a hungry vampire, and when he spoke his words were slurred due to his lengthening fangs.

  Thierry had a bit of an addiction to blood. When he got a taste of it he went a little crazy—to say the least. It had happened only once before, by mistake, and he'd nearly drained me dry. Vampires at his age don't need to drink blood at all, and when they do, it only makes them want more. And more. Thierry normally drank cranberry juice now and I'd prefer to keep it that way.

  At the moment, his concern for me was mixed with a healthy dose of… primal hunger.

  Terrific.

  If I hadn't been dealing with the big piece of wood sticking out of my chest I'd have been a little more concerned for my neck.

  "It's fine," he said, although it sounded as if he was speaking to himself instead of me. His black gaze tracked from my wound to my eyes. His forehead was deeply creased. "I won't lose control."

  George came to my side and held my hand. He stroked back the hair that had fallen across my forehead.

  "Just hold on, Sarah," he said. "Think happy thoughts. Really, it's no big deal."

  George had been staked before, and I'd been there to witness his reaction to having the stake removed. Therefore I knew it was a big deal and he was a big fat liar.

  "Just g-get it out of me," I said through clenched teeth.

  Thierry's hands were shaking slightly as he gripped the end of the stake.

  "Be brave, my love." And then he pulled the stake from my chest.

  I screamed. I tended to do that when my insides felt as though they were being torn from my body and set on fire. The stake clattered to the ground, and Thierry pressed his palms against the wound to stop the bleeding.

  "Knife," he growled at George.

  George disengaged his probably broken hand from my crushing grip and hurried to Thierry's desk to grab the knife he kept in the top drawer. He brought it over and handed it to Thierry.

  "Compress the wound," Thierry said, and George, who was very good at following orders in tense situations, did as requested.

  Then Thierry drew the knife across his left forearm to draw his own blood and held it against my mouth.

  Master vampire blood. Filled with power and strength—like a well-aged liquor that made a regular vamp's blood seem as potent as Kool-Aid. This was the reason Josh wanted me to sire him. Because the strength of Thierry's blood, of Nicolai's, was inside me.

  No. It didn't make any sense. I didn't feel any different. He'd been wrong. He'd made a horrible mistake and then that bastard had staked me.

  Hell, maybe I should have said yes. Instead of dealing with a stake wound I'd have two grand in my pocket.

  I shut off my racing thoughts and drank.

  Blood. Yeah, it was disgusting—at least in theory. As a human I thought that the very idea of drinking blood was completely and utterly nasty, not to mention unhygienic. In reality it was not so black and white or right or wrong.

  I was all about the shades of gray now. And Thierry, even in a horrific situation like this, tasted really, really good to me. I knew doing this would help me to heal faster and even help to lessen the pain. My eyes locked onto his and he stared down at me, his eyes still fully black and filled with something that looked a whole lot like lust. With his free hand he stroked the hair off my face.

  "Sarah…" he said softly. "That should be enough."

  "Okay," I managed, finally and reluctantly letting go of Thierry's arm.

  "I need a drink!" George exhaled shakily. "And it's not just because I've been clutching your breasts for five minutes."

  "Don't get any ideas, Georgie." I laughed a little at that and it hurt. "Ow."

  "Don't worry," he said. "You're still not my gender preference."

  Thierry stood up from the side of the sofa and rolled down his shirt sleeve but not before I'd caught a glimpse of the knife wound that had already begun to heal. "Sarah, George will help to clean you up. I have an extra shirt you can wear on a hanger behind the door."

  "Me?" George pointed at his chest. "You want me to clean—"

  Thierry turned his still-black gaze away from me and walked quickly out of the room.

  George looked down at me. "Feel like a sponge bath, you sexy little thing?"

  After George cleaned and patched me up, I fell asleep and had one of those prophetic dreams. At least I think it was one now that I was paying more attention to that sort of thing.

  The man with the black scarf wrapped around his face walked toward me. Other than the scarf obliterating his features, he wore a very nice black tuxedo. The background flickered as though changing channels on the television from day, to night, to the inside of a gray factory, to a wall of flames.

  "Red Devil?" I said out loud. "What does that even mean? Do you have another name? Should I just call you Red, maybe?"

  "Yes, Red as blood." He held a gloved hand up to the side of my face. "We're so close now, Sarah. Soon you'll know your true destiny. It is to help me."

  I blinked. "Well, I am currently looking for a new job. How much does this helping you thing pay?"

  "Every moment you exist, Sarah, you are helping me."

  "With what?"

  "I can't tell you yet." He shook his head. "What do you want more than anything else in the world? Right now, right at this very moment?"

  I thought about it, hard. I looked down at my chest, at the bandage that was there to cover the stake wound. "I want to be normal."

  "You can't be normal anymore. You're a vampire."

  "I know that. But I can be as normal as possible. I want my friends to be safe. I want to be happy."

  "With Thierry."

  "Yes."

  "That can never happen."

  I frowned at him. "Tell me who you are. I'm not really in the mood for riddles or games. It's been a rough night."

  "This isn't a game." He attempted to put his arms around me in an odd, stifling hug, but he was pulled back before he touched me. Thierry stood behind him.

  "Sarah," Thierry said. "Is he trying to make you do something you don't want to do? You can tell me."

  I opened my mouth but found I couldn't reply to him.

  Thierry took a step closer to me, but the Red Devil grabbed him, turned him around, and then sank a wooden stake into his chest. I let out a horrified scream.

  Thierry met my gaze. "Why did you help him, Sarah?"

  I shook my head. "I… I didn't mean to. I love you, Thierry!"

  He whispered something that I couldn't hear and then he disintegrated before my eyes.

  "No!" I cried.

  My dreams about Thierry—prophetic or not—always seemed to end with him getting staked. But it hadn't happened in real life. It wouldn't happen. I wouldn't let it.

  It
was just a dream.

  I would be normal. I would be happy.

  I would.

  "Ow," was my first word upon waking up. There was a cool cloth pressed to my forehead. George blinked down at me.

  "Morning, sunshine," he said to me, and then, "She's awake."

  "Good." Thierry was back in the room, his eyes now returned to their normal silvery shade of gray. His arms were crossed and he frowned deeply. "How are you feeling, Sarah?"

  "Like I should be checking my spleen for splinters."

  "Can you sit up?"

  "I don't know."

  His right hand was on my shoulder, the other on my back, and he supported me as I slowly brought myself up to a sitting position. It hurt, but not as much as I would have thought it would. He sat beside me so I could lean against him.

  "Yes, sitting I can apparently manage," I said.

  Thierry reached over to undo the top buttons on his spare black shirt, which I now wore, and he peeled the bandage away from my chest. My bra and camisole were ruined and had been thrown into the garbage.

  "You're already starting to heal." His warm fingers stroked softly over my bare left breast.

  I sucked in a quick breath. My chest ached from my wound, but it didn't stop the rest of my body from tightening with desire at his touch. "Good to know."

  He didn't remove his hand. We stared into each other's eyes.

  George cleared his throat. "Uh… should I leave the two of you alone?"

  "In a moment." Thierry moved his hand away so he could replace the bandage. "Sarah, I went outside to see if I could find Heather and her boyfriend."

  "Did you find them?"

  "Yes." He stood up from the sofa. "A man, whom I am assuming is the boyfriend, was left dead in the park next to the remains of what I'm sure is Heather. They were both killed. However, I did retrieve your coat."

  My eyes widened. "Was it… did you—?"

  He shook his head. "No, I didn't kill them, although I definitely wanted to."

  I frowned. "It must have been the Red Devil."

  "Pardon me?"

  I took a breath. "Right after I was staked a man appeared. He wore a scarf over his face so I couldn't see what he looked like. He called himself the Red Devil and he carried me back here and then I guess he left. If it wasn't for him, I'd be dead. He saved me."