Stakes & Stilettos

by Michelle Rowen

  I frowned. "I thought you said that didn't matter."

  "I'm afraid you were wrong."

  I gasped. There was suddenly a wooden stake sticking out of my chest. The same one that was there the other night when Heather's boyfriend tried to kill me. And I wasn't on the beach in Puerto Vallarta anymore wearing a red bikini, I was wearing regular clothes, jeans and my white camisole, and the only thing red was my blood.

  "The weapon hasn't pierced your heart," Thierry said. There were people behind him. George was there. Amy and Barry. Butch. Claire and Reggie. And even Veronique looked over Thierry's shoulder.

  "My poor, stupid, trusting dear girl," she said. "However did you come to be in this unfortunate situation?"

  "Get it out of me," I gasped. Every breath I took hurt.

  No one else approached me. It was as if they were afraid for some reason. But Thierry did. He pressed his palm against my chest and with one forceful pull, he removed the stake.

  I looked down at my chest and watched as the wound healed itself before my very eyes. After a few seconds it was as if it had never been there in the first place.

  I felt so relieved I began to cry. "That was a close one."

  "It was," Thierry said. "You were almost lost to me forever."

  I reached up to touch his tense, handsome face. "I love you so much, Thierry. Do you know that? Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

  He kissed my hand and brought it back to my side. "I know, Sarah. That's why you must die."

  Then he raised the sharp wooden stake above his head and plunged it directly into my heart.

  I sat bolt upright in bed and stared at the large shard hanging across from me on the wall. It reflected a woman who had just had a very lousy night's sleep climaxed by a nightmare of epic proportions.

  Poor thing.

  I blinked at the reflection. My straight, dark brown shoulder-length hair was plastered across my face. I raked it back into place. My face beneath the hair was pale and damp with perspiration. My brand new Ghouls Just Wanna Have Fun T-shirt with the picture of designer-clad zombie chicks was twisted enough to almost cut off my circulation.

  In other words: totally hot babe alert.

  Riiight. It was a very good thing that I was all alone.

  What a terrible dream.

  I heard a ringing sound. The doorbell. Maybe that's what had woken me up in the first place.

  With my head in a just-woken-up-after-a-lousy-dream fog, I swung out of bed and grabbed my new—free—bathrobe, put it on, and walked to the front door. It was probably Thierry. Where was George? I blinked, feeling the side-effects of not getting a whole lot of nightmare-free sleep that night.

  I twisted the lock and opened the door.

  And that's when I remembered my little "aversion to sunlight" problem. How the hell could I have forgotten that little tidbit?

  I screamed as the laser beams of death attacked my entire body, and I slammed the door shut. Even knowing I didn't have to breathe anymore, my chest heaved as I braced myself against the wall. Wisps of smoke moved in the air around me as my exposed skin recovered from leaving the fry-zone.

  The doorbell rang again.

  "Uh… delivery here for a Sarah Dearly?"

  I approached the window, which I suddenly realized was blocked by heavy blinds and curtains. I braved a quick, very quick, peek outside, which very nearly melted my eyeball. A FedEx truck sat idling at the curb outside George's house.

  Delivery. For me.

  Staying behind the door, I opened it a crack. "Okay."

  The delivery guy hesitated, and then I saw the edge of his tracking machine enter past the edge of the door. "Um… you're going to have to sign for it."

  I grabbed the tracker, hastily scrawled my signature, and handed it back to him.

  "Everything okay?" he asked tentatively.

  "Just a really bad hangover," I explained. Yeah From the fiery depths of hell.

  "Been there," he said with a knowing chuckle. "Okay, here you go."

  A small bubble envelope appeared then. I grabbed it.

  "Have a great day!" he said.

  "Yeah, you, too." I shut the door and stood there with my back against it for a good two minutes. Then I finally allowed myself to relax and walked over to the sofa, where I promptly collapsed.

  The door opened again and a death sunbeam hit me dead on.

  "Close the door!" I yelled, and then added a few choice expletives to hammer home my point.

  "Sorry!" I heard George say from a sea of white-hot pain, and suddenly the room was blissfully dark again. I blinked and watched the swimming spots of color in front of my eyes begin to fade away.

  "Where were you?" I asked.

  "On an important assignment." He held up two coffees in familiar Starbucks cups. "Happy Valentine's Day. My new espresso machine broke so I had to go for reinforcements. You take yours black, right?"

  "You brought me coffee?" I managed a smile at that. "You are the best."

  I added a few packets of sweetener to the dark liquid that smelled good enough to bathe in. I loved my coffee. Even though my new vampire body had a hard time handling the cream I used to like, and the caffeine didn't actually do anything to help wake me up, I refused to give it up. Some habits die hard.

  "Even after how mortifyingly awful last night went," I said, "this coffee helps a bit this morning. Thanks, George."

  He picked up my discarded sweetener packets and stir stick. "It's not the morning. It's four o'clock."

  I frowned. "It's four o'clock? In the afternoon?"

  He nodded. "Thierry was here earlier. He stayed for a few hours but you didn't wake up. I watched to make sure he didn't try any funny business; after all, you do look fetching in that nightshirt. He decided to go to the club early. He says he'll see you there."

  Valentine's Day was not off to a great start. My skin was still smoking a bit from the sun exposure.

  "He's probably sick of me. I'm too much trouble."

  "And your point?" He grinned and took a sip of his coffee. "Maybe you're worth a little extra effort."

  I looked at him. "You are really super sweet this week."

  His shoulders slumped. "I think I need to get out more. I've lost my edge. I'm going all soft and cushiony." He appeared to shake it off. "How are you feeling today? Okay?"

  I shrugged. "Okay is a relative term. It still hasn't entirely sunk in that I'm going to have to avoid sunshine for the rest of my life." My throat tightened at the thought.

  I told him about my dream. He looked concerned at first, and then laughed at the end of it. "As if Thierry would ever stake you."

  "You don't think so?"

  "Of course not."

  I sighed. "It felt so real. Especially after I found out that Thierry's responsible for the fact that there are no nightwalkers around anymore. And it's not because he gave them five hundred dollars and a ticket to Hawaii."

  "I hadn't heard that. Well, maybe he will stake you then."

  My eyes widened.

  He grinned. "I'm kidding. Maybe I haven't lost my edge after all." He nodded at the coffee table where I'd thrown the envelope. "What's that?"

  "It came by courier a few minutes ago." I grabbed it and tore open the envelope and peered inside. There was a smaller envelope with a handwritten note.

  Happy Valentine's Day, Sarah. From one who cares more for your well-being than you realize.

  I loved Thierry like crazy, but he wasn't exactly a born poet, that was for sure.

  He couldn't just say "I love you," or even end the note with "Love, Thierry," or how about "Marry me, Sarah, and spend eternity by my side."

  Well, the last one was out of the question due to Veronique, but still, a girl could fantasize, couldn't she?

  "Doesn't look like his handwriting," I said aloud, and then opened the little envelope expecting to see a gift certificate inside.

  Instead, my mouth went dry and my heart let out a single, very surprised thump.

&
nbsp; It was the gold chain.

  I pulled it out slowly, my eyes widening at every gold link that emerged from the envelope. It was equivalent to an eighteen-inch necklace, a little thicker, and the gold had a brassy quality to it rather than a fine finish. Exactly like I remembered it.

  It was cold to my touch and didn't feel like much of anything at all. I didn't feel any magical vibes from it, not that I ever had when it first came into my possession.

  "Is that what I think it is?" George asked.

  I licked my suddenly dry lips. "Would you help me?"

  He nodded and took the necklace from me. I lifted my hair and he fastened the chain behind my neck. He leaned back to inspect it.

  "All you're missing to complete the look is an extremely hairy male chest," he said.

  I blinked and then realized our proximity. "Are you sure you feel okay about being this close to me?"

  He raised an eyebrow. "I have the stun gun in a shoulder holster right now and I'm not afraid to use it. Don't take it personally."

  I snorted lightly. "I don't blame you at all."

  "How do you feel?"

  "I'm not sure."

  "Do you feel any different?"

  I concentrated. "I'm not… sure."

  He tilted his head to the side. "Does my neck look extremely delicious and appetizing to you right now?"

  I looked at his neck. "Not particularly."

  "I'm terribly insulted."

  "Don't be."

  He stood up from the sofa and walked over to the front door. "Well, how about another test?"

  He swung the door open and the sunlight hit me square in the face. I shrieked, held up my hands, and braced myself for sheer and complete agony.

  But… there was nothing.

  I slowly spread my fingers and looked through them at George and the very bright February day behind him.

  "You're not on fire," he observed. "I'm thinking that's a good sign."

  I touched the chain at my throat and rose from the sofa, moving over to where George stood. I stood in the doorway, closed my eyes, and felt the sun on my face.

  "I can't believe this!" I said, and laughed out loud with relief and happiness. I tentatively took a step outside and then another, until I was standing in the middle of the snow-covered front lawn in my bare feet. Then I proceeded to do a happy little jig. "It works! The necklace works!"

  "It wasn't from Thierry at all, was it?" he said, with a matching smile on his face. "It was the Red Devil. He sent the necklace to you. See? I told you he was all sorts of awesomeness."

  I stopped dancing for a moment. He was right. The Red Devil had to have been the one to send this to me. And what did the note say? That he cared about my well-being?

  I frowned then. "How did he know where I was staying? He had the delivery made here specifically. How did he know I was even here?"

  "Who cares?" George replied.

  Good point.

  Human or not, the Red Devil was now my favorite masked man in the universe. He even beat out Zorro, and since I was a big Antonio Banderas fan, that was saying a lot.

  "I love the Red Devil!" I said out loud.

  "Me, too!" George agreed, and he joined me on the front lawn and we did a sun dance together as we celebrated my new chance at a normal life.

  It was a very good way to start Valentine's Day.

  Chapter 17

  Feeling revitalized and happier than I'd felt in days, I took my time getting ready to go to Haven. I wanted to look extra good—after all, it was Valentine's Day. I told George to keep my new piece of jewelry a secret. I wanted to surprise Thierry with my fabulous news.

  I put on some new lingerie I'd never worn before because it was too nice and I was saving it for a special occasion, and then got dressed in a bright-pink cashmere sweater and short black skirt. The sweater was high enough in the neckline to conceal the gold chain but tight enough to make up for the lack of cleavage. Black nylons and black stilettos finished things off nicely. I even used Velcro rollers to give my hair a little extra oomph and then spent a good half hour painstakingly applying my makeup, using my large shard to reflect how it was going.

  Sometimes I wondered why vampires didn't have reflections. Really, it didn't make much sense, did it? I was solid, I felt solid. I wasn't see-through. But a regular mirror didn't show me or the clothes I wore.

  Too weird.

  But I was currently too happy to give a crap.

  I finished applying my Viva Glam lipstick and smiled brightly at my well-made-up reflection. I'd ringed my eyes in black liner and had gone extra heavy on the mascara. My hazel eyes popped right off my face. Though, not literally, of course, because that wouldn't be good.

  I'd taken it fairly light on makeup and fashion—all things considered—over the past couple of months. Strange that when you're scared for your life these things tend to take a backseat to other worries.

  But a little polish sure did feel good.

  Even George approved. When I finally emerged from my bedroom through a cloud of hairspray and Givenchy eau de toilette, he gave me an appraising look.

  "Who's the Cosmo Girl?" he asked. "I don't think we've met."

  "Very funny."

  "Let's go. It's my last night to make tips."

  I still wasn't sure what I was going to do to make money after tonight. However, with my newly optimistic outlook, I felt rather certain that everything would work out perfectly.

  My plan for tonight was to show up at Haven, let Thierry get a load of my new and improved look and outlook, and then force him to take me out on the town for drinks to celebrate Valentine's Day and my new lease on life. Then we'd go back to his townhome and I'd show him a few other things, not the least of which was my brand new lingerie, which I had a funny feeling he might like quite a lot.

  So what if I was stuck as a nightwalker? As long as I had my new necklace all was right with the world, because none of the symptoms even mattered anymore. I could forget about my problems and think only of my future. With Thierry.

  Hell yeah. It was going to be a very good night.

  The world seemed brighter. The stars were out. The moon shone large in the black sky above. The night air was cold and refreshing against my face. My feet hurt like a son of a bitch because of the four-inch stilettos, but it was a good pain. And one that, after a lifetime of wearing questionable footwear, I could deal with quite easily.

  George and I entered Haven just before it opened. The bouncer, who I knew had a minor crush on me, eyed me warily as I passed him. That wasn't the usual look he gave me. Strange.

  But then I remembered that everyone expected me to be all nightwalker-from-hell. They all treated me like a mental patient on the brink of having a final breakdown.

  Not tonight. Nothing could go wrong tonight. I seriously wouldn't allow it.

  Amy and Barry were inside, and they both looked worried, their expressions growing graver as I approached.

  "Sarah," Amy said warily. "Good to see you."

  I gave her a quick look up and down. "Somebody's a blond again."

  To go with her back-to-normal blond hair she wore a bright red miniskirt and sparkly white shirt with a red sequined heart over her chest. Barry wore his usual minituxedo.

  She touched her hair. "I had it done this afternoon. My scalp feels like it's on fire."

  "I know the feeling."

  Her bottom lip wobbled. "I feel so horrible about everything."

  "Forget about it." I smiled at her. "What are you drinking?"

  "Um… it's a chocolate martini."

  "Can I have a sip?"

  Her expression changed to one of confusion. Then she lifted the glass. "Of course."

  I took a quick sip. "That is dee-lish."

  "Are you feeling all right?"

  "I'm feeling fantastic. And you?"

  "I'm… I'm okay."

  Barry eyed me. "You are acting erratically."

  "Am I?" I lunged forward and grabbed the little freak and g
ave him a big hug. Then I kissed him hard on his right cheek, leaving behind a kiss-shaped imprint of my lipstick.

  "George," Barry said. "I'm told that you have a stun gun at the ready?"

  George laughed. "I do, but it won't be necessary. Sarah's just in a really good mood tonight. Go figure."

  Barry pursed his lips as he began working on the kiss mark with a paper napkin. "I can't think of a single reason, given everything that has transpired, why she should be."

  "You are a pessimist, little man." I pointed at him. "You need to take Amy out and have some fun tonight. It's Valentine's Day, for Pete's sake."

  "That would be nice," Amy agreed.

  Barry nodded. "Later. Definitely later." He still frowned. "You look… well, Sarah."

  I raised my eyebrows and glanced at Amy. "I think your husband is flirting with me. Better keep an eye on him."

  Barry gasped. "I would never!"

  "I'm just joking." I shook my head and laughed. "Honestly, sense of humor. Seek one out. It'll change your life."

  "Sarah?" Thierry said from behind me, and I turned around slowly.

  "Happy Valentine's Day," I told him.

  "And to you." His gaze slowly took me in. "Barry is quite right. You look very well indeed. I've been worried about you."

  "I heard you were at George's earlier."

  His expression shadowed. "I didn't want to leave, but knew that George would keep a watchful eye on you. There were certain last-minute details I had to attend to here before the club transfers to the new owners."

  "Come with me." I curled a finger at him and then turned and walked through the club to his office. Once inside, I sat on the edge of his desk and waited for him to follow me. He did and then closed the door behind him.

  "You are acting strangely," he said. "I know that finding the witch dead was a traumatic experience, but you mustn't lose hope. I will do everything in my power to find a way to break this curse. I swear to you, Sarah. It is the most important—"

  I slid off the edge of the desk, closed the distance between us, and kissed him. Very hard and very deeply. I smiled against his lips as his hands curled around my upper arms and he brought me closer to him.

  "What are you doing?" he breathed against my mouth.

  "Kissing you." I kissed him again to prove my point.