Rose scowled at Audrey. “I’m sorry. Did you just say attractive?”
“He had brown hair and dark eyes, and he was kind of tall,” Audrey said, frowning thoughtfully. “Oh, did I mention that he was sexy?”
“You’re calling a murderer sexy?” Rose asked dryly.
“I’m describing him, and objectively, he was sexy,” Audrey answered. “Once he murdered you, I changed my mind about his sexiness, of course.”
“I appreciate that,” Rose muttered.
“No problem,” Audrey said. “Where was I? Oh, right, his appearance. He had a dark complexion and a muscular build. And seriously, Rose, I know it sounds strange, but I’ve never seen anyone as attractive as this man. And there was also this sense of seductiveness about him. It was unsettling, actually.”
Rose suddenly started laughing. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you had a dream that a tall, dark, and handsome vampire killed me?”
Audrey glared at Rose. “You promised!”
“I know, and I’m trying,” Rose said. “But Audrey, this is impossible.”
“I know what I saw,” Audrey said angrily.
Rose laughed. “You dreamed that a cliché, tall, dark, and handsome vampire killed me. Are you sure you didn’t read a scary story the night before?”
Audrey continued to glare at her. “I don’t even read scary stories, Rose. You know that,” she reminded her. “You’re the one who likes horror novels.”
“Okay,” Rose admitted, “but still, vampires don’t exist, Audrey.”
“How do you know? You said yourself that most cultures believed in them,” Audrey said. “Is it really so far-fetched to believe that they might exist?”
“Yes. It is,” Rose said. “If they did exist, there would be evidence.”
“You believe in God,” Audrey argued. “You have no proof He exists.”
Rose sighed, “Yeah, but people feel God…when they pray or when they worship… That’s why they believe. No one has felt, seen, or heard vampires.”
“Or maybe they have,” Audrey argued. “Maybe the stories are true.”
Rose leaned forward tiredly, resting her elbows on her knees as she hung her head in her hands. The combination of stress, jet lag, and now the news that she would die soon was beginning to get to her. “You can’t actually be telling me that you believe in vampires,” she mumbled into her hands, exhaling slowly.
“Before my dream, I would have laughed at the mere idea that vampires might be real, but Rose, I know what I saw. He bit you and drank your blood. My dreams are always right,” Audrey said. She sighed and added, “Besides, don’t you think it is a little weird that a man gave you a box with scrolls that happen to describe a vampire, and then, I dreamed that you were killed by a vampire?”
“Of course I think it’s weird,” Rose agreed, “but I can’t just believe that some mythical creature is going to kill me. I don’t believe in the supernatural.”
Audrey tried a different approach. “Fine. Then maybe it wasn’t a vampire at all. Maybe it was just an insane human who thought he was a vampire. All I know is that I watched him bite you and drink all of your blood, Rose. I watched you die. It was horrible. And these dreams always come true.”
Rose winced sympathetically at the pain she heard in Audrey’s cracking voice. She leaned back and looked at Audrey. “Okay. I believe you.”
“So, how do we stop it from happening?” Audrey asked worriedly.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Rose muttered.
—
Kallias swirled the amber liquid in the short squared glass as he listened closely to the voices around him. The thunderous bass-heavy music easily drowned the other sounds, but Kallias’s sensitive hearing allowed him to discern each voice, despite the booming music. An attractive young woman slid onto the barstool beside him, but he ignored her lustful gaze and continued to stare at the glass. Unfortunately, the woman did not take the hint.
The woman set her pink leather purse on the bar, intentionally brushing her hand against Kallias’s arm. “Can I buy you a drink, sugar?” the woman asked, her voice drawling seductively with a thick Southern accent.
Kallias glanced at her as he set his glass down on the bar. Curly, blonde tendrils framed the woman’s slender face. Her black eyebrows contrasted starkly with her bleach-blonde hair that looked closer to white than blonde. Her short red dress barely covered her panties, much less her tanned thighs and legs. Her breasts floated atop her dress, ready to pop out at any moment, and her ruby-red lipstick drew attention to her curved, full lips. Kallias knew that any sane man would have forgotten his quest in favor of such an attractive woman, but he also knew that he was no sane man. So, instead, he just raised his eyebrow and frowned at his full glass of whiskey. “No, thank you. I already have one.”
“Then, maybe I can help you with something else,” the woman said.
Kallias studied the woman as he took a large gulp of his whiskey. He decided that the woman was certainly attractive enough to attract Theron’s attention, despite the fact that her excessive, cheap perfume was borderline nauseating. He returned his glass to the bar and turned toward her. “Well, I suppose there is one thing you might be able to do for me,” he suggested.
Her hazel eyes lit up with excitement. “Anything, darling,” she drawled.
“I am looking for someone,” Kallias explained. “Have you seen anyone new around here lately? He would have been tall with brown hair and a dark complexion. He also would have seemed very attractive to you.”
The woman’s hazel eyes roamed Kallias’s body, noticing his long, brown hair that brushed the shoulders of his black leather jacket, his golden skin, and his tall, lean body. She offered him a charming smile.
“I have seen one person that fits that description,” she flirted.
Kallias stared at her blankly. “Not me,” he clarified curtly.
The woman scowled, obviously stunned by his rudeness, but she recovered quickly. She propped her elbow on the bar and leaned her cheek against her hand. “You are going to have to give me more details, then, honey.”
Kallias sighed, trying to think of anything helpful he could offer. “I think his hair might be short now. He would have introduced himself as Theron.”
The woman reached up and ran her manicured fingernails along the tattooed flames that crept up his neck and then along the zipper of his black, leather jacket. “No, I haven’t seen anyone who calls himself Theron. Sorry.”
Kallias frowned as the woman trailed her hands past his unzipped leather jacket to the thin black T-shirt he wore underneath the jacket.
The woman began to trace the muscles of his abdomen that she could see through the thin shirt and then trailed her hand from his stomach down to his thigh, allowing the rough texture of his black jeans to scrape across her hand.
“Maybe I could help you in a more physical way,” she offered suggestively.
Kallias grasped her wrist a moment before the woman would’ve tried to rub against his groin in the middle of the crowded bar. He removed her hand from him, ignoring her surprised gasp. “I’m not in need of that kind of help, sweetheart,” he said coldly as he picked up his glass and sipped at the whiskey.
The woman glared at him and hopped off the barstool, snatching her pink purse off of the cherry wood surface of the bar. “Asshole,” she snarled as she stormed off toward the dance floor to find someone else to flirt with.
Kallias continued to sip his whiskey, unfazed by the woman’s outburst.
“Not your type?” asked a rough male voice from behind the bar.
Kallias glanced up at the bartender who leaned against the sink across from him. The man watched him with his arms crossed, his muscles bulging from the short-sleeved, flannel shirt. His stout frame, buzz-cut hairstyle, and botched tattoos gave him a rough, intimidating appearance, but Kallias supposed that in comparison to his own tall, muscular body, the bartender looked rather docile.
“I�
�m not sure I have a type,” Kallias said, finishing his glass in one swig.
The bartender nodded as he crossed the small space behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from under the counter. He held it up questionably, and when Kallias nodded, he refilled the glass. “You probably made a good choice, anyway,” he said as he returned the bottle. “She leaves with another man every night. She’d probably give you an STD or something.”
Kallias raised his eyebrow at the man’s rudeness. He lifted his glass and took another sip. “You must be a hit with the ladies,” he muttered sarcastically.
The man laughed, the smile softening his brown eyes and revealing his youth. He leaned lazily on the bar. “Yeah, asshole is their nice name for me.”
Kallias’s gaze roamed the dark bar even though he already knew that Theron was no longer there. Kallias knew that Theron had been there recently, though, because Theron’s scent still remained in the bar. His gaze returned to the bartender whose rough, uneven tan seemed more like a suntan than his natural complexion. “You are from here, I assume?” he asked curiously.
“Yep,” the bartender said. “I’m a born and raised Floridian. How about you? You don’t sound like you’re from here. Your accent is…different.”
“I travel,” Kallias said evasively. “I live in New York at the moment.”
“Ah,” the man said, as if that somehow explained the Greek accent.
“My name is Kallias,” he said, attempting to be polite for once.
“Kallias?” the man repeated. “I’m Jack. It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well,” Kallias replied insincerely.
Jack frowned thoughtfully as he absently stared at the maroon surface of the bar. “That man that you described,” he said. “Why are you looking for him?”
Kallias glanced at the man curiously. “He is an old friend,” he said, barely restraining from sneering the word friend. “Why? Have you seen him?”
“Maybe,” Jack sighed. “There was a man named Theron who came in last night. He was a really suave guy. The ladies were all over him. One of my waitresses went home with him, and…she didn’t show up for her shift tonight.”
“Of course she didn’t,” Kallias muttered, finishing his drink. “Do you know where he might be staying? Or any other information about him?”
Jack blew out a shaky breath as he debated whether he should tell Kallias the next part or not. “He was asking about someone, too,” he added.
Kallias frowned and set down his empty glass. “Who was it?”
“Rose Foster,” Jack sighed. “He seemed keen on finding her.”
“Did anyone tell him where this Rose Foster might be?” Kallias asked.
Jack shook his head. “No, none of them knew her. Rose isn’t really the type to frequent this kind of place.” He smiled. “I think she prefers libraries.”
Kallias raised his eyebrow at the information. “Then you know her.”
Jack’s brown eyes seemed startled for a moment, but then, he nodded. “Your…uh…friend looked dangerous, and Rose is a nice young woman. I’m not sure how she managed to get noticed by someone like him, but I wouldn’t have wanted to be responsible if it turned out that he was indeed dangerous.”
“Good call,” Kallias assured him. “Now tell me where to find her.”
“No offense, but you look dangerous as well,” Jack said apprehensively.
“I am dangerous,” Kallias agreed. “But if you don’t want this Rose Foster to wind up as dead as the girl that Theron took home with him last night—which she is, by the way…dead, I mean—then, you need to tell me where to find her.”
Jack’s face paled at the knowledge that his friend was dead. “Well, you don’t break it easy to someone, do you?” he muttered. Then, he sighed and answered, “Rose works with my little sister at the café two streets behind the University. Rose is one of the servers, I think. She should be working tonight.”
Kallias nodded and stood. “What is the name of the café?”
“Eleanor’s Café,” Jack answered uneasily.
Kallias stood and pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.
“So, should I call the police about the waitress?” Jack asked.
Kallias shrugged and handed Jack way more money than what he owed for the two glasses of whiskey, ignoring how the bartender’s eyes widened at the money. “That would be kind of pointless, wouldn’t it? There is nothing anyone can do for her now,” he said bluntly as he started toward the exit.
“What is that man? Some kind of a criminal or something?” Jack called.
“No, he is something much worse,” Kallias answered as he left in pursuit of Rose Foster.
Hunted
Kallias reached the restaurant at nearly ten o’clock as a crisp coolness and quietness settled in the night air. Nestled in a strip mall of shops and stores that were closed for the night, the small café emitted a soft golden glow that lit the dark, empty street. He stepped inside the small café. The thick scent of grease nauseated his senses, but the softer, warm scent of coffee soothed those hypersensitive senses. Beautiful photographs of the Florida beaches and various jerseys, logos, and decorum that demonstrated the café’s collegiate spirit lined the log-cabin-style walls. Barely large enough for its six booths, four tables, desert counter, kitchen, and hostess podium, the empty café felt small and crowded. A young, tanned brunette female that looked strikingly similar to the bartender stood behind the hostess podium, scrolling through her phone. A peek inside her thoughts confirmed to Kallias that she was indeed Jack’s sister.
The young woman gasped as she noticed him behind the counter, and her brown eyes widened as she scanned his features. She slipped her phone into the pocket of her small white apron that barely covered the front of her black skirt. She wore a feminine white button-down shirt with the top three buttons left unbuttoned, revealing a lacy, pastel blue camisole underneath it. The white letters on the black nametag attached to the left side of her shirt revealed that her name was Ashley. She licked her lips and straightened her clothes nervously.
“Hello, sir. Can I get you a seat?” she asked politely.
Kallias glanced around the empty restaurant and then returned his gaze to the hostess. “Perhaps,” he answered as he began to listen to her thoughts.
Unfortunately, instead of hearing information about the servers on the forefront of the young woman’s mind, he heard her thoughts about him, which weren’t very innocent. He ignored them and continued sifting through her thoughts, searching for something useful. As the hostess glanced around the restaurant, considering where to seat him, her thoughts shifted to the waiters and waitresses serving each table. He found the information he needed.
Kallias took control of her mind with his telepathic abilities. “I need you to seat me at one of Rose Foster’s tables. Could you do that for me?”
The hostess’s brown eyes glazed over as his mind control took effect. “Of course,” she answered in an eerie, emotionless tone. “Follow me, sir.”
The petite young woman led him to a booth in the back corner of the restaurant. Kallias thanked her as he slid into the red leather seat and stretched his legs out in front of him, his boots resting against the bottom of the other bench. The hostess placed a laminated cardboard menu in front of him and turned to return to the podium. Kallias grasped the woman’s wrist to stop her before she could walk away. Her eyes widened in panic, but he quickly took control of her mind again. “Forget what I asked you to do,” he commanded.
The woman’s brown eyes glazed over again. “Okay.”
Kallias offered her a polite smile and released her wrist. Completely oblivious to what had just happened, she smiled sheepishly at him, and a flush colored her cheeks as she ran her gaze along his body one last time. Then, she returned to the podium, her black heels clicking against the tile floor with each step. He scanned the room again from this side of the restaurant, but he froze as his gaze suddenly
met a pair of curious, azure eyes.
The young woman sat on a barstool behind the dessert counter, chewing on a black pen as she stressed over a scroll spread across the counter. However, she forgot the scroll as her bright blue eyes assessed him suspiciously. Her red hair cascaded around her shoulders, and an anxious flush colored her fair skin. He felt his lips lift slightly as he met her curious stare with his own.
The woman sighed and slipped her pen behind her ear as she hopped off the barstool and walked over to him. Unlike the stylish hostess, the woman seemed to dress as comfortably as possible, opting for loose-fitting dress pants rather than a short skirt and a pair of worn, black Converse, rather than heels. Her white button-down shirt hung loosely from her curvy figure.
At first glance, Kallias thought the woman appeared kind of plain, the type of person who could blend into a crowd, but as he watched her approach, he began to notice things about her, like how her almond-shaped blue eyes almost seemed too bright to be real and her long, light auburn hair swayed around her shoulders like fire as she walked, and how her lips looked so full and soft. He cleared his throat and looked away, not sure why his body responded to her so easily. He couldn’t afford to waste any time on this human, and he certainly couldn’t chance it with his hunger already so ravenous and overwhelming.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the woman asked.
Kallias glanced at the menu that he hadn’t bothered to look at yet. “Do you have any type of alcohol here?” he asked curiously as he scanned the menu.
Rose attempted to remember his question as she stared at the eerily perfect man in front of her. His long, chocolate-colored hair brushed the collar of his black leather jacket. His light brown eyes seemed to hypnotize her each time they met her gaze, and his golden skin looked almost luminous under the soft glow of the café’s lighting. Colorful, intricate flames crept up his neck, partially hidden by his jacket. The black T-shirt underneath his jacket clung to his abdomen muscles, and his facial structure seemed perfectly symmetrical, oddly reminding her of the Greek statues that she had studied earlier. Even with his long legs hidden underneath the table, she could tell that he was tall. His all-black clothing, tattoo, and height combined to give him a rough, dangerous appearance, but his body also seemed to ooze with an unnatural seductiveness. Rose regarded him suspiciously, feeling in her gut that he was dangerous.
The Stone of the Eklektos Page 6
