by E A Price
“It was dark, it was an accident,” he spluttered, obviously lying.
“Sure, what were you doing there?”
“Tending my sister’s grave, it’s not like I can go in the day.” Ugh, add whining to his list of unattractive qualities. “Usually it’s dead at night, pardon the pun, but that night loads of people kept turning up. So I cut my losses and left. I didn’t want to get arrested. You just got in the way.”
“What people?”
“First of all those two creepy grave robbers, then those patrol cops, then you…”
Her tiger pounced on that, and Isis grabbed him by the collar, slamming him against the wall. “You saw people robbing graves? Why didn’t you report them?”
“I didn’t want to go on the Vampire Directory,” he muttered, squirming in her grip. Technically he was stronger than her and could easily get away if he wanted, but she was more dominant, and he seemed disinclined to force a fight between them. Smart choice. He may have the edge in strength and speed, but she was scrappy.
“You’re on it now.”
“Not by choice,” he huffed. “I got caught speeding and they realized I technically didn’t exist when they tried to give me a ticket.”
Isis didn’t bother to hold back a snicker. Nobody, dead or alive, can avoid a speeding ticket. “So these grave robbers, what did they look like?”
“It was dark…”
“You’re a vampire, you see in the dark,” she growled, tightening her grip as her tiger pushed at her to be free. Maybe a small bite to his torso would loosen his tongue. It would certainly improve her mood.
“Well, one was really big and the other was small.”
“You can do better than that. The small one, how small? Like my height?”
“No, she was smaller than you,” he gasped through her punishing hold on him. Not that he needed to breath, it was more of a reflex, a leftover habit of when he was alive. Another couple of hundred years and he wouldn’t bother breathing at all. Yeah, she’d been through that with the ex. After one of her fainting spells, she awoke in his apartment to find him snoozing, but not breathing. Startled her for a second before she remembered that he was already dead.
“She? How do you know it was a she?”
“She had a female voice, and a lisp.”
Her tiger prickled. “A lisp?” Dr. Leslie Uggams?
“Yeah, she said ‘Igor thtop mething around and get the thovel’,” he mimicked her in a high, squeaky voice that was actually pretty good – he sounded a heck of a lot like Dr. Uggams.
“Shit.”
Isis dropped him to the floor and started running away, ignoring the sniffy shouts of ‘you’re welcome’ and ‘you just stood on my hand’ from Elijah.
She had a bad feeling about this. They had, until Raf’s car trouble, been intending on visiting Dr. Uggams. She just hoped that Raf hadn’t jumped the gun and gone without her.
She called Raf, still no answer. She sure hoped he hadn’t done anything stupid like go and see Dr. Uggams on his own. She grabbed her phone and listened to the message Raf had left her. Terrific. Her tiger howled in fear as icy fury gripped at Isis. If anything happened to her mate, she’d burn the whole fucking world!
Chapter Twenty-One
Raf groaned as he awoke. Damn, what the hell happened? Where was he? It felt like he was lying on a metal table. He looked around him. Oh right, he was on a metal table, in some kind of lab.
He remembered arriving at Dr. Leslie Uggam’s huge, even palatial house. He rang her doorbell. She answered the door herself, and he followed her inside. So far, so normal. He was surprised at the amount of orchids that she appeared to own and was about to say something. But, her eyes went huge, and she shouted ‘no, Igor’. Suddenly not so normal. And then something hit the back of his head. Yep, someone knocked him out, and now he was tethered to a metal table. The surprises just kept getting better and better.
He heard footsteps coming his way and feigned sleep as he heard a squeaking door push open and he guessed two people came into the room. One who walked softly, and the other who had a much more heavy tread. Think abominable snowman heavy.
“You thouldn’t have done that, Igor,” chided Leslie, softly.
“Sorry,” grunted what must have been Igor. His voice was slow and heavy with an odd inflection. “Igor protect you.”
“I know, Igor.” She sighed heavily. There was no anger in her voice, just exasperation. “But what are we thupposed to do with him now? He’th a cop.”
“Igor kill?” Damn, he actually sounded happy at the prospect.
“No, we don’t kill people, Igor.” Thank all that is holy for the reasonable doctor. Although, reasonable people don’t tie other people up in their lab and essentially kidnap them.
Igor huffed in disappointment. “Money. Bribe.”
“Maybe, hopefully. I don’t fancy having to keep him here for long. Although maybe if I operated on him I could remove hith memorieth. Perhapth it would work.”
Shit, that sounded awful. No way did he want this Dr. Frankenstein messing around with his head. Time to put in his two cents. He let out a theatrical groan and fluttered his eyes awake. Leslie rushed over to him, wringing his hands.
“You’re awake,” she stated, lamely. She looked just as mousy and nervous as when they met at Forever Young. Her eyes, perhaps her prettiest feature, so big and doe-like, were wide with worry.
“What happened?” rasped Raf.
“Igor, fetch him thome water,” ordered Leslie, but in a sweet voice. She’d have trouble making a puppy obey her.
Raf turned his head and almost bit his tongue at the man glaring at him. Perhaps man was being a little generous. He was definitely man-shaped, but that was where the similarities ended. He looked like, damn, he looked like Frankenstein’s monster. Maybe he hadn’t been wrong with the Dr. Frankenstein thought. Oh, crap.
He turned to look at Leslie, sharply, or as sharply as his reclining position and ropes would allow. “Is he dead?”
Igor snarled in fury and moved with more speed than his physique and shuffling limp would suggest toward Raf. Leslie rushed to stand between them and, to Raf’s amazement, the giant stopped. Was he really that Igor? The doctor’s assistant from so many monster movies and Terry Pratchett books? Yeah, he was a huge sci-fi fan, and maybe he neglected to mention to Isis that he was also in the sci-fi club in high school, too. But this Igor didn’t seem to have a hump, and wasn’t he supposed to have the lisp? Nothing like reinventing an old classic.
“No! He’th very much alive,” rebuked Leslie, frowning at Raf as if he’d just called a kitten ugly or something. That thing was no kitten.
“But he used to be dead.”
“Well, yeth,” admitted Leslie, reluctantly. “But he’th not a zombie.”
“You brought him back to life?” Was that possible? Was there really such a big distinction between zombified people and those who are reanimated? Even worse, he recognized the dead man, or the newly living man – whatever. “Holy shit! Is that Igor Kazinsky?”
Leslie scrunched up her face. “You recognize him?” Her voice tremored.
“Yeah, he went missing about six months ago.” Igor Kazinsky was – technically still is - a bear shifter from Russia, who allegedly made people pay him protection money. He was on the LLPD radar due to how many complaints humans filed against him. The people who knew him or worked for him (or had ever met him) practically threw a party when he disappeared. He wasn’t exactly a nice guy. And that was the nicest thing anyone could say about him.
“Not exactly mithing.” Leslie fiddled with a button on her shirt. “He tried to rob my house…”
Add burglary to his list of charms. Raf eyeballed Igor; the guy could snap and come at him any minute – it was a habit he had of just talking to someone casually and then going for their throat without provocation. Not that Raf could really defend himself from a charging, seven-foot, undead bear shifter, even if he weren’t tied up. Igor, however,
seemed to be watching Leslie intently; his hooded eyes focused on her fingers, fumbling with the button at her breast. Huh.
“And I thot him. I didn’t mean to,” Leslie sniffed.
“You shot him?” repeated Raf, dumbly. This big, a-hole of a man was brought down by a timid, little, human doctor with a lisp?
Igor slouched over to her and placed a meaty, pale paw on her shoulder, which she patted. It was an oddly tender gesture for a man who hadn’t been tender at all in life. Never mind that he was giving it to his killer.
“My father collected antique gunth,” explained Leslie. “And when he came in, I jutht wanted to thcare him. I didn’t think the gun would work. But it did.” Her small face crumpled, and Igor leaned even closer to her.
Raf overcame his astonishment with his curiosity. “So then you thought the logical thing would be to bring him back to life?”
Her lower lip quivered. “I didn’t want to get into trouble again; I didn’t want to go back to the athylum. I didn’t like it there.” Tears slid down her cheeks. Give her some pigtails and a teddy bear and she would have looked just like a little girl. Igor tightened his grip on her shoulder and growled at Raf.
“I thought if I made him better, then everything would be okay.”
“Made him better? He was dead.” Unobtrusively, he started trying to wriggle out of his bonds. It had become clear that he wasn’t exactly dealing with a logical person. And perhaps it was only a matter of time before she decided to take Igor up on his offer of killing him.
“Only jutht dead, and I’d been working on bringing dead cellth back to life. It wathn’t ath hard ath I thought it would be.”
“And how exactly isn’t he a zombie?” He thought the rope around his right wrist was actually starting to loosen, or maybe not.
“Zombieth are dead. He’th ath good ath new.” She beamed at the dead bear proudly. “Apart from hith leg,” she added, “that’th where the firtht bullet went.”
“First bullet?”
“Three altogether. But Igor’th alive. He hath the thame urgeth ath everyone elth. He hath to eat and he hath to thleep.”
Raf dreaded what other urges the sort of dead bear shifter had. He didn’t appear to be quite the same as a living person, though. Although maybe that was a good thing. Maybe he was improved from his previous self. Hard to believe he could have been any worse.
“So he’s been living in your house for, what? Six months?”
Leslie nodded and smiled up at Igor. Raf gaped as Igor gave her an adoring look in return. Egad! What the hell?
“I told him he could leave, and how thorry I wath, but that he wath welcome to thtay ath long ath he wanted.”
Igor fixed his cold, monstrous glare on Raf. “Igor stay. Protect doctor.”
What. The. Hell. Maybe it was the head injury. He was in a coma. That was it! This surreal situation where a murdering psychopath like Igor Kazinsky had been killed, brought back to life and then fell in love with the woman who did both of those things was just too weird to be real. But then, he really couldn’t credit his imagination with being able to conjure anything like this.
“And all the corpses you’ve been stealing?” Because there was no doubt in his mind that they were behind it. “You building him a playmate?” he asked flippantly.
Igor growled unhappily and stomped into the corner, pursing his bluish lips.
“Not exactly,” replied Leslie, who was suddenly exceedingly bouncy.
An alarm sounded, and Leslie gasped as Igor strode from the room with an order to her to ‘stay’.
“What’s that?” demanded Raf. He dreaded to think what other monstrosities she might be hiding in her house.
“Burglar alarm, we have a trethpather.” Her face pinched, and she began pacing up and down. Given that the last time she had a burglar she killed them, it was understandable if she was a little tense.
Oh no. An icy chill latched onto his heart. He prayed it wasn’t who he thought it was, but he had a really bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was some crashing from above them, as well as some roaring. Lord, he hoped that was Igor making those noises. His hands and feet twisted against the restraints. Fuck! There was no way he was getting out without help.
“Shouldn’t you make sure Igor doesn’t kill whoever that is?” he snapped as he struggled, vainly.
“He won’t, he’th not like that anymore.”
“Yeah, sure,” hissed Raf, as the rope cut into his wrists. Damn they were tight, probably done by the damn reanimated bear shifter.
Leslie yelped as a few minutes later, a bloodied, and bruised Igor slumped into the room, his limp even more pronounced as he dragged an unconscious tiger with him. Probably too much to hope that the tiger had escaped from the zoo and randomly decided to attack this house. No, that knocked-out tiger had to be Isis. Shit.
“Are you alright?” squeaked Leslie as she ran over to Igor, her fingers gingerly pressing against one of his cuts.
“Fine. Tiger sleeping,” he panted, patting her hand.
“She better be!” yelled Raf. They both ignored him.
“Tho I thee. Oh lordy, what are we going to do with it?” She bent to take a look at the animal only to squeal and leap into Igor’s willing arms as the tiger morphed into Isis’, unconscious naked body. She buried her neck in his shoulder for a few moments as he rubbed her back. It was almost vomit inducing.
Raf tried to take stock of Isis’ injuries. For the most part, she seemed okay. A few cuts, a few bruises and a bloodied lip, but she should be okay. Her shifter genes should easily heal it. Although, he wished she had stayed far away and never been injured in the first place.
Finally she came up for air, peeking at Isis. “I gueth we thould tie her up, too. Oh, I hope we don’t have any more vithitors. I don’t know what we’re going to do with them.”
Igor narrowed his eyes, and Raf could guess, exactly what the huge bear wanted to do, but thankfully, at the moment, Leslie still seemed against killing.
Reluctantly, Igor placed Leslie back on her feet, reverentially. Amidst Raf’s angry cries, he pulled Isis up by her hair. The bear was completely uncaring to the magnificent sight of her lovely, naked body. With ease, he placed her in a chair and looped a huge amount of rope around her.
Leslie hovered around him. “Are you thure that ithn’t too much? It’th not cutting off her circulation?”
Igor tightened his lips. “Shifter. Strong. Be careful.”
She nodded, clenching her small fists reflexively. “Oh, everything’th going wrong. I don’t know what we’re going to do?” She let out a small wail and fled the room.
Igor went to follow but stopped and gave Raf a horrible look. “Don’t move.”
“Not an issue,” muttered Raf as he gave his ropes another tug for good measure.
He looked around the room, hoping for inspiration. There were a few surgical tools on a worktop at the other side of the room, but he had no hope of reaching them. Plus, they’d taken away his gun and phone, he could no longer feel them pressing against his hip. He was considering his options, of which he had none, when Isis let out a groan.
“Thank fuck, Isis are you okay?” he demanded, his voice cracking with feeling.
“No,” she hissed. Her eyes opened a crack and surveyed him, wryly. Her green orbs flitted with yellow. She was pissed, but she hadn’t lost all of her customary humor. “Nor are you by the looks of things. Although I have to admit a certain satisfaction at seeing you tied up. But seriously, what the fuck?”
“Yeah, I’ve been asking myself the same thing.” He briefly filled her in on what Collins had told him. “I came to talk to Dr. Uggams and after I made it through the door, I was knocked out and woke up here. What about you?”
“I found the vampire that’s been visiting the cemetery. He told me that one of the grave robbers was a woman with a lisp, so I figured it had to be her. Then I got your message.” She narrowed her eyes at him, but before she could get a word in to chast
ise him about visiting Dr. Uggams without her, he got there first.
“Isis!” he scolded. “I can’t believe you went to talk to a vampire without me. It could have been dangerous.” Anything could have happened. She could have been attacked, bitten, found a male she preferred to Raf – all horrible, horrible things.
Isis gave him a sardonic smile. “Because we’re so safe right now?”
“I’ll admit this is a strange turn of events, but if you’re going to be my girlfriend, you are not allowed to put yourself in dangerous situations.” Damn right!
“Your girlfriend?” she repeated with a girly giggle, so at odds with the predatory curl of her lips.
“Yeah, well, isn’t that what you are?” He looked at her, hopefully.
“No.” She dismissed him right out of hand, no hesitating. He sagged against the metal table and forced himself not to whimper. “You’re my mate,” she said, simply. “And as my mate you don’t get to give me orders.”
“Your mate?”
“Yeah, I give in. My tiger’s been hounding me about you being my mate since you pulled me out of that grave, and every time I look at you I feel myself crumbling.” She sighed and looked at him accusingly. “Alright, I’m about to say a lot of junk to you about feelings and shit, so you better keep quiet and if I hear so much as a titter of laughter from you, you are my tiger's next snack, okay?” He nodded. “Before you, casual sex fulfilled me. I never wanted to risk getting close to a guy, as far my mother’s experience went, men either left you or killed you. But I don’t care about the risk when it comes to you. I want to protect you, love you, sex you up and follow you to the end of the earth. Rafael Silva, you dick, you made me fall in love with you, okay? I love you, and I want you to be my mate.” She panted after her speech, and Raf stared at her wide-eyed and in shock. “Well? What are you expecting me to get down on one knee with a ring or something? Cause I’m a little tied up right now.”
“It’d have to be a damn pretty ring,” he quipped.
