Christmas in Vampire Valley

by Cooper, Jodie B.

  My night couldn't get any worse. I'd had more than enough, but I feared it was only the beginning.

  I wiggled my fingers, trying to wake them up. The cuffs kept my arms pinned behind me and it was getting uncomfortable. I leaned my head backward, trying to relax against the thin wall. Most of the castle had movable walls. It made banquets and parties easier. If a group needed a bigger room, the staff moved a wall and presto, the room doubled in size.

  I heard keys jingle and the door opened.

  Narlene sauntered toward me, grinning nastily.

  A door banged open in the room behind me, on the other side of the fake wall. Loud footsteps tromped across the floor. The door slammed shut.

  "You idiot! An air horn?" The female vampire cursed. "Norman took care of the camera system, but your antics screwed the plan up royally. We're cutting our losses on this one. Get in there and kill her."

  My world tilted on its axis and I stopped breathing. I looked at Narlene, desperately seeking help.

  She smiled with a cruel twist of her lips. Blowing me a kiss, she waved goodbye and silently slipped out of the room.

  I don't know why her hateful reaction surprised me, but it did. If I got out of the mess I was in, I swore she'd never harass another fairy.

  The conversation in the room behind me continued.

  "You said the boss wanted her alive," Chandar said. The vampire's gravelly voice was unmistakable.

  "Well, I'm changing the rules," the female vampire said. "If you hadn't used that blasted air horn and dropped so much attention on our heads we might have followed the plan, but I'm not taking the fall for this job. Kill the girl and meet us at the wyvern stables."

  "We'd better hurry." The third vampire, who had to be Norman, added his two cents into the discussion. I wish he had stayed quiet. "I heard a bunch of cell phones clicking. Once those pictures hit the internet, someone will call the real guardians and we'll be trapped. Just kill the brat, grab the treasure, and let's get out of here."

  I stopped listening and started praying.

  Careful not to hit the fake wall, I got to my knees and stood up. I hurried to the door, but Narlene had thrown the deadbolt behind her. The door was solid steel. If I didn't have silver stuck around my wrists, I could rip it off its hinges. That wasn't happening.

  The thugs might argue another minute or an hour. I had to get out. I looked around the room filled with boxes of candy, but the cardboard didn't spark a flame of inspiration.

  An air duct was out of the question. I couldn't get the grate off, much less climb in a tiny hole with my hands behind my back.

  The window wasn't locked, but then it didn't need to be, not at three stories up. Normally, a three-story jump would be a piece of cake, but not now. The fall wouldn't kill me, but it would take a whole two seconds for the thugs to cut my head off once they found me sprawled flat as a pancake in the Palace garden.

  I had to get the wretched silver off my wrist. My eyes dropped to the big, metal desk in the far corner, sitting beneath the single window. A spark of hope crystalized in my chest.

  I skimmed the top of the desk, but for once, someone cleaned the surface, putting everything in its proper place making the top neat and tidy.

  Where did they put the box opener? It was always on the desktop. I searched, growing desperate as the seconds ticked by, but I didn't see it.

  Agrh! I needed that knife! The small tool was unbreakable; its synth crystal blade was the strongest known substance on Earth or Sídhí. A blade made from crystal that would cut through steel much less the thin cuffs.

  Turning backward and squatting lower, I managed to open the top compartment. The drawer was a mess. Pens, packaging slips, tape, paper clips, and a dozen other useless items filled the shallow drawer.

  I didn't stop hunting. Dragging another drawer open and then another I hunted through each one, but didn't find anything. Opening the last drawer, I held my breath. The rank smell of a forgotten lunch bag curdled my stomach.

  A small swishing sound stiffened my spine. I glanced toward the door, knowing my time was up. I had been so engrossed in searching for the knife that I hadn't noticed when the shouting stopped.

  Cold air slid past my neck, ruffling my hair. Too late, I realized the sound came from behind me. I spun around, toward the window.

  A hulking figure loomed over me.

  I shrieked!

  A hand hastily covered my mouth, deadening the sound of my surprised scream.

  "Megan, it's me," Brandon whispered urgently.

  I sagged against him in relief. I'd never been so glad to see him in my entire life. I leaned closer, seeking comfort; the warmth of his chest seeped into my chilled limbs.

  "Don't scream, okay?"

  I mutely nodded my agreement, muttering yes.

  He removed his hand. "Better?"

  "They're not guardians. We've got to get out of here, they plan to kill me."

  He softly cursed. "Yeah, I know."

  Stunned at his agreement, I demanded, "How?"

  He pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and flipped it open. The whitish blade glinted under the bright florescent lights. I breathed a sigh of relief and didn't resist when he gently turned me around, slipping the synth blade through the silver cuffs. The cuffs clinked to the floor.

  "I was on the wall outside when I heard them discussing it. Earlier, when I tried porting you to safety, I knew something was wrong. Guardians don't use air horns or make such a huge production of apprehending a suspect." He frowned. "Why do they want you dead?"

  The lock in the steel door clicked.

  We both glanced at the window, but I knew we wouldn't have time. Even if we got through and on the ground, the vampire thugs would catch us. Sídhí were fast, especially the older ones.

  "Hide under the desk," he mentally ordered, waiting just long enough for me to agree. Extending three-inch, semi-white claws he turned and climbed through the open window.

  The outside wall was straight down and solid stone. There was no way I could scale the smooth surface. As a vampire, he had to be clinging to the wall with his claws.

  I crouched in the small area under the desk, hastily pulling the rolling chair in front of the opening. It squeaked. Cringing at the sound, I stopped moving.

  A single set of footsteps crossed the floor.

  The gravelly voiced vampire cursed, and hurried to the open window. He paused and I held my breath, not daring to give away my hiding spot with the slightest sound.

  I heard him inhale, tasting the scents in the room.

  Well, crap.

  He wheeled the chair out of the way and looked into my hiding spot. "Gotcha."

  His eyes widened and he spun toward the window. Blood spewed everywhere.

  He dropped to the ground. The back of his head thumped against the stone floor like a ripe melon.

  A gaping hole stared at me where Brandon ripped the vampire's throat open. The thug struggled to get up. His darkly handsome, mid-twenties face was deceptive. He had to be several hundred years old. Only an old vampire would still be moving after getting his throat completely sliced open.

  Brandon dropped beside the thug, slamming his synth knife into the vampire's heart. He repeated the process until the vampire shuddered and stopped moving. The single blade wouldn't kill him, but it would buy us a little time.

  Brandon sheathed his claws and reached toward me with blood stained hands. He hesitated.

  I didn't, bloody or not, I didn't care. I grabbed his hand and he pulled me from under the desk.

  He gave me a quick hug.

  I sucked in a shocked gasp, but didn't have time to hug him back.

  He shuddered and let me go.

  An instant later, we jumped out of the window, landing next to a prickly rose bush. He slid his fingers around mine, pulling me toward the darker part of the garden.

  "I've got to get home." I tugged my hand, but he wouldn't let go.

  "If they want you dead that's not a g
ood idea." He glanced around the shadowed garden, urging me toward a gravel path. We took the narrow trail at a trot.

  "Are you implying my parents can't protect me?" I demanded, abruptly stopping as a group of people neared. We hid under the low hanging branches of some sort of sweet smelling tree.

  "No," he denied, speaking into my mind. The group paused and he protectively curled his arms around me. "I know how powerful both your parents are, but Uncle Warren will call Commissioner Malcrom."

  "Head of the Guardians?"

  He grunted his agreement.

  The group moved past and we sprinted toward the baily wall. Not pausing in our headlong flight, we clambered over the wall and dropped onto a tile roof.

  Brandon slipped on the round, slick surface, rapidly sliding toward the edge.

  I scrambled after him, grabbing his outstretched hand.

  We both fell off the roof.

  Brandon hit first, bouncing on a load of loose hay the park used for hayrides.

  Oomph!

  I landed on top of Brandon.

  Muscled arms curled around me, holding me securely against his chest. His face was inches from mine. Later, I blamed my bold mood on my near call with death. I swallowed and threw caution to the wind. Leaning forward, I pressed my lips to his, giving him a quick kiss.

  "Thanks, for the soft landing." My eyes remained firmly on his chin, half-afraid of the expression I'd see on his face.

  He didn't answer, didn't move.

  Tears pricked at the corners of my pale green eyes and I tried rolling off him.

  His arms tightened around me, refusing to let me go. "Meg." He gently tugged my chin until I looked him in the face. His eyes shined with happiness. Then he kissed me and my world fragmented into a thousand tiny pieces.

  My Christmas wish came true.

  His chest rumbled with a purr of pleasure.

  Warmth built in the pit of my stomach as a wild craving poured through me. I shivered and pressed myself closer to him, rejoicing as he curled his arms tighter around me.

  He broke the kiss, raining smaller kisses across my cheek. Nuzzling my neck, he kissed my pulsing vein as blood pounded through me at a rapidly growing pace.

  "Ssh, I'd never hurt you," he said softly.

  I hesitated. I knew biting between vampires, at least Clan vampires, was more for pleasure than food. "Maybe you could bite me later. Um, I mean, if we are still, I mean, if we go out..." I lamely stopped my rambling. I was so pathetic.

  He chuckled, rubbing his smooth cheek against mine. He smelled like spice, like the warmth of a burning fire on a winter evening. "Did you just ask me out?"

  "Maybe, depends on your answer." I held my breath, wanting him more than anything I'd ever wanted in my life. I couldn't explain the crazy pull he had on me, but for the first time in a year, I felt nearly whole. It was as if I'd been missing a part of myself and hadn't noticed the massive hole until he held me.

  I knew he didn't feel the same, but I had high hopes that I'd grow on him.

  "The answer is yes." He kissed me and leaned back, looking me in the eyes with a smoldering depth of emotion that expelled all doubt from my mind. "I was getting desperate. If all this hadn't happened, I had planned on getting a job at Martin's."

  I shook my head in disbelief. "You never even hinted that you liked me." I stopped, suddenly remembering his earlier comment. "You didn't want to date a fairy."

  Doubt flickered through me, but he didn't let the doubt grow.

  "That's not true. I was terrified you wouldn't want to date a vampire." He gently cupped my cheek in the warmth of his palm. "I know how much teasing you'll go through and I was afraid you would turn me down flat. Every time I'd say hi, you'd just smile, say hi, and then hurry away."

  I leaned into his touch, curling my hand around his muscled forearm. "I was afraid you'd see how much I liked you and you'd tell me..." I sighed, stumbling to a halt. How could I tell him I was scared to death of him telling a fairy to buzz off?

  "You're guy shy?" he asked softly.

  Ducking my head, I groaned. Yep, he hit that nail on the head.

  He gently kissed my cheek. "Sorry, I should have realized it, but you're so aggressive in some things that it never dawned on me. Come morning, I won't let you change your mind," he said earnestly.

  He captured my lips and my worries disappeared under the flame of his touch. My heart raced, booming in sync with my expanding pleasure.

  Time passed, I completely lost track.

  Suddenly he wasn't kissing me; he crouched between the tall building and me. His growl, deep and harsh, rumbled through the cold night air. He glared upward, toward the roof we had fallen off.

  I heard a deep chuckle. "About time you two came up for air."

  My eyes focused. Thanks to my Sídhí heritage, I could see through the dark shadows just fine. The figure on the roof refined itself.

  "Darn it, Ryan, with everything going on tonight, sneaking up on me wasn't the brightest idea. I could've hurt you." Brandon stood, sheathing his deadly claws.

  Reaching for my hand, we jumped off the hay-filled trailer.

  "Why do you think I'm still up here?" Ryan snorted and dropped to the ground next to us. "What happened? I tried following the guardians into Martin's, but Narlene put a closed sign up."

  "They aren't guardians." I shivered, instinctively leaning toward Brandon.

  He took the hint and wrapped an arm around my waist.

  Ryan grinned at the move, but kept his mouth shut.

  "We need to get out of here." Brandon nodded toward the dark alley between the two-story houses.

  I heartily agreed with him. Hearing laughter and Christmas carols drifting across the wind, I glanced toward the source. "We can go through the village shops."

  "Hold up. The guardians..." Ryan paused, loudly sniffing the air. "Why are you covered in blood?"

  "It's just his hands." I glared at Ryan. "Those thugs weren't guardians. They planned on killing me."

  "Getting Megan free, I took one of them out."

  Ryan hissed through his teeth. "You attacked a guardian?"

  Beside me, Brandon stiffened. "I did not attack a guardian. That piece of filth was about to kill Megan. I heard them planning it."

  A dark grumble sounded from the shadows. I'd recognize that gravelly sound anywhere.

  Brandon whirled, shoving me behind him. He stood defensively ready to fight.

  Ryan shot to his side.

  The brothers growled, extending lethal claws. Together they were a formidable wall, but I feared the vampire they faced was a lot more powerful than both of them combined.

  "Ease up," another voice sounded behind the thug, "Chandar is on our side."

  A young man, relatively speaking, stepped from the shadows. The family resemblance to Brandon and Ryan was obvious in his strong face and jet-black hair.

  I lightly touched Brandon's back, asking him to be cautious.

  He didn't move, staying between Chandar and me.

  "Vance, what's going on?" Brandon demanded of the second vampire, while whispering in my head. "Vance is an older cousin. We're safe."

  "You youngsters stumbled into one of our investigations. Chandar called me about a week ago and said he had a lead on a gang of criminals that have been on our most wanted list for years."

  "Did Chandar happen to mention, he planned to kill me?"

  "Name's Chandar Jacobs, undercover guardian at your service." The gravelly voice seemed a bit rougher than it had. "I had already called in reinforcements when Phinnea decided to kill you. If she hadn't sent me to do her dirty work, I would've volunteered."

  "I didn't know I'd end up bleeding all over the place." He grinned and I noticed long scars covered his neck. He had taken the time to change into a clean shirt. His eyes drilled into Brandon. "You're good with those claws, and darn fast. Most young people hesitate and it gets them killed. If you ever consider applying as a guardian cadet, let me know and I'll write a letter of recom
mendation." He chuckled. "Might even take a picture of my neck before the scars disappear and add a visual of what you did to a three hundred year veteran."

  Brandon slowly stood. "Thanks, but I'd rather do the college route."

  I stepped forward and slid my arm around his waist.

  He hugged me back, keeping me firmly at his side.

  "Why would a gang of criminals kidnap me?" I asked, not connecting the dots between a known criminal and a harmless teenager.

  "Have you taken a good look at your outfit?" Vance asked seriously.

  "She is not a witch." Brandon snarled at his older cousin.

  I squeezed his waist, silently thanking him for taking up for me.

  "No, she's a fairy in a predominately vampire valley. That makes her the perfect scape goat for the heist of the year or maybe I should say century." Vance chuckled, nodding toward me. "Take a closer look at that costume jewelry she has on."

  I frowned, fingering the tear shaped pendant at my throat.

  "That goose-sized ruby is the missing Isabella's Tear from Uncle Warren's gem collection."

  I gasped, jerking my fingers away from the priceless gem.

  Myth surrounded the ancient ruby. Lore said the oldest of phoenix (a warrior fairy) created the blood-red gem when the all-powerful winged fairy dropped into a searching coma, sending out tendrils of her consciousness seeking her true mate. The moment her breathing slowed to bare nothing, a blood tear appeared in the hollow of her throat.

  Every race of Sídhí had its own myths, but the story of Isabella touched me to the bottom of my heart. Isabella had been the most powerful of phoenix, a terror among the deadly race. The ancient woman had sought her mate in sleep rather than face another day without him at her side.

  Every Sídhí had a destined mate. We only had a single chance of finding our mate, of becoming whole and truly happy. I knew the synth crystal lacing my blood would one day sing for my perfect mate, my soul mate.

  Deep down, I agreed with Isabella's decision. To live thousands of years without a bonded mate would be horrid.