“Calamity?”
“Our receptionist at work.”
“What’s her middle name?”
“Jane.”
“Can she shoot?”
“If you ask her that, she might give you a painful demonstration.”
CHAPTER 8
SHE HAD NEVER seen a vampire barbecue before. She’d always believed they were afraid of fire. Chris turned to get another package of burgers to put on the grill, and she glimpsed the front of his apron. A small red devil decorated the top corner of the apron, and below it read HOT STUFF.
She laughed aloud, but agreed with the assessment. In fact, when she stepped out the back door onto the patio, she checked out his jeans-covered ass, and damn if that part of his anatomy didn’t look as good as the rest of him.
“Hey, Hot Stuff. Nice apron,” she greeted him.
He grinned. “One of the girls bought it when I sent them to the market for food.”
She laughed. “I bet they all flirt with you and compete for your attention.”
“They’re too young for me.” He dropped his deep voice to a rumble. “And too human.”
“That makes for a lonely existence, Christophe, when they’re the dominant species. Don’t most men take their opportunities where they find them?”
“When you have an eternity to live, lonely is a relative term. I’ve been married to two humans, and I’ve had to bury them both. I avoid them now.”
Something in his face gripped her throat with emotion.
“You smell delicious.” He leaned over to nuzzle her neck. His silver eyes gleamed, the look in their depths arrowing straight to her hoohaw and in an instant she was wet with need. He ran a hand down her spine. If she leaned into him, they’d be ripping each other’s clothes off right in front of the grill and light a fire much hotter than the lava rock.
A crash inside drew their attention and reminded her of the students. “I’d better go check on that.”
“Maybe so,” his voice sounded husky, and his expression held regret.
The sound of young people’s voices carried through the house as she climbed the stairs. The group of ten students had shown up at his door at eight o’clock, just as she was leaving for home to take a much-needed shower.
Unlike vampires, witches sweated just like regular people. She and Chris had worked almost all night and gotten most of the downstairs cleaned up. And now the students worked on the bedrooms upstairs.
With one wave of a hand, she could have done it all, but there was a price each time she did magic. It borrowed from something in the environment, and the cost was cumulative. So for her to use magic it needed to really matter.
“Need some help?” she asked as she poked her head into one of the bedrooms, where five of them had congregated with garbage bags and shovels.
“Naw.” The red-headed young man she’d seen at the diner, Andy, answered. “This box spring seems to have survived intact. We’ll prop it over in the corner. Professor B will only need a mattress here.” He frowned. “Well, and a new bed.” The frame of the cherrywood bed was hacked to pieces.
“I’m sure he’ll be pleased to know something survived.”
One of the girls approached her. “We found pieces of a photo scattered on the bed. I’ve saved them in case they were important to him.”
“Thank you.” She cupped her hands to take them from the young blonde.
“I hope they find who did this. Professor Bakas is a good guy. If they were determined to wipe out any proof he’d lived in this house, they did a excellent job of it.”
Goosebumps trailed over Zaira’s skin. “I’ll see what I can do with these. Keep an eye out for more.”
“Will do.”
She made one more pass through the bedrooms, searching for the wand. She sensed no power, but then until the power was called upon, it might not give off a power signature.
She needed to bring the box to the house and see if it continued to call to the wand. It might guide her to it.
She waited until she was downstairs in the kitchen alone before she waved a hand over the pieces of photograph. They rose in the air, shuffled themselves and settled back down on the counter. The bottom left corner was missing, but the important parts were there. It was a picture of a woman. A very beautiful woman. The lace day gown left her shoulders bare, while a bustle accentuated her hourglass shape. She looked over her shoulder at the camera. Her skin glowed flawless and pale against the dark hair hanging in elaborate curls to her waist.
Chris came in from the back patio with a pan of well-cooked hamburgers. He set them on the counter and wandered over to see what she was looking at.
“You found Lynette.”
“One of the girls found the pieces upstairs. I think her name is Brittany.”
“I’ll have to thank her. This is the only image I have of my second wife. I thought it was lost.”
She ignored the twinge she felt at the word wife. The woman was dead. She had no reason to feel jealous of her. She was no competition.
Whoa! Where did that thought come from?
She dragged her mind away from her reaction to something that bothered her more. “Do you think they’re trying to wipe out every trace of you here?”
His gaze leapt to hers and the gray darkened to pewter. “Yes. Probably so.”
She read no fear in his gaze.
How could he be so calm? The Vampire Council had to know he had the wand. They had just tried unsuccessfully to find it themselves. She had to talk him into giving it to her. It might save his life.
A knock came at the front door. “I’ll get that. I’m expecting some contractors and the insurance adjuster.” She heard him yell up to the students, telling them their food was ready.
She waved a hand over the photo and fit the pieces together into a single whole, then slipped the photo into the empty pantry. The students would find it strange if they discovered the ruined photo had suddenly become whole.
He returned to the kitchen with a check as the students wandered in.
Zaira caught a glimpse of the amount printed on it. “You really are persuasive, aren’t you?”
“The insurance has been in place for fifty years without a single claim. I brought that up while we were talking.”
“No vampire woo-woo?”
He chuckled. “No. No vampire woo-woo. I’m very selective about when, where, and with whom I share my woo-woo.” He looped an arm around her waist and drew her in close. He smelled like outdoors, the grill, and lemon-scented soap. He’d pushed the sleeves of his blue pullover sweater up to his elbows, exposing well-shaped forearms and banding the muscles in his upper arms. The sweater hugged his chest, outlining his pectoral muscles. Chest hair lay visible above the V-neckline of the sweater.
She loved a man with chest hair. Not a mat like a shedding horse, but just enough to emphasize his virility. As though Chris needed that.
She looked around the kitchen at the students stuffing their mouths with burgers and potato salad, and noticed their interest in the interaction between them. Goddess, they’d caught her checking him out. Color heated her cheeks, and she turned to lean back against the counter.
“I need to go. I have work to do.”
“What about the Sutherlands?”
She drew him out of the kitchen onto the patio and closed the door. “I’ve contacted them and told them I found their burglar, but that you were very cagey about meeting them. I suggested a video chat might work. That way they can’t get too close. I can make a charm that will disguise your appearance for a short time.
“That sounds interesting.”
“This is a suggestion. You may want to practice a different accent or dumb down your diction. As it is, the way you speak is very distinctive.”
He grinned. “I think I can manage that.”
They set up a time. Chris walked her back through the kitchen to the front door. Zaira turned to say good-bye and looked past his shoulder to find the students peering around the ed
ge of the door, watching them.
“Your students have taken a real interest in what’s going on between us.”
“They’ve been paying into a pool all semester about whether I’m gay or straight, was in a relationship, or was grieving a loss. I think there were several other options to bet on. They even speculated that Arnold and I were involved.” He raised a brow at that. He ran his hand down the long tail of hair that hung over her shoulder. “You wouldn’t want to help me lay all that to rest, would you?
“I wouldn’t have thought any of that would bother you.”
“It doesn’t. As long as they’re looking for mundane things, my real secrets are safe. But I am angling for a good-bye kiss.” He gripped the end of her braided ponytail and wrapped it around his hand. “When I saw you on that roof, I had visions of doing this and exposing your lovely neck so I could drink from you. Does that idea disturb you?
Zaira’s mouth went bone-dry, and she was tingling and wet again. “A little,” her voice came out a little squeaky.
He smiled. “I’ll give you some time to think about it. It can be very erotic.” He eased in close and, giving her hair a tug to tilt her chin up and cupping the back of her head, lowered his lips to hers in a slow, thorough, sensual kiss she felt from her lips to her hoohaw, and maybe even all the way to her toes. When he finally broke the kiss and lifted his head, it took her a moment to open her eyes.
“You’re very good at that,” she managed.
“That isn’t all, Zaira.”
Oh, my Goddess. She walked all the way to her car before she could draw breath enough to even remind herself sternly that she was not falling for a vampire. No matter how good a kisser he was.
CHAPTER 9
THE BEATING AND banging going on inside the house while repairs were being completed drove Christophe from the house to the library to work. But the quiet there burrowed under his skin like chiggers, leaving him itchy.
Now Arnold and his lady friend were safely aboard the cruise ship, under a cloaking spell so they couldn’t be found, and out of harm’s way, he’d expected the Council to descend upon him, but they hadn’t.
There had to be a reason why they hadn’t made a move yet. He spent his time preparing for when they did.
The video chat earlier in the day with the Sutherlands had gone well. Wearing the disguise charm had been strangely entertaining. He’d become the rather rough speaking, less educated burglar Zaira’s charm had created. Lorraine and Maxwell had been sincerely grateful for his warning about their daughter’s heart. Maxwell Sutherland had even hinted at a monetary reward for keeping things between them. He’d been a little suspicious about Chris’s “Naw, dude. We’re good.” Until he’d explained he’d been a parent too.
The experience had stirred feelings in him he tried to bury. Pain he did his best to shut out. His children were gone, as were his wives. He probably had a number of descendants, but to introduce himself to them now would require too much explanation and only disrupt their lives. No human needed a vampire in their family directing the Vampire Council’s interest to them. To them humans were food, or a convenience, not something or someone you cared about.
And that brought him back to what had been bothering him ever since the video chat with the Sutherlands. He needed to break it off with Zaira. Every time they met, he could be putting her in danger.
But he just couldn’t do it. It had been 1912 when last he’d felt this way about a woman. The Goddess only knew when he’d feel this way again.
And it wasn’t as if she were a defenseless human. She had skills.
But if anything should happen to her….
He raked his fingers through his hair, pushing the curls back from his forehead. Too restless to continue reading the book, he shut it and rose. He had several contacts he’d emailed for information about magical siphons, and how to control them. He’d wait and see what came in. He returned the books to the shelves, closed his new laptop, and pushed it into his backpack.
The early summer sun was bright, and he flinched from its touch. Though he could withstand it, it took energy, for his body was in a constant state of healing itself every second he was exposed to its rays. He didn’t know how humans bore it. He shoved sunglasses on his face and strode swiftly to his car.
Once inside the vehicle, he put the backpack in the passenger seat and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe a drive would clear his mind and help him resign himself to the necessity of putting some distance between him and Zaira. It would be in her best interest. She didn’t need to get dragged into vampire politics. Especially with witches involved, too.
He started the car and pulled out onto the quiet street, meandering down Main and crossing over to Magic.
They hadn’t taken that last step into consummating their relationship. Hearts weren’t involved yet, just libidos. She continued to hold him at arm’s length, though he knew she wanted him. For every hundred questions she asked, she answered one. Which didn’t exactly encourage the building of a relationship. It spoke of a lack of trust, and without trust how could they move on to other things?
But for the first time in a very long time he was tempted to want a real bond. She was a witch, not a human. They could have hundreds of years together. But was he thinking with his vampire woo-woo instead of his head? Their power was a perfect match. It made him wonder how well they’d match in other ways.
Would he get an opportunity to find out?
He took the entrance ramp to the mountain pass. He hit the gas, and the Aston Martin went into takeoff mode. The vehicle had a speedometer that climbed to a hundred and forty-five miles and hour. He’d only had it up to a hundred-twenty once or twice. Now the car had a little age on it—it was, after all, more than fifty years old—he didn’t want to push it too hard.
Seeing a large black SUV gaining on him in his rear view mirror, he shifted gears and let the engine breathe a little more. The road branched out into four lanes, two going north, two going south. Expecting the larger car to pull around, he stayed in the slow lane, going eighty.
The chrome grill at the front of the SUV grew larger in his rearview mirror. He sped up a little more. The larger vehicle kept pace, even though it was heavier. With a sudden burst of speed it rushed up and bumped him from behind.
It had to be the Council. He controlled the car’s swerve from side to side until it gripped the road again.
He shoved the gas pedal to the floor. The fifty-year-old engine growled deep and shot forward, the speedometer rushing up to one hundred twenty. The SUV did the same. They hit a long, deep curve that slingshotted around the mountain. While the smaller car hugged the inside of the curve, the larger swung out beside him and edged over. The passenger door of the SUV filled his vision as it crept close. The windows were tinted, but he could still see the large man behind the window. Christophe gripped the steering wheel hard. A crash would only kill him if the car burned. But he’d need time to heal before they were on him.
The window rolled down and the barrel of a sawed-off shotgun thrust out. “Pull over.”
He heard the bellow over the revving of both engines. Not witches or vampires, but Shifters. Christophe stomped on the brakes, burning rubber as the wheels locked. The SUV shot forward and swerved sideways as it came to a stop in the center of the road.
Christophe ripped away the seatbelt and was out of the vehicle before they ever got their doors open. Fangs bared, claws distended, he leapt and landed atop the roof of the vehicle. The blast of the shotgun going off inside the cab echoed across the mountains and opened the roof of the SUV where he was standing.
Some of the pellets struck his shoulder and burned like a blowtorch. He leapt down, reached through the window, grabbed the Shifter on the passenger side by the head, and jerked him through the window. He hammered his head against the SUV’s door, creating a dent, dropped the unconscious Shifter on the ground and started to circle the SUV in search of the other one.
A voice spoke from the oth
er side of the vehicle. “The Vampire Council just wants to meet with you. We were sent to pick you up.”
“Yes. Like I’m going to get into a vehicle with Shifters armed with sawed-off shotguns. You shouldn’t have come armed, asshole. Have you never heard of a cell phone, a letter, an email, or a telegram? Tell the Council if they want to meet with me, to ring my fucking doorbell like civilized beings instead of sending their goons to kidnap or injure me.”
He jerked free a piece of the shrapnel sticking out of his shoulder. It pinged as it struck the ground at his feet. Blood splattered his new shoes. His rage climbed higher. He picked up the limp, unconscious Shifter at the side of the SUV and crammed him back through the window.
He caught a glimpse of the driver of the SUV, who was partially shifted, his wolf eyes glowing, his claws distended.
“Begone, before I rip your fucking head off and punt it like a soccer ball.”
* * *
THE WORKMEN’S VOICES carried to her as Zaira tiptoed down the hall into the mudroom and laundry at the back of the house. She cushioned her footsteps with magic so the workers wouldn’t hear her, but decided she couldn’t do a cloaking spell for fear of interfering with the connection between the box and the wand. She expected to see a change in the symbols’ movements once the container and wand were reunited, but thus far nothing had changed.
Once in the office, she searched every space, but left the new desk for last. As soon as she approached it, the symbols on the box went into hyperdrive. She pointed it at the top drawers, but calligraphic carvings neither increased nor decreased their gyrations. She methodically pointed the box at each drawer. When she set the box down on the floor to look through the bottom drawers, the symbols practically danced off the surface of the container.
Could he have put the wand under the floor? She rolled back the carpet and ran her hands over the hard wood. It took some moments, but she found a section of flooring that popped up. When she discovered the safe, her excitement peaked, flushing her cheeks with heat. It couldn’t be that easy.
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