A Venetian Vampire

by Michele Hauf

  Dante handed the phone to Kyler, and she spread a hand across his chest. “What did he say?”

  “He wants the spell, of course.”

  “So how do we avoid giving him that? Leave the city? Why can’t we just tear it up?”

  “I’m not sure. Give me a few minutes to consider this, will you?”

  She propped up on her elbows and tried to meet his gaze, but he dodged it. She wanted more, but he wasn’t willing to tell her about the threat to her life. Because it was a real threat. One he had best take seriously. But how to not give the spell to King and keep Kyler safe?

  “I’ll take a shower,” she said.

  He nodded and couldn’t even distract himself with the sight of her naked body padding out of the bedroom, for his mind spun with how to hide a vampiress from a vampire who would kill his own kind.

  * * *

  After the shower, Kyler dressed, then took to blow drying her hair. And her thoughts wandered as the appliance noise filled the tiny bathroom.

  He wasn’t in top form. While normally Dante was two steps ahead of her and already planning the next day’s moves, Kyler sensed he was out of sorts. For good reason. They’d both been through a lot the past few days.

  But she trusted he would know what to do about King wanting the spell. The best thing they could probably do was to leave town. Head to Venice, as initially planned. It wouldn’t get King off their asses, but it would give them a head start.

  If only there was something she could do to help. Bonding would bring them closer. Maybe make them both stronger. And she wanted that. Yes, even if Dante was going to toss her aside when this was all over. It was in his genes. He didn’t do relationships. And she, well, she’d wanted eternity. With all hopes for that dashed, perhaps bonding could be the next best thing.

  Should she have admitted she’d fallen in love with him? It was the truth. And she didn’t want to dance around it. Nor did she want to accept the brush-off when he did try to walk away from her.

  She wanted Dante D’Arcangelo for herself. And fuck all the other women. Especially the Bunny bitch. Because Dante made her want to be the sensual vampire she, at times, felt she was. And he was good to her and for her. If only he could be so good to himself and realize the veneer of lover to all women was simply that, and beneath the sheen of charm, he was a wanting man.

  He had admitted that to her—he wanted love. Did he believe it or had he simply been speaking another line from his seductive arsenal?

  “I want him to love me,” she said as she clicked off the blow-dryer and flipped her hair down over her shoulders. “But I don’t want to push him. And I’ll take bonding if that’s all he’s willing to offer.”

  Dante stood out in the living room, fully dressed. He buttoned the cuffs of his shirt. Kyler rushed over to help him. He wore no shoes and the casual sexiness of him was something she could never get over.

  “No cuff links?” she asked.

  “I haven’t had a chance to dress properly since my last suit went for a swim in the canal.”

  “This suit and tie is lovely.”

  “Yes, and it’s Armani. Though not bespoke. You like the violet tie?” He preened the silk in question with his fingers.

  “I do. It’s an excellent addition to your armor.”

  “Bespoke armor. I suppose that is the best kind. A knight in armor, shining or otherwise, should always be fitted properly for his raiment. But I’ll need to get back home to Venice to speak with my tailor before I feel one hundred percent.”

  “We should go there now.”

  “You’ve the same idea I considered. But do you actually think running away from the problem is going to stop it? He’ll find you. And I suspect with our evening deadline looming, he’ll make it difficult for us to leave the city.”

  “What do you mean he’ll find me? Did King threaten me? You didn’t say anything about that.”

  Dante winced and bowed his head.

  “He did threaten me,” she guessed. “What? Like if you don’t bring him the spell, he’ll kill me? You’re not going to let him get away with that, are you?”

  “Absolutely not. But, Kyler, the man hunts vampires for a living. I’m a little out of my element here. I need...weapons. Crossbows and even bullets. Some religious items. And—the stake.” He sniffed the air and looked at her. “You smell that?”

  She sniffed and noticed only the rainy air and the usual burned-sugar scent that wafted up from a nearby patisserie.

  “Werewolves. Down on the street. I’m sure of it,” he said. “I think that bastard is working with a pack. Or they are working for him. That’s the only way to explain the wolves taking the egg and King telling me he had it. Is there a way out of here via the roof?”

  “Yes. Down the hall is the roof access. You’re sure it’s wolves?”

  “Positive. Put on your shoes. We’re going for a stroll. I lost the silver blade I picked up in Venice during our scuffle in the park. Any weapons you might suddenly remember owning?”

  “The Bible was it. Unless you count the mace I carry in my purse.”

  “Might come in handy. Grab it. Stick it in your pocket.” He opened the front door as she retrieved her purse. The mace fit in a back pocket, and she emptied out her cash from the purse she rarely carried. Seventy dollars and some change.

  “Leave it,” he said hastily. “I’ve got credit. And I think the wolves have entered the building.”

  They filed down the hallway and took the stairs to the rooftop. Rain pummeled their shoulders as Dante escorted her along the slippery red-tiled roof to the edge, where, two stories below, another rooftop offered a flat, pebbled landing.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “With you? Always.”

  He kissed her then, his mouth cool with rain. And he pulled her head closer as he deepened the kiss. Hungry and greedy, he took from her. She gave back. Everything about Dante felt right to her. Even if they were running away from something—even each other—most of the time.

  He wrapped an arm across her back and said, “I’ve got you,” before leaping into the sky.

  Chapter 19

  Dante landed on the lower rooftop with both feet, Kyler secure in his arms. The impact barely registered in his bones. He didn’t pause and rushed to the roof door. He kicked it in and hustled her down the staircase to the ground floor.

  Once out on the street, he grasped her hand and they raced toward the river. If the wolves spent any amount of time in Kyler’s apartment, they’d have her scent and his, as well. He hoped the rain would keep them off their scent.

  “Where are we headed?” she asked as they passed down a street narrower than a car could navigate.

  “The Incroyables have a safe house in the eighth. It’s a few stories underground but nice.” He intended to leave Kyler there and go to King himself. But he wouldn’t tell her that. “You like wine?”

  “Uh, yes?”

  “We’ve a vast wine cellar at the safe house. A great way to pass the time.”

  “Sounds like something only vampires from centuries past could have designed.”

  “Indeed. This way.”

  Ten minutes later, rain had soaked them to the skin, and he had to adjust his body temperature to shake off the chill. Kyler shivered subtly, and he didn’t remind her how to do the same. Instead he hugged her against his side as they wove through the chestnut and elm trees paralleling the Champs-élysées. He didn’t smell the wolves. But to be safe, he took a zigzagging path to make their trail more difficult to track. Finally they stood before the digital entry box for a private courtyard nestled between five-story buildings, mere blocks away from the Arc de Triomphe.

  “I’m going to need another shower to warm up,” Kyler said as she followed him into the open courtyard, which featured a
square garden in the middle replete with tiny box shrubs, blooming violets and white roses.

  The entrance to the safe house was through an empty apartment labeled “Private.” Inside the small foyer Dante turned left, pressed his hand to the wall, paused and then pushed again. The wall opened to a dark hallway. At a back wall, Dante pressed the paneling to reveal a digital keypad. Deceptive in that it was a retinal scan. Christian liked all the latest technology. Dante leaned forward and opened his eye wide. A confirming beep sounded. The airlock huffed open, and the wall slid to the side to reveal a staircase lit by blue LEDs.

  “Very James Bond,” Kyler noted as they started down the stairs. “Totally unexpected from the technology noob.”

  “Christian is the tech nerd in the tribe. He’s also the oldest, clocking in with a seventeenth-century birth date.”

  “Are all the vamps in your tribe created?”

  “No, Kindred was born to Lark and Domingos LaRoque. He is dhampir; half vampire, half human. And Damian, well, he was transformed by his sister in the eighteenth century. We don’t discriminate.”

  “Unless you’re a woman.”

  “We’ve got to uphold some sanctum from all the frills and fripperies.”

  He led Kyler into the front apartment, which, decorated in steel and ice blue, was as frill-less as it got. Blue neon glowed from under the steel bar and at the cornices at each corner of the ceiling. Dante had only ever used this place as a bachelor pad. He’d never needed it before now.

  He pulled off his wet suit coat and tossed it across the back of the couch as he passed by. Kyler followed as he veered down the hallway lit with more blue LEDs to the armory. This time the entry was digital, and he punched in an eight-digit code. The armory lit up with too-bright white lights that always made him blink. The narrow room stretched twenty feet, and both long walls were hung with weapons of all sorts that the tribe had occasion to use over the centuries. The high-tech stuff hung closest to the door because Christian liked quick, easy access to the articles he used the most. Pistols and standard knives were farther back. And at the very back, where Dante headed, the medieval stuff had been carefully preserved and kept well-oiled or sharpened to stay in working condition.

  “This is cool.”

  He swung a look over his shoulder. Kyler held the ring-size pistol he’d once nicked from a woman’s vanity just before the turn of the previous century. It had only the one bullet in it at the time, and he’d never found more to fit it. But it was a collectible, so he’d hung on to it. And Isaac did like to marvel over it even though the behemoth of a vampire couldn’t fit it onto his ring finger.

  “And look at this!” She set down the pistol and touched the wavy blade of a kris dagger.

  “Careful,” he cautioned. “That one can split hairs in two.”

  She nodded in appreciation, then touched the silver hilt of a rapier set with rubies. “Are all these from your tribe’s collection over the ages?”

  “Yes.”

  “You do prefer the old-timey stuff.”

  “Is there any other way?” he asked as he selected a silver-bladed dagger from the wall. It was much sharper than the one he’d purchased and lost in Venice. This one fit at his hip nicely with a holster clip. And he still had the titanium stake that he’d claimed from King earlier. He took that out and set it on the counter below the hung weapons and replaced it with a standard wooden stake.

  “Really?” Kyler said as she hugged up against his arm and patted the stake. “Old tech is cool, but don’t you want the advantage? I’m pretty sure any opponents we have to face from here on in will wield the fast, precise stuff.”

  “You’d be surprised what finesse and perfect aim can do.” Satisfied he had what he needed, he turned to stride out, but Kyler tugged him back at the threshold.

  “Which ones do I get to use?”

  “For now?” He pushed back a fall of her wet hair over her shoulder. “None. You’ve the mace, yes?”

  “Yes, but—”

  He kissed her for good measure. “Good for now, Kitten.” He smirked at her heavy sigh as she followed him back toward the main room.

  Once there he pushed aside an original Olivia De Berardinis painting that featured a kittenish blonde crawling forward on a bed, wearing a black tail and ears and nothing else to cover her ample cleavage. Set in the wall behind the painting was a safe. Digital. He entered the code and opened it to reveal an assortment of files and even a few velvet jewelry boxes. He wasn’t concerned about what the boxed contents were. None belonged to him.

  He tugged out the spell paper from his pocket and placed it inside.

  “Do I get the code for that one?” Kyler asked from behind him.

  “Do you want it?”

  She shrugged. “Nah. I’m good. So now what?”

  He closed the safe and returned the painting to a level hang. “The wine cellar is down the hall and to the right,” he said. “Bedrooms to the left. A bathroom, as well. The kitchen is stocked with water and I’m not sure what else. There are movies and books in here. You have your cell phone?”

  She pulled it out. “Why? Oh, wait. You’re not going to leave me here—”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her hard. Always that initial struggle, like she didn’t want this but then quickly realized how much she did. It bothered him a little. And yet she’d told him she loved him.

  Pulling away from the kiss, he said, “I have to do it like this. I won’t put you in harm’s way. I’ll call.”

  And he shoved her onto the couch and turned and raced up the stairs. Once at the top, he heard her yell, “Bastard!” and his heart cracked open. He paused before closing the door. He was being cruel. But it was a necessary cruelty to keep her safe.

  * * *

  Kyler stomped on the floor in frustration. Because stomping felt appropriate right now. And so did screaming and shaking her fists at nothing more than the stupid picture of the naked cat woman on the wall.

  “I hate him!”

  She plopped onto the couch, not caring that her wet clothing would probably soak into the suede, and grabbed an ugly gray pillow to punch. A few punches did no more to disturb the pillow’s existence than it did to calm her. The sneaky bastard had done it again. He’d been planning to abandon her well before they’d arrived at the safe house.

  He deserved so much of her hate. And yet...

  She tilted her head against the back of the couch and exhaled. “I love him.”

  * * *

  As far as dramatic meeting places went, this one rated a three on a scale of one to ten. The aqueducts beneath Paris were only as fascinating as bricks and water could get. And, having consorted in these very tunnels many a time in his younger, pre-vampire years, Dante could only wonder when the city would get better security to keep the unsavory people—which included evil vampire hunters plotting to destroy many—out.

  He wasn’t surprised to see that only King stood waiting for him. Of course, there were doors set into the limestone walls unseen from his vantage point, so Dante wouldn’t let down his guard for a moment. He wielded the wooden stake as well, he’d tucked the silver blade in a back pocket. He would not overlook the sudden appearance of werewolves.

  King, dressed in leather pants and a long black leather knight’s jacket with a bladed collar, also wielded a stake. Titanium, spring-loaded, deadly. Dante knew from experience the knights’ jackets were packed with inner pockets that contained more stakes, garrotes, blades, holy water—all the necessities when fighting vamps. Though he doubted King packed holy water.

  It gave him a chill to know that King was vampire. He’d neglected to notify the Council. He would, when he could find a moment to think.

  “Do you really want to do this, D’Arcangelo?”

  Dante stepped forward, putting his distance fr
om King at about twenty feet. The Seine burbled beside them. The cobblestone walkway was about eight feet wide.

  “I really want to do this,” he replied and spun the stake a few times.

  “You didn’t bring the spell.”

  Dante splayed out his hand as if to state the obvious.

  “I didn’t believe you would. That’s why I came alone,” King said. “No need to go all hunter on you if you’ve still got what I need.”

  “I appreciate the restraint. Make me understand,” Dante said, “why you need to kill so many. Doesn’t your little murder club take down enough vampires to satisfy your twisted need for genocide?”

  “It’s simple. I hate vampires. Always have. Just because I was transformed into one during my early vamp-fighting efforts didn’t mean I had to suddenly embrace them all as my brothers. But that’s not ultimately what I’m after.”

  “You could have fooled me. The only thing that spell will do is destroy vampires. And if you think I’ll hand it over and then stand back and let you end my life, along with the lives of all my friends, you need to think again.”

  “What if I gave you a day to leave the city? Alert all your friends?”

  Dante chuckled. “You’re insane. I still don’t get it.”

  “The spell you hold will produce the ashes of a thousand vampires,” King said firmly.

  “At the very least. Paris is rife with vampires.” Dante still wasn’t following, but he figured if he let the guy talk, he’d eventually spill.

  “It is a requirement for the real spell. The one I told Kyler about. The page that the death spell was torn from in The Vampire Codex.”

  The one he’d told Kyler about? Dante winced. “Eternity? So that’s not bullshit? But that’s basically the same as the immortality you’ve already got.”

  King crossed his arms, the stake glinting by his shoulder. “I slay ‘immortal’ vampires. You tell me how to define such a word.”

  True. Immortality only lasted so long as the vampire avoided the stake.