by Мишель Роуэн
United States. With a werewolf.
Poor guy. I'm sure he'll find somebody eventually. Some nice girl who won't give him any problems.
"You're certain?" Thierry said into the receiver. "Yes, I understand. I'll tell her." There was a long pause and then, "As I already said, she's unavailable."
After another moment or two, he hung up the phone.
"I could have spoken with him, you know," I said. "There's nothing wrong with my voice."
"I know." His expression gave nothing away.
Okay, fine. "What did he want to tell me?"
"It seems that Quinn is currently in Las Vegas."
"Vegas?" I repeated. "Isn't that where the hunter convention is going on right now?"
"It is."
"Is he crazy or something? Is he okay?"
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against his desk. "He sounds fine. He wanted to pass along word that Gideon Chase is dead."
The sound of that name was like a big glass of cold water thrown in my face.
"Gideon? He's dead?"
Gideon Chase was the leader of the vampire hunters, a billionaire who enjoyed his sport a little too much and funded others so they could enjoy it as well. Ever since I developed my little reputation as the Slayer of Slayers, I'd been told that he'd set his sights on me and wanted to personally hunt me down. Kind of a notch in his hunter utility belt.
I'd tried not to think about it. After all, dwelling on something like that might cause one to experience a great many sleepless nights while one imagined oneself at the mercy of somebody without any mercy. Yeah. Sleepless nights. Tell me about it. The bags under my eyes lately weren't from partying hard. Gideon wouldn't have missed getting my heart if I'd been at the receiving end of one of his stakes, that's for damn sure.
"This is a good thing, Sarah," Thierry said.
I took a deep breath and let it out shakily. "Of course it is."
"It means that you're safe and the hunters won't know which way to turn until they nominate a new leader."
I frowned. "And the price that Gideon put on your head? Does it mean that you're safe, too?"
Gideon liked master vampires—killing them, that is. They were more of a challenge, and he'd offered a lot of money—millions, in fact—to anyone who brought Thierry to him alive. I hadn't heard one solitary thing about Gideon Chase that made me think he was worthy of anyone's grief. He was dead. He was gone, and I, for one, would sleep a lot sounder from now on.
He smiled thinly. "I will never be safe. That is why I'm constantly vigilant about my surroundings, as you should be as well. I think what happened tonight with Heather was a good reminder of how quickly things can go wrong if we're not careful. When we return to your hometown for your reunion, I'd prefer you stay by my side at all times."
I raised my eyebrows and shifted positions on the sofa to try to ignore the throbbing pain in my chest. "You really think we should still go? After what happened tonight?"
"We don't have to go if you don't want to."
Attending my high-school reunion suddenly seemed like the most important thing in my life. A small reminder of when I was normal and happy. When people accepted me and life was simple. When I didn't ingest blood as my main food source or have to dodge wooden stakes on a daily basis.
"I definitely want to go," I said firmly.
"Then we'll go."
I gingerly touched my bandage and frowned. "Listen, Thierry, can I ask you something?"
"Of course. Anything."
"Josh… he said that I had the blood of two master vampires in my veins… you and
Nicolai. He said that made me special and I could make him a stronger vampire if I sired him. Is that true?"
"He had heard rumors, not facts. His greed led him to want to believe. It also led him to attempted murder, and now he's dead because of it."
My frown deepened. "It's just… I don't feel too bad right now. Sure, I feel like crap, but not as bad as I would have thought I'd feel with an injury like this. I thought maybe the blood had something to do with it."
"Yes, my blood does help to improve your healing abilities, but that doesn't mean he was right in his other assumptions."
"So I'm not special."
"You're very special. To me." He leaned forward and kissed me again. "Now, please rest here, Sarah. I will be back shortly."
"Where are you going?"
He moved toward the door. "To investigate this Red Devil nonsense."
"You really think it's nonsense? That he's not the real deal?"
He paused and turned back to me. "I'm certain he's not the real deal."
Okay. Well, that made one of us.
Chapter 3
"I bet he looks like Brad Pitt," my best friend Amy said two days after my date with the wooden stake. "Somebody with presence and serious sex appeal."
I was at her house, lying on her king-sized bed, propped up by a multitude of colorful pillows. Amy had been turned into a vampire about five days after I had, but we'd been friends for a long time before that. I'd made the mistake of introducing her to a vampire named Barry and the two had hit it off so much that she'd been sired on their first date and they'd gotten married about two weeks later.
George sat next to me, cross-legged, as Amy went through her closet trying to find the perfect dress for me to borrow from her vast and sparkly collection.
I used to have a vast and sparkling collection of my own, but thanks to vampire hunters and a well-placed explosive in my apartment a few weeks ago, I was currently homeless— living with George until further notice—and slowly but surely trying to replenish my wardrobe and belongings. I was still twitching a little from watching all of my worldly possessions go up in smoke. Luckily I hadn't gone with them.
But that was in the past. The current subject between George, Amy, and myself was, of course, the Red Devil.
"I'm sure he's very sexy," I said. "But, just remember, he did kill two people."
"Two evil people," George added. "I always had a feeling Heather was up to no good. I'm positive she was dipping into my tips." He eyed Amy's latest selection, a little green number. "That one's perfect for you, Sarah."
I'd designated him as my chauffeur for the day as well as my makeshift bodyguard, at least until Thierry picked me up. We were headed straight to Abottsville and the reunion after I borrowed what I needed from Amy.
"Too low-cut," I said. "I've got a healing stake wound to deal with that I'd rather my entire hometown not get a look at."
Amy frowned and combed her fingers through her short, bright-pink hair. Yes, pink. She'd recently had a minor nervous breakdown when she believed that her husband was cheating on her and had taken it out on her previously blond locks. "I don't think I have anything that isn't low-cut."
"That could be a problem."
I peeled the bandage away under my V-neck T-shirt and peeked at the evidence that I'd come ridiculously close to acquiring fluffy wings and a halo.
George eyed my chest. "A little foundation and some pressed powder and no one would ever know."
It looked much better underneath, but was far from being healed completely. What currently remained of the wound was a raw, red mark about the size of a shot-glass opening—like an evil bruise. All in all, I was fairly surprised at how quickly I was mending. But, as Thierry had said, it probably had a lot to do with the master vampire blood I'd had. I wouldn't be siring any supervamps any time soon, but if I could heal up nice and quick it would be worth it.
I looked at the wound very rarely. Even though I was trying to keep up a good front, I was still deeply shaken by what had happened. Being around my friends and going through
Amy's closet seemed like a good way to keep my mind off nearly dying.
I had barely gotten any sleep last night or what was left of the night in question. I'd stayed at Thierry's townhome both nights, even though I was officially still living at George's place. Thierry was being very careful not to hurt me, th
erefore I hadn't gotten much more from him than a few memorable kisses, so that wasn't the reason for my lack of sleep.
Unfortunately. No, it was reliving the staking over and over, and throw in my meet-and-
greet with the Red Devil and you've got a recipe for insomnia.
Amy held up an electric-blue micromini with a beaded fringe. I made the gag sign. She pouted and put it away. "You know, it's okay if you're attracted to this guy. He does sound super hot."
"Who? The Red Devil? You think I'm attracted to him?"
She and George shared a look. "Well, of course," she said. "He did rescue you. And you said he was really sexy."
"Did I really say that?" I frowned. "Look, even if he was Brad Pitt, it wouldn't actually matter. I'm with Thierry."
She rolled her eyes at that proclamation. She had as much of a problem with me being with that, in her words, "boring, stoic jerk" as I had with Barry, the man she'd chosen to marry—a short little creep of a vampire who'd hated my guts from the first moment we'd met.
"You know what they say," George said, taking it upon himself to fluff up the pillows behind me so I'd be comfortable. "There's nothing wrong with looking at the menu as long as you eat at home."
"I'm not looking at any menus," I said firmly. "I don't eat anymore. I just drink. Besides, the menu was wearing a scarf so I couldn't even see what kind of a restaurant it was."
George cringed away from me. "Jeez. It's just a saying, Little Miss Cranky Pants."
I sighed. "I know. Sorry. I'm feeling edgy."
"What about this one?" Amy pulled out a black dress with a bit of glitter on the top and held it up.
"Not bad." I turned to George again. "Listen, tell me more about this Red Devil guy. Who is he? What has he done? Where did he come from?"
He scratched his chin. "Well, I don't know much actually. Other than the fact that he's a hero. Back in the old days when hunters tried to take out a bunch of vamps, the Red Devil would swing in and save them all."
I thought about that. "How come I've never heard of him before?"
"There's a lot of things you've probably never heard of. You've been a vamp for barely any time at all. And besides, until last night I thought he was long gone. Haven't heard any rumors about him for years, and he's never even been active in my lifetime. He did most of the big stuff in the old days stretching all the way back to the Crusades. The guy's got to be over a thousand years old." He shifted position on the bed. "But still hot."
I thought about my scarfed hero. "I just can't figure it out. Why would he be here? Why would he save me?"
George shrugged. "Maybe you should stop overanalyzing it and just consider yourself lucky."
"Yeah, maybe." My stake wound itched so I rubbed it lightly. "I never even got the chance to thank him."
"Maybe you'll see him again some day," Amy said. "That would be so romantic."
I looked at her sharply. "You've seriously got to lay off the Nora Roberts, Amy. I'm not interested in him. I would like to thank him for saving my life, but I may never get the chance. Besides, Thierry thinks he's just some guy dressing up like the Red Devil. Trying to be something he's not."
"Oh, brother," Amy sighed. "Who cares what he thinks? You have a gorgeous vampire superhero who risked his life to save you. You, Sarah. And you're worried about what that reclusive jerk thinks?"
"I know you don't believe this, Amy, but I'm in love with Thierry. Love, love. Like cupids and hearts and sexy lingerie love."
She made a face. "But he's no Red Devil."
"You don't even know the Red Devil."
"I know he's strong and courageous and incredibly amazing."
George nodded. "Definitely."
"Thierry's none of those things," Amy said firmly. "You just won't accept that."
I glared at her. "Sure, he's a little reserved and sometimes he doesn't talk much."
"Does he ever even go outside?" Amy asked, and I knew she was trying to exaggerate because she was finding this debate funny.
I grinned. "He goes outside at least twice a week. Fresh air is important to a master vampire."
"But only when it's safe," Amy said. "After all, we must be vigilant about the dangers that lurk around us at all times." She did a surprisingly good impression of him and I couldn't help but laugh.
"An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of wooden stakes," George added.
"Look, he is who he is," I said. "You should give him half a chance."
"But you wish Thierry could be a little more like the Red Devil" Amy raised a thin, perfectly plucked eyebrow.
I shrugged. "Maybe I do. A little. The Red Devil was rather… forceful I'd be willing to bet that he'd charge right into a dangerous situation instead of staying inside where it's safe."
Amy and George didn't reply to that. The cheery smiles had fallen away from both of their expressions.
After a moment, George cleared his throat. "Hey, Thierry. I guess Amy left the front door unlocked, huh?"
I glanced at the doorway. Thierry leaned against it. There was a small smile on his lips.
Terrific. And how much was I willing to bet that out of that entire conversation, he'd only heard the very last thing I'd said. I was such an asshole.
"I hope it's okay that I let myself in, Amy," he said.
She was frozen over by the closet with a sparkly red dress held up in front of her as if for protection against the forces of evil. "Sure. Uh-huh."
"That one." I pointed at the dress. "It's perfect. Can I borrow it?"
She nodded stiffly and flung the hanger in the general direction of my lap.
"Are you ready to go?" Thierry asked me. "Your overnight bag is in my trunk. We can be in Abottsville in three hours."
I nodded and began to get up from the bed, but since I was still nursing the healing wound it took some effort. He came over to my side and assisted me to my feet.
"Bye, Thierry." Amy stayed over by the closet. She was looking at her chosen object of disdain, Thierry. But as I focused on her expression I realized that there wasn't much disdain to be seen in her wide eyes.
She looked like a teenager at a rock concert.
I frowned.
And then I had the sudden and profound realization that, despite all of her harsh and nasty words, my pink-haired best friend had a crush on my boyfriend.
Her gaze flicked to mine and I think she saw it in my eyes—that I knew her dirty little secret. She looked away and actually started to whistle innocently.
Great. Just what I needed.
Thierry helped me out to his black Audi without saying another word. He pulled out of the driveway in front of Barry and Amy's apartment complex.
"About what I said in there," I began.
"What did you say?"
I didn't even remember, actually. But I knew it had something to do with me wishing that he was more courageous, like the Red Devil. I didn't mean that. I'd been joking around. I knew Thierry was courageous. I'd seen it with my own eyes. I felt horrible that he might have overheard me say something I didn't even believe.
"Nothing." I shook my head and forced a smile. "You know I love you, right?"
He smiled as he eased the car onto the highway. "I know. You love me despite my many flaws. But just so you know, this Red Devil person is not perfect either."
Shit. He had heard.
"I never said he was."
"In fact, I think he may be dangerous, whoever he truly is under that disguise. If he approaches you again I want you to tell me immediately."
I nodded. "Okay. But let's forget all about him just for today."
He turned to me and met my eyes briefly before focusing on the road again. "Agreed."
And even though I wondered who he was, what he wanted, and where he came from, I forced myself to forget all about the Red Devil.
Or, at least, I tried damned hard to.
Interlude
Paris, France, A.D. 1547
"Thierry, I'd like you to meet Marcel
lus."
He came to Veronique's side and raised his eyes to meet those of the man he'd heard about for two hundred years. The man his wife had never stopped caring for, even though he had left her to fend for herself during the darkest days of the Black Death plague.
It was very difficult to be married to someone who was hopelessly in love with another.
Difficult, but not impossible.
Thierry nodded at the vampire and forced a semblance of a smile to appear on his face. His collar felt stiff at his throat, as if he was being choked by it. Veronique constantly accused him of being unfriendly to others they met in their travels through Europe, of being a miserable man filled with a festering darkness.
He had to admit, the woman was an excellent judge of character—except when it came to
Marcellus, that is.
Marcellus was a handsome man. Tall and imposing, with fair hair and skin, but with a charming smile—the ease of which Thierry admired—and an obvious taste for fashion. His clothing was perfectly tailored and expensive enough that the cost of it could have fed
Thierry's entire family for years.
His family. They'd all died during the plague. Four sisters, two brothers, and his mother.
Gone. His father had died years earlier, and as the eldest by five years, Thierry had taken on a parental role with his siblings. Yet, only he had survived.
Survived, he thought with bitterness. Yes. After two hundred years of life, survival was all that mattered anymore.
Veronique, he had to admit, was a beautiful woman. Hair as dark as night that she wore in the latest styles. She dressed in the latest fashions. Her wrists and neck and ears dripped with jewels—all of which Veronique had acquired for herself. Thierry didn't know how she had paid for such luxuries, but there was always money to spend. He had long since stopped questioning their resources.
Marcellus had invited them to a performance of the commedia dell'arte and then to dine in the vaulted cellar of a tavern near the river.
The tavern was filled with vampires—something that stunned Thierry. He'd never seen so many of his kind in one place before. He'd been a vampire for two centuries but he was still amazed that such a thing existed. Veronique had sired him into this life after the point he'd wanted to continue living. He had already made his peace before he'd been saved from the death and disease of the plague years.
