Matters of the Blood

by Maria Lima

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  CHAPTER TWELVE

  My nose twitched, the smell of waxy smoke reached me, teasing me awake. I blinked a few times, trying to figure out where I was.

  The soft glow of a pair of Victorian-style wrought-iron floor lamps created the perfect ambience, the purple watered-silk shades diffusing the glare of electric light. I was lying on a soft overstuffed couch covered in a matching purple, cushions piled under my head and my feet. The couch sat just under the front windows and facing a doorway that must lead to a bedroom.

  In front of the couch, a rustic wooden coffee table just a few shades lighter than the polished hardwood floor displayed a varied array of candles surrounding a handmade ceramic bowl filled with an assortment of individually wrapped chocolate truffles. One of the candles had just extinguished; its gray-white plume of smoke rising to the ceiling like an unnaturally thin ghost. A bottle of wine stood in front of the bowl, flanked by two wine stems. Adam must have brought me into his house.

  An afghan covered me. The pain in the back of my head was a dull ache, nothing I couldn't handle, but still annoying. I shuddered as reality washed over me and the memory of what I'd almost done returned. I'd been a scant second from tearing out Adam's throat. Definitely not a way to win friends and seduce a possible lover. I turned my head and scanned the room, not moving from my supine position. No sign of him. Had he completely freaked and bolted?

  After a few moments, I realized I was hearing something other than the normal creaks and groans of a country house. Voices. Outside on the porch.

  I struggled to sit up without hurting. That wasn't going to be easy. Every muscle ached as if I'd been beaten by an expert. Trouble with channeling raw power was that you paid for it, usually in spades. I'd known that going in, but figured the risk was worth the effort. Now I wasn't so sure.

  I carefully swung my feet to the floor, waiting to see if I was dizzy or disoriented. I wasn't, but I realized I was in stocking feet.

  I walked to the front window, moving as slowly as if I were driving a Ferrari through a school zone. My engine wanted to rev, but my body said “no way."

  The blinds were drawn and I couldn't see a thing. I slid over to the front door, which stood slightly ajar. Through the two-inch space, I could see the screen door was closed. I put my eye to the gap.

  Adam stood to my right on the dark porch, his back to me, hand to his ear. He was on the phone.

  I strained to hear, but the words were muffled as if I were listening through a thick wall. I rubbed at my ears and tried again. Nothing. I couldn't be sure if there were even words.

  This was stupid. I swung the door open. Adam turned without a sound.

  I started to say something, then thought better of it. I shook my aching head and just went back inside. I needed to sit down.

  "Keira?” The word floated softly on the air, almost tangible as it reached my ears. “Can we talk?"

  "Maybe."

  I went back to the couch and curled up in the corner, wrapping the afghan around me. I wasn't really cold, it just felt safer that way. As if the blanket could protect me ... from myself, mostly. I was afraid if I let Adam Walker get close again, my body would betray me and I'd forget about the fact that he'd just dumped me on my ass—literally. Not to mention the fact that both of us had come a hair's breadth away from feeding on each other.

  He walked toward me, slow and careful, as if nearing a pit full of hot coals, or maybe a rabid dog you weren't sure was restrained. If I were him, I'd have definitely thought of the dog analogy.

  "Are you well?” he asked as he carefully sat down in the armchair. Good choice. I couldn't have handled him sharing the couch, being so close again, at least, not right now.

  I nodded, not yet sure of what I wanted to say.

  His face remained neutral, expectant, as if he'd sit there patiently and let me take my own time about talking. His posture was loose but not quite relaxed, more the not-quite-tension of an animal waiting to see if the noise it heard was predator or fellow prey. At this point, I wasn't sure which one I was—or wanted to be.

  "Who was that?” I said, my voice a little hoarse as if I'd not spoken for days.

  "Where?” His wasn't any better. He sounded as if he'd been silent for centuries, voice rusty with disuse. Nothing like a little discomfort to change our normality. Oh yeah, none of our communications had exactly been normal.

  "Outside, on the phone,” I said. “Who were you talking to?"

  "Andrea.” He fixed his gaze on me. “Before I explain—what the hell happened out there?"

  I met his eyes, the weight of his expectation fixing my gaze. “I guess I could ask you something similar. Why did you throw me off?"

  He looked down at his feet, hands smoothing the fabric of his slacks over his thighs. I heard him swallow. The tip of his tongue flickered out, fast as a serpent's, and licked his lips.

  "I'm sorry,” he said. “Something happened that frightened me."

  His voice was nearly a whisper in the dark room.

  "I scared you?"

  "I haven't been tempted to feed from a person in years—more years than you've been alive, I'd wager. Do you know how close I came? I nearly sank my teeth into that lovely neck of yours."

  I'd have let him.

  "No kidding?” The words burst from me in surprise as I realized what he'd just said. “You don't take blood from people?"

  "Not since...” His gaze burned with that hidden flame again. “I've seen too much death and destruction in my life, Keira. I won't be a part of it anymore."

  "Wait,” I said, sitting straight up and letting the afghan drop. “You're serious. Don't tell me ... a vampire with a soul, helping the helpless?” So I was making a very bad joke. Sue me. I didn't know what else to say.

  "I am completely serious, Keira. This isn't some B-movie or a cult television show,” he said. “We're lucky now. Modern science is a wonderful thing. We don't have to risk discovery by feeding on people anymore."

  "But someone fed on my cousin."

  "That is why I told you I'd investigate. It's against our laws."

  "Even when it's consensual? If Marty had wanted it?"

  He didn't answer. I watched his face in the shadows, a multitude of expressions flickering across his features.

  "Adam?"

  "It's not against the law if it's consensual.” The words held no expression, but behind the syllables, I sensed the weight of something else left unsaid.

  "Why does this bother you, Adam? Isn't this your nature?"

  A heavy sigh escaped him. “Yes. Our nature and our need, driving us to first seduce and then to bleed our victims, our prey. There's a fine line between glamour and consent. It's easy to glamour, to seduce an all-too-willing victim, but this kind of thing is distasteful to most civilized vampires. The difference between rape and seduction is salesmanship. If the ability to make a choice is removed, if ‘no’ isn't an option, then it's rape, pure and simple."

  He had a point.

  "But surely some of them seek you out?"

  "Always. Perhaps your cousin was one of those. But if he wasn't, then whoever fed from him crossed a line, especially if they're responsible for his death. I will find out."

  I had to ask. “Don't you miss the hunt?"

  I'd felt his need when we'd merged—the same thrill of the chase, the stalking of the prey, the capture and finally the taste of the hot, fresh blood as it filled your mouth. I knew that somewhere inside Adam Walker, reformed vampire, the crude, yet powerful, drive to hunt still lurked.

  "What do you know of the hunt?"

  His comeback was nothing if not timely. I wanted to bring up the truth I'd been skirting: the fact Adam and I had shared power, merged psyches, whatever that had been. I'd only meant to lower my guard and let him feel the hidden energy. It had never occurred to me that my plan might backfire. I'd been trying to prove a point. In this case, the point had been just a little too sharp.

  I le
t the darkness show in my eyes as I caught his gaze again. I knew what those shadows looked like. I'd seen them in a mirror just a couple of days ago.

  "You may have wanted to feed from me, Adam, but you're not the only one. I felt the need, too. The hunt is a part of who I am. I'm a changeling. In a few weeks, I could be hunting for real. You felt it, you know the truth."

  He shook his head as if in confusion. “What I felt was something more than hunter, Keira. You're not a vampire. You're not human. What are you?"

  "I'm me, Adam. I don't know what I else am anymore. Hunter, shapeshifter, clairvoyant, I could be anything. In the meantime, I'll exhibit varying symptoms—most of which I don't have a whole lot of control over."

  He stood, a rapid jerky motion, as ill-fitting on him as an Armani suit would have been on Marty. Without a word, he strode to the window and opened the blinds, to stare out at the night. He stood still as a rock in a stream, one hand still touching the wooden rod, one loose at his side. I sensed no movement from him, not even the slight exchange of air from breathing. Did he have to breathe? Another question.

  "We're not all the same, Adam,” I continued, talking to his taut back. “My father, my brothers are mostly shapeshifters, predators. Some relatives are weather-talents, seers, sorcerers, necromancers ... many other things. We lived here for decades, until the Hill Country became the playground for rich assholes with more money than sense. Then they all left. But I stayed."

  "Tell me of your cousin Marty. Was he a necromancer, then? Was that why he was dealing in dead animals from my ranch?” The bitterness was evident.

  I shook my head, even though he wasn't looking at me. “No. Marty, to his eternal shame, was human."

  Adam turned and strode back to the couch, crouching in front of me so his face was even with mine. His eyes glittered in the dark. “You swear he was human?"

  "Completely,” I said. “He was some sort of throwback. The family disowned him."

  His sigh proved to me that he did have breath in him. I felt the current of air brush my cheek. To my embarrassment, I could feel my body reacting to his presence. I grasped the blanket closer to me, as if to keep the barrier.

  "So your cousin was a human playing at death,” he said. “Didn't he know how dangerous that was?"

  "Evidently not,” I retorted. “Whatever he was doing, it obviously got him killed."

  Adam rocked back on his heels, his hands resting on his knees. For a brief moment, I flashed on Carlton in nearly the same position when he'd made the pass at me at the mortuary.

  Adam reached out and touched my cheek with the tips of his fingers. “You've changed my world tonight, Keira Kelly,” he said. “In more ways than one.” A smiled curled his lips as he leaned in toward me.

  "Stop.” I put a hand up. “Wait. I'm not so sure..."

  I let the words trail off as I saw the heat in Adam's gaze mirroring the fire that I knew was in mine. Damn.

  Whatever had gone between us, whatever the psychic merge had been, had created a link that hadn't been completely broken. My hand dropped as I leaned forward, a hungry fish to a shiny lure, my eyes captured by his, my lips already aching for the taste of his mouth on mine.

  "Adam, are you ready?"

  Andrea's voice fell between us, cutting off the connection like a razor through paper.

  Adam pulled away, with visible effort.

  "Damn it,” he whispered. “I'll be there momentarily, Andrea."

  She looked at me, then at Adam, shrugged and left as silently as she had arrived.

  "Sorry. Duty calls."

  "Duty?” I asked, as I tried to dismiss the whirl of emotions clouding my thinking.

  "I need to meet with my security staff, take care of some internal business,” Adam replied. “That's where I was headed when I saw you at the loading dock."

  I nodded and fumbled around looking for my boots. I needed to leave right now. Go home, clear my head, process everything I'd learned.

  Adam touched my cheek, a tender smile on his face. “Go on home, Keira. I'll take care of my business and then see you later for dinner?"

  Dinner. I'd actually forgotten.

  "What time is it?"

  "Only seven. Would you meet me here at nine?"

  "So, what's with the wine and the chocolates?” I asked, inclining my head toward the coffee table as I pulled my right boot on.

  "Nothing,” he said. “At least—not yet."

  I turned to look accusingly at Adam. “You were going to set me up."

  The soft sound of his laugh sent a tingle shivering up my spine. “Let's just say I was planning to optimize a situation."

  "Optimize?"

  His grin grew wider. I felt myself flushing.

  "I asked you over for dinner at the restaurant. There's no rule that you couldn't have an appetizer here ... or come back for dessert,” he answered with a come-hither smile that sent a shiver up my spine.

  Damn. Well, maybe a couple of hours at home, a hot shower—no, make it a cold one—and a little distance would let me deal with him on a more reasonable level. Besides, I needed to keep in contact with him if I were to find out more about Marty's death. I couldn't just go barging around the place trying to dig out vampires who might know something ... pun intended. Adam was my best chance of finding out.

  "Fine,” I said, “I'll be back at nine ... and it better be damned good."

  He laughed quietly, his voice dropping into the seductive tones that matched his smile. “I promise, I'm always very good."

  That's precisely what I was afraid of.

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  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  As I turned up the road that led to my house, I pulled out my phone and dialed Carlton's mobile number. I didn't know if he'd known about the Albrights having been caught trespassing at the Wild Moon. Even though other things might be personal matters, this could put our sheriff on the path to arresting those two clowns. Hell, they may have been the ones to kill Marty. Just because he'd had fang marks, didn't mean that's what had killed him. Delusional? I didn't know. I preferred to think of it as keeping my options open.

  The rings gave way to voice mail as I pulled into my driveway. I didn't know if Carlton's phone had service that reached to Houston, but if he wasn't already back he should be fairly soon. Even if he'd left when the banks closed, it only took a few hours to drive home.

  The beep sounded and I began to speak. “Carlton, hey, it's Keira. Listen, I found something out that I think you should—Holy mother fucking hell.” I dropped the phone to the seat next to me and stared at my porch.

  I got out of my car, smelling it before my brain processed the reality of what I'd seen in the flash of headlights.

  The soft glow of the porch lamp lit up the thing that had once been part of a Sitka deer. There was enough of the hide left to see the telltale white spots. Most of the lips were gone and I could see there were no front teeth. Wasn't I glad I knew so much about this species? Yeah, right.

  Of course, since it was only a head, there wasn't much more to see. It had obviously been dead for a while. Most of the skin and underlying muscle tissue was gone, chewed away by whichever animals and insects had gotten there first. No blood, except for what had been used to write the words on the porch next to the decomposing head.

  STAY AWAY BITCH. THIS COULD BE YOU.

  I stood there staring at the thing on my porch. I was fully in the thrall of rubbernecker's syndrome. The sick part of you that makes you look, even though you know it's going to be really, really bad.

  Great. Abso-fucking-lutely dandy. Just what I wanted as a before-dinner appetizer. My brain tripped a switch and slid into dead calm overdrive. This was just one step beyond sanity for me today.

  I jumped, crouching into a defensive stance as a shadow moved to my right. As I realized who it was, I relaxed.

  "I'm not sure I like your idea of a present, bro."

  Tucker came into the light, laughing, only the underlying growl giving
away his discomfort.

  "You think I put this here?"

  I shrugged. “You've done worse."

  "That I have."

  "If you didn't do this. Who did?"

  "That, dear sister, is a question for you. What have you been up to?"

  I sighed, leaned back against the porch rail and filled him in on what I'd found out at the ranch. I even told him about Adam. Not the sharing power part, though.

  "So, Mr. Mysterious is really a bloodsucker,” Tucker said with his trademark grin. “This could make things really interesting. My sister dating the undead."

  "Laugh it up, Cujo,” I replied. “As if you've never dated outside the family. C'mon, let's go inside. The smell of this thing is making me sick."

  I took another look as I passed the gruesome present. There wasn't much there. Most of a deer head and a good part of the neck, as if it had been either torn from the shoulders of the living animal or hacked inexpertly from the recently dead. No sign of what had killed it, there were too many rips and tears in what was left of the skin. It was far from fresh. I was sure if I concentrated hard enough and squinted, I could see maggots crawling in what was left of the flesh. I didn't squint.

  Before I could open the front door, the lights of a car swung in behind me and distracted me. Bea scrambled out of her compact, already talking.

  "Hey, m'hija, shouldn't you be pampering yourself for your date? I came over to—Madre de Dios!” Bea crossed herself and stepped back up against her car.

  "Don't ask,” I said. “This is just gross.” My voice sounded tired.

  "Come on, girlfriend,” said Bea, climbing up the steps and grabbing at my arm. “I came so I could help you get ready, but we're going to my house for the rest of the night. You need to get out of here."

  "No,” I said, turning to face her. “Thanks for the offer, but I need to clean this mess off the porch before it's harder to scrub off the blood. I will not let these bastards chase me out of my own house."

  "I don't want you staying here by yourself. Come on over to my place and we'll come back tomorrow morning and I'll help you."