Blood Stone

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  “Kate.”

  She sighed and looked toward the door, knowing already who she would see. Garrett stood six paces away from the door.

  “You’re fucking lousy at reading signals, Garrett. Everyone else can figure out when I want to be alone. Even Adrian got it.”

  “Oh, I got it,” he replied. “But I’ve been waiting for a moment when Adrian wasn’t attached to your hip. This is the first time that’s happened all week, so I’m ruining your meditation moment because I won’t go another week waiting for an opportunity.”

  She bit her lip. Had Adrian really been shadowing her that closely? “What have you got to say to me that Adrian couldn’t hear?” she demanded.

  “He doesn’t like me.”

  She laughed. “It’s a big club.”

  Garrett moved forward, until he was immersed in the same shadows as she. “I don’t think you dislike me. Not really.” His voice was a lot closer now. Quieter. Pitched only for her to hear. “You’re just pissed at me.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.”

  “Don’t you think this temper tantrum has gone on long enough? It’s not like you. I think Adrian is responsible for most of it.”

  Kate opened her mouth to speak. Twice. Then shut it again. There was truth in what he said but she couldn’t agree with him, because it would give away her game plan. Their game plan. Adrian was a co-conspirator, no argument. But was she pushing the display of temper beyond reason?

  “What you did was unforgiveable,” she told him. “You threatened my picture.”

  “I used it as leverage. There’s a world of difference and you understand that difference as well as me. You’ve been playing finance with the big boys for years. Why are you insisting on pouting about it? You bluffed. I counter bluffed and you caved. We made a deal. So let’s move on. It’s just business.”

  True. But she would go to hell before admitting it aloud to him. Normally, she would be sharpening her financial knives, looking for a vulnerable spot to use for payback, instead of all this posturing and, well, pouting. But the pouting had been serving a purpose. Apparently, that purpose had reached the end of its useful half-life. Garrett was right. Too much more of it would be out of character for her.

  Kate gave a half shrug. “Normally, I would agree with you, DoveAngel, but you made this more than business, didn’t you?”

  Silence. He stood there in the shadows, not speaking. Kate realized she had caught him by surprise.

  He moved over to the nearest table and snagged another chair. He placed it two feet away from hers. “I’m not staying,” he assured her as he sat on it. “I just don’t want to stand over you when I talk.” He leaned forward. Because of his extra few inches of height, he caught the light from the window. It lit his face indirectly, casting shadows across it. His eyes were highlighted, though.

  He let out a breath that she could hear quite clearly. “There’s only so many times I can apologize for the Twitter thing and I’ve filled the quota already.”

  “I’m not looking for an apology. But you’re expecting me to shrug it off and deal with you like it never happened.”

  “I was a faceless person on the internet who couldn’t sleep, just like you.” His voice was low, and just like that day in The Standard, Kate thought she could hear Scottish lilt in his tone. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty by pretending it meant something to you?”

  Confusion gripped her. It could only have lasted a second or two, but it seemed to ebb and surge through her in waves as Kate tried to honestly answer – at least in her own mind, first – exactly how she felt about the long distance relationship she had enjoyed with DoveAngel for all those weeks, now she knew who he really was. She hadn’t considered it before now. Garrett’s legal goons and her movie had so thoroughly taken up her attention.

  “You really know how to milk Twitter, by the way,” Garrett added. “I’ve never seen anyone get so much PR mileage out of it like you do. If I hadn’t been trying to keep my own Twitter identity private, I would have had my entire Communications department following you as a good example.”

  She jumped. A little. “It’s a quick distraction, late at night. I don’t look at it as PR. It’s just talking.”

  He grinned. “Like that argument you had with the guy about Constantinople’s main street?”

  Kate laughed. “The moron. And he said he was a professor of history!” The so-called professor of history had insisted that the main street in Constantinople had been called Constantine’s Way, when in fact the main street had never been named at all. Kate had been happy to quote references and experts, but the guy had been bombastic in his opinion and blind to the laughter around him.

  “There, you’re smiling again,” Garrett said softly.

  Her amusement faded. “You really get off on manipulating people, don’t you?”

  “It was meant in kindness.”

  “Doesn’t mean you’re not doing it.”

  “Why does relinquishing control, even for something positive, bother you so much?”

  Kate shook her head. “I’m not a control freak.”

  Garrett smiled. “Ms. Director. I bet you don’t go on roller-coasters, either.”

  She took a deep breath. “Bet you don’t either, Mr. President and CEO of his own financial empire.”

  Garrett grinned. “I don’t, but that’s because of an inner ear thing. Not a control thing.”

  “Liar. You hated the fact that I told you ‘no’, so you dealt yourself onto this movie just to spite me.”

  He leaned a little closer and his voice grew softer. “I dealt myself in because it was your picture. I could have spent my ten million on a Suez oil deal twenty-four hours earlier, but I didn’t. I wanted in on your deal. You. Kate Lind’stream who can’t sleep and has a mind like a razor. You’re never going to believe me on that, so let it drop.”

  Kate peered at him, wishing the light were better so she could see if he were lying or not. But then Garrett had faced down hostile takeovers and pissed-off defense attorneys in courts on all the major continents. “Even if you’re lying, I’m never going to be able to tell, am I? You’re better than any actor I know, because your training has been in the theatre of the real.”

  He swore, so softly she suspected she wasn’t supposed to hear it. But she had always had great hearing. Better than average.

  His kiss caught her utterly by surprise. Completely flat-footed. She even gasped into his mouth.

  But even as he kissed her, her brain disconnected from her body thanks to the surge of adrenaline produced by the shock and she was able to process the moment with startling clarity.

  She wasn’t surprised, ashamed, or even disgusted. The whole week had been leading to this. She had been wondering what it would be like to kiss him. The entire time she had been spitting her insults and railing at Garrett for his various transgressions, the same outfield portion of her brain that was in overdrive now had been silently sizing him up, wondering what it would be like to be in the arms of the man she had admired for so many years, now he was actually here, a dogged irritant in her life.

  She had watched him moving around the set, in worn denim jeans that looked surprisingly good on his long legs and a faded denim shirt, the sleeves rolled up, and the top three or four buttons open. It was an interestingly different look from the jeans and tee-shirts the rest of the crew wore.

  Well, now he was kissing her and her intellectual curiosity was being answered.

  But why was he kissing her? To prove he wasn’t lying? Anyone could kiss anyone. It didn’t mean anything.

  His hand slipped under her hair, cupping her jaw. It was a soft, oddly endearing touch.

  With his touch her mind ceased functioning, all curiosity melted away, as the power of the kiss swelled and swamped her with earthy, hot and blooming arousal. She gasped again and this time it had nothing to do with surprise.

  His tongue slipped into her mouth. Touched hers.

  Garrett. This is Garrett.
/>
  She moaned.

  He brought her to her feet, his lips never leaving hers. As she straightened, his body pressed up against hers. The kiss changed. It grew deeper, more languid. There was real intention behind it. Offering. Need. Want. She could feel the power of it in Garrett, building and building…

  Until he abruptly spun away, into the full spill of light from the window, almost staggering. He brought a hand up to his mouth and it shook as he touched his lips. He wasn’t looking at her.

  Kate stayed silent, breathing hard. Watching him. She wasn’t going to encourage him. Her mind was back in control now. For all sorts of reasons – and Adrian topped that list – this must stop right here.

  But there was one thing she had to say. “Okay,” she said tiredly. “I believe you.”

  Garrett glanced at her. Something that looked like pain etched his forehead. He gave a dry laugh and headed for the door into the club. By the time he reached it he was striding fast. The heel of his hand hit the door with a thud that jarred the frame and made the door shudder open with a wobble.

  Then he was gone.

  Chapter Twelve

  Winter woke to find Nial’s hand on her shoulder. It was quite dark in the trailer, but thanks to the enhanced vision she had inherited from Sebastian, she could see Patrick Sauvage standing behind Nial. Outside the trailer, the site was quiet and still. Everyone had found beds already. It must be quite late.

  “What’s wrong? What’s happened?” she asked Nial.

  “It’s Garrett. I need your help.” He stood and reached for her robe hanging over the back of the trailer door. “We’ll wait for you outside.”

  He shepherded Sauvage back out the door and shut it.

  Winter got out of the bed and reached for her jeans, ignoring the robe Nial had laid over the end of the bed. She looked down the other end of the tiny trailer, through the door that accessed the one other room. Sebastian was sitting up in bed, wide awake. “Want me to come with you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she told him. “Nial might need your help, too.”

  Nial had clearly dropped the body-guard/baby-sitter role temporarily, or he would not have asked her to help. The way he had asked, the hour of his asking, meant he needed her healing talents, not Annette the executive assistant.

  But it was the big unknown why – why a vampire might need her unique skills – that troubled her.

  * * * * *

  Garrett’s trailer was, of course, the most luxurious one on the lot. It was the most exorbitant, house-like trailer Winter had ever seen. It was as if the 1950’s style of conspicuous consumption had returned with a vengeance.

  Winter had never ventured further inside the trailer than the “front” room, but the décor and comfort in that one room was impressive enough to leave her awed and make her feel slightly claustrophobic when she returned to her cramped quarters.

  She followed Nial into the trailer with barely a glance at the darkened room, her heart racing, wondering what was about to greet her.

  Garrett lay on the butter-coloured leather sofa. He was very pale and very still. He looked unconscious, which simply wasn’t possible. One arm hung to the floor, his knuckles scraping across the carpet carelessly.

  Nial leaned down and grabbed the end of the coffee table. “Sebastian.”

  Sebastian grabbed the other and they moved the iron and oak table away from the sofa, closer to the other cherry-wood panelled wall, where an antique desk sat.

  “Do you think I can turn on some lights?” Patrick Sauvage asked, his voice hushed. “You may not need them to see, but I do.”

  “Sure,” Sebastian said. “But shut any blinds and curtains and the door, first.”

  “Shouldn’t he go back to his trailer and get some sleep?” Winter asked, settling down next to Garrett’s still form. She was uncomfortable about doing this in front of him, especially after Nial and Sebastian had just spent hours hammering security into her after Finka Zupan had tried to blackmail her.

  “No,” Nial said flatly. “He stays with me.”

  Sebastian turned on a lamp standing on the desk and grimaced. “Nial takes his babysitting seriously.”

  “With reason,” Nial said flatly. He looked at Winter. “There’s no way around this, Winter. Pat is close to being one of us and getting closer every day.”

  “Your call,” she replied and turned to Garrett. She picked up his hand and pushed inside him. Almost immediately, she had her answer. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She shook her head. “He’s been drinking. It’s fired up his digestive system — his whole human endocrine system. His human id is fighting his vampire ego and neither of them is winning.” She looked at Sebastian. “What happened tonight after I left? What made him think diving into a bottle was a good idea?”

  Sebastian pushed his hand through his hair. “You saw it all. You tell me. Just as Adrian wrenched himself loose from me and started heading outside after Kate, Garrett busted through the doors, looking like he’d done ten rounds with Lucifer and lost ‘em all. You could practically see the internal bleeding. That made Adrian happy. Then Kate walked in and he went over to her and Garrett stalked away trailing storm clouds.” Sebastian shrugged. “I figured he was pretending to turn in for the night, so I had a couple more beers and did the same thing myself. For real.”

  Nial touched her shoulder. “He’s shut down, like I was?”

  She bit her lip, looking down at Garrett’s face. “Yes. But he’s taken so much more booze on board that a few sips of coffee like you did.”

  “Just try,” Nial told her. “I suspect you can work it the same way.” He stepped around her and went into the inner rooms.

  Patrick Sauvage took Nial’s place at the end of the sofa, staring down at Garrett with fascination. “Booze did this to him?”

  “I need to concentrate,” Winter told him. “Excuse me.”

  She slipped inside Garrett’s body and read the confusion, the locked stillness of two competing systems in death grip with each other. One was trying to awaken, the other trying to repress it and neither of them was winning. As a result, everything had come to a grinding halt.

  She had to find a way to break the deadlock.

  Nial had once suffered through this experience. His had been the result of sampling a sliver of food, which had activated his salivary glands. She had resolved his dilemma by fixing the symptoms: removing the amylase proteins and shutting down the glands, which let the human system go back into hibernation once more.

  Drinking alcohol produced slightly different symptoms in a human physiology, but if she adjusted those symptoms, the results would be the same. She could put the human system back into hibernation and Garrett’s vampire physiology would “wake” once more.

  She hoped. But the theory was sound, so she reached for and found the alcohol in Garrett’s blood and converted it to harmless sugars. After so many years of tweaking molecules, the bio-chemistry came to her barely without thought. This was simple stuff.

  Because he had swallowed the alcohol he, too, had irritated his digestive tract, so she neutralized the amylase and stomach acids and shut down the glands.

  She felt Nial’s hand on her shoulder. “Need anything?” he asked softly.

  “The bat I’m going to take to his head for pulling this stunt,” she said. “Otherwise, elbow room and silence.”

  She heard Sebastian’s wheezy laugh, quickly smothered. Then the silence she had requested fell.

  She had left the tricky stuff for last. Now she braced herself and carefully eased her way into his brain. Alcohol did nasty things to brainpans. It dried them out, stealing spinal fluid and moisture that the brain sat in most of the time. She converted the alcohol she found there, creeping around with the most delicate touch possible. Then she shut down all signs of human physiology, letting the ghostly vampire activity take over and withdrew. There was nothing she could do about the dehydration. But it was fitting Garrett should at least have a killer headache for this.


  She placed his hand back on the sofa and stood up, stretching the small of her back. She found Sauvage was staring at her. “What are you?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she replied curtly, more tempted to tell him it was none of his business. But he was asking out of genuine interest, not simple morbid curiosity.

  “He’s not waking,” he replied.

  “He’s not asleep,” she told him.

  “Did you manage it?” Nial asked her.

  “I think so.”

  “Then you’d better get out of the way,” he suggested, pushing her gently to one side.

  “Why?”

  “agh, me fuckin’ christ…” Garrett muttered in a thick brogue. He gripped his head. Then he sat up. “Sweet Mary, mother of god,” he whispered. All coloured drained from his face as he clutched his stomach.

  “Here,” Nial said helpfully and thrust a bucket at him.

  Garrett fumbled at it, leaned over it and vomited hard. The smell of used Scotch, acrid, hot and peaty, swamped the trailer.

  “I’m out of here,” Winter declared, lunging for the door.

  “You, too, Patrick,” Nial said, behind her. “Winter, don’t go too far.”

  She sighed and stopped outside the trailer, under the awning where a full patio set, with a fold-up swing seat, crouched in the dark. She took full deep breaths of fresh air.

  Nial, Sebastian and Patrick stepped down onto the hard-packed dirt and Sebastian shut the door after them.

  They gathered around Winter.

  “That was a lot of Scotch,” Sebastian observed.

  “So where was the bottle?” Nial asked.

  “Damn, yes.” Patrick straightened up, shocked. “Unless…he was hiding it. I would have.” He said it apologetically.

  “He wouldn’t have had time,” Winter told him. “This reaction is instantaneous.”

  The silence was broken only by the desert wind stirring the fringing on the swing seat.

  “So…did someone come into the trailer and take the bottle after he was knocked out? Or did they bring him back here and dump him?” Sebastian said, keeping his voice low.