The Lady Is a Vamp: An Argeneau Novel

by Lynsay Sands

  She had to get out, get away from him, and try to rebuild her life without him. She’d been content, enjoying what life had to offer. Surely she could be that way again and—

  And what? Wait for another possible life mate to appear on the scene. Unless he was immortal, he could never be hers either.

  Livy shifted sleepily against her, nestling her face against her neck, and Jeanne Louise closed her eyes briefly, her footsteps faltering. She wouldn’t be just leaving Paul, but Livy too. She’d come to love the little girl as much as she did the father, and the idea of giving them both up was gut wrenching, but she didn’t know what else to do. Staying would kill her . . . slowly.

  Jeanne Louise sighed wearily and continued on to the emergency desk, then opened Paul’s wallet to find his health card. It flipped open to reveal a picture of a perfect, beautiful blonde. Jerri, his wife. He still carried her picture two and a half years later. How long would she carry his in her head?

  Grimacing, she handed over his health card and answered Doris’s questions the best she could.

  Paul shifted in his sleep, banged his hand against something and was abruptly awake. Opening his eyes, he peered around the living room and then sat up on the couch.

  Jeanne Louise had settled him there with a snack and drink on returning from the hospital, and then had taken Livy back up to bed. Whether she’d returned or not, he couldn’t say. He’d fallen asleep shortly afterward, exhausted by the night’s events. Of course, the pain killers the doctor had given him had probably helped to knock him out.

  Rubbing his face with his good hand, he listened briefly to the silence in the house and then stood and shuffled out of the living room and into the kitchen. He paused in the doorway though, when he saw Jeanne Louise seated at the dining room table, leafing through a magazine.

  “You’re awake,” she offered a tense smile as she glanced his way. Standing, she moved into the kitchen, asking, “Are you hungry? I made bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast. There’s coffee too.”

  “Sounds good,” he admitted.

  “Go sit down and I’ll bring it to you,” she suggested, grabbing the oven mitts and slipping them on before opening the oven to reveal the food warming inside.

  Paul moved to the table and sat down. “How long have you been up?”

  “I haven’t been to bed. Night walker, remember?” she said lightly, setting the food on top of the stove and fetching a plate to begin transferring a portion of each item to it. She then returned the rest of the food to the oven and took the time to fetch him a coffee and glass of juice as well.

  Paul watched silently as she carried everything to the table on a tray. There was something wrong. He sensed that much. She was too wound up, her movements too jerky, and she was serving him like he was an invalid.

  “Eat,” she said lightly. “You have to rebuild your blood.”

  Paul picked up the fork she’d also provided and began to poke at the food. It looked and smelled delicious, but he was distracted with what was going on inside her head. “Is there—”

  “I’m glad you’re awake,” she interrupted. “I didn’t want to leave while you were sleeping, but was hoping to get home before the sun was fully up.”

  “Home?” he asked sharply, lowering the fork to the table again. His gaze focused and stayed on her, noting the way she was avoiding looking at him.

  Jeanne Louise hesitated, avoiding his eyes, but then suddenly met his gaze and sighed. “You were right yesterday. This isn’t going to work.”

  Paul sat back in his seat. Silent. Waiting.

  “I can’t—” She paused and swallowed, cleared her throat, then tried again. “I love you, Paul, and Livy too, but I can’t do this. I’m going to lose you one way or another. If not to some stupid accident, then to cancer, or a heart attack, or just plain old age. And the longer I’m with you the more crazy I’ll make you with my fussing and . . . the more it will hurt when I do lose you.” She paused and peered at him pleadingly. “I can’t do this.”

  He nodded and cleared his throat. Now Paul was the one avoiding her eyes. He wouldn’t beg for her to stay. Couldn’t ask that of her. Because he understood. Asking her to stay was asking her to stand by and watch him die. If she were mortal, it would have been different. But she wasn’t. It was like wanting to be with a goddess. A beautiful, strong, brilliant being of light and glory. While he was a mere man. He couldn’t ask her to stay. It was selfish to expect her to. But it was hard not to. Losing Jerri had been painful as hell, but losing Jeanne Louise would be harder. Because she wouldn’t be dead and in the ground beyond his reach. Although he would be eventually.

  “What about Livy’s training?” he asked finally.

  “I called Uncle Lucian last night. He said he’d make arrangements,” Jeanne Louise said quietly and something in her voice made him glance her way finally.

  Had she sounded disappointed? Had she hoped he’d protest, beg, and plead? Should he? Or was that selfish?

  “I should go,” she said abruptly, moving to collect a packed suitcase beside the door to the garage. He should have noticed that, he thought with a frown. It would have given him some warning, prepared him. Maybe he would have known what to do then, what to say.

  “Uncle Lucian will contact you in the next couple of days with arrangements to help Livy,” she said quietly as she opened the door to the garage. Glancing back, she peered at him silently for a moment, and then murmured, “Have a good life.”

  He thought he caught the sheen of tears in her eyes before she turned away, but then she was walking out the door into the garage and closing it behind her.

  Paul listened to the sounds of her moving around, then the slam of the door, the car starting and the garage door opening. He heard her pull out and after a pause, the sound of the door closing again and wondered idly if she would mail him the garage door opener. Then his hand jerked out and sent the plate of bacon and eggs smashing to the floor.

  Eighteen

  “When is Jeanne Louise coming to see us again, Daddy?”

  Paul paused in front of the trunk he’d just opened and stared blindly at the groceries inside. When was Jeanne Louise coming to see us again? Never was the answer. She’d backed out of their lives, unable to handle watching him age and die, leaving him alone. He understood. He hadn’t been able to stand helplessly by and watch Livy wither away and die either, but damn, he missed her. If only . . .

  If only? Paul’s mouth twisted at the words in his head. If only what? If only she hadn’t turned Livy? He didn’t want that. He loved his daughter and wanted her alive. So he supposed it was if only the Rogue Hunters hadn’t arrived when they had. If only that Bricker fellow hadn’t scared the kid into running, so that she’d fallen and been mortally wounded so that Jeanie had been forced to turn her? So that they could have carried through their plan for her to turn him and let him turn Livy?

  He supposed. But “if only” didn’t matter. What had happened had happened, and now they had to live with the results.

  “Huh? When is she coming, Daddy?”

  Paul sighed and glanced to his daughter, frowning when he saw that she’d lifted four cases of pop out of the trunk as if they weighed next to nothing. “Honey, let Daddy take those. You—”

  “It’s okay. They aren’t heavy,” she assured him and moved toward the door to the kitchen.

  As he watched, Livy shifted the heavy cases to one hand to open the door with the other, and then stepped out of the garage and into the kitchen.

  “Jesus,” Paul muttered and turned his attention to gathering several bags of groceries in each hand. He managed to get all of them out, and was about to close the trunk when it suddenly slammed shut for him. Paul turned to peer at his daughter silently. She’d returned without his noticing, probably that vampire speed. And somehow she’d closed the trunk. She must have leapt up a couple feet to reach it, she was too short to do so otherwise, but she was smiling at him now looking like a normal, happy five-year-old rather than s
ome strange hybrid vampire.

  “So how come Jeanne Louise doesn’t come see us anymore? I like her. Doesn’t she like us anymore?”

  Paul’s shoulders sagged with defeat and then he knelt before her, setting their grocery bags down so that he could give her a hug. “Yes, she loves us a great deal, and that’s why we don’t see her anymore.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense, Daddy,” Livy complained. “If she loves us—”

  “Sweetie, do you remember how upset and worried I was when you were sick and I thought you were going to die?”

  Livy pulled back to peer at him solemnly, and nodded. “Yes. You were scared.”

  Paul’s eyebrows rose at her wisdom. He had tried to hide his worries and fears, but apparently she’d seen right through them. “Yes, I was. I knew it would hurt to lose you because I love you. And now Jeanne Louise feels that same way.”

  “But she won’t lose me. I’m not sick anymore,” Livy pointed out.

  “Not you, sweetie, me.”

  Her eyes went wide and scared. “Are you sick, Daddy?”

  “No,” Paul assured her quickly. “But I’m not like you and Jeanne Louise. I’m mortal. You remember how Marguerite taught you about being an immortal and how you’ll grow up, but won’t grow old? And how you won’t get sick, or die?”

  Livy nodded.

  “Well I am mortal. I will grow old and eventually die, and Jeanne Louise is afraid of having to watch that. She’d miss me too much.”

  “I don’t want you to grow old and die, Daddy,” Livy said at once. “Who will bandage my booboos and tell me I told you so when I make myself sick on too much candy?”

  Paul’s lips twitched at the words, but he assured her, “Honey, I’m not going to die for a while yet. You’ll be grown up when I do.”

  “But I don’t want you ever to die,” Livy said at once. “Maybe I can make you a vampire like Jeanne Louise did to me. Then she would come see us again and you would never die and we could be a family.”

  “Would you like that, Livy?”

  Paul glanced sharply to the side at that question, then stood and stepped protectively in front of his daughter when he recognized Lucian Argeneau standing in the doorway between his kitchen and garage. “What are you doing here?”

  “The front door was open,” Lucian said with a negligent shrug, stepping down into the garage and revealing Leigh, Nicholas, and Bricker crowded in the kitchen doorway behind him.

  “We rang the doorbell,” Leigh said apologetically. “But the door was open and when there was no answer we decided we’d best investigate.”

  “I let Boomer out after I put the pop in the kitchen,” Livy said with a grimace.

  And hadn’t closed the door properly as usual, Paul finished in his head. Christ, the kid must have moved like the wind to put the pop away, let the dog out and come back to close the trunk for him in the few short seconds it had taken him to gather the grocery bags in his hands.

  “Why don’t we all go inside and sit down?” Leigh suggested, rubbing her extended belly uncomfortably.

  Lucian was immediately all concern. “Are you tired? Do your feet hurt, love? Come, we’ll sit down in the dining room while Paul gets his groceries.”

  The others made way as Lucian tried to usher Leigh back through the kitchen, but she refused to move and murmured, “Let’s wait for Livy.”

  Paul glanced behind him, intending to collect the grocery bags he’d set down and escort his daughter inside, but Livy already had the bags in hand and was moving around him toward Leigh and Lucian.

  “Hi Aunt Leigh. Hi Uncle Luc,” she greeted cheerfully as she approached them.

  Lucian Argeneau actually cracked something resembling a smile for the girl while Leigh ran a hand gently over Livy’s head as the young girl drew abreast of them.

  “Did you bring Jeanne Louise with you?” Livy asked, stopping.

  “No,” Lucian growled, scooping the child up, groceries and all in one arm, leaving his other hand to take Leigh’s arm and urge her into the kitchen, as he said, “Not this time, cupcake. But I’m sure you’ll be seeing her very soon.”

  Paul stared after them helplessly. Lucian Argeneau had called his daughter cupcake. And Livy had called him Uncle Luc. And his half pint daughter was carrying groceries he’d barely been able to manage, and doing so as if they weighed nothing. As to the claim that they would see Jeanne Louise soon . . . Well, that was just cruel when he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

  “You gonna stand out here all day or what? Lucian isn’t the patient sort.”

  Paul blinked and scowled at the immortal who had scared his daughter down the damned stairs and nearly killed her. Justin Bricker. He didn’t respond to the man’s words other than to start grimly forward. He didn’t want to blame the man for his woes. After all, it had been an accident. But if he hadn’t scared Livy, she wouldn’t have fallen and Jeanne Louise wouldn’t have had to turn her on the spot and forgo her hoped for plan of turning him and his turning Livy. Paul blamed the bastard whether he wanted to or not. If not for the otherwise seemingly nice hunter, he’d have it all right now.

  “I’m sorry about that, Paul,” Bricker said quietly as Paul drew abreast of him. “I didn’t expect the kid to freak like that and take a header. And I couldn’t get into her head to stop her. I did try when she turned to run, but I couldn’t get in quick enough to stop her. I think the brain tumor caused some resistance or something.”

  Paul let his breath out on a sigh, his shoulders sagging as his anger slowly drained out of him. Jeanne Louise had commented at some point that it was a little harder to get into Livy’s thoughts then most, that she had to make a full concerted effort to manage it, and she suspected it was the brain tumor that caused it. Paul supposed that was what the man was talking about. It had been an accident. He’d tried to save her. Life was full of such unhappy events that were really no one’s fault, just fate fucking with you.

  “Yeah, fate’s a bitch at times,” Justin muttered, obviously reading his thoughts. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he urged him into the kitchen, adding, “Lucian brought us all here because I want to make up for it though. I offered to use my turn to turn you for Jeanne Louise.”

  When Paul stopped abruptly to gape at him, he smiled wryly and added, “And for Livy too, of course. The kid’s a cutie. Can’t have her moping around and blaming me for eternity after you grow old and die.”

  “You are not turning him, Bricker,” Lucian said irritably from the other end of the room. “Now you two get over here. I’d like to settle this before Leigh goes into labor.”

  “I’m not due for another month, Lucian,” Leigh said with amusement.

  “You’re one of those people who are early for everything,” Lucian growled, offering his wife an affectionate smile to soften the words, and then he scowled at Paul and added, “While Mr. Jones here appears to drag his feet about everything.” He arched his eyebrows and gestured to the empty seat at the table. “I’m waiting.”

  Paul moved toward the seat, but Bricker was right at his side, saying, “I thought we were coming here so I could turn him. It was after I said I would yesterday that you started making arrangements for this visit.”

  Lucian rolled his eyes. “Did you think you were the only one to make the offer? Marguerite offered too. And Nicholas’s Jo offered as well,” he informed him dryly, and grimaced. “Every bleeding heart in the family with a free turn has offered.”

  Paul’s eyes widened at this news. Hope beating to life in his chest. He could be immortal, have Jeanne Louise. That hope died with the man’s next words.

  “But I’m not letting any of you do that. Your one turn is too precious to let you give it away for someone else’s life mate.”

  Paul sighed and sank down in the chair at the table. The man was right of course. The way Jeanne Louise explained it, if Justin gave up his turn he might one day meet a life mate and not be able to turn her. It would leave him in the same position Jeanne Louise
and he were in right now. As for Jo and Marguerite . . . well, they might have their life mates already, but immortals could die. What if they found themselves widowed? And then found another life mate who was mortal? They too would be right where he and Jeanne Louise were now. His conscience wouldn’t allow that.

  “Jeanne Louise’s original hope was to turn you and let you use your one turn to turn Livy,” Lucian announced, drawing his attention back to the man. “You knew that?”

  “Yes,” Paul admitted on a sigh. “We had discussed it.”

  He nodded. “And you agreed to it?”

  “Of course,” Paul said at once. Good Lord, who wouldn’t agree to that?

  “Because you wanted to be immortal?” Lucian asked.

  Paul blinked at the question with surprise. “Hell no. I’d rather neither Livy nor I were immortals. Everything has changed for her. She can’t go back to school next year. Can’t run around carefree in the sun. She can’t see her friends or play with the kids in the neighborhood for fear of accidentally revealing what she is. And I sure as hell don’t want to lose my family.”

  “And yet you agreed to the turn,” Lucian pointed out.

  Paul sighed and rubbed his forehead, he felt the beginnings of a headache ruffling through his thoughts. “I agreed for two reasons. One, because becoming immortal was the only way for Livy to be alive. If I could have found another way to cure her or save her I would have jumped at it and allowed her a normal childhood.”

  “And you?” Lucian asked. “If you could have cured her another way would you have bypassed becoming immortal too?”

  “No. Because it would mean not having Jeanne Louise. I’d give up everything in my life for her . . . except my daughter and her happiness.”