Bitten & Smitten ib-1

by Мишель Роуэн

  I didn’t reply. I don’t think I could have if I’d tried. I just looked at him with my big, soggy eyeballs until he finally nodded.

  “Fine. You may as well stay, now that you’re here. No one else has arrived yet, though. We don’t open for six hours.”

  He led me to a small office. There was a couch inside, much like the one he had in his living room. I climbed onto it and laid my cheek against the cool leather. I was starting to calm down a bit. I felt safe there. With Thierry. He was staring at me, waiting for some kind of explanation as to why I’d interrupted his “alone” time, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. As the fear slowly faded from my body, it left behind a thick blanket of weariness.

  All I wanted to do was shut my eyes. Shut it all out. Wake up later and have it all be just a horrible, horrible dream. The pain woke me. It was like a hot knife slicing through my entire body. I sat up too fast, and the sudden movement made me double back over. I was allowed a brief moment to collect myself before me second wave hit. I slid off the couch—deja vu all over again—and may have let out a small yelp. Yeah, right, some yelp.

  No, it was more like a loud scream that caught halfway down my throat when I couldn’t find the air anymore. I decided, finally and formally while writhing in pain on the floor of Thierry’s office, that being a vampire sucked. I wished that Gordon were still alive so I could kill him myself for getting me into this horrible mess in the first place.

  The door to my right opened and I glanced up. Thierry entered, looking at me with concern. He had a knife in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Newbie special. I didn’t care anymore that it was blood. Human blood, vampire blood, pig’s blood—hell, even hamster blood. Come to Mama. Another wave of pain shook me to my core and I cried out. Thierry was shaking his head, saying something like, “Too long. Shouldn’t have allowed her to go for so long.”

  He drew the blade across his left wrist. At the first glimpse of red I clawed wildly at the leather seat behind me. He grabbed the water he’d placed on the desk just as I reached out and clutched the bottom corner of his shirt. The glass slipped from his grasp and shattered on the floor.

  I pulled myself up a bit so I could grab his injured wrist and, as if by instinct, brought it straight to my mouth. He gasped with surprise as my lips made contact with his wound. As soon as his blood touched my tongue, the pain vanished as if it had never been there in the first place. It was like a cool glass of water after being lost in the desert for a month. It was like fine champagne, strawberries and cream, Kahlua chocolate sauce on French vanilla ice cream—ambrosia, food of the gods. Pick one. His arm was tense for a moment, but he slowly relaxed as I drank from him. I looked up to see that his eyes were dark and half closed, and there was an unfathomable expression on his face.

  “There are reasons why those as old as I do not sire fledglings. ”

  I ran my tongue along his wrist as the words went through my mind, his words from last night. I might have wondered what he meant by them if I’d currently been thinking straight. But I wasn’t thinking. At least, not in any normal way. Our eyes stayed locked for what felt like forever. Then slowly, very slowly, his expression changed as he regained his composure.

  “Enough, Sarah.” His voice was ragged.

  Enough ? I thought. No, not yet. Just a little more. I felt like Oliver Twist. “Please, sir, I want some more.”

  He groaned as he tried to pull away, but my grip on him must have been stronger than I felt.

  “Enough,” he said louder. He squeezed my arm and roughly brought me up to my feet. He put a hand under my chin to pry my mouth from his wrist.

  I felt funny, kind of light-headed. I looked at Thierry, with the taste of him still on my lips. By his dark, intense expression I figured he would push me away from him and storm out of the room. But instead, he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me hard against him, then crushed his lips against mine, drinking me in as I’d just done to him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and kissed him back—deeply, so deeply that I thought I might drown. Then he pushed me away from him and stormed out of the room.

  I staggered back to the couch, sat down heavily, and tried to breathe as normally as I could. I touched my fingers to my lips, feeling dazed by what had just happened. Okay, maybe being a vampire wasn’t so bad, after all. The jury was still out. A few minutes went by before I heard a light knock on the door. I looked up, expecting it to be Thierry. I had no idea what I was going to say to him: “Thanks for the drink”?

  “You’re a great kisser”? Nothing I could have said would have come out sounding half intelligent. Luckily, I wouldn’t have to think about what to say, since it wasn’t him. A redheaded girl with a sprinkling of freckles on her nose poked her head in the partially opened door and blinked at me. She looked to be no more than a teenager.

  She smiled at me. “Hi.”

  I checked to make sure I was the only one in the room before answering. “Hello.”

  “Sarah,” she said.

  “That’s funny, that’s my name, too.”

  I was trying to make a joke. She found it to be more than a little bit funny and threw her

  head back with a huge, loud cackling laugh that showed off her fangs and managed to

  scare me a little. I’d have to add to my growing list of phobias: “Loud redheaded teenage vampires.”

  “No. You’re Sarah. I’m Zelda.”

  “Zelda?”

  “That’s right.”

  I didn’t know what to say next. Were we supposed to be having some kind of a conversation? I wasn’t feeling all that chatty at the moment.

  “Thierry called to ask me to bring some clothes in for you.” The rest of her appeared from behind the door as she entered the room. She was dressed in a black skirt and an emerald green blouse. It looked as if she’d borrowed the outfit from her mother. She presented an armful of folded clothes to me, but I didn’t take them. I just looked at them questioningly as I got to my feet. There was no pain anymore. Actually, I felt pretty terrific, all things considered.

  “Why did Thierry ask you to bring me clothes?”

  She looked uncertain. “Um, because you’re on shift tonight, and… uh… jeans aren’t normally part of the uniform. Cool sweatshirt, though.”

  I absently touched my Tweety Bird-clad chest. “You’re kidding right? I’m on shift?”

  “No. Not kidding.”

  I took a moment to inspect the clothes. She was a couple of inches taller than me, but we were about the same size. If the clothes were hers, then they’d definitely fit me. Black skirt, black hose. Strappy heels and a long-sleeved red blouse. Not my taste, but wearable.

  I frowned at her. “What exactly do you mean when you say I’m ‘on shift’?”

  Zelda shrugged. “Waiting tables. Thierry said you were going to help out tonight.”

  My eyebrows shot up, and a hot ripple of annoyance went through me. Of all the damn nerve. We’d made a deal. He was going to teach me how to adjust to being a vampire without getting myself killed, and in return I was going to use him for all the information I needed and then go back to my normal life. What part of that didn’t he understand? Okay, maybe I hadn’t been clear on all the finite details, but I’d never agreed to be a waitress at his stupid vampire club.

  I shook my head. “No can do. I left my waitressing days behind a long, long time ago. Hated it then, and I’m not putting myself through it again now.”

  Zelda stared at me for a moment and then suddenly burst into tears. “But… he said… you were… going… to help out.”

  I held up my hands to try to calm her down. What the hell just happened?

  “Sorry.” I patted her awkwardly on her shoulder while she sobbed. “Nothing against waitressing, really. It’s a fine, noble profession. It’s just not for me. Nothing personal. Thanks for the clothes, anyhow.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just… just…”

  “Just what?”

  “Ralph!” she wa
iled.

  “Ralph? Who the hell is Ralph?”

  “Ralph’s dead!”

  I shook my head. “Okay, Zelda. Take a deep breath and tell me what you’re talking about.”

  The waterworks eased up a bit. “Ralph was a waiter here. Until tonight. He’s dead. The hunters got him.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” There wasn’t much more to say than that. Another one bites the dust. She sniffed loudly and ran the back of her hand across her nose. “He always thought he was going to live forever.”

  “Well… wasn’t he?”

  “He refused to believe that anything bad would ever happen to him. But it did.”

  “That sucks.”

  “So, it won’t be forever, see? Just until we find somebody to replace him permanently. Thierry said that you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Oh, he did, did he?”

  Zelda looked at me with a hopeful expression. Great. Now I’d feel major guilt if I said no. I had enough guilt to deal with today without adding any more to the load. I sighed.

  “Okay. But it’s just going to be for tonight.”

  A bright smile chased the rest of her tears away. “Thanks. I’m on bar, so we’ll get to chat more later.”

  “Super.” Any enthusiasm in my voice was forced. “So you can serve alcohol, huh? I thought you had to be nineteen to do that.”

  “I’m covered,” Zelda said. “Since I turned three hundred and nineteen last Tuesday.”

  “Oh.” I paused to let that little piece of information sink in. “Um, happy birthday?”

  “Actually, I stopped celebrating them when I turned two hundred.” She moved toward the door. “I’ll be out by the bar. Any questions you’ve got, don’t hesitate.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  I watched the three-centuries-old redheaded bartender leave the office and shook my head. Appearances sure can be deceiving. So there I was. Just sucked into working the table-waiting shift of a dead vamp with the improbable name of Ralph. In a way it was probably a good thing I was filling in tonight. It would help me take my mind off what had happened in the underground. I could rub elbows with the other creatures of the night who enjoyed smoky clubs with dark-haired jazz singers. Maybe learn more about the hunters and how best to avoid the same fate as Ralph’s. I might even be able to find out what the real story on enigmatic Monsieur de Bennicoeur was.

  And the most important question of all: were vampires good tippers?

  Along with the clothes, Zelda had been kind enough to leave her makeup bag for me. After applying a coat of bright red lipstick, I found the troubles of the day seemed to slip away. Or, at least, I was able to block out any unpleasant thoughts focusing on my slightly

  see-through reflection while I applied the war paint. When I was done, the memories immediately flooded back. Poor Quinn. I got a shiver down my spine every time I flashed back to what happened. Why couldn’t I be more coldhearted? Maybe that would come in time, but right now I felt like I’d aided and abetted a murder.

  After a few minutes I finally stepped out of the office and scanned the darkened club for Thierry, but he was nowhere to be seen. Big surprise. I still felt embarrassed about what had happened earlier. I don’t know if I felt more embarrassed about the impromptu wrist sucking or the subsequent face sucking. It was neck and neck—no pun intended. But I was still desperate to talk to him. If I was going to wait tables, I wanted it to be worth my while. Start my tutoring deal right away. No time to waste, especially after getting myself into that unfortunate predicament this afternoon. Barry made a beeline toward me. He was wearing a matching tuxedo to the one he’d worn last night, only tonight he had a red rose tucked into his lapel. He smiled his tiny-fanged, slightly condescending smile.

  “Good evening, Sarah,” he said drily and without much interest.

  “Howdy,” I replied. “So here I am, ready to pitch in and help out. Just for tonight. Why don’t you tell me where you want me to go?”

  I left it open for him, baiting him to say something rude and inappropriate, but either the line went over his head or he wasn’t in the mood to play games. Frankly, neither was I.

  “I don’t think it will be too busy. Just make yourself available to the customers that do make it out tonight. We have a very limited menu, people mostly order drinks—a lot of us can’t eat solid food as easily as others—”

  “Oh, really?” I cut him off. “I guess that would explain it.”

  He blinked at me. “Explains what?”

  “My missing appetite. Good to know that it’s a normal vampire thing.”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes. Quite normal. Anyhow, as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me— George will be here to help out, too, but he doesn’t start until eleven. I tried to get him in earlier, but he wasn’t answering his phone.”

  “I think I can handle it.” I glanced around the empty club. “Where’s Thierry, anyhow? I need to talk to him.”

  Barry’s expression darkened. “The master has gone out to attend to another business matter. He will return shortly.”

  I frowned down at him. “Why do you call him master, anyhow? Seems kind of formal.”

  He sighed heavily. “Like I’ve said before, it is a term of respect. He is the oldest of our kind that I’m personally familiar with, and I will call him master”—he searched briefly for the right words—“because that is simply what he is called.”

  “Uh-huh. And what’s his regular drink?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “When you gave us our drinks last night, you gave him his regular drink. What is it? I figure I should know these things so he won’t have to ask. Don’t want the master to go thirsty.” I smirked at him.

  Barry stared at me for longer than was comfortable before he finally spit it out. “Cranberry juice.”

  I was surprised. “No blood?”

  “He rarely drinks blood in public.”

  “Interesting.”

  Barry shrugged his small shoulders. “If you say so. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  He nodded curtly to me and went off on his nonmerry way. Seriously, I wondered where he’d found a stick small enough to shove up his ass. Not my favorite guy in the city, but what can you do? Maybe he had one of those Napoleonic complexes. Short men with major attitude problems. I felt a sharp tap on my shoulder and turned around.

  A burly guy wearing olive green overalls and a black T-shirt shoved a clipboard in my face. “Can you sign for the keg of O negative?”

  “The keg of what?”

  “O neg. Just sign right there on the dotted line.” He tapped the clipboard.

  Behind him was a silver keg, which I would have suspected was filled with beer. Normally, that is. I figured O neg wasn’t a code name for alcohol. But who delivers kegs of blood to vampire bars? I squinted down at the delivery form. The Blood Delivery Guys was the name of the company. Well, that made sense.

  I signed on the dotted line like a good employee; then the guy snatched the clipboard out of my hands and headed for the back door. He sure was in a big hurry. I wondered how many deliveries he had that night. How many other vamp hangouts were there in Toronto, anyhow? The customers began to filter in at the turn of the hour, none of them looking as amazed and out of sorts as I had last night. They all looked as if they’d been there many times before and were used to entering the club through a tanning salon. The band took the stage at nine-thirty and filled the smoky air with dark sexy music.

  If I tried to push the thought out of my mind that all of these people were vampires, then it would have felt like any other club. Nothing out of the ordinary. None of these people wanted trouble. They’d come here to escape the troubles they had outside and be safe and secure for a couple of hours. Just like me. It was a soothing thought. For a moment. Then I remembered Dan and his buddy and what they did to Quinn. What had Thierry said? Vamps can be good or bad… just like humans.

  “And what can I get for you tonight?” I sidled up to the newest couple to enter
the club.

  After a couple of hours I was getting used to the job. Nobody was giving me a hard time. I got a few looks, of course. People either didn’t recognize me at all, or they thought I was Thierry’s new girlfriend. I didn’t waste my breath trying to argue with them. Thierry hadn’t shown up yet, and that was the only thing that was causing me any stress. Other than that, I felt very much at ease at Midnight Eclipse. The man at the table smiled at me. It was difficult to call him a man, though. He looked more like a college student out after a long night of studying. He was clean-cut, with blond hair and a smooth, hairless face. He wore a short-sleeved blue-and-white-striped polo shirt and dark blue pants. “I’ll have an AB positive and orange juice, please.”

  Big spender , I thought. AB positive was a rare blood type, and I’d learned the rarer the blood, the more expensive the shot was. It made sense in a strange Stephen King sort of way.

  “Cool.” I jotted the order down on a pad of paper I’d found in Thierry’s office. I had a pretty lousy memory. “And for you?”

  I turned to his girlfriend. Definitely not of the clean-cut variety. Of anyone tonight, she looked the most like she belonged in a vampire club. On top of black jeans she wore a deep-cut black shirt that left very little of her pale cleavage to the imagination. Her face was so white that it looked unhealthy. She wore dark red lipstick, black eyeliner, and had dark hair so long that it had to be extensions. Her nose and eyebrow were both pierced with small silver hoops.

  She looked up at me with a fashionably morose expression on her pale face. “Vodka. Straight up.”

  “No blood?” If she said no, she’d be the first one tonight.

  “Nope.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Nope.”

  I turned away and headed over to the bar to give Zelda my order.

  “Vodka straight up?” she asked with a frown.

  “Yeah. No blood.”

  “Who’s this for?”

  I glanced over my shoulder. “Table twelve.”

  Zelda peered through the darkness and then shook her head. “Oh no, not them again.”

  I turned to follow her gaze. “What?”