H.T. Night's 8-Book Vampire Box Set

by Night, H. T.

  “So, Helen,” I said. “What’s your story? A rock star boyfriend?”

  “My story isn’t quite that interesting. I have no boyfriend and I haven’t quite figured out the meaning of our existence, like some people.” Helen winked at me.

  Damn, she was cute. Stop it, Josiah! Think of Lena. Remember her? You know, the girl who laid her body on top of you, while a seven-foot werewolf was trying to kill you.

  I decided to reel in the conversation and back it up and keep it light. She was getting much too close to asking pointed questions. Still, I found it very easy to talk to her, almost as if we were talking over the phone. We talked for the next couple of hours about movies, politics, and current events. It was shocking how we had practically the same opinion on most subjects. She was a news and pop culture hound, like me. We both seemed to like the same things. It was effortless talking to her; almost like we had known each other forever. She was cute as hell, but my heart was with Lena.

  Then the pilot’s voice came over the speaker: “We’re on the approach to Heathrow. We’ll be landing shortly. I hope you had a pleasant flight. You’ll be going through Customs before you get your next connection, and to those of you who are staying in London, don’t miss the Tower of London tour. It’s 900 years old and was built by William the Conqueror.”

  My eyebrows went up. Did I have time for that tour? Nah. Focus, Josiah.

  “Wow!” Helen said. “That was the fastest eleven-hour flight that I have ever been on.”

  “It did go by fairly quick, didn’t it?”

  “Good conversation tends to do that.”

  “Yes, it does,” I agreed.

  “You know what we did, don’t you?” Helen looked at me intently.

  “What did we do?” I said, concerned.

  “We had the all-night-talk,” she said, plainly.

  “What’s that?”

  “You know when you first meet someone and hit it off, you spend all night talking to them on the phone. That’s what we had. We talked about everything.”

  “It was fun talking to you,” I said.

  Helen started to say something and then stopped.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I have this stupid dinner tonight, and it’s a couples’ thing, and I don’t have anyone to go with.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure you won’t have a hard time finding a date.” I knew she was insinuating that we should go together, but I didn’t feel right about it. I knew I was very attracted to her and that was not a good situation to put myself in. Lena. Her name was like a little heartbeat inside of me.

  Helen was quiet.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “I don’t want to find a date. I want to go with you,” she said, with an amazing, giant beautiful smile.

  Even though I knew that was where she was leading, but I was afraid to hear the answer. The weird part was that I didn’t know why I was scared. Was it because I thought she didn’t want to go with me, or was it that it would put me in a weird predicament with Lena?

  “My flight to Romania is in five hours,” I told her.

  “Do you have a set time you are to meet your trainer?”

  I thought about it for a moment. I really didn’t have a set time for anything. The gnome was waiting for me, regardless. Helen could tell by my expression that I was considering it.

  “Listen,” she said. “I know the guy who runs the Claridge’s Hotel. He’ll put you up in his best suite. It’s like $5,000 a night.”

  “I don’t have that kind of money,” I said, shocked.

  “Don’t worry. He owes me a favor.”

  Damn, just to stay in a suite that’s $5,000 a night would be worth it.

  “It’s the Davies Penthouse,” she continued. “It is immaculate.”

  “You have that kind of influence?” I asked.

  Helen laughed, “Oh Josie, you have no idea.”

  I sat back and thought for a moment. I really wanted to do this. After all the crap I’ve been through, this sounded like a blast.

  “Ok, two things,” I said. “One, you need to know that I am very serious about how I feel toward Lena and I would be escorting you only as a friend.”

  “No problem. I just want to spend a little bit more time with you. You’re a pretty cool guy, Josiah. What’s the second thing?”

  “Never call me Josie ever again.”

  “You got it Jo-Jo.”

  I shot her a dirty look and we both buckled our seatbelts before the flight landed.

  Chapter Three

  I knew the second I got off the plane that I was going to need a specific plan in regards to the sun. As I had nothing to show Customs except for my leather jacket, they gave me a funny look and waved me through. I was about to embark on a lot of pain if I wasn’t quick and precise in how I left the airport.

  Helen told me she has a limo picking us up out front. I could avoid the sun until I knew the limousine was there.

  Helen and I walked through Heathrow terminal and, luckily, it was a windowless airport. As we approached the front entrance, I knew I was bound to see glass doors and windows. Sure enough, as we rounded the corner there they were, like blades of gamma rays attacking my skin.

  Holy shit! It felt like I was on the sun.

  I looked over at Helen and she was walking exceptionally fast and that was good thing. She was wearing a rather large hat and a very long fur coat. That was her third outfit! She must spend hours a day picking outfits and changing them, like a human Barbie doll.

  Helen rushed through the sliding glass doors and went straight to her limousine that was right at the entrance. I followed close behind and was very pleased how this was working out. I noticed that the limousine had extremely dark windows. They were darkest windows I had ever seen. The chauffeur already had the door open for us and we both rushed into the limousine. As we did so, something unusual started happening. Paparazzi were flashing light bulbs at us! There was pack of them! They were taking pictures and yelling all sorts of things. At one point I swore one of them yelled the name Ginger.

  We eventually settled into the limousine and the chauffeur slammed the door behind us..

  “Was that for you?” I asked.

  Helen grinned.

  Who was this famous record producer that has paparazzi following her?

  “Helen, who are you?”

  “I’m Helen,” she said, obviously being coy.

  “Helen who?”

  “Helen Martin.”

  “Are you famous in England?”

  “What do you think? Do the paparazzi follow regular people around in America?”

  “Aren’t you American?”

  “No.”

  “But you had no hint of a British accent,” I said.

  Helen decided to change her voice into a thick Cockney accent and she said, “Really, Guv’nor, do all Brits need to sound like Harry Potter or Oliver?”

  “Very funny, but any Brit I know has an accent. Look at Simon Cowell or Pierce Morgan. Both those guys couldn’t hide their accent if they tried.”

  “I spend a lot of time in the States and had a lot of voice training. I can do whatever accent fits the situation.”

  “Okay, that’s cool. But again... who are you? We established you’re British, but tell me why the paparazzi treated you as if you are the love child of Lindsay Lohan and Justin Bieber.”

  “Oh, Josiah,” she laughed. “I’m the Duchess of Windsor.”

  “You’re royalty?” I asked.

  “Most Duchesses are.”

  Holy crap! I was really taken aback. “Does the paparazzi treat all royalty like that?”

  “No, unfortunately, I have made headlines as of late.”

  “How?”

  “Well, I dated Mario Moses.”

  “The sports billionaire, Mario Moses? The guy who owns the Knicks and the Bears? Are you kidding me?” I had no idea I was sitting next to the Paris Hilton of England.

  “No, I wish I was. He w
as old enough to be my dad.”

  “Why did you date him?”

  “Cause he’s richer than God.” She settled in and said, “He moved down here for a while and we had a few ugly fights in public. The photos and gossip were splayed all over the tabloids in both England and the United States. I’m actually shocked that you have no idea who I am.”

  “Don’t be. I have never watched TMZ and I just don’t keep up on the gossip on your side of the pond.” I kept up with pop culture about as much as I did with women’s fashion. It just didn’t happen. Some of my Nikes sneaker were from the last century. Collector items.

  Helen smiled at me. “It’s actually refreshing to not have someone recognize me. It is nice to know that there is someone out in the world that has no idea who I am.”

  “Well, dear, I’ve been a little busy the last couple of months, saving the world.”

  She smiled and poured me in a drink. “I bet you have.” Helen had no idea how true of a statement that actually was.

  “That explains why there was no one sitting in the last eight rows. That was for your benefit. How was I able to get a seat in your row?”

  Helen grinned. “Some things are left to fate. I asked them to allow any 18- to 24-year-old male who was by himself to buy a window ticket in my row. Little did I know he was going to be one of the hottest guys I’ve had the pleasure of meeting in quite some time.”

  Her comment made me blush, or whatever vampires do when they get embarrassed. I doubt blood rushed to my face, but then, who knew?

  “So, now that you know this bit of info, do you still want to accompany me tonight at the dinner?”

  I grinned. “I actually liked the fact that you were a record producer. I thought I was going to meet Sir Paul McCartney tonight.”

  “Well, I burn songs on my computer and label all my CD’s ‘Helen’s Mixes.’ I can give you one if you like. And, I think Paul just might be showing up.”

  “Paul? You just called one of the greatest musicians by his first name only. Are you kidding me? He might be showing up?”

  “He usually comes to all the soirees put on by the British elite.”

  “Wow, I’m the hugest Beatles fan! Holy crap!”

  “Don’t get all star-struck, Josiah.”

  “Are you kidding? We’re talking about the greatest band of all time!”

  “So, I take it you still want to come. Even knowing that I’m a Duchess and we’ll probably be hounded by more paparazzi?”

  “Oh, I’m coming,” I said catching my breath. “You can count on that. Romania can wait.”

  The limo pulled into a special entrance at the biggest and nicest hotel I had ever seen. It looked like a palace.

  “Oh, by the way,” Helen said, “If you’d like to stay longer, I’ll set you up on a private plane to Romania whenever you’re ready to go. So, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. Go check out Stonehenge, you Yanks seem to get off on looking at those big monoliths!”

  I was trying to wrap my mind around everything Helen was telling me. This kind of thing didn’t happen to me every day. As a matter of fact, this kind of thing didn’t happen to anyone. “I just might do that,” I said.

  “Who knows? Maybe I’ll accompany you, if you choose to do some sight-seeing.”

  “Maybe,” I said, still thinking about the concept of seeing a Beatle in mere hours. It eclipsed my thoughts of a possible Tower of London tour. Our eyes met and I looked away, fast, seeing something in her eyes past friendliness. More intimate.

  Uh oh! Don’t get smitten at her power here, Josiah. Don’t forget your goal. You have a lot of people depending on you.

  It was just nice to take a break. Life had been going a hundred miles an hour. It was nice to talk to someone who wasn’t a vampire or a werewolf and was just normal. I looked over at Helen, her sleek, silky legs crossed on the cushy velvety limousine seats. Well, maybe not too normal. For example, I didn’t see a seatbelt in sight. It felt weird to worry about that when I was the savior of the Mani world, but I liked seatbelts. I’d take human at this point. She saw me looking at the seats.

  “You don’t have a suitcase?” Helen asked. “You took a trip halfway across the world and you didn’t bring anything?”

  “When I travel, I take half the clothes and twice the money,” I joked. “I’m a man with simple needs,” I said with a cool wink.

  “That you are,” she said, knowing I was kidding. Helen pulled a card out of her wallet. “Call this number, and tell him your jacket and trouser measurements and I’ll take care of the bill.”

  “Oh, you really don’t have to do anything like that. I’m pretty low maintenance,” I said.

  “It’s one thing to be low maintenance and it’s another to be no-maintenance. You will need some new threads for tonight, as my escort. I know this James Dean, leather jacket, tight jeans style works for you–I mean you definitely got me hot, all you needed was the sideburns–but even James Dean couldn’t go to Cinderella’s ball dressed like that.”

  “Great, what did I get myself into?” I said, smiling. I stepped out of the limo, and a bellhop was there to greet me. “Your bags, sir?”

  “No bags,” I said.

  The bellhop looked at me with a bit of disdain. Apparently, we were going to do the whole Pretty Woman bit.

  “Are we really going to play this game Belvedere?” I said. “I don’t have a bag, the Duchess is putting me up and I don’t tip. So, if we’re straight on the details, please let me know where my room is, so I can actually shower before the royal shindig.”

  Helen peeked her head out of the limo, “Well, Josiah, the shindig is in two hours. So, you’ll need to be dressed to the nines in one.” She gave me a wink and the chauffer shut the limo door.

  Then Belvedere showed me up to my room. We took the freight elevator. My room was on the top floor. I asked him to show me how to make international calls from my bedside phone. How positively archaic. A land line. I hadn’t used one for years. He obliged me and then waited by the door, like a freaking butler.

  “I wasn’t kidding about the tip. I only have American cash, and from what I can tell, my money is cents on the dollar to your British currency.”

  The bell hop calmly looked straight ahead, as if he was a royal guard himself. “American money is just as good to me, sir. I’m not a snob.”

  I got up and pulled my wallet out. I had five one-hundred dollar bills in my wallet. Hector had given me his credit card that had a $100,000 limit on it. Money wasn’t going to be a problem as long as places took credit cards and didn’t sneer at my California driver’s license.

  “It’s not your lucky day, Belvedere. I only have hundred dollar bills. But, I do have a $25 Hard Rock Cafe gift card that my roommate gave me for Christmas that I never used. I saw one of those restaurants on the way in. So here you go.” I handed him the Hard Rock gift card. “Twenty-five American dollars gift card to a novelty restaurant.”

  “Great,” he said, smugly, “I’ll get the nachos.”

  “I’d go with the steak fajitas myself, but I’ve been told that you Brits are not one for taste. I mean please, you eat kidneys for breakfast! So, if you don’t mind, Belvedere, I need to shower up.”

  I shook his hand, and something out of the ordinary happened. I had flashes of light in my brain and images were forming. I saw three men talking to Belvedere and giving him money. I let go of his hand quickly, because the vision had shocked my system. That had never happened before. I didn’t know how to use my gifts correctly, and apparently that was another one I now had at my disposal.

  The bellhop left the room and I stood by the door. That image freaked me out. I hadn’t expected anything like that to happen. It was as if the Triat was trying to speak to me. I got an unintentional vision and I didn’t know what to make of it.

  I flung open the door and Belvedere was at the freight elevator, waiting for it to come back up.

  “Hey,” I yelled down the hall. “Hold up.” I ran up to hi
m knowing that I somehow needed to touch him again. It is unusual to a touch a man that you hardly knew, so I need to be crafty. “Hey, I would like to apologize for being rude,” I said, in my good-guy voice.

  “No problem, sir.” He was clearly suspicious of me.

  “What is your real name?” I asked. “I noticed you don’t have your employee badge.”

  “It’s Maxwell, sir.”

  “Okay, Maxwell, here is a better tip for taking my abuse earlier.”

  “You really don’t need to, sir.”

  “I insist.” I reached back into my pocket and pulled my wallet back out. I took out a hundred and handed it to him. I made a point to hold his hand while we exchanged the money. When our hands touched, I saw the same flash of light. I saw the three men again. They were with Pudgy. I focused and saw they were in a coffee shop. Someone was handing them a large sum of money.

  Maxwell let go of my hand, forcefully. He probably thought I was making a pass at him. “Thank you, sir, you are too kind,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Crap! I needed to know who was paying them. Maxwell turned around and faced the elevator. I reached out my hands and said, “Is this made of suede, Maxwell?” I placed both my palms on his back tightly.

  I, again, saw the three men and Maxwell. And now, there was a woman in the picture. The woman said, “Don’t kill him, but put him to the test.” Then the woman stood up and all I could see was her back.

  Maxwell pulled away and I grabbed his shoulders. “Man, you’re toned, Maxwell!” I began massaging his shoulders. The image appeared again and I saw who the woman was. It was Helen.