The Becoming asc-1

by Jeanne C. Stein

  How will I know who you are?

  I'll be driving your car.

  What? That's a ninety thousand dollar automobile. You'd better not—

  But the car is slowing and I'm jerked out of my dimwitted retort. I must be crazy, worried about my car when there's a bunch of lunatics waiting to make sure I never drive the damned thing again.

  He's right, I scold myself. Pull yourself together.

  It's a good thing I do. The unfamiliar voice in my brain warned me that the cop would not be acting alone. He is right about that, too. There are three figures outlined in the car headlights as we approach. One is holding a burning torch.

  Is that how they plan to kill me?

  Adrenaline and rage turn my blood to fire. I watch the cop's face as he stops the car and turns in the seat to look at me. Surprise flashes, replaced by a smug contempt.

  "Well, you've been busy, haven't you? But no matter. We're about to have a little bonfire. It's chilly out there, but I'm sure you'll be warm enough."

  He's stalling while his pals advance on the car. Two on the left, one on the right. A little hint of fear replaces some of the anger churning my stomach. Can I take two of these guys at once? I hadn't planned on a welcoming party.

  Your strength, the voice reassures me. Use your strength.

  All at once, I know. Instead of waiting for them to get to the car, I turn. I brace myself against the front seat and kick at the back window as hard as I can.

  Nothing.

  I hear the cop yelling in my ear. He can't reach me through the wire partition. I kick out again, this time willing every ounce of strength into my legs. With a sharp crack, the window pops out. I see from the corner of my eye the two men on my left. One of them is shouting and fumbling at the door.

  But I'm already vaulting out the back window, scooting over the trunk, scrambling toward the trees. I feel a rush of air and hear angry voices behind me.

  Then I'm running, flying over and through the forest.

  The voice said not to look back. That's no problem. I'm too afraid to look back.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Blood pounds in my ears. Adrenaline-laced fear propels me forward.

  It's the most exhilarating thing I've ever experienced.

  I've never been much of a runner, but I feel like a gazelle, sure-footed and nimble and headed in the direction of the highway with nothing but instinct to guide me. Suddenly, I'm not winded or afraid. After a moment, the yelling behind me fades. I've beaten all four of them. I've never felt so alive.

  Ironic.

  Somewhere along the way, I've broken the cuffs apart. I think it happens when I reach up to brush a low-hanging branch away from my face. One moment my wrists are bound together and the next, my hands are free. It happens with no conscious effort on my part.

  All this time, I thought I needed the key when all I really needed was to pull hard enough.

  I'm approaching the road now, so I allow myself to slow down. I'm not sure where Casper, my friendly voice, is going to be. I send out the question, but get no response.

  The sound of traffic is louder now, and I veer away from the park entrance. I don't know how long it will take the four stooges to drive back this way, but I take no chances. I stay in the tree line and out of sight. It's a climb up to the highway from here, but like running, I bound up the steep incline with no effort.

  I work my way through the thinning trees until I have a line of sight to the road. Cautiously scanning both directions, I spy my car about a quarter mile away, on this side of the highway, facing south. I wait only a heartbeat to see if there are headlights coming behind me, along the park road. When I'm sure there are none, I race across the open shoulder to the car.

  Thank you, thank you, thank you, I sing as I pull open the car door.

  There's no one inside.

  The keys are in the ignition, the engine is running. But there is no one inside. I'm disappointed, but I don't waste any time indulging it. I slip into the driver's seat, put the Jag in gear and pull out. There'll be time later to track down my new guardian angel.

  Now the question becomes where to go? These guys obviously know about me, making me wonder if it's safe to go home. On the other hand, maybe it's Avery they're watching, and anyone coming out of his compound is suspect. Could be why the cop dragged me out of the car. He saw no reflection in the car window and knew.

  There's only one way to find out.

  On the way back to Avery's, I keep checking the rear-view mirror to see if I'm being followed. I debate whether I should have gone home to change cars, but when I pull up to his driveway, I'm pretty sure I'm alone.

  The drive has taken far less time this early in the morning. I'm at the gated entrance in minutes. I don't expect the gate to be standing open, but it is, so I go on up to the house. The driveway is empty, all of Avery's guests departed. I grab my purse and head for the door.

  Like before, Avery answers the bell himself. He's dressed in the same slacks, but this time, they're topped with a red silk robe and he has doeskin slippers on his feet. He's got a book in one hand and a martini glass in the other.

  I don't wait to be invited in but breeze by with an airy wave of my hand.

  "Nice look, Avery. Very Hugh Heffner."

  He stops me by hooking a finger in one of the cuffs dangling like a clunky charm bracelet from my wrist and holding it up. “Nice look, Anna. Very Courtney Love."

  He's not surprised to see me—it doesn't come through in his expression or his thoughts. In fact, he smiles and points the martini glass in my direction.

  I didn't expect you back so soon. Would you like a drink?

  So soon? I nod and follow him into the library, working at the cuffs with the key from my purse until they open and fall free. I toss the broken cuffs onto the desk. There's a fire going in here now, and after pouring me a glass from a chilled decanter on the desk and adding a tiny skewer, we take seats in front of it.

  But you did expect me back.

  He has the good grace not to feign ignorance. He points the glass at my wrists in a mock salute.

  I heard about what happened tonight. I was not surprised at the outcome. I told you your powers are growing. Maybe now you'll believe it.

  I take a sip of the martini—gin, very dry, with two olives and a cocktail onion. Just the way I like it.

  "You were expecting me."

  Avery shrugs. “Not expecting, exactly. I thought you might have questions after your ordeal."

  I look at him over the rim of my glass. “How did you find out about it so soon?"

  "I told you, you are being watched."

  I take another taste of the martini. Did you set it up?

  That seems to surprise him. His thoughts shut down for the length of two heartbeats, then open to me again.

  No. But I thought we cleared that up earlier. If I meant to harm you, I would have done it earlier. In the hospital or at your house, when we were alone.

  Did you send someone to my aid? The person watching me, perhaps?

  This time, the surprise is genuine.

  What do you mean?

  I debate telling him. Perhaps I should keep Casper to myself. But I don't shut off quickly enough. He reads what happened before I can prevent it.

  He draws a quick, sharp breath. Interesting. Seems you have a second protector.

  Are you telling me you don't know who it was?

  He shakes his head.

  But I thought you knew everybody.

  This brings a smile. No, Anna, I don't know everybody.

  So, just how many vampires are there in San Diego?

  You mean in the City of San Diego or the entire county?

  I blow out a burst of air. Let's start with the city.

  Avery purses his lips and begins running a list of names through his head.

  I stop him when he gets to twenty. I can't keep the astonishment out of my voice. “How could this not be general knowledge? How do you manage to keep your
existence a secret with that many high profile vampires running around?"

  He arches a brow. “You mean our existence. It's taken centuries of being hunted down like animals to make us realize secrecy is our only weapon against the kind of murderous bigotry you experienced tonight. It's also the reason I told you we have to stop Donaldson. His killings are already attracting too much attention. The fact that you were picked up so soon confirms it. Perhaps they—"

  But I'm not interested in Avery's ramblings. I interrupt his train of thought with my own.

  I want to know who they are.

  Avery picks up the thread and smoothly switches mental gears. They call themselves “Revengers."

  I sniff. Cute. I suppose, like the Night Watchers, there's a story behind the name.

  Avery nods . The Revengers came into existence during the Middle Ages. The first group was formed to avenge the deaths of three crusaders killed by vampires during a particularly bloody attempt to convert some unwilling townspeople to Christianity. No matter that the crusaders had already pillaged the town and put to the sword every man and boy. It was the vampires stopping them that attracted the ire of the church. They sent a small army out to hunt them down and kill them. And they made the townspeople accomplices, though up to that time vampires lived in peace with mortals.

  I raise an eyebrow. I thought we were always the bad guys. You know, harvesting men to feed the hunger.

  Avery shakes his head. No. In fact, vampires were often protectors of a town. Night Watchers, remember?

  The original Night Watchers were vampires?

  Who better to patrol the night?

  I'm finding this all incredible. “Everything I've ever thought or heard about vampires seems not to be true,” I say. “Why all the misconception? Why don't we come out of the closet and clear things up? That would put an end to the Revengers once and for all."

  Avery shrugs. “Not possible. For one thing, who would believe us? All we would accomplish is making our individual identities known. We might as well paint a bull's eye on our backs. Secrecy is our best weapon against those who seek to destroy us."

  "Well, your identity is obviously not so secret. I figure they picked me up when I left here."

  Avery's brow wrinkles. Why would you think that?

  I flutter a hand. “Why? Because I was on my way home from here when I got stopped. And the cop wasted no time in getting me into his car. How else would he know I was a vampire?"

  "Did he shine a light in your eyes first?"

  Now it's my turn to be surprised. As a matter of fact, he did. It almost blinded me.

  And weren't you speeding when you were stopped?

  You got that from reading my thoughts, didn't you?

  He smiles a hard, cold-eyed smile. “I told you to be careful, not to call attention to yourself, didn't I? And what's the first thing you do, drive that sports car of yours 100 miles an hour down a city street. That's why you were stopped. And the light is the way they check for us. It's a high-intensity strobe bulb. It affects the vampire physiology. Disorients us. That cop wasn't looking for a vampire when he stopped you. He lucked into finding one, and you made it easy."

  I have to grudgingly concede that everything Avery said rings true. Uncertainty creeps into my consciousness. “So now they know about me, don't they?"

  Avery shoots me a black, layered look. “And you may have led them right here. To me."

  Guilt makes me turn away from Avery. I was so sure I had been picked up leaving here. The possibility that I may, in fact, have put him in danger fills me with dismay. It was a stupid, rookie mistake.

  Getting to my feet, I place the glass on a small table between our two chairs. I'd better go.

  But he's on his feet, too, and he stops me before I reach the door. His hands are on my arms.

  You can't go, Anna. It won't be safe for you to return to the cottage. You'd better stay the night.

  My first reaction is to object—to his hands on me, to the idea that I'm not safe on my own. But his touch sends an involuntary tremor through me. I try, but I can't hide the reaction. I'm suddenly flooded with the memory of how it felt when I was drinking his blood. I find myself wondering how the rest would be.

  "You can find out."

  He takes a step closer, heat and desire radiating from his skin. I feel his lips, a feather touch at the hollow of my throat, tantalizing, persuasive. I close my eyes and sway into him. His lips part. His breath burns.

  I'm lost.

  He lowers my body to the floor. His hands are gentle and sure as they gather my skirt up around my waist, unbutton my blouse, and pull it all free. His robe falls open, exposing a smooth, bare chest. I fumble with his belt, unzip his pants. He yanks them off and presses himself against me. His skin is cool beneath my fingertips, but there's heat where our bodies touch. Electricity arcs between us, and gusts of desire that shake my very being.

  Then he's inside me, and I'm inside him, passion making us one. When his blood fills my mouth, and mine, his, the raw act of mutual possession is complete. I abandon myself to a whirl of sensation, the pleasure pure and explosive.

  Nothing that has come before prepares me for this. I'm dreadfully afraid that nothing will ever be the same.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I'm glad when I awaken in Avery's big bed that I am alone. I pull myself into a sitting position from a tangle of silk sheets and look around. Sunlight from huge, arched windows illuminates a room filled with antiques—heavy, carved, and made of some rich, exotic wood.

  No dark, dank casket filled with earth from the motherland for this vampire.

  Still, I hold my head in my hands and groan.

  What have I done?

  On the nightstand, there's a decanter of coffee and a china cup, along with a single red rose in a crystal vase and a note that simply says, “You were wonderful.” I feel as if I'm living a scene from a bad romance novel.

  I groan again. The night is a blur in my mind, but I remember that there was sex—a lot of it—and the taste of blood as intoxicating as any wine.

  You were wonderful.

  No, it's not a romance novel, it's a bad fantasy novel complete with a rakish vampire and his eager protégé.

  I finger the note. Very eager protégé, evidently.

  I put a tentative hand to my neck, but there's nothing to feel. No puncture marks, no raised skin. Did I remember to do the same for Avery?

  I swing my legs out of bed. That I feel. I'm sore and chafed, and as I stumble off to find the bathroom, I wonder if Avery is having the same trouble.

  The thought that he might be a little tender today, too, brings a smile to my lips.

  Where are my clothes?

  I get the answer when I swing open the bathroom door. My dress has been neatly hung on a hangar, my panties and bra folded on the edge of the tub. It's a big tub, with Jacuzzi jets and a lot of decorative bottles promising perfumed delights.

  I succumb.

  I'm soaking in a jasmine-scented whirlpool when the first dose of reality hits.

  Max.

  What have I done?

  I sink deeper into the water.

  I was protecting, Max, wasn't I? From myself. And it's not like we're married or engaged or anything.

  Right.

  Well, we've never even talked about it. We've just had—what?

  What have Max and I had?

  I lay my head back on the cool tile. I'm already thinking of him in the past tense.

  The reality brings a wave of sadness. I love Max. I think. We've been together for almost two years—well, as together as a couple can be when one of them is an undercover Drug Enforcement agent. It's the first long-term relationship I've had in years, and it's built on mutual respect and trust.

  At least it was.

  Trust.

  I trust Max, and Max trusts me.

  Would he trust me now, if he knew about Avery?

  About Avery? Hell, what if he knew about me?

  I'
m a vampire, for chrissake. A vampire.

  "And a very beautiful one, I might add."

  Avery's voice startles me into sitting straight up in the water. I jump so high, water splashes over the side and onto the floor in a mini-riptide. I turn and glare at him.

  Don't do that. Don't sneak up on me.

  He laughs and moves toward me, stripping off a tie and shirt as he comes.

  I knew there was a reason I had that tub installed.

  He steps out of slacks and boxers and stands naked, looking down at me.

  I reach out, smiling, and caress a muscular thigh.

  "Aren't you going to invite me in?” he says at last.

  But I don't answer, my mouth is otherwise engaged.

  * * *

  Later, back in the bedroom, I stretch and yawn and look over at Avery. Don't you have to go to the hospital?

  Avery is leaning back against the headboard, his arm around me, sipping coffee from that elegant china cup.

  I went in while you were asleep. Checked on a few patients, cleared the rest of my schedule. I thought you and I might spend the day together.

  Avery, I can't spend all day here. I have to get home. I just wonder if there will be a welcoming party waiting for me.

  Avery sits up straighter. I've been thinking about that cop who picked you up last night. You know, he may not have run your license. He wouldn't want it on record that he stopped you, particularly if you suddenly disappeared. Unless he wrote your license number down somewhere, he might not be able to trace you. I'll call Captain Williams later and see what he can find out. You didn't get a badge number or name or anything, did you?

  I shake my head . I wish I'd thought of it. Everything happened too fast.

  Well, just don't drive that Jag for awhile.

  I roll toward him. “Why don't you come home with me? We can take a walk on the beach. I can show you some of my favorite haunts."

  He doesn't answer, but what he's thinking comes through loud and clear—too loud and clear. It's a good thing I can read what he's feeling as well as his thoughts. He feigns horror as he contemplates dingy, smoke-filled dives with sawdust-strewn floors populated by hygiene-challenged, shaggy-haired surfers.