A Taste of Love and Evil

by Barbara Monajem

  Jack watched the emotions travel across Rose’s face, watched her hurt, think, care, give up on something, decide something else. A reprieve.

  He put the first batch of muffins on a plate and set out butter and jam while Rose talked Juma into the shower. “I need to talk privately to Jack,” he heard her say. “I swear to God, I will not leave without letting you know first.”

  She came into the kitchen and sat down. He poured her a cup of fresh, hot tea, put a muffin on a plate, and set it before her. “Eat.”

  “I have to leave,” Rose said, not looking at him, inhaling the steam from her teacup, her knee jiggling under the table. “Stop trying to make me stay.”

  “What’s your rush? I told you, Violet won’t be awake.”

  Rose went to the window and fingered the curtain aside. The rose flush of dawn had given way to a blue and gold morning, and a mockingbird played jay outside the window. “I don’t see why Violet would send you. She knows I can take care of myself. Why didn’t she call and tell me about you?” Her gaze flickered to his and back. “Oh. She doesn’t have my cell number. She always called me at work.”

  “She just wanted me to make sure you got to her place okay. At first, I didn’t know you were the one. I was sent to find someone in a Toyota from Chicago. Eventually it became obvious, regardless of your Montana plates, that you were the woman I was looking for.” Oh, hell. A spasm of something like grief twisted his insides.

  She glanced at him again. “The Toyota was too small for my stuff. I got the van from a guy who just moved from Montana. I figured I’d get new plates here.” She was back to looking out the window, tapping her foot, uneasy for all the wrong reasons. Why couldn’t she just look at him and believe him? She was one of the few people who didn’t flinch from his gaze. He liked that. A lot.

  “Rose, I’d be happy to bring you over to Violet’s place later.”

  “No, thanks.” She scanned the street. “She had no reason not to tell me everything. Bringing the gown early was my idea.”

  “Does it really matter? For whatever reason, she didn’t want me to approach you.”

  Rose’s eyes flew back to his and away, following the mockingbird’s retreat. “Why not?”

  Jack made an impatient noise. “How should I know? She’s a vamp.” Idiot! He struggled to recover. “You have to understand, Rose, that the vampires I’ve known have been irrational and self-centered, when not downright evil. Just because you turned out to be a—”

  The bathroom door opened, and Juma came out. Shit.

  “A what?” At last, Rose faced him. Flushed, hurt and angry, open, still aroused, God only knew what. He ached to pull her close and smother her in kisses, because kisses would speak for him, while the words stuck in his craw.

  He shook his head and went to test the second pan of muffins. “They’re done.”

  “A what?” Rose asked again. Juma was rummaging in her backpack.

  Jack set the muffin pans on the counter and turned off the oven. “Different. Not like the rest.”

  Rose picked up her cup and retreated to the window again. “I guess it doesn’t matter what you were going to say.” She swallowed the rest of her tea. “What else haven’t you told me?”

  I love you.

  His nasty voice jumped in. Are you insane? You hardly know the girl.

  Yes, but he knew everything that mattered. She kept her promises, honored her confidences, and was a stickler for the truth.

  She’s a vamp.

  Hell, yes.

  Are you listening to yourself? What happened to just saying no?

  “What else?” Rose demanded, strong and stunning and yet so heedless.

  “There’s nothing else. Since you still want to go to her place, I’d prefer to fulfill my obligation to Violet and see you safely there.”

  “Your obligation is not my problem.” She set her cup on the table and left the kitchen.

  He followed. “Rose, I mean it. I believe you’re in danger. Please stay here with me.” Terror for her crawled through him, up into his throat.

  “No. I have to take care of this myself.” She unzipped her suitcase and took out a necktie, which she tossed to Juma. “This is the one I told you about yesterday. I can teach you how to make your own ties, if you like.”

  “Damn it all, Rose,” Jack said.

  She ignored him and said, “Juma, call me when you get to where you’ll be staying. I want to know that you’re okay. We’ll set up a date to get some cool fabric and make some unique ties.”

  “I guess,” Juma said sullenly.

  Rose dug further in her suitcase. She took out a small pistol and dropped it in her purse. “You can stop freaking out, Jack. If any thugs happen by, I’ll be armed.”

  Jack felt himself scowl. “You know how to use that?”

  She rolled her eyes, slung the handbag over her shoulder, and picked up the Elizabethan gown.

  Jack threw up his hands. “Fine. I’ll follow you over there.”

  “And leave Juma alone?”

  “She’s not a baby,” Jack said. “Why don’t you start breakfast, Juma? Grits in the pantry, bacon and butter in the fridge. I’ll be back in ten minutes to cook the eggs. Fifteen tops.”

  Rose huffed and took off down the stairs. Jack grabbed the keys to his Porsche and followed.

  She had to get away. She couldn’t think straight with Jack around. She couldn’t look at him without yearning to trust him. She thought he meant well, but…He was holding something back. Uneasiness suffused his voice, colored his pleas.

  Not his kisses, though.

  Oh, God in Heaven, it was as if he’d poured his heart and soul into those kisses. She’d kissed far too many men, but no one’s kisses spoke to her like Jack’s. Like he was talking to her and her alone, like he belonged to her alone. Not a sexual thrall, not a besotted fool—she’d had plenty of those—but a strong, dependable, passionate man.

  It wasn’t just skill. She’d had men with bedroom skills. Sure, he had a talented mouth and capable hands. And aggressive! He’d pushed her so high, so fast—but that wasn’t the point. He’d brought tears to her eyes. No man had ever done that.

  She didn’t give him a chance to offer to lead the way. Rather, she tore out of the alley entrance while he was still peeling the cover off his car. At the first stoplight, she pulled the map she’d printed before leaving Chicago out from the pocket in the driver’s side door. She mustn’t let his prejudices and fears affect her. Soon she would be at Violet’s place, and everything would be fine. She would have a happy customer, maybe even a new friend, and a fresh start in life.

  A dark Porsche idled behind her van. Judging by the size and shape, it might be Jack’s.

  In less than five minutes, she reached the purple Victorian where Violet Dupree lived. No obvious thugs lurked nearby. She puttered past the house, down the live oak-lined street and around the block past the entrance to Blood and Velvet, which shared a back alley with Violet’s house, but nothing was going on. A few cars, a school bus, a TV news van, and not much else. The club district of Bayou Gavotte slept in the morning. The Porsche had disappeared, and no one else seemed to have followed her. So much for danger.

  She pulled into the driveway of Violet’s house. The purple paint was just subdued enough to be pleasant, and the offwhite trim made the house look only vaguely like a gigantic cake. A porch swing, its chains motionless, hung below the veranda rail, along which sat five ceramic pots of pansies. From behind a glossy green bush—gardenia, maybe—a gray ceramic cat peeked with sly purple eyes. Cypresses lined the walkway to the rear, and camellias hung heavy with white blossoms on either side of the front steps.

  It seemed a friendly house in the morning sunshine, but a sleepy one, blinds drawn upstairs, curtains closed below. Ah, except for a small window at one side of the door, behind which sat a calico cat, a real one this time. The cat closed and opened its eyes at her and began to wash.

  Rose watched and stewed for a moment or t
wo, until a black Mercedes sporting a TONY’S PIZZA sign on the roof pulled up across the street. Rose’s alarm signals stirred. Mercedes owners didn’t commonly deliver pizza, and pizza wasn’t usually ordered for breakfast.

  She stole a quick glance at the driver, but he didn’t look her way until he’d exited the car and taken a couple of pizza boxes off a rack in the back. When he lazily took stock of her, her alarms went ballistic. An older guy with grizzled hair, a former bruiser by the look of him. Black T-shirt with rolled sleeves showing his forearms, barrel chest, and a lavish moustache beneath a nose that had been broken more than once. So much for no thugs.

  The bruiser left the pizzas on the roof of his car and strolled across the street toward her. He didn’t look threatening, and the tantalizing aroma of fresh, hot pizza reached Rose through the closed window. She hadn’t taken even a bite of muffin, and she was ravenous.

  She frowned down the street. No sign of Jack, and no way of knowing if he was there. Maybe she should have listened to him. She put a hand on the gun in her purse.

  “Problem, lady?”

  The bruiser had a gorgeous grin. Whoa. It took all Rose’s strength not to grin back. The alarms he sent up now were of a totally different kind, but he had an endearing twinkle, and far as she could tell, he wasn’t carrying. She shot another glance down the street and caught a flicker of movement by a massive live oak.

  She rolled the window down an inch. “Is this Violet Du-pree’s place?”

  “Who wants to know?” The guy’s grin was mesmerizing.

  “I have an appointment with her.” Rose glanced down the street again.

  “Not at this time of day, you don’t,” the pizza guy said. “Vi’s never up before noon. Better come back later.” He followed the direction of her eyes. “What are you looking at?”

  Crap. “Not at,” Rose said. “For. Signs of danger.”

  The guy scanned the street. “Nobody dangerous here but me.” He winked and went back to his car for the pizzas.

  Jack slipped partly into view in shades of gray and brown under a canopy of Spanish moss. His arms were folded, and his posture calm. So, the pizza guy was okay.

  Rose looked away. It hurt to meet Jack’s eyes, even if she couldn’t feel their intensity at this distance; it hurt to know he only cared from a sense of obligation. The memory of that kiss intensified the pain. Deliberately, she focused on this older guy, whose grin was to die for and whose body language promised incredible, incomparable sex—

  Oh!

  She jumped down from the van and leaped up the walk after the pizza guy. “Excuse me, but are you by any chance a vampire?”

  The man tossed a smile over his shoulder, revealing gleaming fangs.

  “That is so cool. I don’t know why I find it so reassuring,” Rose said, as much to herself as to the pizza guy, “but I do.” She hurried up the steps beside the first male vampire she’d ever seen. “If Violet’s not awake, why are you delivering pizza to her place?”

  “It’s not for Vi.” He rapped on the door and the cat stalked away from the window, its tail in the air. Turning to Rose with an appraising expression that shouldn’t have been reassuring at all, he stuck out his free hand. “Tony Karaplis. Pleased to meet you.”

  She gripped it briefly: firm, warm, strong. “Rose Fairburn.”

  Tony chuckled. “You feel reassured because you know that although I’m unbelievably attractive, I won’t come on to you.”

  “I do?”

  “Vamp-vamp sex? Hell, no. Nobody sticks their fangs into me. Besides, my specialty is hard-up women, and although I can see you’re susceptible right now, no vamp’s hard up except by choice.” He rattled the doorknob, banged on the door, and bellowed, “Zelda! Open up!” He reached out a rough finger and gently rubbed Rose’s forehead. “Don’t look so worried, baby. Why do you suppose I hang out with Vi and little Zelda? Because they don’t come on to me.”

  Rose goggled. “How did you know I’m a vamp? I didn’t smile, and I thought I had my allure clamped down.”

  “I’ve been around,” Tony said. “You’ve got a glow.”

  The curtains swung partway open, a pale face appeared, and the door was flung wide by a scrawny, freckled teenybopper with orange hair sprinkled with black dots. “Finally,” she said, “I’m starved,” and then her face scrunched into a dubious evaluation of Rose. “I don’t mean to be rude, but—”

  “Then don’t be,” Tony said. “There’s plenty of pizza for three.”

  Zelda hooked her thumbs in the pockets of her jeans and blocked the doorway. “Tony, I need to talk to you. I can’t do that with one of your girlfriends here.” She reduced her voice to a whisper. “She’s young enough to be your daughter. Mom will be so mad.”

  “She’s not one of my girls,” Tony replied patiently. “Her name is Rose. She has an appointment with your mom.”

  Zelda’s face opened into a huge, dazzling, definitely vampire smile. “You’re Rose? Whoopee!” Just as abruptly she closed down, peering through the doorway at the van, then scanning the street. “You’re not Rose. Rose drives a Toyota. Do you see a Toyota? I don’t see a Toyota.”

  “Because I don’t have one anymore,” Rose said.

  Zelda stuck her chin out. “I bet you don’t even have Illinois plates. Imposter!”

  Cripes. “I can explain that,” Rose began.

  “If you’re here to mess with my mom—” Zelda’s fangs popped down. She squeaked and clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh, crap!”

  Tony rolled his eyes. “Zelda, you’re acting way too much like Vi these days.”

  Zelda slumped. Tony gave her a gentle shove and motioned Rose ahead of him. Before he closed the door, Rose glimpsed a dark blue Porsche passing by.

  She followed Zelda into an elegant living room with a toile de Jouy sofa and drapes. Tony set the pizza boxes on the coffee table. “Even your mom knows better than to lose it in front of a complete stranger. Fortunately, Rose is a vampire, too.”

  “I hate being a vampire.” Zelda’s voice throbbed. “I don’t want to have a temper. I hate my fangs slotting down about nothing.” She rounded on Rose, fangs still partway down. “Not that I’m saying this is nothing. You’ve got some explaining to do, and you’ll have to get past me to get to my mom.”

  “Cool it, Zelda. If she means Vi any harm, I’ll deal with her.” Tony turned a perfectly terrifying gaze on Rose, and then winked.

  “Since I don’t mean any harm, that’s fine with me.” Rose positioned herself on the couch where she could see her van out the big front window. The calico cat reappeared, its nose twitching toward the pizza.

  Zelda dumped paper plates on the table and opened the pizza boxes. “Thank you, Tony. You’re the best.” She squeezed off some melted cheese and gave it to the cat.

  After a couple of bites of what must be the best pizza outside of Chicago, Rose felt a hell of a lot better.

  So did Zelda, it seemed. “Sorry, guys. I’m overtired. I was up half the night, because Mom came home all pissed off and freaked out and worried about Rose. The real Rose.”

  “Hey! I am the real Rose.” Rose explained the purchase of the van and dug a business card out of her handbag. Zelda read it skeptically, but Tony didn’t seem to care.

  A male vampire. Out of the corner of her eye that wasn’t keeping watch on the van, Rose scoped Tony out. He wasn’t any where close to handsome, but…No wonder her mother had been so smitten she’d forgotten common sense and, unfortunately, birth control. Except that if she hadn’t forgotten birth control, Rose wouldn’t have been born. Thank heaven for male vamps.

  Zelda said, “If you’re a vamp, why do you keep gawking at Tony? That’s, like, practically incest.” The cat leaped onto the coffee table, and she pushed it off again. “And if you’re the real Rose, why are you sneaking looks out front like your reinforcements are coming?”

  “You are the most suspicious kid I’ve ever met. I’m scoping Tony out because it helps me finally understand why
my mother ended up pregnant with me. I almost find myself sympathizing with her.” She considered. “It also helps me understand why guys go so nuts about me. I’ve never been able to see it from the other side before, and it makes me feel like less of a freak.”

  Zelda pushed the cat off the table again. “You never saw a guy vamp before?” She fed the cat more cheese.

  “Nope,” Rose said. “I’ve never met my dad. I don’t even know his name. Until today, I’d only met two girl vamps, and I wasn’t impressed by either of them. I’ve been a misfit since I sprouted my fangs, and if your mom hadn’t been so wonderful to me in the online vamp group…” Rose shook her head. “She helped me out when I was really low.”

  Zelda nodded wisely. “It’s the vamp destiny to help those crossed in love. Or just in trouble.” She focused her teenybopper eagle eye on Rose. “Which is why I won’t let anybody mess with Mom, because she’s the greatest. Why are you looking out the window?”

  “I’m keeping an eye on my van. If you get to be paranoid about your mother, then I can be paranoid about the dress I slaved over for her.”

  Zelda shrieked. “You’ve got the dress?” The cat skittered back from the table.

  “Of course I’ve got the dress. Why else would I be here?” “Wahoo!” hollered Zelda. “Go get it! I’ll wake up Mom!” Two minutes later, Rose brought the gown and mantle indoors, with Tony carrying the tailor’s dummy. Rose assembled the dress on the dummy, stuffing the sleeves with cardboard tubes and adjusting the skirt over the bum roll. It would look even more impressive with the wings, but she hadn’t had time to make them yet. She draped the mantle across a chair just as Zelda clattered down the polished wood staircase from the upper floor.

  “Oh, wow,” Zelda said. “That is so unrepentantly cool.”

  A curvy lady floated down the stairs dressed in a sheer white cotton nightgown, red hair flying around her shoulders. “Oh, darlings,” Violet Dupree said as she stepped off the bottom step. “It’s perfect. What a dreadful shame I can’t use it.”