by M. L. Guida
He robbed her breath. Deirdre plastered her hands against the wall and turned her head.
Stay where you are. He can’t see you.
Wanting to believe him and holding her breath, she forced herself to stay still. Glass shattered downstairs.
Brandon ran away from the closet, his footsteps thundering. “Deirdre!”
Deirdre wiped away her tears and gasped. Brandon was gone. He hadn’t seen her. Janus had been telling the truth. She edged back into the closet and was surprised there were another couple of feet before she ran into a wall. Her teeth chattered and she wrapped her arms around her waist. But how long would this work? Janus said sunlight weakened him. Would Brandon be able to see her if he came back?
Like a hurricane, Brandon howled and objects crashed and smashed. His threats turned even uglier. She hugged the wall and wished she was a mouse and could escape through a dark hole.
He won’t find you. I’ll be there soon.
“The sun?”
It’s after twelve o’clock noon and I can leave. I’ll come for you. I’ll always come for you.
She shook her head. A headache thumped between her temples and she rubbed them. Her vision clouded and the dark closet swirled around her. She blinked. Suddenly, she was in a snowy park. But she wasn’t cold. Where the hell was she?
She watched a woman run through the park. Wait. It was her. In a long red dress and a fur cloak. Someone was screaming for her. A man.
A cloaked figure approached her. The blond man’s top hat hid his face. He was tall and muscular like Brandon.
He pulled something out of his long black coat. A crossbow. Deirdre watched herself step away from him. She could feel the fear growing in her other herself.
The man fired. An arrow slammed into her shoulder. She stumbled and crumbled to the snowy ground. He laughed and said something, but she couldn’t make out the words. Was he British? What did that mean?
The vision faded and she was back in the dark closet.
Deirdre, I won’t let anything happen to you.
Janus had promised once before. But he hadn’t been there. The memory vanished.
Was it a memory or had he planted a dream?
Chapter Seven
Although weariness gripped him, Janus forced himself to wake. He rolled to the side and pushed himself off the bed. His muscles were stiff and his limbs were wobbly. God, how could he fight Brandon when he was as weak as a jellyfish?
The digital clock read twelve thirty. Christ, no wonder. The sun was draining his vampire power and all he wanted to do was sleep.
He rested his head on his hand. “Come on. Move.”
Gritting his teeth, he stood. His body swayed and he fell back down onto the bed. He shook his head and shoved himself off the bed. He staggered and reached out his arm. He leaned on the door jamb struggling to catch his breath. This sucked.
Concentrate. Wake up, damn it.
Janus stumbled into the bathroom and threw ice cold water onto his face. He shivered, but he still wanted to fall back to sleep. He turned on the shower and jumped into the freezing water. Sleep faded. The cold pricks of water pounded on his skin and his sludgy blood pulsed through him. Deirdre. She needed him.
He stepped out of the shower and whipped on his clothes. He hoped his leather jacket and pants protected him from the blazing sun. Where were his damn gloves? He didn’t have time to look and was forced to wear knit gloves. He grabbed his sunglasses and headed out the door.
Deirdre, I’m coming. Stay where you are.
He keeps returning to this room. I think he knows I’m here. Hurry. Before it’s too late.
Janus gripped the jeep’s wheel and the plastic cracked. Stay calm.
He released the fractured wheel and wiped his hands on his pants.
He’s standing outside the door.
Janus forced himself to grab the wheel without ripping it apart. He slammed into gear and tore out of his parking lot. Dirt and dust flew out from the tires. He swerved around a slow moving truck and sped up the hillside. Be still. I’m half way there.
He grabbed the closet door and threw it aside. He’s got a flashlight. Oh, God. No!
Stay away from me.
Janus!
Leave me alone. Janus knows where I am. No!
Her screams rang in Janus’s ears.
“Deirdre!” Janus yelled for her, but she didn’t answer him. He tried to contact her again and again. The terrible silence ripped into his sanity.
He clenched his fist and pounded the wheel. The wheel’s crack widened. He pulled in his vampire strength before he severed the damn wheel. He’d never get there in time if he had to walk. Deirdre had to be unconscious. She had to be alive. She couldn’t be dead. Not after all this time, he’d be hunting her.
But what if Brandon killed her? Shit, he could lose her again.
He whirled the jeep up another mountain road. The jeep’s wheels screeched. Dust flew everywhere. He squealed around a bicycle and drove over a bush. He slammed on the brakes and avoided hitting a limousine. After the limousine pulled around him, he gunned the engine. He sped past sprawling mansions and guarded gated communities, coveted by the rich and famous. Fool. Maybe Brandon’s little hideout would keep out humans, but vampires? Hardly.
Janus reached Brandon’s black gate and slammed on his brakes. He barreled out of the jeep and grimaced. The sun beat down on him, roasting him. Blisters broke out under his clothes. Steam rose from his hands. The damn gloves were barely a flimsy barrier. None of it mattered. He’d walk through fiery lava for Deirdre.
The twenty foot fence had barbed wire running along the top. Probably electrical, too. He smiled. Time for Brandon to meet his new foe.
He bent his knees and jumped, easily clearing the gate. His jeep was still parked in front of the key pad and he could have used his powers to punch in the numbers rather than bolt over the fence. But he wanted Brandon to see the empty jeep. Wanted him to get nervous. Nervousness meant mistakes. Mistakes meant success.
A note was taped to the door. Leave or she’s dead.
He raced inside the house and stilled. Broken glass, shattered ceramics and shredded pillows littered the living room, but he couldn’t detect any movements, any shouts, any telepathy. Where was Brandon?
He used his mind and called. Deirdre?
Still no answer.
He inhaled and her fragrant scent of roses filled the air. If she were dead, the scent would be different. Dried. But it was fresh and alive. Where was she?
Pressing his body against the wall, he edged through the mansion. Each time he peered around a corner, he braced himself to face Brandon, but he was met with surprise. No Brandon. No Deirdre.
But she was here. Somewhere.
Bloody hell. Deirdre, answer me damn it.
He ignored his sizzling body, he leaned his head back against the wall. Sunset was six hours away, but as it approached, he’d grow stronger.
Just inhale.
Concentrate.
Roses.
Opening his eyes, he followed the scent. He started up the stairs and his heart stopped. Drops of red stained the steps. He raced up the stairs, ready to rip Brandon apart. He hurried down the hall, following a path of shattered glass to a bedroom. A wooden closet door was thrown on top of the bed. The scent of roses diminished, but she’d been here.
He tilted his head back and inhaled again. Ignoring the panic gripping him, he followed the scent. It led him downstairs and past the living room with overstuffed chairs and sofa. He walked into a huge stainless steel kitchen. At the counter, two bar stools were askew and on the counter were a couple of rose china dishes. One of the plates had bits of egg while the other contained an uneaten omelet. A bloody hand print turned his insides out. Where the hell was she?
He sniffed again. He approached the French glass doors that led to the backyard and the scent was stronger. He leaned against the kitchen wall and peered through the glass. Lawn chairs surrounded an Olympic-sized pool
and hot tub. Evergreen, fruit trees and hibiscus bushes lined the green manicured lawn. Palm trees swayed in the wind and he froze. Someone lay on a lounge chair behind a lemon tree, only their legs showing. Feminine ankles were handcuffed to the chair. The right one twisted at an odd angle. Deirdre.
The untied curtains of a white cabana swayed in the wind. Behind the wispy drapes a large shadow loomed, stood still but for the barrel of a gun poking through. He smiled. Idiot. Bullets couldn’t kill him. Only irritate him.
However, Deirdre was between him and the gun. If he came bolting out the French doors, Brandon could miss and hit Deirdre. A chance he wasn’t willing to make. He ventured up the stairs and discovered a bedroom that had a balcony facing the backyard. He eased the door opened and stepped out. The sun burned and he flinched. Crap!
Despite the pain, at the edge of the balcony, he leapt and landed in a mango tree. He wished the damn branches would shield him from the sun, but no such luck. Brandon would pay for this.
He edged down the tree one branch at a time, forcing himself not to rush. Deirdre’s head was twisted to the side. Bruises marred her beautiful face and blue and black finger marks darkened around her slender neck. Her chest rose up and down. A lump formed in his throat. He’d been afraid, so damn afraid she could be dying. He had to get her out of there.
He landed on the ground, inches from Deirdre, but still hidden from the cabana. He flicked his wrists and the handcuffs fell from her wrists and ankles.
“Deirdre, wake,” he whispered.
He peered around the tree and the barrel of the gun was aimed toward the mango tree. Deirdre hadn’t heard him, but Brandon sure did.
“Deirdre, I command you to wake.”
Her eyes fluttered and she groaned. “Janus?”
“I’m here.”
She shifted her right hand. “I can’t move.” Tears welled in her eyes. “My ankle.”
His gut tightened. “I know it hurts. You can move. Fall to the ground. Trust me.”
“He’ll shoot me.”
Janus stepped out from behind the tree. “No, he won’t.”
“Janus, no.”
The revolver fired and hot pain seared into Janus’ right shoulder. He gritted his teeth, biting back a hiss.
Brandon emerged out of the cabana with the gun in his hand. “You should have followed my instructions, Morano. You’re dead.”
Ignoring the pain, Janus glared. “Aren’t you the least bit interested in how I got here?”
Deirdre rolled off the lounge chair. “Brandon, please.” She cried out. Her silky hair shielded her face and she laid on the ground panting. She inched forward as if she could help.
“Hide, Deirdre,” Janus ordered.
Brandon lifted the revolver and slowly pulled the trigger. “Like I couldn’t find her.”
The bullet smacked into the middle of Janus’s chest and wetness drizzled down his chest.
Brandon smiled and lowered the gun.
Janus staggered back from the impact. Deirdre screamed.
“Dead center in the heart. I never miss a shot.”
Janus cracked his neck. “Think again.”
Brandon’s smirk faded and his eyes widened. “You should be dead.”
“You’re right. I am.” He seized the gun and tossed it into the pool.
“How can this—”
Janus grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him into the air. “I’m a vampire.” He tilted his head. “Deirdre is no longer yours.”
“You’re crazy.” Brandon beat on Janus’ hands. “There are no such things as vampires.”
Janus’s fangs lengthened and he opened his mouth.
“It’s a trick.” Brandon squirmed and kicked Janus in the gut.
Janus lifted him high into the air. “Still don’t believe, foolish human?”
He shook Brandon hard and threw him into the pool. Water splashed onto the cement and splattered onto Janus’s face. The water cooled his burning skin.
His clothes floating around him, Brandon flailed in the pool, panicked and gasping for air. “I can’t swim!”
“He’s a bastard, Janus,” Deirdre whispered. “But don’t let him die. I want him to go to jail.”
Janus was tired and hurt and it was Brandon’s fault. Brandon kept slipping under water. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.
He dove into the pool. Brandon clung onto him like a frightened child. Pathetic. Janus swam to the side and lifted Brandon out of the pool. The man coughed up water and rolled to his side. Janus jumped out of the water and headed for Deirdre. Her face pale, she was propped up against the trunk of the palm tree. She gave him a weak smile, but it faded and her eyes widened.
“Janus, look out!”
Janus whirled around, but due to the unforgiving sun, he wasn’t fast enough. Brandon sliced his arm with a kitchen knife, clear to the bone. “Damn you,” Janus gritted his teeth.
Brandon laughed and wiped the blade on his shirt. “That’s what you get for throwing me in the pool.” He tossed the blade between his hands. “Come on prick. What are you going to do now?”
Janus’s arm hung limp at his side and blood rushed down onto the cement. “You’re pissing me off,” Janus warned.
“Like I care. Bring it on.”
Deirdre tilted her head. “Brandon, you’re a fool. He’ll kill you.”
Janus stiffened. “I won’t kill him unless he leaves me no choice.”
“Right, you’re the big bad vampire.”
“Yes, I am,” Janus whispered.
Brandon lunged and Janus darted out of the way. He grabbed Brandon’s wrist and twisted. The blade clattered onto the ground and Janus kicked it to the side. Brandon screamed and fell to his knees. “My wrist, you broke my god damn wrist.”
Janus loomed over Brandon. “I’ll do worse than that if you ever come near her again.”
“Your eyes,” Brandon said. “What happened to them? They’re red.”
“Yes,” he said. Sweat leaked into Janus’s eyes and he swayed. His vision blurred and he saw two of Brandon rather than one. Shit, the damn sun.
“Janus?”
Deirdre. She sounded far away. Dizziness gripped him. Janus shook his head. “I’m fine.”
Brandon dragged himself up. “You don’t look fine.” He chuckled. “I’m going to kill you.”
“Don’t try it Brandon,” Janus warned.
“Like you’re going to stop me,” he said. He held his wrist and scampered alongside the pool to scoop up the knife.
Janus swayed and gritted his teeth. The damn fool.
“Janus, what’s wrong?”
“Need blood,” he said.
“Blood?” She gagged out the word.
Janus winced. God, she thought he was a monster.
Brandon charged him again and Janus braced himself. Dizziness swept over him and his insides burned as if someone had lit his intestines on fire. He held up his palm, trying to draw on his power. Blood. He thirsted for it. His pores screamed for nourishment.
Lifting his arm high over his head, Brandon yelled. “Die, you sick…”
Power surged through his veins and tingles swept over Janus. Brandon slowed. His face contorted into rage.
Janus grew light-headed, the yard swirled around him. Nausea gripped him and bile churned in his mouth. His power slipped.
Brandon darted forward, the blade over his head. Janus drew on more power and it radiated through him. Brandon stopped and swore. Janus couldn’t make out his words. Didn’t care what he was saying.
Janus fell onto his knees and gasped for breath. Brandon edged nearer.
“Brandon, leave him alone,” Deirdre cried.
“One dead make-believe vampire,” Brandon said.
Janus gritted his teeth, pulling on his power, but it failed to respond. The more he bled, the more the power diminished. His arm fell to his side. The sun. Curse it.
Brandon broke through Janus’s shield and plowed into him. Janus fell flat on his back. The basta
rd jammed the blade toward his neck and Janus clutched his wrist. It was a tug of war. The blade inched back and forth, but each time, it got closer and closer to Janus’s jugular.
“She’s mine,” Brandon promised, spit drizzling out of his mouth, splattering onto Janus’ cheek.
Clamping his jaw tight, Janus placed all his effort into his shaking hand, holding onto Brandon’s wrist. He tightened his grip and Brandon cried out, but he held onto the damn knife. His eyes were wild and he gnashed his teeth. A rabid dog.
The tip of the blade inched toward his neck. Janus’s vision blurred again and Brandon split into two frothing Brandon’s. God, he was dead. After all this time, he’d found Deirdre only to lose her again…
A shot rang out. Brandon lurched forward. His face crumpled, blood dripping out of his mouth. Brandon’s hand slumped and Janus took his chance. He knocked the blade out of Brandon’s hand. Brandon rolled his eyes into the back of head and slumped to the side. Janus twisted away and struggled to sit. His heart was racing and pool water drenched his clothes.
Deirdre clutched the revolver and leaned against a lounge chair. Tears gushing down her face, she dropped it onto the cement. “Shit, I shot him.” She wiped her wet cheeks. “He was going to kill you. I thought—I thought you couldn’t die.”
“I can.” Did she care? He struggled to breathe as he stared at Brandon’s blood. His fangs lengthened. Just one drop. But he forced his desire back.
Deirdre put her hand over her mouth. “Is he dead?”
“No.” He studied her. She was shaken, but far from being hysterical. “Are you okay?”
She scoffed. “Hardly. And you?”
Janus ran his hand through his hair. “I’ll be fine.”
“When the sun sets?”
“Yes.”
“But you need blood?”
Why lie? “Yes. My powers are drained.”
“So you kill people to sustain your powers?”
He sighed and tilted his head back. Why couldn’t he read her thoughts? He could read her fear, confusion and frustration but when it came to love, he continued to misread her. Just like before, everything was difficult with Deirdre. “I know you don’t believe me, but I don’t kill people to take what I need. They’re woozy but not dead.”
