Stake and Dust (Stake and Dust series, Book I)

by Karen Michelle Nutt

  "It was so good to meet you, boy," she told Shakespeare. His hound answered her with a slobbery kiss and she laughed.

  Tremayne really liked her laugh. He liked everything about her. She glanced his way with a smile and he returned the gesture as he stood.

  When they headed downstairs and outside, Shakespeare trotted behind on their heels. It seemed his hound dog still didn't trust him around Cassandra or perhaps his dog fell under her enchantment as he had.

  Once she was seated in her vehicle, she rolled down the window. "I had a nice time today," she told him.

  "Me too." He shoved his hands in his pockets. Too much fun, and he really wanted to see her again. "Can I call on you tomorrow or rather today?" he asked before he could stop himself from thinking this through.

  Her lips curved. "I'd like that, but you really need to get some rest." There was that frown again. "You look...really tired. You should have kicked me out of your bed."

  "It'll never happen," he said with a grin and wondered where in the heck he learned to flirt with such ease? She blushed and didn't it just make her all the more attractive with soft pink coloring her cheeks.

  "How about I meet you at the pub later today?" she offered.

  She cleverly sidestepped around his comment, but at least it hadn't scared her off. "I'll be there at six," he told her.

  "Sounds good."

  He stood there in his driveway until her lights were a mere dot on the horizon. Shakespeare nudged his hand with a whine, and he patted him on the head. "I know. I didn't want her to go either."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Cassandra hadn't expected to fall asleep, and in Tremayne's bed of all things. She hadn't totally ruled out her suspicion he was a preternatural being, but so far the only threat he posed was making her fall for his charms.

  Her Otherworldly radar was usually spot on. She believed Tremayne was a vampire. Wasn't that just a kick in the pants? How could she be so wrong about the guy? "He had no problem walking in the sun," she murmured, and she had half expected him to burst into flames the moment he stepped outside the pub. "But he's hiding something," she spoke to herself again as she glanced in her rearview mirror to find Tremayne standing there with his trusty dog at his side, watching her drive away. She shook her head. She didn't know many vamps that kept a pet either. Well, not unless they planned on eating them.

  Tremayne loved Shakespeare, had rescued the hound dog from a shelter. She couldn't imagine him making the dog a midnight snack. Besides Shakespeare adored Tremayne. There was no fear, no growling as if he sensed something evil. Animals were pretty good at sensing things they shouldn't confront, like vampires, demons, and werewolves. "Oh my," she said with a chuckle and imagined a more demented version of the Wizard of Oz – because let's face it – the story was already perverse with its flying monkeys, wicked witch and all.

  She glanced in the rear view mirror again even though she was too far away to see Tremayne anymore. "If you're not a preternatural, how did you manage to leap to a third story window and break into the Lamia's room?" She couldn't refute the facts. There had never been a fire escape. She went back to check before she headed over to the pub. So how had he managed to leap tall buildings in a single bound? Unless he was related to the man in tights, she highly doubted he was that agile. No matter how strong his upper body strength proved to be.

  She turned toward her hotel. She needed to sleep on this. Figure this out and make sense of it. Tremayne...Gerard...or whoever he wanted to call himself, he was hiding something and she planned to find out what it was before she went home.

  Her phone buzzed, but she waited until she pulled into the parking space and killed the engine. She fished it out of her pocket and glanced at the caller ID. "Derek," she murmured and pressed redial.

  "Hey, sis."

  "You rang?" she asked as she stepped out of the car and headed for her room.

  "Just checking in on my little sis to see how she was doing."

  "May I remind you I'm only nine months younger than you, and women mature much faster than men do. So in a sense, I'm the eldest." Once inside her room she locked the door.

  "Hardy har har."

  She chuckled as she kicked off her boots before plopping down on the bed. "So why the call?" Derek usually didn't ring her to shoot the breeze, and he'd called her two days in a row.

  "Did you ask Gerard why he hasn't called his sister?"

  "Uh..." She'd forgotten about that. "I'm seeing him tonight."

  "Is that so?" There was a long pause before he spoke again. "Gerard–"

  "He goes by Tremayne here," she interrupted. The name Gerard didn't fit the hunter she'd come to know.

  "Tremayne then."

  "And?"

  "He has a wife in Dublin."

  She stood up straight and felt the blood drain to her toes. "What did you say?" He'd mentioned the sister. He hadn't mentioned a wife.

  "He left his wife in Dublin. He cheated on her, Cass, with one of the top dog agent's daughters. That's why he's here in the states. He pissed off the brass."

  She ran a hand through her hair. Tremayne hadn't tried to sleep with her, but he kissed her. Damn him. "So that's what he's been hiding," she murmured out loud.

  "What did you say?" Derek asked.

  "Nothing. I'll speak with Tremayne and have him call his sister. Gotta go, Derek. I'm beat." She ended the call before he could question her further.

  She plopped down on the bed, falling back onto the pillow. "He's married," she said to the ceiling and rubbed her face as she inhaled then let her breath out again. She grabbed the other pillow next to her and held it over her face as she screamed and kicked her feet. So that was Tremayne's secret. He wasn't a preternatural problem, but so much worse. He was a liar and a cheat.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Tremayne followed Sheerin into the back room where the vampire set up a laboratory to conduct his experiments. He could well imagine Dr. Frankenstein and Sheerin would have had a lot to talk about. Though as far as he knew Sheerin hadn't tried to create a grotesque creature in an unorthodox scientific experiment.

  "You look like something the Grim Reaper rejected out of spite," Sheerin said and sat down at his worktable.

  "I know. I was too good looking for death."

  Sheerin snorted. "How much of the Lugh number three did you take?"

  Sheerin had named the daylight formula after the Irish sun god, spelled L-u-g-h, but pronounced Lo. No one would ever say Sheerin didn't have a sense of humor.

  "I need another vial," he told his cousin, who in turn sat back on the stool to study him with narrowed eyes. His intense scrutiny made him squirm.

  "You drank the entire contents in the vial?" Sheerin asked.

  "Uh...aye. Thought I was supposed to."

  Sheerin rolled his eyes. "A few sips would have sufficed."

  "It would have been nice to know this when you handed it to me." Tremayne sighed and lifted his hands palm up. "Well, as you can see there's been no permanent damage done." He let his hands fall to his side once more. "Do you have anymore of the stuff or not?" He sounded like a junky trying to reason with his supplier. He pursed his lips, not liking the scenario.

  "Come closer," Sheerin demanded.

  Tremayne strode over to him. He didn't like the way Sheerin eyed him like a mad scientist waiting for his creation to burst into flames or something just as tragic. "Listen," Tremayne began, "I think I can handle – holy mother of…" He stared at his hand pinned to the countertop by Sheerin's dagger. His cousin had moved so fast, he hadn't seen it coming, and he should have.

  He pulled the offensive object out with his free hand and tossed it down on the countertop with a clatter. The throb from the wound radiated up his arm and the blood pooled with no signs of stopping. "Why did you do that?" he growled.

  "Because, eejit, you don't seem to understand the severity of taking the Lugh number three."

  "So you stabbed me," he said, his voice hitching as he made th
e accusation.

  Sheerin shook his head. "You're missing the point as usual."

  "Oh, I think I got it this time." He walked over to the sink and grabbed some paper towels. He wrapped his hand for what little good it did.

  Sheerin turned in his seat to watch him as he made his attempt to apply first aid. "No, I don't believe you have," Sheerin said. Why are you still bleeding all over my floor? Hmm?"

  "You stabbed me." As he said the words, it dawned on him why Sheerin asked such a stupid question. He should already be healing, but the wound still throbbed and the bleeding hadn't stopped. His gaze riveted to Sheerin's.

  "Ah, now you're getting it." Sheerin tapped the side of his head with his finger, then turned back to the counter and reached for a book. He opened it to a page and spoke as he wrote, "The subject has taken a full vial of Lugh number three and is now experiencing what it would be like to be a human. Wounds that won't knit together in minutes, but rather continue to bleed." He paused in his writing and glanced over his shoulder. "Does the wound hurt?"

  "It bloody well does," he spat and strode over to him. "Am I your science project now?"

  "How else am I to learn what Lugh number three does if I don't have someone stupid enough to take it?"

  He could argue the point, but his cousin spoke the truth, and calling him stupid was kindly put. "I won't have to take it for long," he reasoned. "Just until Cassandra goes home."

  "When will that be, pray tell? Yuletide or is it Christmas? Maybe it will be after New Years. Don't think I don't know how this works. You're romancing a woman as if mistletoe hangs over her head and you can't resist another kiss."

  "How poetic."

  Sheerin waved a hand at him and harrumphed. "You're playing with wooden stakes with this woman. I get it. You're attracted to her, and don't think I haven't noticed her staring at you as if you're eye-candy."

  "Eye-candy?" He raised an eyebrow.

  "I've read a romance novel or two. They can be quite entertaining. You might pick one up and learn how to date a human properly."

  "Maybe I will," he said, but had no intentions of reading such rubbish. He knew how to be romantic, and he never had a woman complain on how he treated her. "About the serum, are you going to give me another vial or not?"

  Sheerin sighed. "If you continue to take Lugh number three, we'll be visiting you at your bedside."

  "I can't perish from taking this. You said so. You're never wrong." He met Sheerin's gaze, wanting him to reassure him. "Right?"

  Sheerin pursed his lips and stared back as seconds ticked by.

  "Sheerin?" he stressed his name and gave him a look that said he wanted him to answer the question.

  His cousin finally broke the gaze. "No, you can't die from drinking the liquid."

  Tremayne felt an inkling of relief. For a second, he believed Sheerin would tell him otherwise.

  "But others can certainly stake and dust you," he said this with meaning. "You are severely compromised," he added as if he weren't getting the 'stake and dust' analogy. "If you discontinue using the substance, you'll recover quickly enough, but…" He shook his head. "You're vulnerable. You're as weak as a human and the hunter you're with will not think twice on ending your life if you so much as show her a little fang."

  "I'm being extra careful."

  Sheerin harrumphed. "How careful can you be if you're caught up in the moment? I've been with a human or two. Things grow."

  Tremayne chuckled. "I would hope so."

  "Don't be an eejit. You know what I mean. One is acceptable in the human world, the other most certainly is not."

  "You're like a worried parent." Tremayne leaned on the counter and flashed his cousin a lazy grin with no fang. "See? No pointy teeth, Mom. Don't worry so much. I'll be fine."

  "Yeah, that's what Dracula said before the villagers arrived on his doorstep with stakes and pitchforks."

  "So grim."

  "What is it about this hunter?" Sheerin asked in all seriousness. "Why risk your health, heck your life, to be with her? I'm sure you could manage sending her on her merry way with little or no trouble, but instead you're inviting her over for a nightcap."

  "Were you spying on me?"

  Sheerin shrugged. "Are you avoiding the question on purpose?"

  "Maybe," he said. Sheerin did have a valid point. Why did he wish to take such a risk? Nothing could truly come from their light flirtations, but yet he could not let her go so readily. "I don't know," he finally said with all honesty. "She intrigues me, like no lass has in a long time."

  Sheerin's brows furrowed over the bridge of his nose. "This is not just a conquest with you then?"

  "Conquest? What are you yammering on about?" He harrumphed. "Of course not. I am not a lecher in search of vulnerable women."

  "I highly doubt Miss Hayes fits the category of a vulnerable woman."

  He chuckled at the mere thought. "No, she does not." He rubbed his jaw. "She's funny, intelligent...and quite elegant."

  "Elegant?" Sheerin snorted. "Are we talking about the same hunter who marched into your pub, and staked her claim, so to speak?"

  "Of course. She handles her weapons with ease and grace."

  "Leather and chains seems more her style," Sheerin added. "Love has always mystified me. And you, dear cousin, have not helped my observation."

  His gaze riveted to Sheerin. "Who said anything about love."

  This made his cousin laugh loud and sure. "My lad, you must sit where I am and take a gander. What else could have you so enthralled unless hunters are now capable of glamour."

  He waved Sheerin off. "I said I was intrigued. I never claimed my heart was involved."

  "Say what you will."

  Tremayne rolled his eyes and changed the subject. "Are you or are you not going to give me more of the Lugh number three or not?" Sheerin didn't jump up and grab another vial, but he didn't flat out nix the idea either. He gave his cousin a moment to think over his demand.

  "Fine," Sheerin said then added, "but I must be near to evaluate. When will you be seeing Miss Hayes?" he asked as he headed over to a glass cabinet, where he kept all sorts of vials in various jars.

  "I'm seeing her tonight."

  Sheerin looked over his shoulder. "Then why would you need a daylight potion?"

  He lifted one brow. "Must I explain..."

  It took a second or two, but he finally got it. "Oh. I see." He turned away and fished out a vial from the top shelf of the cabinet. When he handed it to him, he did so with reluctance. "Only use it if you must, and sparingly. No one has taken as much as you have, not even me. I would sorely miss you if something were to happen because you misused the potion."

  He took hold of the vial and slipped it into his pocket. "No one is misusing anything. I'll only use it if I need to." He started for the door.

  "Keep a weapon close," Sheerin called to him.

  He turned to look at him. "What for?"

  "You're sleeping with the enemy. I would be prepared if I were you."

  "Not that it's any of your business, but I haven't slept with her."

  "Yet," Sheerin added. "It's like I'm reliving the past. Bram was just as pigheaded as you when it came to the woman he cared for."

  "Stop worrying, Sheerin. I know what I'm doing."

  He strode out the door, but he was sure Sheerin's parting words were: "Bram said the same thing."

  Well Bram made out okay. He was mated to Adryanna, a lovely woman who had once been human. They'd been together for centuries, but Sheerin needn't worry. He had no intentions of turning a hunter, even if she wanted to be turned. She came from a family of hunters and he'd be dusted at first light if he even thought of sinking his teeth into her lovely flesh.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Cassandra shimmied into a pair of skinny jeans and tucked her silk blouse into her waistband before she reached for her black knee high boots. She grabbed her jacket, phone and keys and headed for the car. She made good time and was able to park in the s
mall parking lot situated near the alley of the pub.

  She would meet with Tremayne… Gerard or whatever the name he wished to go by. She'd let him explain why he left a wife back in Dublin. If she didn't like what he had to say, she was on the next flight out.

  There were always two sides to a story when it came to irreconcilable differences, and she only heard the wife's point of view from her brother no less. She'd like to know where Tremayne stood on the relationship. She was no one's rebound or the woman who breaks up a marriage even if it was already on the outs.

  She pushed the door open and entered the pub. The evening crowd hadn't arrived yet. Perfect. She'd be able to chat with Tremayne before he became too busy to talk to her. She spotted him carrying a tray with bowls, most likely filled with a variety of snacks. He placed a bowl on a table and moved to the next one. He noticed her heading his way and his lips slid into a smile only to lose their curve appeal. Obviously, he realized she was a bit miffed. He placed the platter on the bar.

  "Why do you look like you're about to stake me?" he asked.

  "Oh I don't know... maybe because I found out you're married."

  He chuckled, but when he realized she didn't share in his mirth, his laughter choked in his throat. "You're serious? You think I'm married?"

  If she didn't know better she'd believe he was as shocked at the news as she had been. "Did you forget you had a wife back in Dublin?"

  His eyebrows lifted. "And how may I ask did you come by this information?"

  "Don't dance around the question. Do you or don't you have a wife? Yes or no, please."

  He took a deep breath. "It's complicated."

  "I'm listening." She folded her arms across her chest.

  "The short version. I was married… I'm not anymore," he said. "You have my word," he told her.

  Oddly, she believed him. "So it's over with your ex?"

  "Aye." He strode closer to her, his eyes never shifting away as he made his claim.

  In her experience, people who lied had a difficult time making eye contact. "You're never going to see her again?"