The benevolent bystanders turned as one to watch our abductor's car drive off down the street with a squeal of tires. I memorized the license plate number, swearing revenge, or at least justice for the assault and kidnapping.
I had expected that, as foreign visitors to the country, we would be caught up in endless red tape in both getting medical care and reporting the abduction, but to my surprise, a short two hours after we had made our dashing escape we tottered up the stairs of the Tattered Stoat to our respective rooms, bruised, battered, exhausted, and in my case, utterly confused.
The hospital had done three blood tests (two at my insistence since I was positive the prior results were incorrect), all of which showed I had not ingested any form of fungus, hallucinogenic or otherwise.
"Are you going to be OK with the séance we are supposed to go to tonight?" Sarah asked wearily as we slowly made our way up the dark back stairs to the upper floor. The pub was a popular one with the younger crowd, as evidenced by the large flat-screen TV blaring music videos. The building, however, was thankfully thick-walled, so the noise was muted on the second floor.
"You heard the doctor—I'm fine. Just a few bumps and bruises; nothing a couple of aspirin can't fix."
She paused at her door and gave me a concerned once-over. "I know, but I still feel like you should be in bed, not attending séances with me."
"Don't worry about it," I said with a careless wave that I felt far from feeling. "I wouldn't miss the opportunity for exposing some hokey medium."
"Portia!"
"I know, I know. I promised I'd go into this with an open mind. But I'm going to enjoy proving you wrong."
"There's that little matter of the cloud that followed you that you have yet to explain," she said with obnoxious cheerfulness.
"I explained it perfectly well. It was either the result of hallucination by a yet-as-undetermined source, hypnosis, or visual trickery."
"Smoke and mirrors, you mean?" she asked archly.
"Smugness ill becomes you," I said sternly, pulling my room key from my pocket. "I will offer scientific proof as to the non-existence of the cloud just as soon as I have soil from that faery ring analyzed. It could well be that there are elements at work other than possibly hallucinogenic fungi."
"Uh-huh. I'm willing to let you get away with this one because I've never heard of a cloud associated with a faery ring, but I'm not going to go so easy on you next time." Sarah smiled as she spoke, digging her key out of her camera bag. I rolled my eyes. "Dibs the bathtub first."
"You're mean," I answered, fitting my own key into the lock.
"You're not supposed to get your owies wet."
"I am not Tyler," I said with infinite dignity, despite the various bandages swathing my arms, hands, and one eyebrow. "He is six and an extremely precocious child whom you spoil shamelessly. I am just a friend who is subjected to your abuse under the guise of concern." I opened the door on the last of my words, flipped on the light, and stared with stunned disbelief at my room.
"Uh…Sarah?"
"Hmm?" She paused in her doorway, looking back at me.
"The kidnapper is here."
She stared at me for a moment, then hurried after me as I entered my room. "Oh! The nerve! I'll get the police—"
I snatched up the nearest item at hand to use as a weapon—which turned out to be a paperback Agatha Christie novel—and threw myself in front of Sarah, fully intending to protect my friend despite my injuries, as the deranged kidnapper moved toward her.
The man moved faster than I thought, however. He seemed to blur as he moved, one minute standing next to the chair on the opposite side of the room, the next in front of Sarah, his hand on the door to keep it from opening any further, his head tipped down so he could look her in the eyes.
"There is no need for you to call the authorities," he said in his deep, slightly Irish voice that contrasted so oddly with his dark skin and exotic eyes.
"There most certainly is!" Sarah protested.
I added my two cents, stalking forward with my book held in a threatening manner. "I'd say assault and kidnapping is grounds for arrest. The police were very interested in having a word with you. I'm sure they will be delighted to discuss the issue."
Sarah, to my surprise, did not knee the attacker, or even scream for help. Instead, she stood in front of him, her mouth slightly opened, an odd look of absorption on her face.
"Sarah," I said loudly, waving my book around.
Neither she nor the man gave me so much as a glance.
I moved next to them, peering first at him, then her. Their eyes were locked, their posture that of two lovers about to kiss.
It bothered me intensely that she would stand and gawk at an (admittedly handsome) insane criminal.
"Sarah? Hello?"
"You have nothing to fear from me," the man told her gently, and to my complete amazement, she nodded her head and closed the door.
"Oh my god, you're some sort of hypnotist, aren't you?" I told him, watching Sarah. Her eyes had a slightly dazed look to them, her breath coming with soft little panting sounds. She was blushing, as well, her cheeks pink with some strong emotion. "I insist that you stop this right now. I will not have you victimizing my friend."
"I…I'm glad," she said, ignoring me. She licked her lips nervously, her eyelashes fluttering as she sent him coy little glances.
"Sarah, stop it! Snap out of it!" I grabbed her shoulders and forcibly turned her toward me. Her head swiveled so she could continue to gaze at the man. I grabbed her chin and turned her face so she was looking at me. "Sarah!"
"Hello, Portia. It's all right. We don't have anything to fear from him." Her eyes were slightly dilated, but other than her strangely flustered state, she seemed to be all right.
Her words, however, made it clear she was far from in her right mind. "I'm going to take you back to the hospital," I said slowly, so she would understand. I looked over her shoulder to where the man stood. "And if you try to stop me, I will scream bloody murder and bring up everyone in the pub."
"I have saved your life," the man said, his brows pulling together in a frown.
Sarah smiled at him and nodded, a devoted look on her face. "He did. He saved us."
"There was nothing threatening us except you," I said firmly, trying to steer Sarah toward the door. "I will call the police from the pub downstairs. And if you try to kidnap us again—"
"Blast it, woman, I am not a kidnapper!" he exploded.
I took a few precautionary steps backward, glared at Sarah's head for a moment as she stood simmering at him, finally yanking her back to stand with me. "Look, you can yammer on about saving our lives all you want, but I know what I know."
"You know nothing," he said, scorn dripping from his voice. He stalked toward me, his black eyes fairly shooting sparks. I looked around quickly for a sturdier weapon than a book, but other than the bedside lamp, my room was horribly weapon-free. "I did save your life, and by the laws governing the Court of Divine Blood, I demand recompense in the form of exculpation."
Chapter 4
I felt behind me for the table lamp, grasping it firmly and shifting slightly to the side to hide the fact I was holding it. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it was better than a paperback.
The man stopped in front of me, so close I could smell his woodsy aftershave.
"I want you to leave this room now," I said in a calm, but firm, voice. Beside me, Sarah made a slight noise of unhappiness. "I don't know anything about a court, but I do know that you have violated several laws, and the police are even now searching for you. If you leave right now, I will not harm you, but I am fully prepared to defend my friend and myself from you if you insist on attacking."
An annoyed look flitted across his face. "Stop saying that! I have not attacked you!"
"You strangled me!" I answered, part of my mind pointing out that reason never worked with deranged madmen, but too irritated to listen. "I almost died! If that's not an atta
ck, I'd like to know what is!"
"I told you—that was before I knew you were mortal," he snapped, irritation replacing the annoyance.
I waved the book around in a vaguely threatening manner. "I'd just like to know what you think I could be if not mortal!"
"You're a virtue," he answered quickly, reaching behind me and wrenching both lamp and book out of my hands, tossing them onto the bed. "Thus, you must be a member of the Court of Divine Blood, and as such, bound to uphold the laws therein. You wish for an accounting? I will give you one. The Hashmallim do not enter the mortal world unless it is to capture someone intended for destruction. Since I saved the lives of you and your friend by spiriting you away from under the nose of the Hashmallim, you are in my debt. I am calling in that debt, and the price shall be exculpation."
"I forgive you," Sarah said with breathy adoration, her eyes glowing as she gazed at him.
"The first thing I do after this guy is locked up is get you to a good head shrink," I told her.
"Woman!" the man roared, and grabbed me by the neck, hauling me up until my face was close to his. His eyes burned into mine, his breath skittering along my mouth.
"My name is Portia," I said without thinking. "I hate being referred to as if I was nothing but an object!"
"You push me too far, Portia!"
Sarah made faint mewing noises of distress as she pushed in close to us, her hands on his arms.
"You're assaulting me again." I waved my arms frantically for the lamp or book.
"Eee!" Sarah said, half demanding, half plaintive as she brushed her lips on his cheek.
The man turned his head slightly, and gave her another soul-piercing look. "You are not for me, sweet."
"Oh," she said, pulling away, an oddly content look on her face as she stood watching us.
"Stop hypnotizing—"
The man took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and twisted his body as I tried to knee him. Without dislodging his hold on my throat—nowhere near as debilitating as the first time he strangled me, but still inhibiting—he spun me around so I was pressed up against the wall, his body pinning me into submission. "I do not have time to play ridiculous games with you. You will exculpate me now, before I lose my temper."
"Fine," I said, exhausted, sore, and heartily tired of the handsome man whose mouth was close enough to kiss…and bothered by the fact that I could even think such a thought. "I forgive you for kidnapping us, assaulting me, and attempting to strangle me. Happy now?"
"Stop playing with me!" he snarled, his fingers tightening. "You have the Gift! I saw it! I demand my reward! I demand exculpation!"
"I forgive you!" I bellowed back at him, praying he would go away and be deranged with someone else.
He really was an incredibly handsome man…I firmly squelched that line of thought. Physical attractiveness had nothing to do with anything.
The man sighed, releasing me as he stepped back. I hadn't been aware that he had lifted me off the floor, but I slid down a few inches until my feet touched the floor, and kept on going when my legs gave out on me. I slumped against the wall, divided between the desire to cry and the urge to whack the man across the kneecaps with a blunt instrument.
"At last," he said, opening his arms. He stood that way for a moment, as if he was waiting for something, his ebony eyebrows pulling together as he looked down at himself. "It didn't work."
"What didn't work?" Sarah asked, watching him closely. I shot an unhappy glance at her as I got to my knees, hauling myself up onto the edge of the bed, where I clutched both the book and the lamp.
He looked at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "When did you say you received the Gift?"
"What gift? No one has given me a gift."
"How long have you known her?" he asked Sarah. She plopped down onto the bed next to me. I was delighted to see that the smitten look was gone from her face, although her calm acceptance of the kidnapper was at odds with her very vocal threats to the local police about the actions her husband would take if the man was not caught promptly.
"Since seventh grade," she answered.
"Has she always been like this?"
"Obstinate, you mean?" Sarah smiled. "Stubborn? Unyielding?"
"Hey!" I objected, poking her in the hip with the book.
"Rigid and unimaginative and one-track-minded? Oh yes, she's always been that way."
The kidnapper looked at me, his lips pursing slightly. "Pity."
"I object to being talked about as if I'm not sitting right here!"
Sarah patted my hand. "She's also smart, very curious, has a soft spot for underdogs, and is unswervingly loyal to anyone she calls friend."
"I may have one less before the day is out," I grumbled, mollified by her praise.
"I see," the man said, frowning down at me. My fingers tightened around the base of the lamp.
Sarah laughed and put her arm around me. "She's also my best friend, and someone I trust with my life. If you need her help with something, she'll do everything she can to make it happen."
"Will you stop putting words in my mouth! I do not countenance criminals!"
"I am not a criminal," the man said with a thoughtful look at us both. He snagged the chair from the end of the bed and set it before the door, sitting on it with a belligerent look at me.
"I could scream for help, you know," I told him.
"No one would hear you over the noise," he answered. "I'm going to get at the truth if it takes me all night. When did you last see Hope?"
"Oh! The faery?" Sarah asked, clasping her hands together. "I can't believe I forgot about her! Portia said she saw her while I had run to town to get my camera. That would be about two—"
"Sarah." I cocked an eyebrow at her.
"I was just trying to be helpful."
I ignored that and leveled a long, hard look at the man sitting across from us. My first impressions of strength had not diminished at all by exposure to him. His face was all hard angles, high cheekbones and a blunt, square jaw doing as much as his obsidian eyes in imparting a sense of ruthless purpose. His skin was darker than that of an Anglo-Saxon, a warm, rich color that hinted at an exotic heritage. Gleaming black hair swept back from a widow's peak that no doubt had women swooning to run their fingers through the silky black curls. For a moment my fingers itched to do just that, but the thought died just as quickly as it had been born.
"If I answer your questions, will you leave?" I asked with a resigned sigh.
"Portia! You don't have to be rude!"
I gave her a look that should have made it clear what I thought of such a ridiculous statement, but years of close acquaintance have made Sarah immune to such things.
"I begin to think that there might be more here than I anticipated," the man answered. "But I will swear to you that I mean you no harm."
I hesitated a moment, weighing my options. It was true that the noise from the busy pub below would drown out any screams for help that we might make, but we weren't completely helpless. There was the fact that we were two against his one. If push came to shove, I could fling myself at the man while Sarah made her escape to bring help…except I wasn't so sure that in her present hypnotized state of mind she would run for help.
Clearly, the solution lay in a peaceful resolution of the situation. After we got the man out of my room, I'd call the police and they could deal with him. I'd give him a few minutes of twenty questions to lull him into a sense of control, then persuade him to exit the room.
"All right, I'll answer your questions…er…what is your name?"
"Theo North. When did you last see Hope?" he repeated.
"What a nice name," Sarah said with perky cheerfulness. "Theo. Warm and friendly. Short. A little different. I like it."
I did too, as a matter of fact, but I wasn't going to let him know that. "I saw Hope for the first and only time about two this afternoon, for approximately five minutes. At the time, I was under the impression—yet to be disproved to
my satisfaction, given that lab tests can be mixed up, altered, or deliberately changed—that Hope was part of my hallucinations."
"Hallucinations?" He subjected me to a searching look. "Are you prone to them?"
"She thought the magic at the faery ring was due to mushrooms," Sarah said quickly. "She is an unbeliever, you see. You believe in the power behind faery rings, don't you?"
"Of course," he answered, making me want to scream.
The look of triumph on Sarah's face was directed solely at me. "There, you see? Even Theo believes in faery ring magic! And he's a…a…er…" She looked back at him. "What exactly do you do, if you don't mind me asking?"
He cast her a quick glance, but for the most part kept his attention on me. "I'm a nephilim. What did you do at the ring to summon Hope?"
This was torture, sheer and utter torture, so I figured I'd get it over with as quickly as possible. Although Sarah had heard most of it, I described how I had sat in the faery ring and muttered aloud some of the spells on her photocopy.
"Hmm," Theo said when I was done. He stroked his chin, a perfectly normal gesture, but one which held some bizarre fascination for me. It drew my attention to the lines of his jaw, and the sweet curve of his lower lip…good gravy, what was I thinking? Just because he was a handsome devil didn't mean I had to think about his lips and his jaw and that hint of manly stubble that seemed to hold an unholy fascination for me.
I realized that both of them were looking expectantly at me.
"Sorry, I was thinking about…er…did you ask something?"
"I asked you why Hope said she responded when you summoned her."
"I didn't summon her." I frowned for a moment, remembering something the hallucination woman—not a hallucination if the man in front of me was to be believed—said when she popped through those funny lights in the air. The lights themselves gave me no trouble: they were clearly pollen in the air, which I in my half-sun-blinded state interpreted as sparkling. Hope was a bit less easily explained, but no doubt she had been hiding behind a tree, and took advantage of an inattentive moment to make her appearance. "She said something about being glad I summoned her when I did, and that she was in danger and couldn't stay or she'd be killed."
The Last of the Red-Hot Vampires do-5 Page 4
