The Last of the Red-Hot Vampires do-5

by Кейти Макалистер

  "Better than being bored," I laughed. "Let's do it."

  "Right, then. The psychometrist and Mr. Brand both like their tea without milk. The telepathist from Newberry and Mrs. Floring, the medium, don't get along well. The mind reader comes from St. Bartleby."

  "Wait, wait, wait," I said, scrabbling around in my purse. "I need some paper to write this all down. Telepathist and Floring, medium, don't get along…St. Bartleby…OK, go on."

  "Now then, Susannah, Mr. Bitters, Michael, the Ouijist, and the person from Learing-on-Bent all usually arrive together. Mrs. Lee and Timothy are always late. Daniel the channeler and Carol sing in a local choir."

  "Oh man, this is getting good," I said, writing it all down. "It's just like a logic class I had eons ago in college."

  "Daniel Richings doesn't live in Bartleby. Carol doesn't live in Leewardstone."

  "England has the best town names…got it. Any more?"

  "Just one. If you asked Mrs. Lee if she had been with the club longest, she'd say no, that was her friend from Edmonds, with whom she'd grown up in her town of Newberry."

  "Hmm. OK. Let me see here…" I eyeballed the info I'd written down, decided it was nothing more than mathematics disguised as words, and assigned each bit of information a numerical value, then began to arrange them in equations that made sense.

  "Take as long as you need, although it looks like the meditation is about up," Milo said, one eye on the group.

  "I almost have it…no, wait, that won't work…hmm…she can't be there and there at the same time…aaaaah." I looked up with a smile.

  "Figured it out, did you?" Milo asked, a twinkle in his eye.

  "I think so. I am cheating a bit in that I can see there are only two women in the group, but even so, it makes sense that since the telepathist is from Newberry, and Mrs. Lee claims the town of Newberry, Mrs. Lee must be the telepath. Since she doesn't arrive with Susannah, then by the process of elimination, Mrs. Lee's first name must be Carol, which means that Mrs. Floring, the medium, is Susannah. She can't come from Newberry, St. Bartleby, or Learing-on-Bent, but could live in Leewardstone or Edmonds."

  Milo smiled. My confidence rose.

  "Since Mrs. Lee's friend is from Edmonds, and Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Floring don't get along, that means she's from Leewardstone. Daniel Richings doesn't live in Bartleby, nor can he live in Newberry or Leewardstone. Thus he has to live in Edmonds or Learing-on-Bent."

  "What on earth are you doing?" Sarah frowned at me. "You're playing games while we are trying to conduct a very serious scientific investigation?"

  "Just passing a little time," I said hastily, shoving my sheet of paper at Milo. "Are you all done with your humming?"

  "It isn't just humming, it's opening ourselves up to…oh, why do I bother? Honestly, Portia, I'd think you could display a little more respect for what we're doing here, given the fact that you are what you now are," she said with a vehement whisper as she pulled me after the assembled group.

  I tossed Milo an apologetic smile. He read over my paper, and gave me a thumbs-up, which I interpreted to mean I'd figured out the rest of the puzzle correctly. "Milo and I were just amusing ourselves while you guys were opening up and such. He's some sort of puzzle enthusiast. Did you know that his wife and the other woman don't get along?"

  Sarah rolled her eyes and grabbed my wrist, hauling me along after the group. "Come on, we have a room to investigate. Mr. Richings says he has recorded a temperature drop of eight degrees there on three separate occasions."

  "Probably just a draft," I muttered, but kept my voice low. I had promised Sarah I'd spend the evening with her temporary ghost hunting group in exchange for her help finding out what happened to Hope, and despite my wishes to be elsewhere at that moment—Theo's arms came to mind as a good alternative—I'd do what I could to see to it that Sarah had an enjoyable evening.

  Why do I sense a profound feeling of martyrdom from you?

  I smiled at the voice in my head. I'm feeling particularly saintly tonight.

  Is it that bad?

  Nothing I didn't expect. A bunch of people running around with equipment measuring drafts and electromagnetic flux, and jumping at every creak and pop.

  It's only for a few hours. I'm sure you will triumph over such exacting circumstances.

  Indeed. Why are you talking to me, not that I'm complaining? I thought you didn't want me bothering you?

  Sweetling, you never bother me. You do, however, distract me from matters at hand. It's your breasts. And thighs. And lips, and legs, and all the other bits in between. Theo's words were accompanied by such erotic mental images that I found myself getting aroused right there in the middle of a cold, mouse-riddled mill.

  If you don't want me running out of here, hunting you down, and wrestling you to the ground to have my way with you, you'd better stop sending me those sorts of thoughts.

  Would you really wrestle me to the ground? he asked, sounding intrigued.

  Absolutely. How goes the info-hunting?

  He sighed. Not so good. The nephilim I contacted knew nothing.

  Crap. So we don't have any leads?

  No, we have one. My nephilim friend mentioned a vessel who evidently was very tight with Hope. But I can't find the man—he seems to have run to earth just like Hope.

  A vessel is a person?

  In this instance, yes. Vessels serve mortals, under the direct rule of the principalities, who in turn take their orders from powers, and the powers, as you know, are directly beneath the mare.

  Sounds very much like the little old woman who swallowed a fly.

  Pardon?

  Nothing, just a joke, and not a very good one. So what now?

  I'm going to continue to try to locate the missing vessel. I'll meet you at the pub after your ghostly group is finished, all right?

  I suppose so, although I'd be happy to help you—

  Sarah would be hurt.

  "Portia?"

  It was my turn to sigh. You're right. Saint Portia it is for the night, then.

  His laughter was warm and made me smile despite my cold, uncomfortable surroundings. You're no saint, sweetling. But we can discuss that later tonight.

  You're on. Take care of yourself, all right?

  "Portia!" Sarah shook me, her face suspicious. "You look all moony-eyed again. You must be talking to Theo. Did he find Hope?"

  "Not yet, no. He's trying to find some Court member who supposedly is friends with her."

  "Ah. Smart man." She flashed me a smile, waggling her eyebrows. "In more ways than one, eh?"

  "Absolutely. So what's up with the cold spots?"

  Her face lit up. "Oh, it's so exciting! Mr. Richings has measured a drop of eleven degrees in the corner! Come see it!"

  I admired the cold spot, keeping the thought to myself that the lack of insulation and patchy repairs in the wall were more likely to contribute to the chilly air than an unseen ghostly presence. While the group excitedly took more measurements and made furious notes, I sidled over to Milo.

  "So, is your name Lee or Floring?"

  He smiled, holding out his hand. "I don't think we ever were properly introduced, were we? It's Lee, Milo Lee. And Carol, my wife, is over there, but you've already deduced that. It must be all that work in physics that gives you an analytical mind, eh?"

  "Oh, I don't know, I think people tend to be born left-or right-brained. You're pretty left-brained yourself. What do you do? As an occupation, that is."

  "Customer service for a large corporation. I live to serve," he said, with a hint of an eye roll and a mock bow.

  "Ah. That must be challenging. I don't think I could deal with unhappy people for long."

  "It's horrible. I've hopes to advance very soon, though, so it's an evil I'll bear a bit longer."

  "Good for you. So how long did you say you and your wife have been ghost hunting?"

  We passed the next hour chatting about minutiae, both of us watching with indulgent eyes as the ghost group moved f
rom room to room. By the end of the second hour, with nothing to show for their work but some numbers written down from instrument readings, even Sarah's enthusiasm was beginning to drag. We drove back to the pub in relative silence—her in contemplation of the meager proceedings of the evening, and me in anticipation of seeing Theo again.

  I went to bed alone, my errant vampire-cum-nephilim still out on his vessel hunt. When I found he wasn't back at the pub, I offered to help him hunt for the Court member, but Theo insisted he was almost done. Even separated by some thirty miles or so, he seemed to sense the exhaustion that was making it hard for me to think. I didn't argue when he ordered me to bed, just sent him an image of what I intended to do to him when he made his way back to me.

  My dreams were confused, but much more vivid than I remembered in the past. I woke frequently at little noises in the pub, but, sadly, remained alone. I slipped into a nightmare where giant wasps stung me repeatedly. Slowly it melted into something much more pleasant, the stings of the wasps morphing into little fluttering brushes of wings as the wasps changed into brilliant blue hummingbirds. I writhed with pleasure on the ground, naked, warmed by the sun that shown down with such intensity that I could feel its heat deep inside me, in dark, hidden places that only came to life when Theo was around. The soft, gentle touches of the birds' wings didn't soothe me, however—they made me squirm even harder, leaving me wanting to both escape their oddly erotic touches and pull them tighter to me. One of the birds landed on my belly, giving me a long look with its dark eyes before dipping its head and stabbing at my hip with a long, sharp beak.

  "Sweet mother of reason," I gasped, suddenly awake. Theo's head was bent over my hip, his dark curls brushing against my skin as the pain of his teeth piercing my skin was already melting into something so pleasurable I never wanted him to stop. His fingers fluttered for a moment against aroused, sensitive flesh, then plunged inside me in a move that had me arching back into the bed, my hips rising to meet the movement of his fingers.

  Salus invenitur, Theo moaned into my mind as he drank deep from me. You taste sweeter than nectar, Portia. How can something so wonderful hurt so bad at the same time?

  My body tightened around his fingers, blinding me to everything but the need I felt within him, and the answer that lay within me.

  "It's too much," he said, lifting his head from my hip. His eyes were black as polished ebony, his face hard with hunger and passion and want.

  "No," I said, feeling as if my guts had been strung tight. I pushed him onto his back, and climbed over him. "But this may be."

  He tasted as I knew he would—hot, male, and incredibly wonderful, the firm flesh of his penis both silky soft and as hard as steel. He moaned aloud, his head thrown back against the mattress, both hands clutching the sheets beneath us as I took my time exploring him, reading his mind with ease, noting what drove him into a frenzy.

  His rising passion and arousal fed mine. The knee I was straddling while I pleasured him jerked beneath me, pressing tight into my own sensitive flesh. The bolt of ecstasy that ripped through me as a result took me by surprise, but not as much as Theo suddenly grabbing my hips and hauling me up his body, thrusting upward into me as he pressed me down. Existence ceased to be, my world, the entire universe, narrowing to the man beneath me who urged me, with little cries of pleasure, to ride him faster.

  How did I exist this long without you? Theo asked as his mouth closed over my breast, his teeth sinking deep into my soft flesh at the same time he exploded into a tremendous orgasm, the strength of it pushing me over into my own. His body pulsed and pumped into me while I quite simply ceased to be me, the Portia I'd known for thirty-eight years, and became instead the Portia who was part of Theo. I'd never believed that a woman needed a man to be complete, but this was different. This wasn't a matter of social mores or gender issues, or even the biological need for a mate. I knew to the depths of my soul that Theo enriched me in ways that no other human could, and that knowledge shook me.

  It's strange, isn't it? Theo's hands stroked gently up my back as I lay on his chest, my heart thumping wildly in my chest, my breath ragged and jerky against his shoulder. One minute we're going about our business in life, and the next our beings are so tightly intertwined with someone else's, there's no way to separate them again.

  I don't want them separated, I said without thinking, then realized that what I said sounded weak and cloying.

  His hands stilled for a moment. I could never think you weak, love. You are the strongest woman I know.

  I lifted my head to look into his eyes, half fearing there would be pity or something just as painful in them, but to my relief they were filled only with satiation and an unabashed love that made me want to sing with happiness. I'd say I was sorry this happened, but I'm not sorry. I regret that your soul has been lost through my ignorance, but even that can't dampen the joy you bring me.

  Silly woman. He pulled me back down onto his chest, his body still buried deep inside me. His lips were sweet against mine, his words sweeter still as they brushed gently against my mind. What's a soul compared to this?

  Chapter 18

  "What are you doing?" Sarah asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down with a smile that was shared between Theo and me.

  "Plotting out a battle plan. Good morning, Darla. I'm not feeling myself, so I'll just have toast. I believe Theo wants a traditional breakfast, minus the tomato."

  Theo nodded at the waitress. "Indeed I do. With lots of preserves, please."

  "Since when do you not eat like a horse at breakfast?" Sarah asked when Darla had toddled off to bring us our breakfast orders.

  "Since Theo prefers to appear perfectly normal, right down to eating food. Besides, I'm eating for two," I answered, pushing a piece of paper across the table at her. "This is our plan, so far. What do you think?"

  I thought her eyes were going to pop out. "You're eating for two? You're not—"

  "No, I meant I'm eating to keep my blood up, so Theo can eat as well."

  "Oh. You scared me there for a minute." Sarah sipped at her tea while she read over the list. When she got to the good part, she choked. "You can't be serious!"

  "Perfectly. It was Theo's idea, actually, but I think it makes a lot of sense."

  "You're going to break into heaven?" She gawked at us, a good old-fashioned, mouth-hanging-open gawk. "You're going to break into heaven?"

  "We're going to enter the Court through a different entrance," Theo corrected. "Everything I heard last night pointed to the vessel I sought deliberately covering his tracks. Presumably, he's running from the same thing that Hope hinted about to Portia. Since we don't know what that threat is, we're going to have to find the vessel first."

  "But why should we go to the Court if he is in hiding from someone or something?" she asked. "He's hardly going to be there, is he?"

  I smiled at her. I loved it when Sarah used the logic I knew she possessed. "No, he won't be there, but something else is—it's the only place we can access the Akashic Records outside of the Akasha itself, and there's no way I'm going back there, thank you very much."

  "Akashic Records?" Her brow furrowed. Darla came in with our breakfast, conducting polite chitchat while she doled out the plates, freshened Sarah's teapot, brought me more coffee, and sent Theo a number of somewhat vapid looks. I brushed a speck of non-existent lint off his shoulder, and cocked an eyebrow at her.

  She left with a polite murmur.

  Very subtle, sweetling.

  I strive for excellence.

  "I've heard of the Akashic Record," Sarah said slowly, spreading jam on a scone. She looked deep in thought. "Isn't it supposed to be some sort of record that God keeps about everything that everyone does?"

  I plopped my two pieces of toast onto the mound of food before Theo, swapping our plates. "Evidently that's the mortal definition, which has been skewed over the centuries."

  "The Akashic Record is simply a listing of all beings in the Court of Divine Bloo
d, the Akashic Plain, and Abaddon, respectively," Theo said, leaning toward me. "That bacon smells good."

  "Want a bite?" I asked, offering him a forkful of egg and bacon.

  He looked at it with such avidity that it reminded me of what he'd lost. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, silently shaking his head. "I'd better not."

  Would it make you sick?

  I don't know. Christian just said it would likely take my body a while to adjust to the blood diet, and I shouldn't confuse things by trying to eat as well. I dearly love bacon, though.

  My heart contracted at the regret in his voice.

  "Dark Ones can't eat at all?" Sarah asked, her gaze likewise sympathetic.

  "They can, but not for sustenance, and I gather it's only done in situations where it can't be avoided," Theo answered, his eyes following the path of a piece of bacon as I popped it in my mouth.

  What if you just try a little bit? A couple of bites? Just to see how it does?

  I don't relish spending the day vomiting, or cramping, or however it is my body would react to solid food.

  I felt so guilty that the food turned to dirt in my mouth.

  I'm not hungry, sweetling. You satisfied all my hungers earlier this morning, he said, his mind warm and reassuring in mine. It's just that I miss the taste of certain foods.

  I swallowed the bacon still in my mouth, wiped my fingers on a napkin, and grabbed his head with both hands, pulling him into a kiss. His tongue danced around my mouth, tasting me, teasing me, his moan of pleasure swallowed with my own.

  "I'm delighted you've both found each other, happier than you can know, and I'm the last person I think anyone would call a prude, but I am trying to eat here, and it's a bit disconcerting to have people making out on top of my breakfast."

  Theo slowly pulled his head from mine, giving my lower lip a couple of quick nibbles before our mouths separated.

  Better?

  Much. Although walking is going to be uncomfortable for a bit.

  My gaze dropped to his lap. He was clearly aroused. I hope that is due to me, and not the bacon.

  Sweetling, I have yet to be aroused by pork products, he answered. His eyes grew even blacker. Unless I'm eating them off of you.