Dead Perfect

by Amanda Ashley

  “What do you think?”

  “I guess not.” She frowned. “Is that why you always stopped when we were…you know?”

  He nodded. “The lust for flesh and the lust for blood are tightly interwoven and you, my sweet, are far too tempting.”

  The thought repulsed and fascinated her at the same time. “So, what’s it like, being a vampire?”

  “In many ways, it’s no different from being mortal. Except for the obvious, of course.”

  “Of course. And you don’t miss the sun, or food and stuff like that?”

  “Not anymore.”

  She pondered that a moment, then sighed. “This is all so confusing and unbelievable. I’m sure I’ll wake up tomorrow and find this whole conversation was just some sort of fever dream.”

  He took her hand in his and kissed her palm. The touch of his lips, the heat of his tongue on her skin, sent shivers of delight racing up her arm.

  “It’s not a dream, Shannah, and it’s not a nightmare, unless you want it to be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can take you home to your parents and make you forget I ever existed,” he said quietly. “I can make you forget you ever came here, that we ever met.”

  “You can?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  She thought about it a moment, then shook her head. “No, I don’t want to forget.”

  “What do you want?”

  “You don’t look like a vampire.”

  “No?” He stared at the pulse throbbing in the hollow of her throat, let his hunger rise within him, felt his fangs lengthen.

  He knew when his eyes burned red by the sudden look of horror on her face. He ran his tongue over the tips of his fangs, then asked, “Is this what you wanted to see?”

  For a moment, he feared she would faint again, and then she leaned forward. “Does it hurt, when they come out?” she asked, pointing at his fangs.

  He laughed softly. Once again, she had surprised him. “No, it doesn’t hurt.”

  “Could you change back to Ronan now?”

  He took a deep breath, felt his fangs retract as the force of his will overcame the urge to feed.

  “Thank you.” She shook her head. “No one will ever believe any of this.”

  “You can’t tell anyone, Shannah. You must know that.”

  “Carl Overstreet will be very disappointed to hear that.”

  “Overstreet! What’s he got to do with anything?”

  “He wants to interview you.”

  “Interview with a vampire?” Ronan muttered wryly. “I think that’s already been done.”

  Shannah laughed, then turned serious once more. “Who is Jim Hewitt? You said you knew him. He told me he was a reporter, but he isn’t, is he?”

  “No, he’s a vampire hunter, and not a particularly good one, or he would have been dead long ago.”

  Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t…”

  “I would.”

  She nibbled on her lower lip, then nodded. “I guess it would be self-defense, in a way.”

  “It’s the first law of the jungle,” he said flatly. “Preservation of one’s own life.”

  “I guess so…” She closed her eyes, suddenly weary.

  “Shannah?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know. I feel so sleepy all of a sudden.”

  “Yes,” he said, “you’re tired. Very tired. You’re going to go to sleep now and dream only wonderful, happy dreams.”

  “Happy dreams,” she murmured.

  “I’m going to give you something to drink, and it’s going to taste good.”

  “Good…”

  “But you won’t remember drinking it tomorrow.”

  “I won’t remember…”

  “Sleep now.”

  He waited until her breathing was slow and regular before he bit into his wrist and pressed it to her lips.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “So,” Overstreet said, “what do we do now?”

  Hewitt shrugged. “Wait, I guess.”

  “What do you think she’ll do?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess she’ll either pack up and head for the hills or she’ll confront him with what we told her.”

  “That could be dangerous,” Overstreet remarked. “What if he decides to dispose of her to shut her up?”

  “It’s a possibility, but it was a chance we had to take.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d hate for anything to happen to the girl,” Overstreet said, “but I’m more worried about my own neck right now.”

  Hewitt nodded. “At least we know that he’s in the house, or somewhere nearby. If she won’t tell us where he sleeps, we’ll just have to go in and have a look around.”

  “How do you plan to do that?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Well, work faster. My next column is due soon.”

  Hewitt nodded. “I need to get a few things together before we go hunting.”

  Overstreet laughed. “Gonna hit the local Vampires R Us store?”

  “Something like that,” Hewitt said, grinning. “And then we’ll pay Miss Black another visit.”

  Carl Overstreet grinned as he read over what he had written.

  Well, dear reader, just a quick update on my search to discover if vampires do, indeed, exist. I know, I know, a lot of you are skeptical, but I can tell you, with absolute certainty, that vampires are real and that they dwell among us. I met a woman who knows one. I, myself, have seen this creature and I can tell you that our vampire is not gaunt and pale. His palms aren’t hairy. Far from it. He looks like any other normal male. My partner in this endeavor is a professional vampire hunter, one who has destroyed vampires in many cities across the land. Vampires exist, dear reader, never doubt it.

  For the real skinny, be sure to read my article next month.

  In the meantime, here are a few pertinent facts. If you find disturbed earth or constant mists at a gravesite, disturbed coffins, holes in the ground, footsteps leading away from the grave, or hear a groaning from under the earth, you might want to make sure that the deceased is truly deceased.

  Should you find a vampire, a stake through the heart is the most common way to dispose of the creature. Beheading is also recommended, though a bit messy. Sunlight may or may not work, as some ancient vampires are immune. Cremation is effective; the ashes should be scattered.

  There are numerous ways said to be effective in protecting yourself against a vampire. They include hanging garlic around the windows and doors and around your neck. Holy water will burn them; it can also effectively be sprinkled around windows and doors and over thresholds. Staying in after dark might be the best defense of all, as the Undead can’t enter a dwelling place without an invitation.

  Until next time, dear reader, watch your neck!

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Shannah woke late the next morning feeling bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Sitting up, she stretched her arms over her head and smiled. Slipping out of bed, she pulled on her robe and went downstairs, noting, as she did so, that she felt strong again. Odd, how one day she felt as if she was at death’s door and the next she felt like she could run a marathon. She paused on the steps as a sudden recollection of the bizarre conversation she’d had with Ronan the night before jumped to the forefront of her mind.

  He was a five hundred year old vampire.

  She frowned as she continued on down the stairs. There was something else, something he had told her that she couldn’t quite recall. It suddenly seemed important that she remember what it was.

  Going into the kitchen, she turned on the coffeemaker, then sat down at the table, her chin cradled in her palm. What was it that she couldn’t remember? She closed her eyes, her fingertips drumming on the tabletop. They had been talking about what it was like to be a vampire when a sudden weariness had overtaken her. She had told Ronan she was sleepy and the next thing she remembered was wak
ing up in her bed. Why couldn’t she remember what happened between last night and this morning?

  Rising, she poured herself a cup of coffee, then put a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. When it was done, she opened the refrigerator to get the butter, and saw a bottle of tomato juice. The contents were red. As red as blood…

  And she remembered. He had given her his blood last night. And he had told her that he had given her his blood on other occasions as well, given it to her and then wiped the memory of having done so from her memory. She could hear his voice now, in the back of her mind.

  I’m going to give you something to drink, he had said, his voice low and seductive, and it’s going to taste good. But you won’t remember drinking it tomorrow.

  Frowning, she closed the refrigerator door. Why could she remember what he had said today when she had forgotten it all those other times? How could she ever have forgotten something as gross as drinking someone else’s blood? And a vampire’s blood, at that. She picked up a slice of toast only to find that her appetite was gone. With a shake of her head, she dropped it down the garbage disposal.

  A glance at the clock showed it was only a little after eleven. So much for keeping his hours, she thought.

  Leaving the kitchen, she wandered through the house, the word “vampire” repeating in her mind over and over again.

  After a time, she went into the kitchen for another cup of coffee. She sat at the table, wondering where his lair was. He didn’t seem to have any trouble finding her. He had found her at her apartment. He had found her at the restaurant. He had found her at a hotel after the plane crash. Why couldn’t she find him?

  Sitting there, she formed a mental image of Ronan—long black hair, dark eyes, strong masculine features and physique. She imagined a fine wire stretched from her thoughts to his, and then frowned. If he was sleeping the sleep of the dead, or the Undead, he wouldn’t be having any thoughts, would he? She would have to try something else. He had taken her blood and given her his. According to the books he wrote, books she knew now were based on fact, a blood exchange was supposed to form some kind of supernatural bond between the vampire and the one he had shared blood with.

  She finished her coffee and put the cup aside, then stood in the middle of the room, her eyes closed, and concentrated on Ronan. She lost track of time as she stood there, waiting, though she wasn’t sure exactly what it was she was waiting for.

  Gradually, into her mind came the same image she’d had before, of Ronan lying in a casket. When nothing happened, she conjured a mental image of blood, a deep red river of blood, flowing between them, and as she did so, she felt herself being drawn toward the door in the kitchen that led into the basement.

  Opening the door, she turned on the light and went down the stairs, her feet carrying her toward the far wall. She ran her hands over the wall, searching for a secret lever, a break in the stone, something. Anything. But there was nothing there.

  With a shake of her head, she was about to turn away when something urged her to try again. Taking a deep breath, all her energy focused on Ronan, she placed her hands against the wall once again. She gasped as something like an electric shock ran up her arms. He was on the other side of the wall. She knew it as surely as she knew he would rise with the setting of the sun.

  He was in there, and she would be out here, waiting for him when he awoke.

  Ronan came awake as the sun began to set. One minute he was lost in the oblivion of his kind, the next he was awake and aware of everything around him.

  Aware that Shannah was waiting for him on the other side of the door.

  Rising, he ran a hand through his hair, wondering how she had found him and how long she had been waiting in the basement.

  He considered changing his clothes; then, figuring she had waited long enough, he took a deep breath, lifted the heavy iron bar and opened the door.

  She was pacing the floor, her back toward him.

  “Good evening, Shannah.”

  She jumped, startled by the sound of his voice, then whirled around to face him. She started to speak, but the words stuck in her throat when she glanced through the open doorway and saw the coffin beyond.

  “It’s true,” she murmured, her face going pale. “It’s all true, isn’t it?”

  “I thought we had established that last night.” He frowned. “You’re not going to faint on me, are you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He took a cautious step toward her and when she didn’t back away, he slipped his arm around her waist to steady her.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I knew it was true, that you were really a vampire,” she said, her gaze riveted on the casket. “At least I thought I did…”

  “It’s just a bed, Shannah.”

  She laughed humorlessly. “A bed with a lid.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “What?” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and scared.

  “Are you afraid of me, now?”

  She glanced through the open doorway again, then lifted her gaze to his. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”

  “It matters to me.”

  She searched her heart and then shook her head. “No, I’m not afraid, not of you.”

  “Of what I am?”

  “Yes,” she murmured, staring at the casket again. “A little.”

  He grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted her face toward him. “How did you find me?”

  “I’m not sure. But you always seemed to be able to find me, so I thought…I just focused on you…I’d seen you in my mind once before, you know. Anyway, I focused on you and on the blood we had shared, and it drew me down here and…you’re not going to believe this, but when I touched the wall, I knew you were on the other side.”

  “Shannah, calm down. Take a deep breath. That’s right. Nothing’s changed. I’m the same as I’ve always been.”

  “I know, I know, but…” She pointed toward the open door and the casket beyond. “It’s just so…I don’t know.” She looked up at him, her eyes swimming with tears. “I don’t want to die!”

  “You don’t have to.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to be what you are. I don’t want to sleep in a…in one of those. I don’t want to die every time the sun goes down! I’m afraid, Ronan, I’m so afraid.”

  “Shh. There now, love, there’s nothing to fear. Hush, now.” Taking her hand in his, he led her up the stairs and into the kitchen. Closing the door behind him, he took her into the living room. Sitting on the sofa, he drew her onto his lap, one hand slowly stroking her back and her hair. “Don’t cry, love, I won’t let you die.”

  “I don’t…”

  “My blood will keep you alive, Shannah, just the way it has been since you first came here. If you can’t accept it, I’ll wipe the memory from your mind each time, just as I have before.”

  She sniffed. “But it doesn’t work.”

  “What doesn’t work?”

  “Erasing the memory from my mind. Last night, you told me I wouldn’t remember…” She shuddered. “You told me I wouldn’t remember drinking your blood, but I did.”

  He swore softly. That changed things. “Shannah, look at me. Can you read my mind?”

  “No, of course not,” she said, then frowned. “You’re thinking that things have changed. You’re wondering why your suggestions aren’t working anymore.” Her eyes widened. “Why can I read your mind?”

  “The bond between us must be stronger than I thought.” He erected a mental barrier between them. “Try again.”

  She concentrated for several moments, then shook her head. “What did you do?”

  “I wanted to see if I could block you.”

  “Why? Don’t you want me to know what you’re thinking?”

  “It was just a test, love. This is new to me, too.”

  “Is it?”

  He nodded. “I’ve never bonded with anyone else.”

  She did
n’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do except rest her head on his shoulder and trust that he would take care of her.

  He held her in his arms until she fell asleep and then he carried her up the stairs and put her to bed. He sat beside her, watching her sleep until night gradually turned to day.

  As the first faint streaks of light began to steal the darkness from the sky, he brushed a lock of hair away from her brow, acknowledging once again that he was hopelessly, helplessly in love with her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I have an idea,” Ronan remarked thoughtfully.

  Shannah glanced at him. “What kind of an idea?”

  They were sitting in the living room in front of the fireplace. Shannah had finished her dinner and Ronan had just returned from the hunt. Neither had mentioned where he had been or what they had discussed the night before.

  “I want to introduce you to some others of my kind.”

  “What? Why?” Her expression made it clear she wasn’t at all keen on the idea of meeting other vampires.

  He took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “Because even I can’t keep you alive forever.”

  “Ronan…”

  “I want you to get a taste of what it’s like to live as a vampire, to see that, except for the obvious differences, they live like everyone else.”

  “I can see that just by living here, with you.”

  “No. In the last seventy years or so, I’ve lived like a hermit, staying in this house most of the time, content to concentrate on my books and my writing. It wasn’t until you came along that I realized how much I’ve been missing, how cut off I’ve been from the rest of the world and everything in it.”

  “Where are these other vampires?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Everywhere, love.”

  “Are there more of them here, in North Canyon Creek?”

  “No. This is a relatively small town. But in larger cities you’ll find many of them. There are thousands of us throughout the world.”

  “And no one knows?” she asked incredulously. “How is that possible?”

  “Some know but refuse to believe. Others, like Hewitt, hunt us.”