The Vampire Files Anthology
Page 474
Walking to where she sat, Sam stared down at Laura. "What I have to tell you is more important than a broken toilet."
She crossed her long legs. "That might depend on how bad one of us needs to go."
His talk with Laura would have to wait. "Okay, I'll fix it."
It took him only a moment to figure out the chain to the float had simply come loose. Sam corrected the problem, washed his face and hands and quickly brushed his teeth. He came out of the bathroom.
"It's working now."
She rose and glided toward him in a flutter of pink silk. When Laura reached his side, she handed him her coffee cup. "You might want to fortify yourself. I'm getting ready to yell at you."
He took a sip. "Thanks for the warning."
Carrying Laura's coffee cup to the bed, he placed the cup on a nightstand and took a seat. Laura emerged a moment later. Sam noticed the high heeled slippers she wore. They made her legs look a mile long.
"I see you've learned to navigate the cracks," he said.
"You'd be surprised what a girl can learn when she has a husband who doesn't stay home at night."
Laura got her jabs in where she could. She wasn't the type to let a man walk all over her. His wife was funny, smart, and sophisticated.
She was the best thing that had ever happened to him, even if a curse came with loving her. And Sam was about to lose her.
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," he said.
She made an adorable snorting noise. "Really? What a coincidence. That's what I wanted to talk to you about too."
Although Sam longed to make love to her, he couldn't keep deceiving his wife. "I need to confess something to you."
Her sarcastic smile faded. "You have some deep dark secret, don't you, Sam?"
He'd add intuitive to his list of wonderful character traits Laura possessed. "Yes."
Sighing, she walked to the bed and sat beside him. "You belong to some weird cult who get together naked in the woods and chant and dance around, right?"
If only it were that simple. There wasn't an easy way to tell her about his problem, so he might as well be blunt. "I'm a werewolf, baby."
The only response he got from Laura was the slight widening of her big baby blues. A moment later she laughed. "Good try. What's really going on?"
Sam wished he could laugh as well, pretend what he'd said was ludicrous. He took her hands in his. "I'm cursed. I thought marrying you, my soul mate, would free me, but it didn't. I had hoped I'd never have to tell you my secret. The wolf in the woods. The wolf in the cabin last night. That was me."
She sat as if shocked for a moment, and then Laura wrestled her hand from his. She stood, glaring down at him. "This isn't funny, Sam!"
No, it wasn't funny. It was horrible… at least seeing Laura's reaction was. The curse in itself wasn't so bad. "It's true, Laura."
Turning her back, she ran her fingers through her hair. When she faced him again, her expression was surprisingly calm. Very slowly, Laura asked, "Do have medication you're supposed to be taking in your suitcase? Should I get it for you?"
Laura didn't believe him. She thought he needed medication. Sam would as soon tell her that he was kidding and get back to their honeymoon. But he couldn't. He'd deceived his wife long enough. "I wish I could take a pill and make this go away, baby, but I can't. Since marrying you and consummating our vows on our wedding night didn't break the curse like I thought it would, I'm stuck with it."
Her hand went to her heart. She joined him on the bed. "You're telling me that you're a werewolf. You're not joking. You're perfectly serious. Do you know how crazy that sounds?"
Now that he'd told Laura his secret, Sam was determined to make her believe him. "When you were in here with the wolf last night, you said, "Nice wolf," and then you told me to go outside. Instead I moved toward you. You rolled off the other side of the bed, made a mad dash for the door and shut me inside. When you returned, you ordered me out. If I wasn't the wolf, how would I know that?"
Her brows drew together. Laura narrowed her eyes. "Were you here all along? Were you hiding while I was being scared out my wits?"
Sam rose, needing to stretch his legs. "I would never hide while you were frightened. I hoped you would see the wolf wouldn't harm you, but you didn't give me a chance to prove that. I'm hoarse today from howling so you could find your way back to the cabin. I was terrified something might happen to you."
Laura swallowed loudly. Her eyes watered. He was finally getting through to her. "You're not joking. You really are a werewolf."
A bevy of emotions crossed her face. Horror. Sadness. Everything but acceptance. Sam stood over her. "I know this is hard for you to comprehend, to believe, but—"
"No," she interrupted, looking down at her folded hands. "Surprisingly, it isn't hard for me to believe. If somewhere in my subconscious I've held on to all the things that frightened me as a child, it must mean that deep inside, I believe in the existence of witches and talking bears and monkeys that fly." She lifted her eyes to him again. "So, you're cursed."
Sam shrugged.
"And marrying me was supposed to free you but it didn't? Is that the only reason you married me? Because in order to break your curse you thought you had to get married?"
The pain in her eyes cut Sam to the quick. He bent before her. "I married you because I love you, Laura. Love sets the curse into motion. The minute I came face-to-face with you, it came upon me. I knew you were the one."
Laura shook her head. A tear rolled down her pale cheek. "But I must not be the one. You said it wasn't broken. Maybe there's another woman out there somewhere who can help you."
Wiping away her tears, Sam assured her, "I don't want another woman, Laura. I only want you. If you still want me, I don't care if I'm cursed for the rest of my life. If you can live with me the way I am, I can live with myself."
As he'd done a moment earlier, Laura now brushed away Sam's tears. "In two days I've learned a lot about myself. I've learned I can survive in the woods if I use my head. I've learned I can stand up to what frightens me. I suppose I can live without you, Sam. But I don't want to. I love you. For better or for worse, remember?"
Her words were sweeter to him than the vows they'd spoken only two days ago. Sam was humbled by his wife's unconditional love. By her acceptance and her courage. He should have told Laura from the start. He should have trusted her and trusted in himself to have chosen exactly the right woman. But there were still things he hadn't told his wife.
"Our sons might also carry the curse, Laura. It rarely surfaces these days, but I'm proof that it can still happen."
She frowned. "Will we know?"
He nodded. "My parents knew from the time I was a toddler. They helped prepare me."
Laura took his hand and pulled Sam up on the bed beside her. "Now I understand the look of hope in their eyes at our wedding. It was so intense. They were hoping for more than a happy future for us. They were hoping I could set you free of the curse I brought down upon you. And I've failed them. Failed you."
His wife wasn't to blame. Sam wouldn't allow her to feel guilt. "I can live with the curse. It's really not so bad. I love the freedom, but I would sacrifice that for you. I would sacrifice anything for you."
More tears fell down her cheeks, but she smiled at him through them. "We'll be all right, won't we, Sam?"
Taking her in his arms, Sam answered, "We'll be fine. I'll make sure of that."
He bent to kiss her but was suddenly knocked backward on the bed. His mouth flew open. A bright blue light spilled out. An apparition poured from him, stealing his breath. Above him, the form took shape. The shape of a glowing wolf.
Laura's shrill scream split the silence. The wolf shadow flinched. She kept screaming until the spirit leapt at her. Mouth open wide, the wolf lost shape and poured into her mouth. Sam could barely breathe, but he lunged for the spirit. He was too late.
It disappeared down Laura's throat. She swallowed with a loud gulp
.
"Oh no!" Sam shook her. "No!"
A soft belch left her lips. Her eyes still wide, she asked, "What the hell just happened to me?"
Sam pulled her close. "The wolf spirit left me. The curse is broken, but now it's inside you."
She pushed him back, eyes still huge. "Is that supposed to happen? I mean, have you ever heard of it doing that?"
He shook his head. "I've never read anything about it, but wait, I do recall reading something about the spirit entering other bodies."
Her bottom lip trembled. "Are you telling me now I'm a werewolf?"
Sam didn't know what to tell her. He'd never read much about the spirit possessing someone besides a male Wulf. There was a reference to it in some old writings. He'd have to find the reference again and study it. There had to be a way to call the spirit from an unwilling host. Like an exorcism. "It's only temporary," he assured her. "I'll figure out how to get rid of it."
She threw her hands up. "Great. I'm a woman. One curse a month and now I have another. I don't even like the woods, but I'll have to go running around in them during a full moon."
Having never considered the curse to be much of a curse, but sometimes a gift, Sam wasn't certain how to comfort her. He pulled his wife back into his arms. "At least now you know the scariest thing in the woods will be you."
Her eyes brimming with tears, she hiccupped. "I suppose you're right about that. I'll be like the queen of the woods until we figure out how to get rid of this spirit inside me, right?"
Sam had to give her some assurances. He was surprised she handled the situation as well as she had. "Other animals and even people won't mess with a wolf."
Laura pulled away, walked to the window and glanced outside. "We'll have to still come up here every month, but now for me instead of you."
"I'll take care of you, Laura," Sam promised. "It isn't so much of a curse as an inconvenience at times. It's a good way for you to learn to like the great outdoors. I already know the ropes, so I can prepare you for the change. And someday, we may both need to prepare our children."
Her voice shook when she asked, "Is it going to happen tonight, Sam?"
He walked up behind her. "No. It won't happen until the next full moon. The rest of the honeymoon is just for us. For talking and laughing and loving."
"That, I can handle," she said. "We can handle anything, right, as long as we're together?"
His heart came close to bursting with joy. He had chosen the right woman. He loved Laura, but he'd misjudged her. He should have trusted her to be strong enough to handle the truth. "As long as we're together," he agreed, turning her to face him so he could kiss her.
Laura stopped him. "You said earlier that you would do anything for me." She nodded at the windows over the bed. "Those drapes have to go. And I want the floors redone and the bathroom made larger. If we're spending a few days a month here, we're going to make it a real luxury hideaway."
Her request was a simple one, all things considered. "Whatever you want, baby."
Pulling his face close to hers, she said, "What I want at the moment is for my husband to make love to me. Then I want you to tell me everything you know about this curse you've passed to me. What happens, how you feel when it happens, how I'm going to feel, and as soon as we get home, we're digging for answers on how to exorcise the thing."
Sam felt certain there was a way. He planned to talk Laura into experiencing at least once, the freedom of being a wolf. It should do wonders for her confidence in dealing with the great outdoors. Simply because he was no longer forced to spend time at the cabin, didn't mean Sam didn't want to continue to visit their little hideaway. It was a place they would someday bring their children. It was part of their future. And now more than ever, he knew they would be together always, regardless of what life threw in their paths.
"Anything for you, Laura," Sam said before claiming her lips.
New York Times and USA Today-bestselling author Ronda Thompson is best known for her popular Wild Wulfs of London series. Her most recent release is Confessions of a Werewolf Supermodel. For the latest news, visit Ronda at www.rondathompson.com.
P.N. Elrod Omnibus
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A Night at the (Horse) Opera, Smashwords Edition copyright 1995, 2011, P.N. Elrod
Originally in Celebrity Vampires, DAW 1995
Breath of Bast, Smashwords Edition copyright 2011, P.N. Elrod
Originally in Kittens, Cats, and Crime Five Star, 2003
Bossman, Smashwords Edition copyright 2011 by P.N. Elrod
Originally in Death By Horoscope, edited by Anne Perry, Carroll & Graf, 2001
Slaughter, Smashwords Edition, copyright 2011 by P.N. Elrod
Originally in The Repentant, DAW, 2003
The Devil’s Mark, Smashwords Edition, copyright 2011, by P.N. Elrod
Originally in Time of the Vampires DAW 1996
You’ll Catch Your Death, Smashwords Edition copyright, 2011, by P.N. Elrod
Originally in Vampire Detectives DAW 1995
Izzy’s Shoe-In, Smashwords Edition, copyright 2011, by P.N. Elrod
Originally in White House Pet Detectives, Cumberland House 1992
The Quick Way Down, Smashwords Edition, copyright 2011, by P.N. Elrod
Originally in Mob Magic DAW 1998
The Scottish Ploy, Smashwords Edition, copyright 2011, by P.N. Elrod
Originally in Murder Most Romantic, Ace, 2002
Grave-Robbed, Smashwords Edition, copyright 2011, by P.N. Elrod
Originally in Many Bloody Returns, Ace, 2007
The Company You Keep, Smashwords Edition, copyright 2011, by P.N. Elrod
Originally in Dracula and the Legions of the Undead, Moonstone 2009
Death in Dover, Smashwords Edition, copyright 2011, by P.N. Elrod
Originally in Death by Dickens, Berkley, 2004
Drawing Dead, Smashwords Edition, copyright 2011, by P.N. Elrod
King of Shreds and Patches, Smashwords Edition, copyright 2011, by P.N. Elrod
Originally in Rotten Relations, DAW, 2004
Fugitive, Smashwords Edition, copyright 2011, by P.N. Elrod
Originally in Women at War, Tor, 1995
The Wind Breathes Cold, Smashwords Edition, copyright 2011, by P.N. Elrod
Originally in Dracula Prince of Darkness DAW 1992
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A NIGHT AT THE (HORSE) OPERA
Author’s Note: I was asked to do a story for a collection called CELEBRITY VAMPIRES for DAW and being a fan of the Marx Brothers, it was a no-brainer write about one of them crossing paths with my Depression era vampire PI. It’s still one of my favorites.
Chicago, Autumn, 1936
The smell of buttered popcorn was distracting until I settled in my seat and stopped pretending to breathe. I wasn’t able to drink soda pop anymore, and the darkness wasn’t really dark anymore, but a movie was still a movie, and it was rare that I didn’t drop in on one of Chicago’s shadow palaces two or three times a week take in the latest show.
This particular one wasn’t especially new; The Plainsman had been out for a while, but I’d somehow missed it until now, a sad lapse for a Gary Cooper fan. Of course, I also liked Jean Arthur, who was mighty eye-catching done up in Hollywood cowgirl style. I lost track of the dialog at one point, speculating how my girlfriend, Bobbi, might look in a similar outfit of made of buckskins. Probably very good, I thought; then things start
ed happening in the plot I couldn’t follow because of my internal wandering.
“I fell asleep—what’s going on?” I whispered to the man next to me. Not looking away from the screen, he obligingly leaned over and filled me in, speaking low and with a decided New York accent. I’d lived there for a long time before moving to Chicago and was mildly curious to find out why he’d left, but it could wait until after the feature.
De Mille’s epic danced over the screen with enough thrills and drama to keep the most jaded Western lover satisfied, myself included. If it was still playing here tomorrow, which was Bobbi’s night off, I’d ask her out. She wouldn’t need much persuading; she liked Gary Cooper, too.
The movie rolled to its end, and the lights came up. Other people rose to leave, uniformed ushers appeared to clean up the trash, and the rest of the audience remained seated to wait for the next feature to start. Bobbi’s last show at the night club where she sang wouldn’t be over for another couple of hours; I was in no hurry to leave. The same apparently went for my seat mate, who pulled out a crumpled sack of peanuts from somewhere and began shelling and eating them in a leisurely manner.
“Thanks,” I said.
His bright eyes clouded slightly as he tried to recall why I was thanking him, then comprehension dawned. “Don’t mention it.”
“New York?” I asked.
“Ninety-third Streeter,” he promptly replied. He had a sloping nose, wide at the base, a wide, expressive mouth, receding hair, and enough mischief packed into his mug for a dozen Christmas elves. He looked as though he ought to be somebody, and I had a nagging feeling that I knew him. “You from there, too?” he asked.