Be Still My Vampire Heart

CHAPTER 15

He was going to be late. Emma checked her watch once again. Two minutes till nine, and he was nowhere in sight. Granted her eyesight wasn't nearly as good as his in the dark, moonlit surroundings of Central Park. She could always reach out to him psychically, but she really didn't want him inside her head. He was already too much in her heart.

She leaned her elbows on the bridge's stone wall and surveyed the area around the Pond. No men in kilts. He could be wearing trousers, though. The rascal looked equally gorgeous in both. Her gaze zeroed in on a young man in the distance, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. No, not Angus. There was no mistaking his broad shoulders and long auburn hair.

There was simply no one like him.

Her heart grew heavy. Why couldn't he be human? Fifty years from now, he would have forgotten all about her. She'd be one of many humans who had come and gone, swept away like the dead leaves of autumn. God help her, she wanted to be different. She wanted to be special to him. She wanted to be loved.

Her heart sank lower. Why couldn't she be attracted to a normal guy? Ha! Who on earth would be attracted to a normal guy when Angus was around? His old-fashioned sense of honor and gentlemanly behavior touched her heart. He was the hero of a young girl's fantasies. Strong, brave, dependable, intelligent. But he was also a grown woman's fantasy—sexy, aggressive, and a little bit dangerous. How could she resist such a man?

"Good evening."

She turned with a gasp. "I didn't see you coming."

"Ye were deep in thought."

Thinking about him. Thank God she could block her mind from him. Even so, she realized the warmth invading her cheeks betrayed her innermost thoughts. Angus looked gorgeous as usual. He was wearing the blue and green plaid kilt. His hunter-green socks matched his sweater. The hilt of a knife showed above his right sock. The leather straps crossing his chest could only mean his claymore was on his back.

She cleared her throat. "You came prepared."

"As did you."

"Yes." She hitched her bag of stakes higher on her shoulder. "Thank you for coming."

He smiled slowly.

Too gorgeous. A feeling of awkwardness nettled her.

"Shall we?" He extended his hand.

Did he expect her to hold his hand? Or was he merely motioning for her to start walking?

Too awkward. She headed north, leaving the bridge behind. He strolled beside her. Close beside her. For a big man, he moved very quietly. She adjusted her bag to hear the comforting rattle of stakes break the silence.

Why was he being so quiet? She tried to think of something normal to talk about. "So, do you always wear the same plaid?"

"'Tis the MacKay tartan. Ye doona like my kilts?"

"Oh, I do. I just wondered if you had more than one." She winced. Brilliant. Why not insult the man? "I mean, more than one style."

He smiled. "I have actually acquired quite a few clothes over the centuries."

Several centuries of fashion stuffed into one closet? It was mind-boggling. "You mean you still have wigs and waistcoats and lacy shirts?"

"Aye. Stashed away somewhere in my castle."

Her mouth dropped open. His castle? Good heavens, how could anyone have a normal conversation with Angus MacKay? He was… fascinating.

His hand brushed against hers as they walked.

She thought about moving a bit to the right, out of his reach, but she didn't. It would be too obvious and more… awkward. "You'll be able to hear an attack anywhere in the park?"

"Aye. Just to be safe, I asked Connor to patrol the northern half."

"That's good. We'll have backup, if we need it."

"Aye." His hand lingered close to hers.

Her heart beat faster. "It seems odd that we just met last Friday night."

"Aye." He entwined his fingers with hers.

Her heart swelled with longing. "This is only our fifth night together."

"When ye've lived as long as I have, ye realize how relative time is. I've endured centuries that passed in the blink of an eye as if I were barely breathing." He stopped and faced her. "Or I can experience an entire lifetime in the span of a few nights. All the hope and passion that makes life worth living, 'tis suddenly surrounding me like a gift from God."

"Oh, Angus." Then she was different. She was special.

"We canna deny what is happening to us, Emma."

She released his hand. "I don't deny it. But we also can't deny that there's no chance for us."

"Emma—"

"No." She held up a hand. "I don't want to be one of a long line of human girlfriends. I–I feel special to you right now, just as I am. And I need to leave it that way. I want to be able to say good-bye when you go with my heart still full. Not drained and desolate. Can you understand?"

"Nay. For one thing, ye're assuming a sad ending."

"How could it possibly be anything else but sad? We're from two different worlds."

He frowned. "We're more alike than ye think. And there has never been a long line of mortal girlfriends."

"You fed off human women for centuries. You told me you left them all very satisfied. That sounds like a long line of lovers to me."

"That was survival. That was me giving back to faceless women I canna remember, so I wouldna feel guilty for stealing their blood. Yeare different, Emma. I doona need ye in order to survive. But surviving is no' the same as living. Or the same as feeling human again. I am alive when I'm with you. Ye feed my soul."

She stared at him, unblinking. Good heavens, what could she say to this? Take me, I'm yours?

He turned his head to the side. "I heard a scream."

She listened carefully, but heard nothing.

"This way." He motioned for her to follow.

She jogged alongside him, going north. "I don't hear anything."

"They'll have control of their victim by now. There will be no more screams." After several minutes, he halted. "We're close now," he whispered. "Yer stakes are making noise."

She removed the bag from her shoulder and wrapped the stakes tightly together.

"Better?" She cradled them against her chest.

He nodded and placed a finger to his lips. She followed him quietly as he left the brick pathway and headed through a grove of trees. The moonlight barely pierced through the canopy of budding leaves overhead. The air grew more chill. Angus became a large shadow that she trailed closely. A breeze ruffled the leaves and brought the sound of a male voice.

"Hey, man, leave some for me."

Emma's skin prickled with gooseflesh. Angus was moving very slowly now. She glanced around nervously, hoping all the dark shapes around them were only trees.

"Shit, what are you doing?" the same voice complained loudly. "That's no way to treat a woman. I wouldn't treat a ho like that."

"Quiet, you fool," another voice hissed.

"Hey, feeding is one thing, but you're killing her. That just ain't right."

Angus drew Emma alongside him so she could see the clearing in front of them.

Moonlight gleamed off a huge granite boulder, tinting the clearing with ghostly shades of gray. A male vampire, dressed in black, had a woman pinned to the ground. She looked silvery pale in the moonlight. Her eyes were black and glassy. The only color was the red blood oozing from twin punctures on her neck. A second vampire, a black man dressed in torn blue jeans and a gray hooded sweatshirt, paced nervously close by. "Shit, man. I hate this."

The first vampire sank his fangs into the woman's neck once again. Emma flinched. The woman would never survive a second bite. Angus held her arm to keep her from moving forward.

"Cut it out, bro!" The black vampire jumped about, trying to get the other vampire's attention. "You're sucking her dry. She's gonna die!"

In a flash, Angus zoomed into the clearing, drawing his claymore. He pricked the first vampire in the neck. "Release her."

Emma flipped her bag open and retrieved a stake.

"What the hell?" The black vampire moved away.

Emma jumped into the clearing and blocked his escape. She pointed her stake at his heart. "Stay right where you are."

"Shit." The black vampire stared at her, then at Angus. "Who the hell are you?"

The first vampire rose slowly to his feet. Blood dripped from his distended fangs. He backed away, but Angus followed him, his sword aimed at the evil vampire's heart.

"This park is under my protection," Angus growled. "Ye will do no more killing here."

"I remember you," the evil vampire spoke with a Russian accent. "You were at the ball last year at Romatech. You crushed Ivan's watch. You're Angus MacKay."

"So now you're following orders from Katya?" Angus asked softly. "Did she ask you to kill for her?"

"I would do anything for her."

"Then tell her this, Alek." When the vampire flinched, Angus continued, "Aye, I know who ye are. Ye were an errand boy for Ivan Petrovsky, and now ye're doing Katya's dirty work."

Emma glanced at the injured woman. How long were these guys going to chat while she lay there bleeding to death? "I'll call an ambulance."

Alek gasped when he looked at her. "You! You're the one I saw before. You killed Vladimir."

Emma swallowed hard. This was the vampire who had gotten away last summer. The only one who knew who she was.

"I was right." Alek glared at her. "The slayer is a mortal woman." He glanced at Angus.

"But you're helping her, aren't you?"

"Angus." Emma gave him a pleading look. If this vampire lived, he would tell all the Malcontents that she and Angus were working together.

He charged at Alek, but just before his sword could make contact, Alek vanished.

"Nay!" Angus's sword impaled a tree. "The devil take it." He ripped his sword loose.

"Damn," the black vampire muttered. "Who are you guys? The vampire po-po?"

Angus strode toward the black vampire, scowling. "Doona move."

The vampire raised his hands in surrender. "You da man. I don't mess with no brother with a three-foot blade."

While Angus pointed his claymore at the black vampire's heart, Emma rushed to the injured woman. "She's dying. We have to help her."

"I've called Connor mentally. He should be here—" Angus stopped when Connor appeared beside him.

Connor quickly surveyed the scene. His eyes flashed with anger when he saw the injured woman. He glowered at the black vampire. "Ye bastard, I should throttle you."

"I didn't do it!" the black vampire shouted. "I know, I know, I always tell the po-po I didn't do it, but this time I really mean it. I didn't get a drop out of her. I'm still starving."

He glanced at Emma with a speculative look.

She glared back. "Don't even think about it."

"Connor, can ye take the woman to Romatech?" Angus asked. "Roman can save her. Then ye can remove her memory and take her home."

"Will do." Connor gathered the woman in his arms, then vanished.

"Where's everybody going?" the black vampire asked.

"Who are you?" Angus stepped toward him.

He backed up. "I'll be a damned shish kebab if you come any closer with that super-sized switchblade. I've already died once this week, and I don't want to go through that again."

"Ye were transformed this last week?"

"Yeah. That psycho Russian dude did it to me. I was minding my own business, and business was good, if you know what I mean. I had a fine reputation. I had it going on.

Then that son of a bitch Alek came along—"

"You were selling drugs?" Emma moved toward him.

"Now, ain't that just the way?" The black vampire frowned at her. "Just because I'm a brother, you assume I'm trafficking."

"Were you?" she asked.

He shrugged. "A man's gotta make a living. Look, girlfriend, I ain't got nothing against you, but I'm starvin', and you're smelling really sweet."

"Touch her and ye die," Angus growled.

"Whoa, bro." He lifted both hands in surrender. "I didn't realize you were, uh, interested in those of a female persuasion, what with that skirt you're wearing and—"

"Enough." Angus slid his claymore back into its sheath. "Drink this." He opened his sporran and removed his flask.

"Nice purse," the black vampire muttered. "I know a guy who can get you a designer one real cheap."

Angus gritted his teeth. "'Tis no' a purse!"

"Whatever you say, man." The black vampire accepted the flask. "This ain't no poison, is it? You know, that's why those bastards killed me. They're making some kind of vampire poison."

"'Tis safe. Drink," Angus ordered.

"Vampire poison?" Emma asked.

"Nightshade," Angus muttered.

"Yeah, that's what they called it." The vampire sniffed at the contents of the flask.

"Whoa! This smells good. What is this shit?"

"Blissky. A mixture of synthetic blood and Scotch whisky."

Ah. Now Emma understood why she'd smelled whisky on Angus's breath that first night. She waited for the black vampire to finish his drink.

And waited. She glanced at Angus.

His mouth twitched. "Apparently, our guest is verra hungry."

"Oo-wee!" The black vampire wiped his mouth. "That's some good shit." He upended the flask again, but it was empty. "You got any more of this?"

"We have dozens of bottles at home," Angus answered. "And we can get more whenever we like."

"No shit? You know, those damned Russians don't have anything to eat at their house.

They go out every freaking night to attack people. I told them they should be attacking the local blood bank, you know, and storing up some snacks at their crib, but would they listen to me? No."

"You doona wish to harm people?"

"Hell, no. I ain't no killer." He winked at Emma. "I'm more of a lover, you understand."

"You're not exactly a law-abiding citizen," Emma reminded him.

"I gotta make a living. I–I have people depending on me."

"What is yer name?" Angus asked.

"Phineas McKinney."

"McKinney?"

Phineas shrugged. "The brothers used to call me Master Phin." He raised his chin defiantly. "Now I wish to be called Dr. Phang."

Angus arched a brow.

Emma dropped her stake back into her bag. "Why would the Russians transform you?"

Phineas frowned and shuffled his feet. "They wanted easy access to some drugs. Their queen bitch is making that poison."

"You mean Katya?" Emma asked.

"Yeah, her royal highness bee-yotch." Phineas waved a hand in the air. "She had her evil minion kill me, then she acts like she's done me some big favor. Made me sleep on the floor in her basement like some kind of dog. And when I tried to go back to my family, she—she threatened to kill them all."

"I'm so sorry," Emma whispered.

"We've stayed here long enough." Angus retrieved his cell phone from his sporran.

"Alek could return with a dozen Malcontents. We'll teleport to the townhouse."

Phineas winced. "I ain't very good at that teleporting."

"I'll take you." Angus punched in a number on his phone. "Ian? Ye wanted advance warning. This is it. I'm coming in with two." He dropped his phone back into his sporran, then wrapped one arm around Emma and pulled her close. Then he motioned for Phineas to approach.

Phineas gave him a wary look.

"'Tis either us or the Malcontents," Angus told him. "Do ye want to spend an eternity attacking the innocent just to survive?"

Phineas took a hesitant step forward. "But I don't even know you, man."

"I'm Angus MacKay." He grasped Phineas around the shoulders. "Ye've made the right decision."

Phineas snorted. "Maybe I'm just coming for the Blissky."

Everything went black, but only for a few seconds. Emma's feet landed solidly in the foyer of Roman's townhouse.

Ian was standing by the staircase, his weapon drawn. His gaze passed over her, clearly not seeing her as a threat, then focused on Phineas. "Who are you?" He marched toward Phineas, raising his sword.

"Shit!" Phineas ducked behind Angus. "What's with you guys and the swords?"

"'Tis all right, Ian," Angus said. "I brought him here on purpose."

Ian nodded. "I had to make sure he hadn't coerced ye somehow." He slid his claymore back into its sheath.

Phineas peeked around Angus. "You know, you guys wouldn't have to act so macho all the time if you weren't wearing those skirts. It's called compensation, you know."

Ian grimaced. "Are ye certain I canna skewer him?"

"Nay." Angus patted Phineas on the back. "He's going to stay here for a while."

Ian gave him a dubious look. "Who are ye, exactly?"

Phineas lifted his chin. "I'm Dr. Phang."

"Oh." Ian's eyes widened. "Ye're here for Shanna then?"

"Shanna who?"

"Shanna Draganesti," Ian said. "She's having a baby."

"I didn't do it!" Phineas stepped back, raising his hands. "I don't even know a Shanna." Emma laughed.

"Ye're no' the father," Angus growled.

"That's what I always say." Phineas planted his hands on his hips. "But does anyone ever believe me? No."

"We believe you." Angus turned to Ian. "He's no' a real doctor. His title is somewhat… honorary in nature."

"That's right." Phineas nodded. "That's me, I'm honorary."

"And he's working for me now," Angus announced.

Phineas blinked. "I am?"

"He is?" Ian looked skeptical.

Emma smiled. Tonight had given her an excellent opportunity to watch Angus in action. She liked what she saw. He was a noble and kindhearted man. He folded his arms over his chest, studying Phineas. "Can ye fight, lad?"

"What do you think? I'm from the Bronx."

"Ye must follow our rules," Angus continued. "And the main rule is ye can never harm a mortal again. No biting. Ye'll take yer meals from a bottle. Can ye do that?"

"Hell, yeah." Phineas looked at Ian. "Hey, you got any more of that Blissky around here? I'm still hungry."

"No more Blissky tonight," Angus ordered. "Ian, bring him a warm bottle of Type O."

"Sure." Ian strode to the kitchen.

Phineas wandered around the foyer. "You all stay here?"

"I'm just visiting," Angus explained. "Connor, Ian, and Dougal live here. Ye can live here, too."

"No shit?" Phineas's eyes lit up. He peeked into the library. "Cool."

"I expect ye to work for me."

"In exchange for room and board. I get it." Phineas peered into the living room. "Whoa, what a mother of wide-screen TVs. Do you get the Knicks?"

"Ye'll be working under Connor, and ye'll be paid twice a month."

Phineas spun around to stare at Angus. "Paid? Like real paychecks?"

"Aye."

Phineas's mouth dropped open. "No one's ever offered me a real job before."

Angus regarded him sternly. "Doona make me regret it."

"No, no. I'll be cool. I–I need a job. I have family that depends on me. I can send them some money, right?"

"Of course. But ye canna tell them what ye have become, or what kind of work ye're doing. Believe me, they willna understand."

"I kinda figured that." Phineas's eyes glistened with tears. "I have a little brother and sister. They're staying with my aunt, but she's got diabetes real bad, so she can't work.

They all depend on me, and I–I've been real worried about them."

"You have no parents?" Emma asked.

Phineas shook his head. "My mom died of AIDS, and my dad ran off when I was little. I've been worried sick about my family. They don't know what happened to me, and those damned Russians wouldn't let me go."

Angus nodded. "Ian can drive ye home for a wee visit." He removed a wad of bills from his sporran. "This is an advance on yer first paycheck. Leave it with yer family, for I canna guarantee how often ye can go back to see them."

"That's cool, brother." Phineas accepted the cash.

Ian came back with a bottle of blood which he passed to Phineas. "I'm Ian MacPhie. I still doona know yer real name."

"Phineas McKinney." He took a swig from the bottle.

Ian blinked. "McKinney?"

Angus smiled. "Apparently he's Scottish."

Ian studied him with narrowed eyes. "I've known a few McKinneys over the years, but they never looked like him."

Angus shrugged. "He's one of us now. After ye drive him home for a wee visit, ye need to start his training."

"What training?" Phineas gulped down more blood.

"Martial arts and fencing," Angus replied.

"Oh hell, brother, I already know how to fence things."

Ian laughed. "We mean sword fighting."

Phineas's mouth dropped open. "You mean I get one of those gargantuan mother switchblades?"

"A claymore, aye." Ian grabbed Phineas by the arm and led him to the front door. "Ye'll be a warrior just like us."

"Cool." Phineas glanced back at Angus before leaving. "But I ain't wearing no skirt!"

Emma laughed as the door shut. "You're a sweet man, Angus MacKay."

He snorted. "I dinna help him entirely out of kindness. The Malcontents outnumber us, and Roman is opposed to transforming more honorable vampires. It puts us in a bind."

"I see." Emma nodded, then smiled. "But I still think you're sweet." He'd seen a goodness in Phineas that many would have overlooked.

Angus stepped closer to her. "So ye find me attractive, do ye?"

"Yes. And I trust you." What a huge change in just a few days. Only Angus could have managed that.

He held her by the shoulders. "Then trust me on this. Ye're in grave danger. I want ye to spend the night with me."