Sex and the Single Vampire

Chapter Three

As I saw it, I had two choices. I could either assume that the past evening spent in the presence of a mentally disturbed individual who thought nothing of inflicting horrible tortures upon himself was not real, something my mind dredged up for some purpose or other, or I could rip that black sweater from Dante's manly chest and look for healing cuts, calling loudly for the police and the nice guys in the white suits.

In the end I decided to take my cue from the man himself. If he recognized me, I'd know the episode was real. If he didn't, I'd know that I had the most vivid and realistic vision I could ever possibly imagine, one that had left red fingerprints all over my notebook.

As the line slowly crept forward, I kept myself hidden by the chunky woman in front of me, just in case Dante spotted me and started making a scene. One of the store employees was escorting people to him, handing him the books to be signed, then making sure the fan was hustled off so the next one could take her spot. I looked behind me, then back to the front. Every single person in line was female. Hmm. I peeked around the shoulder of the woman in front of me and studied Dante. He was every bit as handsome as I remembered him, more so because he wasn't dripping blood everywhere.

"Some men look really, really good in black," I said without thinking. The woman in front of me turned and nodded her head emphatically. I gave her a cheesy smile in return. I felt something behind me, a sort of rippling in the air, and turned to see a tall, very pregnant woman waddle past the line of people waiting. She was accompanied by a short woman with one of those pretty heart-shaped faces that I had always secretly coveted. Both of them grinned and circled around behind the table to greet Dante. He stopped signing long enough to kiss both their hands, and speak with them for a few minutes before apologizing to the person who was waiting for her book.

So he has groupies, I told myself. So what? You can't expect a man to go around looking like he does without having great huge hordes of women falling all over him. Means nothing to you, unless of course the slice-and-dice scene last night was real; then you have to do something about him before he starts cutting up others.

I gnawed my lip and tried to decide what to do as the line snaked ever so surely forward, but in the end I just kept myself hidden behind the chunky woman until I was next in line. The bookstore woman grabbed my book from me.

"Just signed, or inscribed to someone?"

"Um… inscribed, please. To Corrine. Two Rs, one N."

The woman nodded and turned back to look at Dante as the chunky woman giggled and told him he was no better than he should be. He smiled and the bookstore woman handed him Corrine's book, leaning forward to give him the information. He bent over the book, writing with an elegant hand that reminded me of Victorian copperplate.

"I hope you enjoy the book," he said as he signed his name with a flourish, his voice as beautiful as I remembered it. It slid over my skin like silk, raising the hairs on my arms with the pure, rich tone. He looked up and smiled as he handed me the book, then froze like a pointer spotting a pheasant.

"Christian?" The pregnant woman looked between the two of us standing still as statues.

I stopped breathing. Even through my dark glasses I could feel the pull of his eyes. It was as if I were being sucked into them, teetering on the edge of an abyss.

"Christian?" The woman touched his arm.

Without being aware of it, I unguarded my mind and felt myself plunge down into the depths of his eyes, down into a blackness that surrounded me, filling me with grief and anguish and hopelessness without end. I was overwhelmed with his pain, filled with it, unable to catch my breath under its suffocating presence.

"Christian, are you okay?"

Desperately I tried to reguard my mind, bringing down as many mental barriers as I could to keep him from filling me with his torment.

"Who are you?" I asked in a whisper that was all I could manage after the experience of looking into his mind.

His eyes darkened.

"More important, who are you?" the shorter woman with the pretty face asked. She looked at me curiously, eyeing me from toes to nose before turning to Dante and whapping him on the shoulder. "I told you this was a good idea! See? We got her after only a half hour! Good. Now I can go home."

The bookstore woman nudged me, and when I didn't do anything but stare at the man in front of me—who, it should be noted, was staring right back at me, his eyes dark with mingled surprise and pain and no little amount of speculation—she took the book from his hand and shoved it at me, giving me a little push to get me going. I stumbled forward, unable to tear my gaze away from Dante's until the pregnant woman put a hand out and touched my shoulder.

"You're probably going to think this is very strange of me, but I wonder if I could talk to you for a few minutes?"

I blinked and dragged my gaze off Dante's tortured eyes to look at the woman standing next to me. She was a few inches taller than me, and had pleasant eyes and an aura of friendliness that I could feel without dropping my guards.

"Um…" I said, still feeling more than a little bit dazed. I mentally shook my head and gathered my wits. Summoners were in control at all times. To be out of control was a dangerous thing; it opened the Summoner up to all sorts of horrible eventualities. I couldn't let a little thing like a meeting with… My eyes drifted back to where Dante was sitting. He was watching me even as the woman before him prattled on about how much she loved his books. I took a deep breath and turned back to the woman, who was also watching me closely. I had at least a thousand questions to ask about Dante; his groupies were likely to be a good place to start. "Sure, I can spare a few minutes."

The woman smiled, warmth glowing around her like a halo. "Good. Rox?"

"Right with you," the smaller woman said, grabbing my arm. "Let's go to the espresso stand. I don't know about anyone else, but I could sure use a latte right about now. It's hard work, hunting Beloveds."

I peeked at her out of the corner of my eye. She must have noticed, because she grinned and tugged me forward until I was frog-marched between the two of them, feeling like nothing so much as a prisoner being escorted to a cell.

The tall one stopped after a few steps and glanced down at my leg. "I'm sorry; I'll walk slower."

I shrugged off her concern and limped forward. "It's okay. My leg doesn't like it if I stand around too much."

"So what's with the shades?" the smaller woman asked as she walked next to me. "You got an eye condition or you just like to look cool?"

"Roxy! Don't be so rude! You'll have to forgive her," the pregnant woman said as we stopped before the in-store latte stand. "She was dropped on her head when she was a baby. Several times, as a matter of fact. Two double tall skinny lattes, and… what would you like?"

"Americano," I said, wondering just what sort of man attracted such strange groupies. And was that his baby the tall one was carrying? More important, why did I want so much for it not to be his?

She gave the order. "And I'll take one of those lemon muffins, and that piece of pastry with the cherries on it, and… um… that mocha brownie." She turned to us. "Do either of you want anything?"

"You're going to explode if you eat all that," the smaller woman said with a pointed frown at the pregnant belly. I shook my head, then allowed myself to be herded over to a nearby table.

"I expect you're a bit curious about this," the tall one said, giving me a reassuring smile. "First off, I'm Joy, this is my friend Roxy, and you are… ?"

"Allie. Allegra Telford."

"You're American, too?"

"Yes." I squirmed a bit uncomfortably in my chair, wanting for some reason to go back to Dante so I could stare at him a bit more.

"Cool," Roxy said. "The big question, of course, is do you believe in vampires?"

"Roxy!"

She turned to her outraged friend. "What? It's important!"

"Yes, but you don't just blurt it out like that! You work up to these things cautiously, carefully. Most people get all weirded out if you start talking about vampires and Dark Ones and all that. You have to approach the subject with kid gloves. I'm sorry, Allie; she has no delicacy or tact."

Delicacy? About the paranormal? Around me? Laughter burbled up inside of me until I couldn't keep it in any longer. I whooped until my eyes streamed, forcing me to grab a napkin and mop up under my glasses. Both women stared at me as if I had a ghost of a three-legged cat standing on my head.

"Sorry, it just struck me funny. What you said. In answer to your questions, Roxy, yes, I have an eye condition, although it's not sensitivity, if that's what you were thinking. If you really want to see, I'll show you, but most people find my eyes… unnerving. And I'm not weirded out by stuff like vampires, Joy, although I have to admit I've never seen any proof that they exist. You don't happen to know what a Summoner is, by any chance?"

Both women shook their heads, then Roxy, on my left, leaned in close and squinted to see in behind my glasses. I rolled my eye toward her. "Oooh, cool, you have really light eyes. What is that, gray? Silver? Yeah, it's a bit strange to have eyes the color of a full moon with a dark ring around the outer edge, but I don't see what's so unnerving about them."

Joy, on my other side, tipped her head to look in the right side of my glasses, then frowned. "She doesn't have light eyes, you idiot! They're kind of a hazely gold with patches of a darker brown. That's interesting how the color varies within your iris. Still, I have to agree with Rox—it's different, but hardly unnerving."

I sighed and made sure no one was near, then pulled my glasses off. Both women gasped.

"Oh, that is so totally cool! Your eyes are two different colors! Are those contacts?" Roxy asked, leaning close to peer at my eyes.

"No."

"You were born like that? Very cool!"

I couldn't help but smile at her. She was the only person I'd ever met who thought my eyes weren't creepy. "It's a condition called heterochromia irides. It's fairly rare, and most cases don't have the extreme variation in eye color that I have, but it's not, as some people believe, a sign that I'm marked by the devil."

"Well, of course not," Joy said. "Personally, I like the effect. It makes you look… unique."

I snorted. "Unique, that's a nice way of saying it. The silver eye would be bad enough by itself, but coupled with the dark eye…" I shrugged and put my glasses back on. "Most people get nervous around me when I'm not wearing my glasses."

Roxy peered in the side of my glasses again until Joy smacked her arm and told her to behave. "It's unusual, Allie, but not unnerving. Don't feel like you have to hide your eyes from us."

"So what's a Summoner?" Roxy changed the subject abruptly as the waitress brought our drinks and Joy's food.

I chewed on my lip for a moment. Something was bothering me; some vague sense of unease was growing. I took a long look at the two women next to me, but the feeling wasn't coming from them.

"A Summoner has the power to talk to ghosts." I turned my head to scan the people in the espresso area, my gaze moving beyond to the line of people visible waiting for Dante to sign their books. The line was smaller now, just twenty or so people left, but something nagged at me, pulled at my mind as if I were missing something important.

"Cool!" Roxy breathed. "And you're one? You can talk to ghosts? Do you use a Ouija board or something?"

"Wait a minute," Joy said, her brow furrowed as she tapped out a tattoo on the tabletop. "I think I read something about that in one of Christian's books… isn't a Summoner someone who can raise the dead?"

I gave the line one last worried look, then turned back to shake my head at Joy. "Not really, no. We can only call those spirits who are already present, tied to a location, not ones who have passed on to another existence. But once we call them, they stay bound to us until we release them. Summoners are used primarily in cases of hauntings that trouble the living, poltergeists and the like. The spirit is Summoned, then Released to move on to where they were meant to go."

"We? So you're a Summoner?" Roxy asked, her eyes big.

I nodded.

"Wow. Can anyone do it? I mean, is it a matter of just a few magic words and voilà, you got yourself the ghost of Great-Grandpa Joe?"

"Don't be so flippant, Roxy; this is a serious matter. If Allie is Christian's—" She stopped and gave me a toothy smile. "Well, regardless, I'm sure she is uniquely qualified to do what she's doing."

"Oh." Roxy eyed me. "Yeah. I see what you mean."

"I don't," I replied, looking from her to Joy. "I take it Christian is C. J. Dante?"

Both nodded at me.

"Would either of you happen to know if he's riddled with at least a hundred cuts on his torso, arms, and legs?"

As if they were in unison, both their mouths dropped open in surprise.

I sighed. "I'll take that as a no. Right. So what does Christian have to do with me, other than—" It was my turn to stop in the middle of sentence.

"Other than what?" Roxy asked, just as I knew she would. "Have you met him before? He never told us he met you, and I think he would, don't you, Joy?"

"Yes," she said, her dark eyes considering me as she munched on a lemon muffin. She licked crumbs from her lips and glanced at Roxy. "Christian is a very dear friend of ours. We promised last year to help him find… someone."

"Someone? Like a blind date?"

Roxy snorted.

"Not quite," Joy said, popping another piece of muffin in her mouth.

I didn't believe her. She was trying to match Christian up with someone; I could feel her concern about him. Still, that had nothing to do with me, nothing unless it turned out he really was in that inn last night, and then I had a few questions for him, questions like what on earth he was doing cutting himself up like that, and who were the people he was waiting for, and how did he get rid of everything so quickly without me seeing him… Suddenly the word vampire echoed in my head. I blinked. "He's a vampire?"

"Shhh!" both women shushed me, looking around to see if anyone was within hearing distance. Only one person was, and I unguarded my mind a moment to see if she believed what she heard. She didn't.

"You're kidding, right? I realize that he's a bit… well… intense, but a you-know-what?" They both looked back at me with serious, unblinking eyes. I shook my head, glancing again at the line before turning back to the two women next to me. "Ladies, the world of the supernatural is my business. I'm a Summoner; I work for an international organization that investigates paranormal activities in an attempt to prove and explain them. I know about ghosts, poltergeists, demons, both minor and major—"

"Demons?" Roxy asked. "You mean there are really such things as demons? Holy cow!" She turned to her friend. "Bet you five bucks our ninth grade algebra teacher was a demon."

Joy ignored the interruption. So did I. The feeling of doom was growing, creeping up on me, making me restless with the need to be doing something. I gnawed my lip for a moment, scanning everyone left in the book line, but without unguarding myself—something I didn't want to do with Christian sitting over there thinking who knew what—I couldn't pinpoint the source of my concern. I took a deep breath and returned to what I was saying. "I know witches and wizards, have sat in a Wiccan circle, and seen things that would make most people pee their pants."

"So've we," Roxy said with a grin. Joy frowned at her.

"But I've never, ever seen a vampire. Nor have I ever heard of anyone mention seeing one. There are just some things like were-whatevers and vampires and the Loch Ness Monster that have more basis in myth than reality. I realize your friend is a bit unusual, and heaven only knows what he's told you, but I can assure you that he's not…"

The skin on my back tightened uncomfortably as my head was flooded with strong emotion. I jumped up from the table and ran toward the line of people, my leg stiff and sore and slowing me down so I didn't think I was going to make it in time. I saw the gun even before Christian did, and shouted out a warning. The bookstore employee standing next to the customer grabbed her, turning her so that the gun was pointed away from Christian… directly at me.

I tried to make my body move sideways down one of the aisles, tried to stop my headlong rush right at the madwoman who had intended to shoot Christian, but I was too slow. Her finger tightened on the trigger even as the bookstore employee struggled with her. Just before the bullet exploded through me, there was a rush of air, and suddenly I was lying on my back in an aisle between two rows of bookshelves, my breath knocked out by the heavy body lying on top of me. I blinked and stared up into the eyes peering down at me.

"You have mismatched eyes," Christian said, almost against my lips. "You have the Sight."

I was suddenly filled with the overwhelming desire to tip my chin up enough to taste his mouth, but instead I pulled a hand free and felt my face. My glasses had been knocked off when I was pushed aside.

"How did you do that?" I asked, extremely aware of his body resting against mine. His hair had come loose from its ponytail, flowing around our heads like a silken curtain. "How did you move faster than a bullet? Your name isn't really Clark Kent, is it?"

He frowned. All sorts of spots on my body started tingling, especially the parts of me that were pressed against parts of him. "I believe a better question is how long you knew that woman was intending to shoot me?"

"Oh, my God, are you two all right?" It was Joy, standing at our feet.

"Are you implying I had something to do with that?" I ignored her question to ask him. "Because if you are, you can just think again. In case you've forgotten, I tried to help you."

His eyes narrowed. "The store manager would have noticed the woman in time, even without you yelling in such a very convenient manner."

"Christian? Allie? Are either of you hurt?"

"Oh! I like that! I go out of my way to save you—twice—and you act like it's all my fault. What an ingrate!"

"Twice? Ingrate?" His breath fanned out over my face, combining with that smooth voice to drive me nigh on mad with the desire to grab his head and kiss him despite the horrible things his delectable lips were uttering.

"You seem to be talking, so I'm going to assume you're both all right, but really, Christian, it might be better if you were to help Allie up. There's a bit of a crowd gathering."

"Twice," I said with emphasis, ignoring the fires starting all over my body at his touch. "The first time was last night, when you were bleeding all over the place, making me think you were a ghost."

"I never made you think—"

"Are they okay? What are they doing? Why is Christian lying on Allie?"

"Ha!" His eyes darkened from mahogany to ebony at my snort of disbelief. "I'd like to know what else you'd think if you came across a man bleeding to death in the basement of a haunted inn. Which reminds me, just what were you doing there?"

"I think they're arguing about something. Allie doesn't seem to be too happy about something Christian said."

"Oh. It looks to me like he's going to kiss her."

"All I am at liberty to say is that you quite successfully ruined my plan; you'll have to be content with that," he said, looking at me for a moment. His eyes, already black as night, darkened even more; then his mouth touched mine for a brief, brief, way too brief moment before he pulled himself away from me. All of the flames his nearness had started inside my traitorous innards turned into an inferno at his feather-light kiss, which made me more than a little surprised at finding my body whole and complete, if sprawled out in an ungainly manner. Christian rose and offered me his hand.

"See? I was right. He did kiss her."

I ignored Roxy to frown at Christian. What did he mean, I ruined his plan? What sort of a plan involved him slicing himself up and lying around in a damp basement? And come to think of it, what did he mean by saying I warned him in a convenient manner? Was he implying I was an accomplice to the woman with the gun, and just trying to make myself look innocent?

My frown turned to a red-hot glare as I ignored his hand to get (painfully and with less grace than I would have liked with an audience) to my feet. I heard a couple of familiar gasps of horror, and started searching the ground for my glasses.

"Here," Roxy said, pushing them into my hands. "They were at Joy's feet, but she can't bend down anymore."

I popped them on. The world retreated to a darkened, familiar place that made me feel protected. Which is surely an odd feeling for someone who was just pushed out of the path of a fired bullet.

Joy, who had been speaking in a low voice to Christian, turned and took my hands in hers. "Are you all right, Allie? Christian didn't hurt you?"

"I saved her life," he protested.

"And I saved yours," I snapped. What sort of a person did he think I was? Clearly the man had some trust issues.

"That is a subject open to debate," he said as he brushed himself off.

The nonchalant way he treated me rubbed me the wrong way. All I can say is that the combination of pain from my leg, and a smug, arrogant man pushed me beyond what was polite and accepted in such a situation.

I put my hands on my hips and upped the wattage in my glare. "You really are obnoxious, you know that? I can't think of one other man who wouldn't be on his knees in gratitude for having someone care enough to save him, but you have to twist it all around and make snide insinuations instead of being thankful I took the time to save your rotten life."

"My life would have been entirely safe without your meddling," Christian said in a low, beautiful tone that I swore I could feel slipping along my skin.

"They're arguing," Roxy said to Joy.

"Fine," I said, poking him in the chest. "The next time someone tries to kill you, I'll just let them, shall I? Then I can wait until you're dead and Summon you to make your apologies. And trust me, you're going to be apologizing for a very long time!"

Christian took a step closer to me, his jaw tight. "You are not at all the type of woman I like. You are aggressive and independent, and you seem to feel it is your right to insult me without cause."

"They aren't supposed to be arguing, are they?"

I snapped my fingers and waved away his comments. "As if I care what sort of woman you like. And you're damn right I'm aggressive and independent, and if the insult fits, wear it."

"I mean, that's not right, is it? Them fighting like this? Isn't it against the rules?"

"I don't know," Joy said, her eyes worried. "I thought it would have been impossible, but… maybe we're mistaken."

Christian glanced at Joy, snarled something I was sure was rude in what sounded like German, then stalked off. The police rolled in at that moment, pushing the chaos of the store up several levels. I had to describe what happened to three different policemen, skating carefully around the question of how I knew the woman had a gun and was intending to kill Christian when I was seated more than thirty feet away with my back to the signing table.

I couldn't keep from looking for Christian, no matter how hard I tried to ignore him. Most of the time I found he was watching me, but once I saw him arguing quietly but vehemently with Joy. She gestured in my direction and said something to him that he didn't like. He shook his head repeatedly, making gestures of denial with his hands. Finally he snapped something at her and turned on his heel, storming away from her. From the look of surprise on her face, I guessed he wasn't normally that rude.

To her. Me, he all but accused of being a partner in crime with the gun-toting woman. Not to mention messing up some suspicious plan that involved carving himself up for who knew what reason. Maybe he was into some strange blood-sport sex cult. He certainly was sexy enough for five men; I wouldn't put it past him at all to be the sort of domineering, assured, self-centered man who loved to have women fawning all over him. Men! If I weren't so partial to them—sometimes, under certain circumstances—I'd give them up completely.

By the time the police were through interrogating everyone who witnessed what happened, I was exhausted. I could barely stand; my leg felt like someone had used it as a knife-throwing target, even after a nice policewoman got me a chair. I got to my feet and staggered a step before I got my leg under control. Christian's head whipped around from where he was talking to the officer in charge; his eyes narrowed and became almost black. I bared my teeth at him in what I hoped passed for a reasonably polite smile, and limped toward the door. I felt his gaze burning me every step of the way.

"Allie! Wait a minute; I'm not as fast on my feet as I used to be."

"You were never fast on your feet. Admit it, Joy, you're an Amazon. A fat Amazon."

"I'm pregnant, you annoying short person. I'm allowed to be fat." Joy puffed her way up to me and held out a card. "Come for tea tomorrow. We have a lot to talk about."

I looked over her shoulder to where Christian was still watching me with a narrow-eyed glare. "Thanks, but no, thanks. I don't think your friend there likes me overly much."

Joy tipped her head to one side while Roxy grinned.

"Christian won't be there. He's never up that early. It'll be just us three. And possibly Raphael."

"That's her fiancé," Roxy added helpfully.

I couldn't help but glance at Joy's very pregnant stomach.

Roxy shot her friend a pointed look. "I told you that you guys should have gotten married as soon as you knew you were preggers. What that poor child is going to have to go through if you don't tie the knot in time…"

"Come to tea, please," Joy said, exuding warmth and happiness that slipped past all my guards. I hesitated, then took the card. Joy's smile grew wider.

"You think we should tell her about the steps?" Roxy asked Joy.

"Steps? I prefer elevators, thank you. Easier on the legs."

Joy looked thoughtful. "I hadn't thought of that, but you're right. Christian just completed the second step. If that doesn't convince him, nothing will. Now he has to believe me."

"What sort of step? Convince him of what? Believe what? Why do I feel like you guys are talking about Eskimos, and I'm trying to explain how to make fudge?"

Roxy nudged me with her elbow. "You're going to love the third step. Trust me on this."

"Third step of what?" I asked them both.

Joy rubbed the small of her back, grimacing as she did so. "We'll tell you about it tomorrow. Four o'clock. We have lots to talk about."

I had a feeling that was going to prove to be the understatement of the year.