Vamps and the City

CHAPTER 5

Austin completed his research on Darcy Newhart.

She was born in San Diego, the oldest of three daughters. At the time of her disappearance, she was twenty-eight years old. Had she continued to age, or was she stuck at twenty-eight for all eternity?

He switched his investigation to her two companions. The name Vanda Barkowski came up with zilch, but he located a birth certificate for a Margaret Mary O'Brian in 1865. Her parents had emigrated from Ireland during the potato famine. Maggie was the eighth child of twelve, though only seven of them had lived past the age of ten. Poor girl had had a tough life. Hopefully, it was better for her now.

Holy zombies, what was he thinking? She was a vampire. Synthetic blood had only been around for eighteen years. She'd existed for a long time by attacking humans. He shouldn't be feeling any compassion for these monsters.

Sunshine shot through the window blinds, creating streaks of light across his desk. He wandered to the window to look out. The sidewalks were bustling with early morning commuters; the streets filled with delivery trucks and vans. And Darcy—was she watching the sunrise or was she hidden away, dead to the world?

He gathered up his notes and photos, then drove to the television station in Queens where Darcy had worked. After flashing his badge, he listened to the manager talk for an hour about Darcy.

Everyone there had loved her. Some still clung to the hope that she was alive. Austin promised to do his best to solve the mystery of her disappearance and left with a box of copied videotapes of Darcy's old newscasts. He stashed the box in the trunk and drove to his apartment in Greenwich Village.

He settled on the couch with a beer and a sandwich and began watching Darcy's old reports. He'd expected it to be boring, but she made him smile and laugh with the crazy situations she got herself into. He was watching her attempt an interview with a pregnant hippo at the Bronx Zoo when he finally fell asleep.

And dreamed of Darcy.

When he woke, the television greeted him with static and snow. He turned the TV and VCR off, noticing the time. Six-forty in the evening. Crap. He'd be late to the seven o'clock nightly meeting.

He called the office, but Sean surprised him by telling him to take a few days off.

"Have you signed the contract yet?" Sean asked.

"No sir. I'll take care of that." Austin hung up and dug through his papers 'til he located the contract from DVN. An odd paragraph caught his eye. Why not ask Darcy about it? After all, he knew where she would be tonight.

The auditions at DVN were scheduled to begin at ten P.M., so Austin arrived at nine. He slid two stakes into an inside pocket of his jacket. That and the silver crucifix under his shirt would have to suffice for protection.

He hesitated outside the entrance. The letters DVN glowed in neon over his head. Act normal, he warned himself. You don't know vampires exist. You're a dumb innocent. Yeah, and he felt like a sheep meandering into a lion's den.

He pushed open the door and entered. The lobby decor was dramatic, done in shades of black and red. A few men lounged in red leather chairs. They looked at him and sniffed. He strode toward the receptionist desk. The girl was well coordinated with the room, dressed in black with a red scarf around her neck. Even her hair was dyed black with bright red highlights. She was sharpening her red-painted nails with an emery board.

"Good evening."

Without glancing up, she pointed at a clipboard. "If you're here for the auditions, sign in," she began with a nasal voice.

"I'm here to see Darcy Newhart."

She looked up and sniffed. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to see Darcy Newhart. It's a business matter." He showed her the brown envelope in his hand.

"But you're a—" She snapped her mouth shut, apparently realizing she shouldn't admit that she wasn't as alive as he was. "Uh, sure. Her office is down the hall. Fifth door on the right, just before you get to the recording studios."

"Thank you." Austin proceeded down the hall, aware that every vampire in the lobby was staring at his back. He knocked on the door. No answer.

"Miss Newhart?" He cracked the door. No one there, though the papers on her desk indicated she'd been there recently. He slipped inside and closed the door. It was a small office—no windows, old desk, old computer. The two chairs facing the desk looked like they'd been retired from an old hotel.

His wandering gaze snagged on a large paper cup on her desk. It had an opaque plastic cover snapped on top with a straw stuck in the hole. He picked it up. It was almost empty. And icy cold. That was good. What vampire would want his blood cold? He lifted the cup to his nose and sniffed.

Chocolate? There was another flavor he wasn't sure of, but the chocolate was definitely there. He grinned. She had to be alive. Still, he should have a taste, just to be sure. He started to peel off the cover.

The door opened. Darcy Newhart strode inside, then stopped short. Her mouth fell open. His did, too, and he didn't even have the excuse of being surprised. But he'd forgotten how strongly she affected him. His physical reaction was immediate, causing his heart to race and his groin to swell.

Her hair was loose about her shoulders. She was dressed in khaki slacks and a blue T-shirt that molded perfectly to her breasts. The shirt was devoid of any pithy sayings like Hot Babe, which would have been ridiculously redundant in her case.

"Good evening." He focused on her face, so he would stop ogling her gorgeous body.

"Hello." Her cheeks flushed a becoming pink. She slowly shut the door. "This is a bit of a surprise, Mr. Cartwright." Her gaze landed on the cup in his hand, and her face turned pale.

"Sorry." He shoved the cover back on and set the cup on her desk. "It sure smelled good. Chocolate milkshake?"

"Not exactly. I—" She rushed forward, grabbed the cup, and dropped it in the trash. "I'm… lactose intolerant. Would you like something to drink, Mr. Cartwright?" She motioned toward the door. "I could get you—"

"I'm fine. Thank you." He smiled, trying to put her at ease. "Since we'll be working together, why don't you call me Adam?"

"Okay." She slipped past him and around the desk. "What can I do for you… Adam?"

"It's about the contract." He opened the clasp envelope and removed the papers.

"Shouldn't you have your agent help you with that?"

"Frankly, it has Ms. Stein confused, too." At least, Austin figured it would. He turned to page six and pointed at the tiny print at the bottom of the page. "Here it is. DVN will assume no liability for injuries incurred during the term of employment. This includes loss of blood, puncture wounds, and fatalities."

He glanced up at Darcy. Her face had turned deathly pale. "It seems a bit extreme, don't you think?"

She tucked her hair behind her ear with trembling fingers. "It's fairly standard for DVN. They like to cover all the bases. People tend to sue over the most trivial of things these days."

"I wouldn't call puncture wounds or fatalities trivial."

She waved a hand in the air. "Anything could happen. We'll be filming in a huge penthouse. You could fall down a flight of stairs, or trip on a rug and—"

"Fall on a fork?"

"Excuse me?"

"Puncture wounds, Miss Newhart. How exactly do you expect me to be punctured?" With a pair of fangs?

Her eye twitched. "I agree the wording is a bit unusual, but the intent is clear. DVN cannot be held responsible for any injuries that may occur during the show."

"Are you going to require us to do anything dangerous?"

"No, of course not. Believe me, Mr. Cartwright, I'm going to great lengths to insure your safety."

"You're concerned for our safety?"

"Of course. I hate to see innocent mort—people get hurt."

She'd almost said mortals, which seemed a bit odd since she was a mortal herself. Wasn't she?

Dammit, this indecision had to end. "You're a kind person, Miss Newhart." He took her hand in his.

Her fingers were cold.

"Thank you." Her gaze dropped to their joined hands. "But I'm not the one you need to impress.

There will be a panel of five female judges deciding the outcome of the contest."

He enveloped her hand with both of his. "I'm not interested in your five judges or the contest."

Her gaze jerked up. "You don't want to be in the show? Please don't let the wording in the contract dissuade you."

He slipped two fingers around her wrist. "Do you think I could win something called The Sexiest Man on Earth?"

"I–I think you have a sporting chance. And it would certainly look good for your acting career, don't you think?"

He pressed his fingertips into the soft skin of her wrist. "I really don't want to be seen as a sex toy."

Except by you.

"I understand. I would feel the same way." Her cheeks blushed. "But you haven't heard the latest news. Our producer, Mr. Bacchus, has just announced that the winner will receive a million dollars!

Surely that will convince you to do the show?"

"Not really." He concentrated on his fingertips. Yes, there! Wasn't that a pulse?

She frowned at him. "I don't understand. If you're not interested in winning the title or the prize money, then why are you asking questions about the contract?"

Yes! That was definitely a pulse. It was throbbing rapidly against his fingertips. At last, positive proof. Darcy Newhart was alive. Alive!

"Mr. Cartwright?" She pulled her hand from his grip and regarded him with a puzzled look. "Why are you here?"

He smiled slowly. "Miss Newhart, I'm here because of you."

She inhaled sharply and moved back a step. "Mr. Cartwri—"

"I thought you agreed to call me Adam."

"I–I did, but you may have gotten the wrong—"

"And then, normally, you would reciprocate by inviting me to call you Darcy. Don't you think?"

"Normally, perhaps, but this isn't exactly normal—"

"You're right." He stepped closer. "There's something special happening here. I feel it. Don't you?"

Her eyes widened. She looked nervous, and for a moment, he wondered if he was pushing her too fast. Her agitated state could be caused by desire or by fear.

She moistened her lips. "I…"

"Is that a yes?" He touched her neck.

"I—" Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and she licked her lips again. "I don't think it's wise for us to—I mean, I'm the director."

"Then, direct me." He curled his hand around the back of her neck. Her hair was soft against his skin. "Tell me what to do." God, he wanted to kiss her. But was he pushing too fast? Just a peek into her mind, that's all it would take. Just a peek.

It was so easy. His invasion swept in like a breeze, and her mind simply unfurled like a dazzling white sail. He caressed her thoughts. She was warm with desire. Desire for him. Apollo, the sun god.

He pulled back, surprised. She thought he was like a god? Holy performance anxiety, that was a tough image to live up to.

Her face flushed. She looked so hot and delicious, he shoved all his doubts away. She did desire him. He'd felt it in her mind. And that was enough to make him feel as powerful as any man-made god.

Her eyes flickered shut. "I can't…"

"You can't kiss me?" He touched his lips lightly on the corner of her mouth.

A tremor skittered down her body. "I can't… resist." She grabbed his shoulders.

Wow, she did want him. He planted his mouth firmly on hers, plying and molding her lips with his own. he pulled her tight, and her hands delved into his hair, tugging him closer.

He invaded her mouth. Jesus, she let him in. She was feeling this, too, this powerful hunger. How could two relative strangers be so damned desperate for each other? It was more than physical desire; it was a hunger from the soul.

Her tongue entwined with his, leaving the faint taste of chocolate. Oh, she was sweet. Sweet all over. His hands skimmed down her back and encircled her waist. He pulled her forward against his erection. With a moan, she melted against him.

He nibbled kisses down her throat, then back up to her ear. His hands spread over her rump, pressing into her skin and grinding her hips against his groin.

"Darcy," he whispered in her ear. "I knew it. The minute I saw you. I knew we belonged together."

Her hands clutched his shoulders, then with a painful groan, she pushed him away. "No!"

He stepped back. "What? What's wrong?"

Breathing heavily, she crossed her arms. "I… I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm not sorry."

Her face crumpled. "I can't. I can't let this happen."

"Sweetheart, it already has."

"No!" She took a deep, shaky breath, and her face cleared into a stony mask. "We have to keep this professional. I need this job."

"I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize it. I would never harm you in any way."

She shook her head, hugging herself tighter.

"Darcy, if you need anything, please tell me. I could help you."

She remained silent, frowning as if she was engaged in a private struggle. Finally, she spoke. "If you truly wish to help, you'll agree to be in the show."

"Fine, I'll do it." He grabbed a pen off her desk and signed the contract. Risking puncture wounds or death was worth it. "I mean it, Darcy. If you're in trouble, if any… thing is threatening you or frightening you, I want you to let me know."

She swallowed. "I'm fine."

She wasn't fine. She was a mortal living among vampires. He needed to gain her trust so she would confide in him.

"I'm conducting more auditions in a few minutes. I need some time to prepare."

She wanted him to leave. Sensitive guy that he was, he could take a hint. "Maybe we can meet later for a cup of coffee."

Her smile was resigned and weary. "I appreciate that, but I have no idea how long these auditions will take."

"Tomorrow night?"

She straightened the papers on her desk. Though she tried to conceal it, the trembling of the papers gave proof that her hands were shaky. "I have more auditions tomorrow."

"Saturday night?" He had no pride.

"I have a wedding to go to."

"Not yours, I hope."

"No, definitely not. But they're a lovely couple." A sad, wistful look crossed her face. "I think they'll be very happy."

"Anyone I know?"

"I doubt you'd know Roman or Shanna."

He froze his face to hide the shock. Holy shit, the engagement had only been announced a few days ago. How could he tell Sean the wedding was this Saturday night? "I've never heard of them. Which one is your friend, the bride or the groom?"

"I–I've known the groom for several years. But I consider the bride a friend, too."

"Do you need a date?" The uncomfortable look on her face told Austin he was pushing too hard.

"Sorry, I shouldn't invite myself. One of those big, fancy church weddings, huh?"

Her cheeks reddened as she fumbled through a stack of papers on her desk. "You—you'll need to have your portrait done. I left the information with Ms. Stein, but I have a copy here." She grabbed a Post-it stack and jotted down the address. Then, she tore off the note and handed it to him.

She obviously didn't want to discuss a vampire wedding. He'd have to let it go for now or she would suspect. His fingers brushed against hers as he took the note and instantly, desperately, he yearned to hold her in his arms. "Darcy."

For just a few seconds, her eyes responded with an expression of pain and longing, then she blinked and turned away. "We can't allow ourselves to… to lose control again."

How the hell was she going to stop him? Her attraction to him was out in the open. He wasn't going to ignore it, not when he felt the same way. "I'll keep in touch." He pocketed the note and left.

On the drive home, he called the number on the note and made an appointment to have his portrait done. The artist only worked at night, so Austin assumed he was a vampire.

He started to dial Sean's number, then stopped. How could he tell Sean about the wedding? Sean would use all his resources to discover the time and place of the ceremony. And then, he'd order the team to attack with crossbows, shooting wooden arrows at everyone in sight. And Darcy was going to be there. What if she was injured or killed? And all because he had passed on the information to Sean. How could he live with himself if Darcy was harmed?

She actually thought Shanna and Roman made a lovely couple. How could a mortal say that? But she knew them both. Maybe she was right. Austin had seen Roman and Shanna together in Central Park. They had been hugging each other and seemed genuinely happy.

Shanna had tried to convince the Stake-Out team that Roman was a good man. He'd invented the synthetic blood that was saving millions of human lives. And according to Shanna, he was encouraging thousands of vampires to give up real blood for the synthetic kind, thus protecting humans from attack. Sean had dismissed all her statements as the result of brainwashing, but now, Austin wasn't so sure.

Holy shit, what a mess. Austin gripped the steering wheel. For the first time in his career, he was sorely tempted to withhold vital information from his superior.