Always the Vampire Page 2

  Jo-Jo had taken refuge with me in early August, escaping his Master in Atlanta so he could dive into showbiz. No matter that his jokes had been beyond bad to begin with, he’d quickly put a decent act together and caught the attention of a vacationing talent agent. The rest was history in the making.

  “Jo-Jo’s earning a mint in Vegas and doing a movie, Neil,” Maggie said on a laugh, “so he can’t be that lame. Not anymore.”

  “But you won’t let him do his act at the reception, right? If he juggles, I’m giving DennyK orders to stake him.”

  “Your best man won’t need a stake. Jo-Jo will just be attending.”

  “And on the upside, he won’t be munching at the buffet,” I added.

  “Long as he doesn’t munch on a guest,” Neil muttered.

  The fridge opened and closed, bottles clinked—beer bottles most likely—then we heard the back door slam. If Neil had grabbed beers, I hoped that meant Saber and Sam were back on the job.

  “Poor Neil,” Maggie said, laughing as she pushed back from the table. “I don’t know if he’s nervous or just impatient to have the wedding over with.”

  “And at nineteen days and counting, you don’t have a teeny touch of nerves?” I teased, following her into the kitchen.

  “Only about the reception.” She pulled a gallon of sweet tea from the fridge. “Southern women are bred to feed the masses, but I’ve never hosted that many parties.”

  “The housewarming party came off with food left over.”

  “Yes, but we had fewer tables, fewer guests, and I wasn’t wearing a wedding gown. What if I knock over a whole table of food with my bustle?”

  I hid a smile, grabbed two ruby-colored glasses from the cabinet, and set them on the counter. “All the more reason for your two bridesmaids not to have bustles, but don’t worry. I’ll tell the caterers to make extra-wide aisles, and you’ll be fine. The wedding will come off without a hitch.”

  “Mmm.” She plunked ice cubes in the glasses and poured the tea, then turned serious. “Speaking of hitches, how is Saber? Still grouchy?”

  I plopped into a kitchen chair. “He’s moody, edgy, and positively grim. And he’s hovered 24-7 since he got home Friday. It’s driving me insane.”

  “You can’t get him to tell you what’s wrong?”

  “No. He’s paranoid about my safety, but he won’t say why.”

  “He’s always been concerned for your safety.”

  “True,” I conceded as I stared at the crackling ice cubes in my tea.

  Saber had insisted I have the security of the president and the pope combined—well, except for Secret Service agents and Swiss Guards. Even my cottage windows are UV reflective and impact resistant. Saber had wanted bulletproof windows, too, but those didn’t come with UV protection.

  As for the perimeter alarm, in theory it was brilliant. Since my home sat near the back corner of the yard, weight-sensitive and supposedly weatherproof disks were buried in a series of halo-like rings around the sides and front of the cottage. Smaller creatures could scamper through the yard, but a weight of fifty pounds or more on a disk triggered the siren inside my house and at the monitored security offices. I’d dive into a hidey-hole through the escape hatch in my bedroom walk-in closet and wait for the all clear via a phone system in the safe room. And when I expected company or was out late, I simply disarmed the system. Good plan, imperfect execution. At least it had been the first time around.

  Of course, now that Sam was “fixing” the system, the darn siren went off at the drop of an acorn. If he didn’t get the bugs worked out, I’d be ripping the alarm box off the wall.

  “Hey,” Maggie said, bringing me back to the moment. “Maybe Saber knows something about your stalker, and that’s what’s bugging him.”

  “I doubt it. I haven’t seen Victor Gorman in weeks. No, I think this has something to do with the sixteen days Saber was gone.”

  “On the assignment to shut down vampire nests for the Vampire Protection Agency?”

  “Yes, but he phoned me every day, and never mentioned any major problems.”

  Of course, not all the vamps wanted to abandon the nest system, or even transition from nests to corporate entities. Gotta love capitalism, but apparently some vampires were more resistant to change. Maybe Saber hadn’t mentioned big problems because he didn’t want me to worry.

  “Whatever it is that’s eating him, wring it out of him soon, will you?” Maggie rose and patted my shoulder. “He spooked the caterer when he did his bodyguard thing on Saturday.”

  “It wasn’t me and my terrifying vampire gaze?”

  She snorted just as footsteps stomped in the mudroom. We turned to find Neil all smiles, Saber scowling.

  Maggie was so right. I needed to find out what was bugging my man.

  But even with that forbidding expression on his face, my stomach did the dipsy-do it always does when I see Deke Saber. Drool gathered in my mouth, too, because Saber looked extra yummy with his bright white polo shirt and brown cargo shorts showing off his bronze tan. Hubba!

  My body might automatically respond every time I looked at Saber, but I gave him my stern face instead of my sunny smile. “Is the volume adjusted now?”

  “Down to a dull roar, and the outside siren is permanently cut.”

  “Saber here threatened to feed Sam to a hungry vampire if the system failed again, so I think we’re good.” Neil sidled up to Maggie and put an arm around her waist. “You have anything to hail the conquering heroes?”

  Maggie wiggled closer. “You’ve had a beer. What more do you want?”

  Neil gave her an exaggerated leer, and Saber cleared his throat.

  “Come on, Cesca. We have an appointment to keep.”

  “We do?” I frowned at him. “But Maggie and I haven’t finished with the mail yet. Or talked about the girl’s weekend.”

  “I’ll manage the mail,” Maggie jumped in, “and I know you have everything under control for this weekend. You go ahead.”

  Go manage your man, her narrowed-eyed look plainly said.

  In seconds flat, Neil shoved my binder into my arms, and Saber all but dragged me out the back door and across the yard.

  “Since when do we have an appointment?”

  “Since yesterday.”

  “And when were you planning to tell me about it?”

  “When I got around to it,” Saber said without so much as a glance at me.

  I ground my teeth but held my tongue until we were in my cozy living room. That’s when I dropped the wedding binder on my computer desk with a whap and turned to eye Saber closely. Signs of strain bracketed his beautiful mouth, and lines I hadn’t noticed now furrowed his forehead.

  I took his hand and tugged him to the plush coffee-colored leather sofa.

  “Come talk to me.”

  Saber pulled away. “We don’t have time, Cesca. You need to change clothes, and I need to make a call.”

  Fists on my hips, I stared into his cobalt blue eyes. “Not until you tell me why you’ve been as snappy as a starving gator in a feeding frenzy.”

  “I haven’t been that bad.”

  “Trust me, you have. For five long days, and that’s not like you.” I threw myself onto the couch cushions. “I’m not moving until you spill.”

  He paced away from me, raking his fingers through his military-short black hair. When his shoulders slumped on a soul-deep sigh, I knew I had him.

  “I told you about closing the vampire nests,” he said, his voice low and rumbling. “I told you I ran into a few problems. The last two head vampires left in my territory were already so infected by the Void, I couldn’t interrogate them, and I couldn’t arrest them.”

  “You had to execute them?”

  “Yeah, Rico in South Beach, and Martinique in Tampa.”

  I shuddered because I knew how far gone Rico had been with the infection. I’d seen him through the memories of another vampire, one who now lived in Daytona Beach and ran a club there. Ray, aka
Ramon, had been in the South Beach nest and had witnessed Rico being slowly devoured by an oily fog blob that oozed ankle high in Rico’s throne room. It drained Rico, not of his blood, but of his life force. Ray called the formless mass la oscuridad. The darkness that was, in fact, the Void.

  That no one seemed to know what the Void was, much less how to stop it, made its threat all the more ominous.

  “The thing is,” Saber said as he continued pacing, “it wasn’t just the heads of nests I saw affected. The infection has spread from the big nests to the small groups and even to vampires who’ve lived solo for years. They’re all showing symptoms from fatigue to paranoia to violent outbursts.”

  “How about Ray and his gang? Did you go through Daytona to see him?”

  “Yeah. They’re drinking more bottled blood but are lower on energy.” His hands fisted at his sides. “Cesca, I thought you were sick, too.”

  “Saber, I’m fine. The same as always.”

  He scowled. “Then why were there more Starbloods bottles in the recycling bin than usual when I got home last week?”

  “Because I got a nasty-tasting six-pack and dumped them all.” Nasty being relative since I hold my nose when I slug down my daily chilled bottle of artificial blood.

  “The blood was bad?”

  “Nope, the caramel-macchiato flavor was off. I called the company, gave them the lot number, and found out it was a recalled batch. If that’s the reason you’ve been so grouchy and overprotective—”

  I stopped cold. Oh, no. Oh, God, no. Pictures flashed in my mind’s eye, visions I hadn’t invited but couldn’t shove away.

  Saber visiting sick vampires. Saber executing Rico in the throne room. Saber wading away after the kill, his feet dragging through that oily Void muck roiling over Rico’s tiled floor.

  Saber had been exposed to the Void for weeks, but he wasn’t an ordinary human who might be immune to it. As a boy, he’d been forced to ingest both vampire and werewolf blood. Now he was less than a preternatural but far more than a mere mortal.

  He also had symptoms of the sickness. Irritability in spades, plus he’d been falling asleep by midnight instead of his usual two in the morning. Come to think of it, our lovemaking had slacked off.

  Conclusion? Saber was infected or feared he was, and he couldn’t bring himself to tell me.

  Every muscle trembled as I pulled myself to my feet, skirted the coffee table, and walked into his arms.

  “Deke,” I whispered, using the name I reserved for our most intimate moments. “Don’t worry. If you’re infected, we’ll fix it. We’ll find the Void, kill it, and cure you. I swear. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Maybe he knew I was talking a good game. Maybe he knew I wasn’t as confident as I made myself sound. Maybe that’s why he hesitated before he hugged me tighter.

  “You’ll do whatever it takes?”

  “Absolutely,” I said, leaning away to cup his cheek in my palm.

  He gave me a slow smile.

  “Good. Then let’s go see Triton.”

  Triton? Oh, pelican poop.

  TWO

  I stiffened, and Saber wisely let me go. He also backed up a prudent step.

  “Just why do we need to see Triton?”

  “Honey, I know you have issues with him.”

  “Issues, Dr. Phil? You know darn well I want to wring Triton’s neck.”

  Or drop-kick him in the ocean where he could shape-shift into his dolphin self and stay that way.

  Just over a month ago, Triton had used me—and a mysterious amulet—to kill two vampires at a comedy club. Saber had termed it banishing, not murder, and in fairness, I’d made some peace with that incident. Both vampires had been consumed by the vile Void and were pathologically crazy to boot. Besides, it was a case of them or me, not to mention who else they may have harmed if they’d lived. Still, Triton had no right to put me in that position, especially since I hadn’t seen him in the flesh in over two hundred years before that night.

  No, I didn’t count the ten seconds in March when I’d spotted him on the dunes. And, yes, we had quite a history, not all of it happy.

  Saber’s warm hands settled on my shoulders.

  “Cesca, you’ve avoided Triton since he moved back here and opened his antique store.”

  “That’s because I promised you we’d see him together.”

  “Then let’s do it. The VPA hasn’t got a clue how to track and eliminate the Void. Triton and Cosmil just might.”

  I bit my lip. On the one hand Cosmil had already yammered about Triton and me combining our powers to fight the Void. Not something I wanted to do since I’m a pacifist by nature, never mind that I had no clue which powers Cosmil meant us to combine. True, I’d faced down the French Bride killer in March and the two wacko vampires just last month. The point was that I hadn’t had a choice either time.

  And I didn’t now. Not with Saber’s life at stake.

  “You’re sure that Candy and Jim Crushman don’t have any leads?” Candy headed the Atlanta VPA office, and her husband worked as a mercenary executioner overseas.

  “Not a damn one. The Void has to be a physical entity, human enough to set up bank accounts with a photo ID, social security number, and other documentation.”

  “Unless it’s working through a human slave.”

  “It could be working through a whole network of humans, enslaved or not. We need to follow every lead, and right now we have exactly two. Triton has the amulet and the knowledge to use it.”

  “And Cosmil is our friendly neighborhood wizard.”

  “He has to know more than we do, and he and Triton are tight. We get to one, we get to the other.”

  I thought about his logic for a second then nodded.

  “All right. I’ll go change and do something with my hair, but remember we need to be back by eight thirty so I can change again for the ghost tour.”

  “No problem.”

  I turned toward the bedroom then spun back. “One more thing. Next time you want to spring this kind of surprise on me, don’t.”

  He held up his hand, his gaze solemn. “Promise.”

  I marched to the bedroom hoping Saber would live long enough to keep his vow. But as I wrestled to flatiron the worst of the curls and waves and frizzies from my hair, and debated what to wear, I struggled with a deep, persistent fear.

  If I fully embraced my vamp powers, what kind of monster might I become?

  Ocean Enchantments, Triton’s new store.

  I’d seen the two-story, 1950s structure every time I’d come to the island to surf. Built slightly catty-corner to Anastasia Boulevard in the shadow of the lighthouse, the cinder-block building housing Triton’s store had been stark white with blue trim around the front door and the many oversized windows. Now it sported palm-frond green paint with deep gray green trim that should have been soothing. And the mermaid-shaped sign in bright, iridescent colors that swung from the store’s covered entrance? That should’ve been cheery. Instead it creaked as if the salt air had already corroded the metal rings.

  Since I didn’t feel all that enchanted, soothed, or cheery at the moment, I took the creepy creaking as an omen. A very bad omen, I decided when a gust of wind made the sign screech again.

  But, hey, I’d faced down killers. In comparison to that, this meeting would be a snap.

  I smoothed my semi-tamed, claw-clipped hair back with a trembling hand. From his stance beside me on the sidewalk, Saber put an arm around my waist and drew me to his side.

  “In case he has customers in there, remember he goes by Trey now.”

  “Right.” Trey Delphinus. Once the light of my life, now a pain in my backside.

  “Ready?”

  I squared my shoulders, straightened my new Walmart power red blouse over my dark blue jeans, and put one sandaled foot in front of the other. The same way I’d get through this meeting. One step at a time.

  The bell over the ornately carved door tinkled when Saber shoved it open,
but the sound faded as I was embraced by the soothing shades of beach sand, ocean blue, and polished wood. On my right, L-shaped antique glass display cases offered coins and jewelry, fans and snuffboxes, and much more. To the right and straight ahead, rough-hewn tables displayed vignettes of everything from weaponry to housewares. Art-gallery lighting picked up the rich hues and textures where the natural light from the large picture windows didn’t reach.

  The effect was stunning but not terribly surprising. Triton had been finding treasure in shipwrecks and dragging it back from the deep since 1795 when he was sixteen and had begun shape-shifting into dolphin form. He’d given me a few trinkets, but even then he’d dreamed of building a business selling his finds.

  He’d also since become a dive master and had worked shipwreck recovery here and there. I knew that from the research Saber and I had done, and it was a smart move on Triton’s part. Fewer questions about how he’d accumulated so many artifacts, fewer questions about the provenance of his treasures. Oh, Triton had diversified his business interests over the years, but it made sense that authentic sea treasures were his first love.

  A faint chime drew my attention to the back wall where part of a small-ship’s bow jutted into the room. The two tones of satiny wood shone like milk and dark chocolate, and the furniture nearby was staged to resemble the interior of a captain’s quarters—much like my father’s quarters had been on his favorite ship.

  Then I saw Triton, rising from a barrel chair.

  “Cesca, Saber,” he said as he strode toward us. “Good to see you.”

  The men shook hands, all cordial and normal.

  I stood very still, braced for an emotional riptide.

  One that didn’t come. No churning of angst or anger. No wave of lost-love regret. Only a ripple of nostalgic tenderness fluttered in my chest. As I stared, the image of Triton the youth in his homespun work clothes overlaid that of Triton the man in his charcoal suit and white shirt.

  He’d always been model handsome in face and physique, but he’d grown a man’s body. Taller than I remembered, Triton’s swimmer’s shoulders were wider, his chest deeper. His rugged features, so like his adoptive Greek father’s, had lost their sharpest angles. I knew him to be a year older than I, but only a few fine lines around his cocoa brown eyes and perhaps a hint of silver in his tobacco brown hair aged him. Of course, the suit matured him, too, but as boy and man, the guy was a timeless hunk and a half.