Runaway Vampire (16 page)

“So, basically immortal children are . . . what?” she asked. “They keep you only among other immortal children?”

Dante shook his head. “Usually immortal children lead very solitary lives. At least, in regard to other children. They have their families of course, but in the past, immortals were very spread out and they rarely had friends their own age. Unless they were lucky and had a twin like I did,” he added quietly.

“Like you do,” Mary said firmly, afraid he was giving up on his brother. To get his mind off Tomasso, she asked, “Why were immortals spread out?”

“Having too many hunters in the same area was risky.”

“How?” she asked at once.

Dante hesitated, and then said, “Life for us was different before blood banks were started. We had to hunt.”

“Humans you mean,” Mary tried not to sound too angry as she said it, but knew some of her disgust at the
thought of her fellow humans being hunted like animals showed in her voice.

“We need blood to survive,” he reminded her gently. “But we did not hunt willy-nilly. It was not necessary to take so much blood we killed the human, and immortals have been careful from the beginning not to do so.”

“Don't kill the cow that supplies the milk?” she suggested dryly.

“Just so,” Dante agreed calmly. “However, just taking blood from too many people in the same area can cause problems. It raises the possibility of discovery of our kind. We lived very carefully throughout history, everything we did meant to keep knowledge of our kind hidden.”

“So you basically wanted a big herd to feed from, like a whole city to one family?” Mary said, and then sighed to herself as she realized how bitchy that had come out when she hadn't really meant it to. She did understand their need to feed, and knew it wasn't even their fault that they had to. It was a matter of survival. Still, that didn't make it any easier to accept that she and every other human on the planet were basically cattle to them.

Dante didn't react to her attitude. He merely said, “We did what we could to minimize our need for blood. In an effort to reduce the amount of blood we needed, immortals took to keeping mostly night hours and sleeping during the day to avoid sunlight and the extra damage. Most were careful about their diets and eschewed drinking as well. And despite the fact that we could easily win any battle, engaging in one was
always a last resort, to avoid injuries that would need extra blood for repair.”

“So your people were a bunch of vegetarian pacifist night owls?” Mary asked dubiously.

“Not exactly,” Dante said on a laugh. “I said they were careful with their diets, not that they gave up every pleasure. And war was a last resort, not forsworn entirely.”

“Hmm,” Mary murmured, frowning as she glanced to the side mirror and noted that the van that had been keeping back a bit was now moving up closer behind them. She glanced at the road around them, noting with some concern that other than a dark SUV almost on their front bumper, the traffic appeared to have cleared out almost entirely. It was a lonely stretch of highway with little in the way of witnesses.

“Of course, war should always be a last resort,” Dante added, regaining her attention. “But it was more so for our people.”

“Dante,” Mary began worriedly as the van moved to the left, out of sight of her side mirror.

“I know,” he said quietly. “They are about to pass us. No doubt they plan to get in front of us and force us to stop or—” He broke off abruptly and cursed as something, no doubt the van, rammed into the left back end of the RV.

Mary instinctively braced herself, pressing her right hand against the window next to her and grabbing at her armrest with her left as the RV jolted and swerved. Her gaze slid to the window. Spying the embankment along the side of the road, she knew without a doubt
that they would be in serious trouble if Dante couldn't regain control of the RV, and nearly released a relieved sob when he did. However, he'd barely straightened them out when they were hit again. Harder.

As the back end of the RV began to swing toward the side of the road, she glanced down to Bailey who was trying to straighten under the dashboard. Mary instinctively lifted her legs, blocking the dog in and then closed her eyes as the RV's back tires slid off the road and over the embankment. She felt them tipping, and then everything seemed to explode around her as the vehicle rolled. Mary thought she heard Dante shout her name, but never got the chance to respond before something slammed into her head and the lights suddenly went out.

W
hat sounded like a gunshot made Dante open his eyes and while he heard the squeal of tires and the scream of one engine, and then another, his attention was taken up with trying to make sense of the confused world around him. Everything was such a jumble that for one moment, he couldn't place where he was, and then his gaze landed on Mary, below, rather than beside him.

He was hanging from his seatbelt in the driver's seat of the RV, he realized and recalled what had happened. The back tires had gone off the road and over the embankment, dragging the front end along for the ride before it had toppled. The vehicle had done at least one
complete roll, before coming to a stop on its side, the passenger's side.

Mary's side, Dante thought as he peered at her. She lay crumpled on her side with the lower half of her body still strapped into the passenger's seat, but her upper body having slid off to rest against the wall of the RV, which for all intents and purposes was now the floor of the RV if he stood up.

Mary looked like a broken doll amid the debris surrounding her. She was pale and still, covered in blood, and Bailey lay in front of her, her back legs still tucked between the dash and the floorboard, but her upper body out. She was whimpering and licking her mistress's face, trying to wake her.

The scent of gas reached Dante's nose then. It was followed by a waft of smoke and he glanced toward the back of the RV. It had pretty much crumbled under the impact of the roll, the walls collapsing. Dante couldn't see much of anything but a jumble of household items mixed in with the crumbled walls. He didn't see fire, but he could smell the smoke it was producing somewhere in that mess.

Cursing, Dante started feeling for the buckle of his seat belt. He nearly undid it the moment he found it, but then realized that would let him drop on top of Mary and Bailey. Pausing, he glanced around, then braced his feet on the motor cover between the two seats, and tangled his arm in the upper strap of the seatbelt before releasing it. Much to his relief, while he dropped a bit and swung, Dante was able to keep himself from simply dropping onto the pair on the floor. Grabbing the belt
with his free hand now, he quickly untangled his arm, and then carefully let one foot drop to the floor, positioning it behind the passenger seat at Mary's back. Then he lowered the other as well before releasing the belt to stand behind her.

“It's okay, girl,” Dante murmured to Bailey, as he bent to examine Mary. The amount of blood covering the pair of them was terrifying, but he could hear Mary's heartbeat, and while it was slow and weak, it was there. Spotting the nearby empty cooler that had held the blood; he glanced around and noted that the empty bags were all around them. It gave him hope that they were the source of most, if not all, of the blood he was seeing.

Bailey whimpered again, this time licking his hand, and Dante turned back and gave the dog a quick, reassuring pet, then undid Mary's seat belt.

“It's all right Bailey,” he said as he scooped Mary into his arm. “Come on, let's get her out of here.”

Dante straightened slowly with Mary in his arms, and then paused. The RV was lying on the side where the only door was situated. The only way out was through one of the windows. The front windshield was the obvious choice. It was huge. He'd guess about eight feet wide and five feet high. At least it was when the RV was upright. Right now, with the vehicle on its side, the opening was eight feet high and five wide. But there were shards of glass still in the frame, most of them small pieces, but a couple of larger ones that he had to be careful of.

“Come on, Bailey,” Dante murmured and carefully
maneuvered his way through the opening, moving slowly to ensure he didn't scrape Mary up against any of the glass shards. Once outside, he paused to glance back, frowning with concern when he saw that while Bailey was following, she was moving very slowly, and limping and whimpering in pain as she did. She'd obviously not escaped unscathed, but she was still mobile, so he left her to follow at her own speed and carried Mary several feet away from the vehicle to lay her in the grass.

Kneeling beside Mary, Dante began to run his hands over her, searching for injuries. His heart began to sink as he realized there were many of them. The blood was not all from the bags. She had cuts, bruises, broken bones, and a fearsome head wound, he saw as he turned her face to see both sides. What scared him most, however, was the jagged piece of glass he found protruding from her side. The blood was oozing out around the glass. Too much blood. Her weak heartbeat was growing slower with each beat.

“Mary,” he whispered helplessly, and then did the only thing he could; Dante slid one hand under her neck so that her head fell back and her mouth dropped open, then he raised his other wrist in front of his mouth, let his canines descend and bit viciously into his own flesh. Dante pressed the gushing wound to her open mouth, and kept it there, hunching over her protectively as the RV exploded behind him.

M
ary smiled sleepily and reached up to pet Bailey when the dog ran a wet tongue up her cheek. She frowned in confusion, however, when her hand encountered a curtain of long soft hair instead of short, dog fur. Blinking her eyes open, she peered blankly at Dante. He was leaning over her, but his head was presently turned away as he did something out of her line of vision. When he swung his head back, his eyes widened as he saw that she was awake, and then chagrin filled his expression.

“I am sorry. I was hoping to clean you up before you woke, but I did not intend to wake you. I expected you to be unconscious for a couple more hours at least.”

“Clean me?” Mary asked weakly, sure she'd misunderstood.

“Yes.” Dante raised a washcloth she hadn't noticed in his hand and gave her face another swipe. “Francis,
Russell and I were so busy trying to hold you down and keep you from harming yourself I did not get the chance before now. You only calmed this morning and by then we were so exhausted . . .” He shrugged. “But when I woke from my rest and saw your face I thought I'd best clean it. I did not want you to wake up, see your face all covered with blood and . . . What?” he asked uncertainly when she suddenly closed her eyes with relief.

“I thought you were licking my face,” she admitted.

“What?” he asked with disbelief.

“Well, really I thought Bailey was licking my face, but then when I opened my eyes and it was you here I—” She shook her head and waved the matter away. “Never mind. I have more urgent matters to attend to. Where is the bathroom?”

“Oh, it is there,” Dante said, turning to gesture to a door in the wall behind him.

The moment he turned his face away, Mary tossed the blankets and sheets aside. All she had on was an overlarge T-shirt. She'd rather been hoping for more than that, perhaps joggers and a T-shirt or something else that would cover her from throat to toes. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Equally unfortunately, she had to relieve herself so badly that she couldn't wait for him to leave so that she could get up. So, Mary leapt from the bed and sped around it to dash to the bathroom door. She was inside and slamming it closed so quickly she even impressed herself. Adrenaline was apparently a truly amazing thing, Mary thought as she hiked up the T-shirt and dropped to sit on the toilet.

As she tore some toilet paper off the roll, Mary remembered a time when she was young and being chased by a boy at school. He was known to like to grab the boobs of all the girls while they were out on the playground at recess. Mary had seen him coming up behind her one day, hands out and at the ready, and she'd taken off at a dead run. Her feet had moved so fast they'd barely touched the ground. It had felt to her as if she'd almost just flown across the playground.

Mary hadn't thought she still had it in her. But it seemed even an old broad could practically fly when faced with humiliation. And having handsome, young-looking Dante get a gander at her dimpled thighs was definitely a humiliating prospect to her. He was so damned perfect, and she so wasn't.

Grimacing, she finished her business, flushed the toilet, and stood to wash her hands. It was as she soaped her hands that Mary actually looked at any part of herself for the first time, and then she paused and frowned with confusion. Her hands were pale and as smooth as a baby's bottom, the nails long.

Actually overly long, she thought with a frown and turned her hands over then back. She hadn't seen these hands in years—many, many years. Time had scarred and wrinkled them, marring them with age spots and—but no more. Now they looked like they belonged to a young woman. Someone maybe twenty or twenty-five and—

Thoughts dying, Mary stilled and stared blindly at
her hands, her mind suddenly racing, and then she slowly lifted her head and peered into the mirror over the sink. An old friend stared back.

“Dante!” Mary called, her voice coming out strangled.

“Yes?” He answered right away. It sounded like he was right outside the door. “Are you all right?”

Mary merely stared at the woman in the mirror. Her hair had grown a bit and now hung almost to her shoulders. It was also a golden blond for the first couple of inches, before becoming the platinum white age had turned it to. It actually looked kind of cool, she noted with surprise. Like some kind of young, hip hairdo.

Her face also looked young under the smudges of dirt and blood still on it. Mary picked up the folded washcloth on the counter and dampened it, then ran it over her face, cleaning away the smears of blood that Dante had missed. Then she let the cloth drop into the sink and simply stared at herself. Her cheekbones were high, her lips full, and her eyelids no longer looked like they were drooping with exhaustion. But her eyes themselves? They were a beautiful cornflower blue mixed with a silver that had never been there before.

“Oh my,” she breathed.

“Mary?” Dante asked through the door with concern. “If you do not answer me I am coming in.”

“What did you do?” she asked in almost a whisper. “Look what you did to me.”

The door opened behind her and Mary shifted her gaze briefly from herself to Dante. He looked worried.

“I am sorry I had to turn you without asking permission,” he said quietly. “But you were dying. I could not let you die.”

“Ah,” Mary breathed and shifted her gaze back to her own face again. He'd turned her. This was her peak condition. She must have been badly injured in the accident after they'd been forced off the road.

“The RV?” she asked, her gaze still sliding over her face.

“The council will replace it,” Dante assured her.

“Ah,” Mary said again. The RV had been totaled then. She wasn't surprised. She had a vague recollection of them rolling. RVs were not good at rolling. Meeting his gaze in the mirror, she asked, “And the kidnappers?”

He shook his head unhappily.

“I'm sorry,” Mary said sincerely.

Dante's mouth tightened, but he merely said, “They will try again. Russell is sure they followed us here from the accident sight.”

“Russell and Francis,” Mary murmured slowly. He'd mentioned both names earlier as she recalled and she tilted her head and then asked, “Are they the men Lucian sent?”

“Yes.” Dante nodded and then asked, “You are all right?”

Mary blinked in surprise at the question, and then recalled that he'd entered because she'd called out in shock when she'd first seen herself. Shifting her gaze back to her reflection in the mirror, she marveled over it again. It was incredible, and made her wonder how long she had been out. How long did a turn and this
kind of transformation take? Before she could ask, a knock sounded at the door of the bedroom. Mary turned to peer at him in question.

“Wait here. It is probably room service,” he said, turning away. “I was getting hungry and ordered food.”

Mary watched him go, and then turned her gaze back to herself. It was probably horrible of her to admit it, but she was quite enthralled by the wonder before her. Dante had turned her. She was at her peak condition.
All of her
, she thought suddenly, and losing interest in her face, reached for the hem of the overlarge T-shirt she wore and jerked it up.

Mary pulled it all the way up to her neck, leaving only her throat and shoulders covered. She then stared at what she could see of her body in the mirror. High, full, firm breasts, a much smaller stomach than she was used to seeing, but still with a soft roundness, and the tops of curvaceous hips. Wishing she had a full-length mirror, Mary continued to hold up the shirt and turned to look over her shoulder to see what her peak-condition butt looked like. She had to get up on her tiptoes to be able to see it, but once she did . . .

Damnnnn, Mary thought with wonder, she had one fine ass. It was bigger than she'd expected. Apparently, a female body in peak condition was not a body that looked like a skinny boy's body minus the penis as all of today's models seemed to have. Who knew?

Shaking her head, Mary turned back around to look at her front again. This time she didn't just look though. Releasing one edge of the T-shirt, she slid that hand over her body, running it lightly over smooth, taut skin,
amazed it didn't all disappear and turn into the body she'd become used to.

“Oh,
mio dolce Dio
.”

Mary jerked her gaze upward at that comment and positively beamed at Dante's reflection when she saw that he'd returned, and that he was staring at her with a combination of shock and pure unadulterated lust. Apparently, he hadn't expected to return to find her feeling herself up, she thought with amusement and slowly let her T-shirt drop back down as she turned to face him. “
Dolce
means ‘sweet' in Italian, yes?”

“
Si
,” he breathed, staring at her chest as if he could see through the cloth.

“So you said, ‘My sweet God'?”

“
Si
,” Dante repeated and started forward. Mary immediately grabbed the door and swung it shut in his face. Just before the door closed, she saw shock claim his expression as he realized what she was doing.

“You said you were hungry. Go eat,” Mary ordered as she locked the door. “I'm all greasy and want a shower.”

“But Mary,” he groaned. “
Sei cosi bella mia uccellino. Permettetemi per lavare la schiena.
”

Mary raised her eyebrows at the sudden spate of Italian. She didn't understand a word of it. She'd only understood the
dolce Dio
thing because she'd seen
La Dolce Vita
several times on the Classic Movie Channel and had been curious enough to look up what it meant. As for the
Dio
part, well, everyone knew
Dios mio
meant “oh my God,” didn't they? Although she sus
pected that might be Spanish, but she'd always heard that the two languages were quite similar.

She started to turn away, but curiosity got the better of her and she asked, “What did that mean?”

“‘You are so beautiful, my little bird. Let me wash your back,'” he translated. “Please, Mary.”

She hesitated briefly, but when she'd run her hand down her body, it had come away feeling slightly greasy. The only thing Mary could think was that during the turn the nanos had probably forced a lot of gunk out through her pores or something. That was a guess, however. She'd have to ask Dante about that later. In the meantime, she wanted to be clean, and knew without a doubt that if she let him into the room, cleaning would be the last thing to happen.

“Next time,” she said softly, quite sure he'd hear, then turned and walked over to open the shower door and turn it on. She adjusted the knobs until the water temperature was to her liking and then closed the door again and whipped off the T-shirt she wore. Letting it drop to the floor, Mary grabbed one of the rolled up towels on the counter and slung it over the shower door. She then glanced over the selection of tiny bottles on the counter and selected the body wash, shampoo and conditioner, then carried them into the shower with her.

Mary was usually quick about her showers. “Get in, get it done, get out” had always been her motto for showering. Today was the exception. After years of not bothering to look at her body, today she inspected every inch of it, starting at the top. Much to her surprise, this peak
condition came up short in a couple of areas. For instance, she hadn't suddenly sprouted lovely longer legs. Mary supposed she could live with that however, considering her derriere was now so awesome. Sadly, another thing was that, while she hadn't had to shave her legs much at all since going through menopause, she'd now sprouted five-o'clock shadow all over them. She looked like a damned porcupine, and wasn't that sexy?

The only bright side Mary could think of for that situation was that it was all just stubble and not two or three inches of extra hair growth like on her head. That would have been a horror to find for sure.

Once she'd finished cleaning and inspecting herself, Mary used the shampoo and conditioner, and then opened the shower door. Stepping out, she called out, “Dante can I use your razor?” as she grabbed the man's travel kit that had been set on the end of the counter. Something fell to the floor as Mary snatched up the kit and she glanced down to see that it was exactly what she needed, a razor.

“Everything I own is yours,
mio amore
,” Dante assured her through the door as she set the travel kit back on the counter and bent to retrieve the razor. She was walking back to the shower when he added, “But I do not think Russell and Francis brought me a razor.”

“They did,” she sang out on a laugh as she stepped under the shower and pulled the stall door closed again.

“What was that?” Dante called.

“Never mind. You'll see,” Mary responded as she picked up the body wash and began to lather some in her hands.

Mary had quite forgotten how time consuming and just plain annoying shaving your legs could be. But she simply wasn't going back out there to the bedroom in just the T-shirt, her legs bare and imitating Bigfoot, so she took her time, performing the chore in a leisurely manner to ensure she didn't cut herself all over the place. Going out there with bleeding legs or bits of toilet paper stuck to the cuts would not be attractive either, she was sure.

When she finally finished with her legs and under her arms, Mary stood under the water for a minute to rinse away the last of the body wash, then turned off the taps and grabbed the towel she'd slung over the door. She dried her hair and then her body, tossed the towel aside to reach for the T-shirt, then paused and grimaced. She didn't really want to put her nice, newly clean body back in the shirt she'd worn while so slimy. There must be some residue on it and just the idea of pulling it on made her grimace.

Sighing, Mary picked up her towel again and wrapped it around herself sarong style, then used Dante's brush to brush out her hair. He didn't have makeup, of course, but she didn't really need it. Her skin was flawless, her lips a healthy rose pink. She actually looked good without it, and Mary didn't think she'd ever thought that about herself. Even when she had been young the first time.