Broken Heart 04 Wait till Your Vampire Gets Home (11 page)

His wife gave me a perfectly manicured hand, but her gaze wasn’t all that friendly. “I’m Linda Michaels.”

“Libby Monroe.” I looked at Stan. Now that he was walking around again, I could go back to being pissed-off at him. “Why’d you experiment on me?”

The silence was sudden, and I could feel everyone’s gazes on us.

Stan had the grace to look ashamed. “I needed samples.”

“You had to strap me down to a table to get blood?”

“I did the blood tests. Your liver function test was off the charts. I had to be sure.”

“And you couldn’t ask me?” It was awkward, the three of us standing and chatting while fifteen or so other people stared at us. I was well aware that the queen was indulging me, and that I could easily end up back in a cell, or worse.

“I wasn’t sure you would cooperate,” he said. “Maybe it was the coward’s way, Libby, but I did what I thought was best. I had hoped to get the necessary samples before you woke up.”

What in the hell had Stanley found in my blood work that made him drug me and perform procedures without my permission? Anxiety rippled, and I started to worry. Was I sick? Did I have some kind of heinous new disease capable of killing vampires? Was it as I secretly feared—the dragon had irrevocably changed me?

“You didn’t have the right,” I said as fear gnawed away at my caution. “None of you had the right to experiment on me! To toss me in jail! How dare you just . . . just confiscate my life!”

Tears spilled, and I didn’t care. Let them see my weakness. To them, I was a mere human, worth nothing. How easy it was for these creatures to hold me hostage, to unravel all that I had worked for because it suited their purposes. I felt anger coil, the familiar heat spread through me. They thought what I had done in the living room was bad? Hah!

“Why, Stanley?” I yelled, feeling the power grow inside me. I shaped my fury, held on to it, waited to unleash it. “What’s so wrong with me?”

“Libby,” said Stanley, his voice rife with concern. “You’re not human.”

Chapter 12

His words cooled my anger as quickly as water thrown onto a fire. The fury dissipated, replaced quickly with hurt. I put my hands on my hips.

“What do you mean? I was human two days ago.”

“Before the dragon kissed you.”

“Why don’t you go sit down by Ralph?” asked Patsy. “And we’ll start the meeting.”

By which she meant witch trial, I was sure. I walked to the chair that Ralph pulled out for me and sat. He didn’t look at me, but his hand found mine under the table. I appreciated the comfort. I wasn’t really mad at him anymore; because of him I had some freedom. He’d invited me into his house, into his life, and I hadn’t exactly been grateful.

“We’re all here now, so let’s start with Stanley’s enthusiastic if unauthorized research results,” said Patsy. I appreciated the censure in her voice. At least she hadn’t agreed with Stan’s experimentation on my unconscious self.

“Since my lab is destroyed,” said Stan, “I don’t have the data. However, based on the initial blood work, which I hoped to confirm with other testing, it appears Libby is not human. Rather, she is not all human.”

I shook my head. Getting turned into a blood-sucker, or maybe it was just getting KOed by the ceiling, had scrambled Stan’s brains. How could I not be all human?

“What is she?” asked Lorcan. “Something like the
loup de sang
? A hybrid?”

“Yes, a hybrid,” said Stan. He cleared his throat, looking nervous. “Again, I need further testing to gain proof, but I believe she’s . . . part dragon.”

Reactions were varied. Some laughed, others consulted those nearest to them, and still others peered at me as if I would sprout scales and breathe fire.

“What about Ralph?” asked one man with thick, black hair and jade green eyes. His German accent was pronounced. Oh, yes. The mean man who’d come to the jail the day before. On either side of him were men who were his doppelgängers. Triplets. Oh, great. Like one wasn’t scary enough.

“I ran blood tests on Ralph and they both have the same . . . quirks.”

“And yet, he didn’t strap you to a table and poke you with sharp instruments,” I said in a low voice.

“Would it make you feel better if he had?”

“A little.”

“Dragons? Really?” Patsy’s voice echoed with shock. Nearly everyone at the table looked as discombobulated as she did.

“Yes,” said Stan. “Dragons are rare. We have to assume there is a reason two came to Broken Heart. And one gave her powers to Libby.”

“Dragons. Terrific.
Not,
” said Zerina, rolling her pink eyes.

Linda snorted. “Who’s the one who licks trees ’round here?”

“That was a tree nymph!” said Zee. She flicked her finger at Linda’s head and her red hair turned purple.

“Zee!” yelled Patsy. “Change it back. Now.”

Zerina flicked her finger again, and in a second Linda’s hair had been returned to normal. The vampire glared at the fairy.

“That’s enough, children. The adults would like to talk now,” said Patsy. Her tone brooked no argument.

At this table sat proof of bloodsuckers, shape-shifters, fairies, and heaven knew what else. All the same, it seemed silly to think that me—a plain ol’ human—could somehow be turned into a dragon.

“Other than the blood work, I have reason to believe my theory is correct,” said Stan.

Oh, no. He was going to out my and Ralph’s little fire dance. I wanted to stall him, but I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Libby and Ralph both show a proclivity for fire manipulation.”

It wasn’t quite the bombshell I was expecting. The others didn’t seem all that impressed, either.

“Do you think Libby’s powers might be inherited?” asked Patsy. “Maybe she already had some dragon blood and, when the other woman died, she activated it somehow?”

“It wouldn’t explain Ralph’s sudden powers,” said Stan, sounding a little defensive.

“He’s from Hu Mua Lan’s line,” said Gabriel. “Fire is his power.”

“Well,” said Stan. He shrugged, his lips curving into a grin. “Libby’s mother always said she was half alien.”

“Look, Mom and Dad experimented with peyote that night,” I said before Stan could launch into Mom’s well-known account of her abduction. “Dad woke up in a tree. After he climbed out of it, he found Mom wandering in the
New Mexico
desert, naked and delirious.”

“You don’t believe your mother’s story?” asked Patsy.

All eyes turned to me. I hesitated. Mom was the definition of eccentric, but she wasn’t stupid or insane. I refused to let these people believe she was a crackpot.

“Of course I believe her. She said vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and fairies were real. Why not aliens?”

Patsy’s steady blue gaze made me squirm.

“How could I be an alien?” I said, feeling defensive. “I was born the same as all human babies.” Not in a hospital, mind you, but by a midwife in a shaman’s hut in
New Mexico
. Still, I came out from my mother’s womb.

“Relax, hon. Nobody believes you’re an alien,” said Patsy. “Is there any way to prove our dragon theory?”

“More tests, specifically with Libby’s DNA. It would also be helpful to have actual dragon DNA for comparison.”

“I know someone who can help with that,” said a dark-haired man sitting next to Lorcan. They looked a lot alike, but he seemed a little older than Lorcan and his eyes weren’t as shadowed by suspicion.

“What monkey are we asking to join our circus now, Ruadan?” Patsy rubbed her belly.

“Her name is Ash.”

“The soul shifter?” said Zerina. “Are you insane?”

“Like Stan said, dragons are rare, and those who hunt them rarer still. If anyone can help us, it’s her.”

“Okay,” said Patsy. “Let’s get her here. What about the tests, Stan?”

“No,” I said. I pointed a finger at Stan. “And if I wake up on a table being carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey again, I’ll kill you.”

A chair scooted back and Linda popped up, her death stare aimed at me. Her mouth opened, but before she could utter a word Patsy held up a hand.

“Sit down and stick a cork in it.” She pointed at Stan and Linda. Stan looked embarrassed, but Linda’s expression was pure pissed-off. They both sat down. “Libby is our reluctant guest, and I don’t blame her for not wanting to get poked and prodded.

“Problem is, we drained Patrick dry as dust and refilled him with fresh donor blood. He’s still not doing well, which means neither is Jess. If Libby’s blood is poisonous to vampires, we need to know for sure. Then we need to figure out how to counteract it.”

Murmurs of agreement rumbled from the others. I hated the idea that my blood might be poisonous. It was a terrible thing to know that trying to make up for one mistake only made everything worse.

Ralph squeezed my hand and I looked into his reassuring gaze. He was boyishly handsome, his blue eyes as warm as a spring day. I drew strength from him. He smiled and the mere curve of his lips sent my pulse racing.

“Libby, my name is Eva O’Halloran. I’m the schoolteacher,” said a soft female voice. The woman was pretty, with dark hair and kind eyes. She sat close to Lorcan, whose arm was around her shoulders. His silver eyes regarded me with suspicion.

She asked, “Is your mother Theodora Maribelle Monroe?”

“Yes,” I said. “How did you know that?” My stomach clenched. How did they know my parents? Were they in jeopardy?

“My husband and I run the library, too. Is your mother the one who wrote
Werewolves Are Real!
”

Ah. They knew Mom was an author. I relaxed a little.

“Yes, and she also wrote
Vampires Are Real! Ghosts Are Real! Bigfoot Is Real!
and so on,” I said. My mother owned and operated Liberty Press (yes, named after me, ack!), so she published her work whenever she liked. She employed professional editors, printers, and cover artists. Her books had even hit a few independent bookstores’ bestseller lists. She had a cult following in some parts of the country.

“Don’t forget
Aliens Are Real!
” said Stan.

“Ah,” said Eva. “I haven’t read that one.” She turned to Patsy. “Maybe we should invite Mr. and Mrs. Monroe to Broken Heart. They may be a valuable resource.”

“We’ve been compromised enough. Bringing paranormal investigators to the town is unwise,” advised Gabriel.

No kidding. I needed to know if my parents were all right and I desperately wanted to let them know I was okay, too.

Patsy leaned toward Gabriel. They had a whispered conversation. Everyone else tried not to look at me. I wanted to click my heels three times and wish myself out of here.
There’s no place like home, there’s no place like—

“Libby,” Patsy finally said. I looked up, my heart kicking into overdrive. Ralph squeezed my hand again. “Would you please consider giving the samples Stan needs to conduct further testing? The lives of our two friends may well depend on the results.”

“I have a choice?” I asked suspiciously.

She nodded.

“And if I say no?”

“Then no one will touch you.” She gave Stan a significant look. He flinched.

Naturally, all eyes were drawn to me again, and I felt the weight of those stares. I looked at Ralph, wishing I could to talk to him. He really was my only ally; I wondered if he could be more than that. Ralph waited patiently, his gaze telling me what his lips couldn’t. He supported me. He thought I was worthwhile. He wanted what was best for me.

Well, at least that’s what I imagined he was thinking. He kept a firm grip on my hand, and nodded at me. He was still smiling, and just knowing he was in my corner made me feel like everything was going to be okay.

“I hurt Patrick unintentionally,” I said carefully. “I didn’t think about my actions, and for that I’m sorry. I don’t know if I am responsible for Patrick’s condition. I mean, the whole thing is hard to believe.” I inhaled a deep breath and nearly squeezed Ralph’s hand right off. “If the key to saving Patrick and Jessica is locked inside my DNA, then yes, I’ll submit to more tests.”

Patsy smiled, and I felt like a student who’d gotten the teacher’s approval.

“I have only two conditions,” I said, regretting that my words made her smile disappear. I really wanted to stay on the good side of the queen.

“All right,” said Patsy. Her tone was cautious. “What do you want?”

“I want to call my parents. They need to know I’m all right.”

Patsy nodded. “I’ll allow it, but you can’t tell them about us. And you have to make sure they don’t come to Broken Heart.”

God. What would they do if they knew my parents had already been wandering around? I didn’t want to think about it.

“And the second condition?”

“I want an advocate. Someone who will look out for my interests. And I want this person to stay with me during the testing.”

“You’re telling us you want a lawyer?” drawled Patsy. She was amused by my request. Well, my request might be funny to her, but she was sitting at the head of the table, loved, protected, and honored. I was the bug crawling under everyone else’s raised shoes. I knew very well what my fate might be once my usefulness had ended.