Dead Perfect (16 page)

“Oh, Lord,” she murmured, “Hewitt was right.” She laughed out loud as hysteria threatened to overcome her. “I was right! You are a vampire.”

“Shannah, calm down. There’s nothing for you to be afraid of.”

“Nothing? You’re a vampire!” She recalled the vision she’d had of him earlier, asleep in his coffin. That, more than anything else, convinced her that it was true. Scrambling off the sofa, she ran for the front door.

And plowed into the very man she was trying to escape.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and scared. She glanced back at the sofa, where he had been sitting only moments before.

“How…how did you…?” Her voice trailed off as black spots danced before her eyes and then she was falling, pitching headlong into a sea of darkness.

When she woke, she was in bed and Ronan was standing beside her. She looked up at him. He didn’t look like a vampire. Maybe she had dreamed the whole thing.

“No,” he said, “it wasn’t a dream.”

She blinked at him, startled. “How do you know what I was thinking?”

“I can read your thoughts.”

She shook her head. “That’s impossible!”

“Is it?”

“What am I thinking now?”

“You’re wondering what I’m going to do with you.”

She swallowed. It was exactly what she had been thinking. “What are you going to do?”

She flinched when he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Shannah, why are you suddenly afraid of me? Have I ever done anything to hurt you?”

“No.”

“You came to me looking for a vampire,” he reminded her again. “I can give you what you came looking for, if that’s what you truly want.”

She looked at him, speechless, the fear inside of her growing even as she told herself that no matter what he said, vampires didn’t exist. It was impossible. A myth. And yet the signs had been there all the time. He didn’t eat. She never saw him until it was almost dark. There were no mirrors in the house.

He had taken her blood.

“Is it what you want?” he asked. “To be a vampire?”

“No.” She shuddered at the mere idea. “Vampires kill people. They drink blood.”

He didn’t deny it.

She sat up, clutching the covers with both hands as if they could protect her. “Have you killed people?” It was a silly question. She had been there when he killed that man in New York City.

“I’m a vampire.”

“What kind of answer is that?” she asked irritably.

He shrugged. “An honest one.”

“That man in New York, did you…did you drink from him?”

He nodded.

“I read in a book once that vampires could survive on the blood of animals. Is that true?”

“Yes.” When necessary, he had dined on the blood of beasts. It provided sustenance, but no pleasure.

“The plane crash…” Her brows rushed together in a frown as she tried to remember something important, something elusive. Trying to recall it made her head ache. One thing she did remember was his promise that no matter what happened, he would keep her safe. At the time, she had wondered how he could make such a promise. “I would have died in the crash if not for you, wouldn’t I? It wasn’t fate that saved me, it was you.”

He nodded.

She thought of all the people on the flight, especially the children, who had died. “Couldn’t you have saved everyone?”

“No.”

“Would you, if you could have?”

“Yes, but once the plane started going down, there was nothing I could do to stop it. I had only a few minutes to get the two of us out of there.”

She pondered that a moment, thinking there was no longer any reason for her feel guilty. It hadn’t been some random quirk of fate that had saved her, she thought. Then again, maybe it was. Maybe it had been the hand of Providence that had led her to Ronan’s door in the first place.

“Does it hurt, becoming a vampire, I mean.”

He thought about it a moment, trying to remember. There had been a certain amount of discomfort as his mortal body died, but it had been brief and quickly forgotten as preternatural power flowed through him. He had fallen into a lethargic state with the rising of the sun. When darkness had fallen, he had risen as a new creature, every sense magnified, his body humming with vitality and power and a hellish thirst.

“Ronan?”

“There is a little pain, but nothing as bad as what you’re suffering now.”

“Can you feel what I’m feeling, too?”

“I know you’re hurting.” She was needing his blood more and more often, no doubt a sign that the disease was growing worse, and that her time was growing shorter.

Her fingers kneaded the edge of the blanket. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to make a decision I’ll be sorry for later.”

He nodded, his dark eyes filled with understanding. “It was not a life I would have chosen,” he remarked. “It was thrust upon me, and yet…” He paused a moment, looking inward. “I do not regret it now.”

“How long have you been a vampire?”

“Five hundred and thirteen years.”

“Five hundred and thirteen years!” she exclaimed. “Oh, my.”

“A long time,” he remarked, as if realizing it for the first time.

“No kidding.” Five hundred years. Shannah could scarcely imagine such a thing. She studied him carefully. Who would ever believe he had been born five centuries ago? She was certainly having trouble believing it! “To live so long,” she murmured. It was incredible. “The things you must have seen, but…five hundred years.”

He grunted softly. It seemed like an eternity, the way she said it. Of course, it was a long time for anyone to live, man or vampire. Strange, how quickly the years and centuries had gone by. Time was something he rarely thought of these days except in terms of book deadlines. He had roamed the world, never in a hurry. What he didn’t see this year would still be there the next year or the next. In his travels, he had seen the Great Pyramids of Giza. The pyramid had been built by the Egyptian pharaoh, Khufu, of the Fourth Dynasty around the year 2560 BC to serve as his tomb when he died. An Arab proverb stated that, “Man fears time, time fears the pyramids.”

He had seen the Taj Mahal in India, built by Shah Jehan who had ordered the building of the Taj Mahal in honor of his wife, who had borne him fourteen children in eighteen years and died in childbirth.

He had walked among the stones at Stonehenge in England, prowled the ruins of Machu Picchu in the mountains of Peru, strolled in the shadow of the Great Wall of China, stared in wonder at the Coliseum in Rome.

And all of it alone. What would it be like to see it all anew through Shannah’s eyes?

Shannah. She was regarding him curiously, her head cocked to one side.

“Is there something else you want to know?” he asked.

“Why don’t you just read my mind?” she muttered, somewhat flippantly.

“Sometimes conversation is pleasant. What’s troubling you?”

“I was just thinking…you’ve lived for over five hundred years…”

“Go on.”

“You must have known a lot of women in that time.”

“Do I detect a note of jealousy in your voice?”

She shrugged. “I guess you’ve been married several times.”

“No. Just once, when I was still a mortal man.”

“Really?” She couldn’t hide her shock. “Why? Haven’t you been awfully lonely?”

“At times.”

“Surely you’ve…I mean, in five hundred years, you must have…” She felt her cheeks grow hot as a new thought occurred to her. Maybe vampires couldn’t make love. Maybe they were impotent. But no, she had felt the telltale evidence of his desire for her on several occasions.

“I haven’t lived like a monk, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he said dryly. “I may be a vampire, but I’m still a man.”

“Do the women know what you are when you make love to them?”

“What do you think?”

“I guess not.” She frowned. “Is that why you always stopped when we were…you know?”

He nodded. “The lust for flesh and the lust for blood are tightly interwoven and you, my sweet, are far too tempting.”

The thought repulsed and fascinated her at the same time. “So, what’s it like, being a vampire?”

“In many ways, it’s no different from being mortal. Except for the obvious, of course.”

“Of course. And you don’t miss the sun, or food and stuff like that?”

“Not anymore.”

She pondered that a moment, then sighed. “This is all so confusing and unbelievable. I’m sure I’ll wake up tomorrow and find this whole conversation was just some sort of fever dream.”

He took her hand in his and kissed her palm. The touch of his lips, the heat of his tongue on her skin, sent shivers of delight racing up her arm.

“It’s not a dream, Shannah, and it’s not a nightmare, unless you want it to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can take you home to your parents and make you forget I ever existed,” he said quietly. “I can make you forget you ever came here, that we ever met.”

“You can?”

“If that’s what you want.”

She thought about it a moment, then shook her head. “No, I don’t want to forget.”

“What do you want?”

“You don’t look like a vampire.”

“No?” He stared at the pulse throbbing in the hollow of her throat, let his hunger rise within him, felt his fangs lengthen.

He knew when his eyes burned red by the sudden look of horror on her face. He ran his tongue over the tips of his fangs, then asked, “Is this what you wanted to see?”

For a moment, he feared she would faint again, and then she leaned forward. “Does it hurt, when they come out?” she asked, pointing at his fangs.

He laughed softly. Once again, she had surprised him. “No, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Could you change back to Ronan now?”

He took a deep breath, felt his fangs retract as the force of his will overcame the urge to feed.

“Thank you.” She shook her head. “No one will ever believe any of this.”

“You can’t tell anyone, Shannah. You must know that.”

“Carl Overstreet will be very disappointed to hear that.”

“Overstreet! What’s he got to do with anything?”

“He wants to interview you.”

“Interview with a vampire?” Ronan muttered wryly. “I think that’s already been done.”

Shannah laughed, then turned serious once more. “Who is Jim Hewitt? You said you knew him. He told me he was a reporter, but he isn’t, is he?”

“No, he’s a vampire hunter, and not a particularly good one, or he would have been dead long ago.”

Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t…”

“I would.”

She nibbled on her lower lip, then nodded. “I guess it would be self-defense, in a way.”

“It’s the first law of the jungle,” he said flatly. “Preservation of one’s own life.”

“I guess so…” She closed her eyes, suddenly weary.

“Shannah?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you all right?”

“I don’t know. I feel so sleepy all of a sudden.”

“Yes,” he said, “you’re tired. Very tired. You’re going to go to sleep now and dream only wonderful, happy dreams.”

“Happy dreams,” she murmured.

“I’m going to give you something to drink, and it’s going to taste good.”

“Good…”

“But you won’t remember drinking it tomorrow.”

“I won’t remember…”

“Sleep now.”

He waited until her breathing was slow and regular before he bit into his wrist and pressed it to her lips.

“So,” Overstreet said, “what do we do now?”

Hewitt shrugged. “Wait, I guess.”

“What do you think she’ll do?”

“I’m not sure. I guess she’ll either pack up and head for the hills or she’ll confront him with what we told her.”

“That could be dangerous,” Overstreet remarked. “What if he decides to dispose of her to shut her up?”

“It’s a possibility, but it was a chance we had to take.”

“Yeah, well, I’d hate for anything to happen to the girl,” Overstreet said, “but I’m more worried about my own neck right now.”

Hewitt nodded. “At least we know that he’s in the house, or somewhere nearby. If she won’t tell us where he sleeps, we’ll just have to go in and have a look around.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Well, work faster. My next column is due soon.”

Hewitt nodded. “I need to get a few things together before we go hunting.”

Overstreet laughed. “Gonna hit the local Vampires R Us store?”

“Something like that,” Hewitt said, grinning. “And then we’ll pay Miss Black another visit.”

Carl Overstreet grinned as he read over what he had written.