Exist (Vampire Assassin League Book 30) (9 page)

She had another big, brawny, beautiful man claiming she was the epitome of womanhood? She’d obviously been born in the wrong century.

And here I thought I was fat.

“I know,” Anso replied finally.

Athlerod didn’t move his gaze. He was still entirely focused on her. And his eyes looked a bit moist. He blinked often. And then sighed.

“My brother found his mate, too. But she is a
stick
.”

The description was said in a desultory fashion, denigrating fashion models everywhere. Leah’s lips twitched at the instant thought. And then Anso replied, and stole her breath. Her wits. Her voice.

“I think you will find when your mate appears...that no matter what her shape, or height, or coloring...she will be the most beautiful creature in existence.”

Leah’s eyes filled. Athlerod’s features blurred as she blinked back the emotion. Anso so rarely linked many words together, and the ones he’d just spoken filled her with light. Joy. She probably glowed.

“Yeah? Well, she is also treacherous. Worse than a
Midgard
serpent.”

“Did this happen...recently?” Leah asked in a soft tone.

“
Ja.
”

“Your twin...was always with you, wasn’t he?”

“Again
ja.
So?”

“Oh, Athlerod. I can help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

“You were with your twin for over a thousand years, weren’t you?”

“Your mate is very nosy.”

Athlerod turned to address Anso. Leah moved her hands to his head and pulled him back to face her.

“You know. I am about done with male machismo bullshit. This is my psychotic delusion, and I’m running the show.”

His eyebrows rose. Anso choked.

“You are suffering Separation Anxiety Disorder, young man. It is manifesting in anger. And self-hatred. You are actually trying to commit suicide, but you are too weak to do it yourself.”

He stiffened. Anso’s knee flexed to hold him down.

“I am a professional! Get it? I can help. If you make an appointment—”

She didn’t get the rest out. A series of tremors raced through the ground, jostling everything in the room. Leah flew upward. Anso grabbed her waist and yanked her to him. Hugged her tight. Everything stationary became a projectile. Athlerod’s body heaved upward before being jettisoned into the cement blocks that had comprised his pedestal. And then the walls started wavering. Large cracks opened up.

“What in
hel
?”

Athlerod sounded more angry than hurt.

“I love you, Leah,” Anso told her.

“What?”

“I told you. We did not have time.”

“What are you telling me now?”

His gaze locked to hers. Her heart dropped.

“Boom,” he replied.

More tremors shook the room. Chunks of debris rained down on them. Anso tucked her into his chest and leaned forward, his body taking blow after blow with an occasional grunt.

“We’re going to die?”

Athlerod yelled the question. His voice was disjointed, as if he yelled from another room.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Anso shouted back.

“No!”

Something large hit Anso, dropping them to the floor. He wrapped his body about Leah, absorbing even more blows. The space darkened by the moment. Grew heavy with dust. It was difficult to breathe.

And then a voice spoke through the destruction happening all about them. A large voice. Deep. Resonant with all manner of bass tones. Beyond anything she’d ever heard.

“Anso! Athlerod! Get in the earth. Drill down. Leah? Come with me.”

“No!”

Her denial didn’t make sound. Arms reached for her, yanked her away from Anso and into complete blackness. It enveloped her. Impenetrable. Inexorable.

And absolutely inescapable.

A phone rang.

The sound grated. Loud. Harsh.

When the noise stopped, that wasn’t the end of it, however. All manner of clicks and pings and humming noises invaded her consciousness, probably emitting from electrical devices. At various decibel levels. Some male spoke out in the halls somewhere. Got answered with a burst of feminine laughter. That was odd. She’d chosen this condominium unit after a lot of research. The architect had taken acoustical site design into account, including placement of windows, balconies, courtyards. The construction included soundproofing concepts in the ceilings, floors, and walls. She shouldn’t be able to hear anything outside of her unit that easily.

The telephone rang again interrupting her train of thought. It also made her jump slightly. Her ears were ringing by the time it finished. And then she heard something really strange. She could swear she heard the long clicking sound that accompanied a resident accessing the security door at night.

From down a long hall? And three stories below her?

Leah lifted her head. Blinked and looked out her bedroom door into her living area.

It was true. She was home.

But something was really odd here. She still possessed incredible vision to match her hearing. She could see every facet of her home. Her condo was an open concept, the space outside comprising living and dining rooms, along with the kitchen. She’d liked that. Now, it was inundating her with information. She noted lines of grout between the floor tiles, the porous nature of the paint on the walls. No wonder she always had to wash it! Even now, she noted a slight smudge just above one of the light switches. And then she noted the kitchen!
Ugh.
She liked her home immaculate. Orderly. Uncluttered. She’d cleaned it before she left for the conference. She’d been lax. There was a large smear of something on the front of the oven, and the refrigerator door handle needed a good washing.

Another phone ring sounded. Leah grimaced until it ended, only to be bombarded with the sound of her answering machine. It was set at jet engine sound level. She listened to her voice with hunched shoulders.
Wow.
Her greeting wasn’t
personable and approachable. She sounded clinical, non-emotional, and slightly metallic. Like an extension of the machine.

“You’ve reached the residence of Doctor Thurman. I’m not here right now, but if you leave your name and number, along with a brief message, I shall endeavor to return your call.”

There was an annoyingly brisk beep. And then her colleague Steven started yelling. She almost covered her ears. She’d rarely heard him raise his voice.

“Leah? I just got your message with my coat from the drycleaners. You could have just told me you felt ill and took an early flight back to the states! You didn’t have to leave me hanging for almost thirty hours, worried to death! I even contacted the US Embassy! And those jerk-offs said they couldn’t do anything for at least another day! And then, they’d look into a possible disappearance. You have no idea—! Look. It’s eight a.m. over here. We’re six hours different. Sorry. It’s the middle of the night. We’ll discuss it on Wednesday when I get—.”

The connection ended, stopping Steven’s tirade. He hadn’t needed to shout. Then again...maybe she should factor in her acute hearing issues right now. He might not have been that loud.

Leah’s head dropped back to her pillow.

So.

It had happened.

She’d awakened from the delusion. And she was in a familiar place. Atop her bed. In her condo. Completely safe. If a bit chilled. Even her mental facilities appeared intact. She should feel relieved. Perhaps a bit anxious. Worried. Maybe weak. Anything but what she really felt.

Like crying.

Leah blinked against a sudden sting of tears. Held her breath while shivers ran down her arms. Eased the air back out. Somehow conquered the desire to weep. And felt like celebrating that small win. She’d come to her senses, but the path to wellness wasn’t going to be an easy one. Recovery for patients who suffered delusions and hallucinogenic episodes was as varied and personal as the episode itself. Some patients didn’t recall anything. Hypnosis was the usual method of bringing out their experience so it could be treated. Some patients recalled bits and pieces of their experience, and those would hit at random, sometimes inopportune moments. Other patients recalled everything. They could dictate what had happened to them item by item. In the event of a traumatic-event-initiated delusion, those were frightening. Because the details were always at the forefront of the sufferer’s mind. In horrific detail. Accepting that, dealing with the fear and living with it, became the patient’s new reality. Often, they needed pharmaceutical help.

She could see why now.

Leah sat up.

Looked like her experience was going to fit in the last category. She’d been away from reality for a span of thirty hours. It sure felt like a lot more time than that had elapsed.

Thirty hours.

Of absolute paradise.

She wasn’t going to discuss this with Steven. Not on Wednesday. Not ever. It had been too vivid. Much too real. She remembered everything. Perfectly. With great wonder. Her heart rate picked up as she remembered those last moments. When Anso had held her and told her he loved her.

And she hadn’t told him the same.

Leah wiped a sudden tear away.

Not good.

She was too emotional for this. She couldn’t possibly love a man who didn’t exist except in her mind. The potential for disaster was too high. Bereavement carried all kinds of emotional trauma. Leah wiped away another tear. And then another. This was bad. She’d never felt so alone! As if she’d lost a part of herself. A necessary one.

She forced her mind to handle simple tasks. Start small. She needed a tissue. They were in the bathroom. She rolled to her back, sat up, scooted to the side of her bed, and looked down at the maroon velvet dress she still wore.

Shock was an icy sensation.

Her veins filled with it as she looked up, directly into the mirror atop her bureau. Her face should have reflected shock. Astonishment. Distress. It didn’t. Leah narrowed her eyes on her image and couldn’t see a damned thing that mattered. Oh. She could see the wall behind her perfectly, the picture she’d hung of a sunset at sea. She’d bought it for its restful qualities. The light wood of her headboard was distinct and easily picked out. But she was a large gray blob. She tried twisting. Turning. Sticking her arms out. She stood. Did a couple of jumping jacks. Nothing worked. She was still just a large gray-shaded blob. All she’d proved was it moved.

This was not happening. Not to her. She’d heard of this. She’d never dealt with it. Sometimes patients suffered continual setbacks. Their delusionary state came and went, seemingly with impunity. Those were the people usually destined for the insane asylums.

No.

Not her.

Leah tripped, before remembering the stupid skirts were too long. All of them. She wore two. One burgundy velvet. The one beneath it was silk and stuck to the velvet with static electricity. She probably sent sparks every time she moved. It hadn’t bothered her before. And it didn’t now. The innermost layer was a long linen underskirt thing. Leah grabbed the armful of the skirts and marched into her kitchen. First things first. She was chopping a foot of material off. And she had sewing scissors in a basket at the end of her sofa.

Crap.

She’d lent the basket to Steve’s wife.

Fine.

She had knives in her kitchen. Just like she’d told Anso.

Her heart thudded painfully at the recollection. Her breath caught. A shivery sensation shot down her legs. Leah grabbed the edge of her counter and scowled at it, and somehow managed to stanch any further reaction to the thought of him as she recovered from these.

This was bad.

Really bad.

Just thinking of him brought about this severe a physical response? She really needed to get a grip here. He wasn’t real. She wasn’t in love. And even if she was in love, the feelings shouldn’t hit this hard. Anso didn’t exist. The effect of being without him didn’t exist, either. It wasn’t real.

There
.

Reasonable. Sane. Logical.

She pulled the knife drawer out with too much strength. Kitchen blades of all kinds scattered across the floor. She hadn’t realized she owned so many. Leah knelt, selected a large one with a serrated edge, dropped the skirts, and started hacking.

And slipped.

The knife sliced across her thumb pad, nearly into her wrist. Leah looked at the cut with horror even as blood welled. She instinctively stuck it to her lips. Tasted. And then sucked with abandon. Her legs wavered for an entirely different reason. She’d never tasted anything so exquisite. An explosion of delight erupted in her mouth.

She fell.

The skirts absorbed most of the impact, but she’d lost contact with her wrist. Leah was moving it back to her mouth when she noticed something truly astonishing.

The wound was closing! Before her eyes!

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit.

The sensation of shock was just as icy as before. She was more than taken-aback. She was surprised. Stunned. And amazed. If she had a reflection, the one in the glass-front of her oven would have shown what a flabbergasted expression looked like. But she was just a big blob.

Wait
.

What had Anso and Nigel spoken of? During that weird sat phone call? Hadn’t there been something said about how she’d been half-turned but not fully? Was that even possible?

No, Leah. Just no.

She grabbed the skirts and stood up. Without once using something to hold to. Her legs had never been this sturdy. Or strong. Was she hallucinating here? Or was this real? Leah considered her countertop for a moment. It was constructed from granite, or a good facsimile of it. This called for an equivalent of the pinch test. She pulled in a breath and smacked a palm down onto the counter. A plethora of fractures in the granite radiated outward from her hand, accompanied by cracking sounds. And it hadn’t even hurt.

Holy shit.

Leah lifted her hand. The wound was healing well, only a trace of blood was left on her skin. And the counter had suffered a definite hit from something strong enough to leave an epicenter that dented it.

She should feel fright. At the very least, a bit of anxiety. She felt neither. But she needed more. Something...concrete. Leah raced to her desk. Careened into the furniture piece, jostling papers and her stapler with her speed and inexperience at controlling it. She opened her laptop with a careful movement. Her fingers flew through the commands. She did a search.

And...

Yes!

The screen lit up in orange and red shades. There had been a series of massive explosions on the border between Poland and the Czech Republic. Someone in a helicopter had been on sight, taking video. She couldn’t make out much through the fire, but then there was a large whoosh, and the rusted tower erupted in flames. The announcer’s foreign words got louder and quicker paced, while she read the information line scrolling across the bottom of the screen. They had the camera directly on the tower as it shuddered, bent, and then toppled over.

Terrorism had been considered. Discarded for now. Authorities suspected a massive underground gas leak from an unknown source. Leah had seen enough.

She believed.

She wasn’t remotely insane. Or delusional. Love was her diagnosis. She was in love! With a real man! He was real! He did exist! And it didn’t matter if he was a vampire or a king, or even a pauper. Everything she’d experienced since meeting Anso had been real. His kisses. Their lovemaking. The closeness.

She was in love! And he’d said he loved her. This was euphoric. Heady. Magical.

And then it was completely deflating.

Her belly dropped as an entirely new sensation enveloped her. She recognized fear as she began shaking with it. This wasn’t any fear, however. This emotion was accompanied by absolute desperation. Despair.

Well
.

Leah had never been the type of person to sit about waiting for fate to hand her things. She went after what she wanted. She always had. She opened her laptop again. Started another search, this one with travel in mind. She needed to get to him. Book a flight back to Prague. Somehow find his castle. In a cliff somewhere in the Czech Republic. Or maybe they’d been in Slovakia.

Crap.

The odds were stacked against her here. She’d have to be really lucky. She didn’t have much to go by. He worked for something called VAL. She started that search next.

And that’s when she saw the cell phone. Placed on a shelf at her eye level along with a scrap of paper. She unfolded it with fingers that trembled.

When you are ready, just press connect.