The Undead Next Door (22 page)

Heather couldn’t believe it. “That sweet little boy is the son of a vampire?”

“Yeah. He’s a cute little guy, huh?”

“But how could Shanna have a baby? Vampires are dead, sorta.” This was too confusing.

“Shanna’s mortal.” Phineas grinned. “Like you.”

Heather gulped. A mortal married to a vampire? And giving birth to his son. How could Shanna do that? But she seemed so happy. And the baby boy was beautiful.

“Mama!” Bethany skipped into the room, followed by Fidelia with her purse and Ian.

Heather glanced at the clock. It was after six. She hugged her daughter. “You’re up early.”

“I’m hungry,” Bethany announced.

“Come have breakfast with us.” Fidelia stepped closer and whispered, “They want us to stay together all day.”

“But I have to work,” Heather protested.

“Doona worry,” Ian said. “We’ll bring some furniture in here and make sure ye’re all comfy.”

Soon Heather and her family were sitting around the kitchen table eating cereal while Phineas stood guard. Ian plucked the recliner off the floor and left, carrying it over his head as if it weighed no more than five pounds.

“Hmm, muy macho.” Fidelia leaned to the side to watch his exit.

Heather swallowed her cereal with a gulp. Apparently vampires were very strong. She recalled how easily Jean-Luc had picked her up and tossed her on the bed. Other memories rushed back. Good Lord, he was so hot. But off limits. She shoved the memories away.

“It’s a little warm in here, no?” Fidelia gave her a sly grin.

Heather groaned inwardly. It could be really annoying to have a friend who was psychic.

Robby came in, and without a word, he hefted the entire love seat onto one shoulder and sauntered from the room.

“Ooh.” Fidelia waggled her dark brows. “Roberto. I wonder if he wears anything under that skirt.”

“It’s a kilt.” Heather motioned with her head toward her daughter. “Let’s keep breakfast G-rated, okay?”

“Fine, I’ll just imagine it.” Fidelia scowled at her cereal. “At my age, that’s all I have left.”

Phineas grinned. “You’re a baby compared to some of the old-timers around here.”

“Gracias, muchacho.” Fidelia gave him a grateful look. “I like all you men around here. You’re muy macho.” She gave Heather a pointed look. “Don’t you think so?”

She glowered back. “Don’t push it.”

Ian and Robby returned for the television and TV stand.

“Thank you!” Fidelia called after them. “Now I won’t miss my soaps. These men are very sensitive to our needs, don’t you think?”

Heather made a face at her.

Phineas’s laugh turned into a yawn. “The sun’s coming. I can feel it. I’ll have to leave soon.”

Meaning he would be dead soon. Jean-Luc would be dead, too. Heather shuddered at the thought. Where was he? Was he climbing into that big bed of his so he could lie there all day dead as a doornail?

Phineas stood. “Hey, bro! Whassup?”

“Hey.” Phil walked toward them. “Good morning.”

Heather greeted him with a smile. At last, another normal human being.

Phil eyed the empty sitting area. “What happened?”

“We moved everything to the studio so Heather could work,” Ian explained as he entered the kitchen. He inclined his head toward Heather. “Ye’re all set up for the day.”

“Thank you.” Heather gathered up bowls and took them to the sink.

“Phineas, ye can go downstairs,” Ian told him. “Robby’s already headed that way.”

“Sure. So long.” Phineas waved at Heather. “See ya tomorrow night.”

“Sleep well.” She winced. What was the appropriate thing to say? Die well?

“What about you, bro?” Phineas asked Ian.

“I took the drug,” Ian responded, his voice low. “I’m staying up.”

Phineas grimaced. “Man, that’s wack.”

Phil looked the young Scotsman over carefully. “Do you feel all right?”

Ian shrugged. “I was a wee dizzy at first, but I feel fine now.”

Phineas shook his head. “I’ve dealt with drugs before. They’re no good, man.”

“I’ll be fine,” Ian insisted. “Now go on downstairs.”

“Okay.” Phineas looked at Heather. “Keep an eye on him.” He strode from the room.

Heather approached the two remaining guards. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Ian crossed his arms, frowning.

“He’s taken an experimental drug that will allow him to stay awake during the day,” Phil explained.

“Is it dangerous?” Heather asked.

“Nay,” Ian answered. “I feel fine, and we need more than one guard during the day.”

Heather bit her bottom lip. These vampires were going to great lengths to protect her and her family. It was becoming increasingly hard to think of them as monsters.

As they all walked back to the design studio, she noticed the darkness. Shutters had been drawn over all the windows. The lights were on, but it was still gloomy without sunlight.

“They did a lot of stuff while we were eating breakfast,” she whispered to Phil.

“They can move very fast,” he replied.

Super fast and super strong. And super sexy. She mentally slapped herself for that last thought. “Why does it have to be so dark?”

“Sunlight would burn Ian,” Phil whispered. “It’ll kill him if he’s exposed to too much.”

Heather grimaced. The young Scotsman was putting himself in too much danger. “I don’t see why we need two guards in the daytime. Louie’s a vampire, right?”

Phil nodded.

“Then he would only attack at night,” Heather concluded. “Unless he’s taking the same drug Ian is.”

“I’m sure he isn’t. But he’s an expert at controlling the minds of mortals. He used mortals to assassinate the French kings. He could brainwash anyone to come here and kill us, even during the day.”

Heather gulped. “So anyone who comes to the door could be an assassin? Like…the mailman?”

“Correct.”

The doorbell rang.

Heather moved close to her daughter. Ian unsheathed his sword, and Fidelia removed a pistol from her purse.

Phil peered through the blinds on the window beside the front door. “It’s the UPS man.” He punched a button on an intercom speaker. “Leave the packages on the porch.”

“This could be legitimate.” Ian rested the sword blade against his shoulder. “Jean-Luc was ordering things online Sunday night.”

“What’s going on, Mama?” Bethany whispered as she took hold of Heather’s hand.

“It’s…a surprise.” A pleasant one, Heather hoped.

Phil continued to spy through the window. “We’ve got four boxes. He’s leaving now. Stay back. The sun’s up.”

Ian moved out of the way. Phil opened the door, and a slash of sunlight shot across the showroom floor. Above the shiny marble, golden dust motes danced in sunlit air.

Heather glanced at Ian to see if he was all right. His eyes glistened with moisture.

She walked toward him. “Are you in pain?”

He shook his head. “It’s been a verra long time since I’ve seen sunlight. I never thought I’d see it again. ’Tis so…beautiful.”

Heather turned away. It was hard to stay prejudiced against these vampires. The slash of light disappeared as Phil exited and shut the door. She moved to the window where Phil had peeked out earlier.

“You shouldna stand so close,” Ian warned her.

Did he think the packages would explode like her truck? She peeked out the window to make sure Phil was all right. “Oh my gosh, he’s sniffing the boxes.”

“Phil can smell a bomb,” Ian said. “Please move back.”

“Phil can smell—” Her question was interrupted when the door opened and Phil pushed a box inside.

“This one’s safe.” He shut the door.

“Who’s it for?” Bethany ran forward to look at it.

“Bring it here.” Ian sheathed his sword, then drew the smaller blade from his knee sock. “I’ll open it for you.”

Bethany pushed the box to Ian just as Phil shoved a second box inside. “This is fun!” She pushed the second box to Ian. “Open it!”

Ian had already sliced the packaging tape on the first box. He dug through some Styrofoam peanuts and pulled out a beautiful doll wearing an elaborate dress.

Bethany squealed and held out her arms. “It’s for me!”

“Good Lord,” Heather whispered, moving closer.

Ian removed several plastic bags, each one containing another lovely outfit for the doll. “Och, ye can tell a fashion designer picked these out. Verra fancy.”

“I love her!” Bethany spun around, holding the doll.

Heather turned to Fidelia. “We can’t keep this stuff.”

Fidelia snorted. “Try taking that away from your daughter.”

Heather winced. “He’s being sneaky and manipulative.”

“I’d say he’s clever and generous,” Fidelia muttered. “But then, what the hell do I know?”

Ian emptied the first box and found a few picture books. Heather sighed. Jean-Luc would make an excellent father if he wasn’t a monster. With a jolt, she remembered that Roman was a father. What if Jean-Luc used the same procedure? Could he actually become a father?

“All done.” Phil shoved the last two boxes inside, then shut and locked the front door.

Meanwhile, Ian had the second box open. It contained an antique set of hand-painted tarot cards.

Fidelia clasped them to her chest. She looked at Heather. “You’re loco if you let him go.”

Heather frowned at her. “I can’t be bought.”

Ian opened the third box and pulled out something made of a rich black taffeta. He handed it to Heather.

It was a black cocktail dress, and just her size. Jean-Luc was probably trying to replace the one he’d torn last Friday. She admired the classic styling and superb craftsmanship. It had probably cost a small fortune.

“Can’t be bought?” Fidelia asked wryly.

“No.” Heather laid the dress back into the box. “I’ll be returning this.”

Ian dug into the fourth box, then quickly closed it. With a blush staining his youthful face, he pushed the box toward Heather. “It’s for you.”

“What did you get, Mama?” Bethany danced over, waving her doll in the air.

Heather pulled out something red and lacy. A bra. She stuffed it back in. “It’s nothing. Just clothes.”

“Oh.” Bethany turned away, disappointed.

“Let me see.” Fidelia inched closer.

Heather fumbled under the peanuts and pulled out another item. Black lacy underwear. She stuffed it back in.

Fidelia chuckled. “That Juan-Luc. He’s a naughty one.”

Heather shook her head. He’d ordered this stuff Sunday night? Had he planned on seducing her all along? She pulled out a midnight-blue silk nightgown, edged with lace. Yep, apparently, he had.

“Mmm, muy romantico,” Fidelia whispered.

Heather closed the box, feeling the heat of a blush. Even Ian and Phil looked embarrassed. They were studying a shadow on the wall.

“I’m not keeping this stuff.” She stacked her two boxes neatly. “I refuse to be in his debt.”

Fidelia shook her head. “I don’t care what you say. I’m not giving back my new cards.”

They all proceeded to the design studio. Curtains had been drawn across the French doors along the back wall. The furniture from the kitchen had been arranged in a front corner, away from Heather’s sewing machine. She could sew all day without interfering with Fidelia’s ability to watch television.

The morning passed without further incident. Lunch was a little creepy when Ian sauntered into the kitchen, sipping something red from a glass.

Alberto joined them a bit later. “Do you have any idea where Sasha is? She never showed up for our lunch date.”

Heather shrugged. “She’s at some spa in San Antonio.”

“I called there, and she checked out.”

“Oh.” Heather took a bite of her turkey sandwich while she considered. “Her mom lives nearby. Sasha might be visiting her.” Or she might be avoiding Alberto.

He frowned at his sandwich. “I suppose.”

“I’m sure she’ll be back in time for the charity show,” Heather said. “There’s no way she’d miss that.”

Alberto nodded. “That reminds me. We need to set up a runway in the showroom. Do you know any local carpenters?”

Phil shook his head. “We don’t want strange workmen coming in.”

“I’ve got an idea.” Heather carried her plate to the sink. “The high school where I teach put on a musical last year, and they built a runway into the orchestra pit. I could check to see if they still have it.”

“Good.” Alberto looked relieved. “See if they can bring it here. I’ll work on the invitation list.”

“No more than twenty guests,” Ian warned him.

Alberto scoffed. “That’s ridiculous!”

Ian arched an eyebrow. “Ye can say that after what happened to Pierre?”

“But once I invite the school board members, and the mayor and city council, that will be almost twenty guests,” Alberto protested.

“The show will be small,” Ian repeated. “Jean-Luc’s orders. Safety first.”

Alberto left the room, grumbling.

The rest of them returned to the studio where Heather worked while Fidelia and Bethany tried all the outfits on the new doll. It was almost six o’clock when Ian stumbled and caught the edge of a worktable to steady himself.

“Something wrong?” Phil walked toward him.

“I feel…strange.”

Heather stopped sewing to watch.

Ian doubled over with a long moan.

She rushed over to him. “Are you all right?”

“Nay.” He stumbled forward, then collapsed to his knees. He breathed heavily, and sweat glistened on his brow. “I feel verra—” With a groan, he covered his face.

Heather knelt beside him. “Is there anything we can do?”

He cried out, then fell on the floor.

Heather looked at Phil. “We’ve got to do something.”

With a grimace, he shook his head. “We can’t take him anywhere. The sun would fry him. And there’s no way to explain this to a doctor.”

Ian let out a long moan.

“But he’s suffering,” she whispered.

“Mama, what’s wrong with Ian?” Bethany started toward them, but Fidelia pulled her back.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Heather responded. “He’s just a little…sick. Something he ate.”

Ian cried out again and suddenly stretched out stiff. His hands gripped his face, the knuckles white.

“What can we do?” Heather leaned over him. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere,” he breathed. “My face. It feels like it’s ripping in two.”

Heather touched his shoulder. “You can’t take that drug anymore.”

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t. Phil can watch over us during the day. I won’t have you suffering because of us.”

“’Tis not just for you,” Ian groaned. “’Tis for me.”

“What do you mean?”

Phil squatted beside them. “He’ll age a year for each day he takes the drug.”

Heather couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to age.

“I’m four hundred and eighty years old,” Ian muttered. “I’m a full grown man trapped in the body of a fifteen-year-old. I canna go on like this.”

“But this is hurting you,” Heather protested.

“I doona care.” Ian cried out again and rolled into a fetal position. “I—I need to look older. I want to find true love…like you and Jean-Luc.”

She started to deny that she felt anything like love for Jean-Luc, but she noticed that Ian’s body had gone still. His hands fell away from his face. “He—he’s not breathing.”

Phil pressed fingers against Ian’s neck. “His heart has stopped.”

“Oh my God.” Heather fell back onto her rear. “This can’t be happening.” She scrambled to her feet. “He can’t be…” Dead? Weren’t vampires already dead? “What—what’s going to happen to him?”

“I’m not sure.” Phil ran a hand through his thick brown hair. “I can think of two possibilities. It could be that the drug has worn off, and Ian has simply gone into his daily death-sleep. That would be good since he’s no longer feeling any pain.”

“And the second possibility?”

Phil frowned. “The drug might have killed him.”

“No!” Tears sprang to her eyes. “He can’t die. All he wanted was an older face and a chance at true love.” Dammit, these vampires were way too human.

“I don’t think he’s dead. At least, not permanently.” Phil studied the inert body. “In my experience, a truly dead vampire will turn to dust.”

“When will we know for sure?” Heather wiped her eyes.

“When the sun sets. If he’s all right, his heart will start beating again.” Phil pointed at his face. “Does he look different to you?”

“No.” Heather examined him more closely. “Actually, yes. I think his jaw is a little bigger. And he has more of a five o’clock shadow.”

Phil nodded. “Growing pains. That’s what he was feeling. A year’s worth of growing pains. I think he might be a little taller, too.”

Heather frowned at the dead body. “Didn’t the inventor of this drug know this would happen?”

Phil shook his head. “Roman never felt any pain. Of course, he was already about thirty years old. Since he was full grown, it wasn’t such a shock to his body.”

“Roman took the drug himself?”

“Yes. After his son was born, he took it for a week to help out with the baby. But then his hair started turning gray, and they realized what was happening.”

Heather rose to her feet. “I don’t think Ian should take it again. Surely there are female vampires who would understand his problem and accept him as he is?”

Phil stood. “I don’t know. But I think this is his decision.”

Heather disagreed and decided to talk to Jean-Luc about it. Right after she returned the clothes he’d bought. Shoot, so much for her plan to avoid him completely.

She looked down at Ian’s body. “We can’t just leave him lying here on the cold hard floor.”

Phil’s blue eyes twinkled with humor. “He’s not feeling anything, believe me.”

“It just looks so uncomfy.” Heather searched the shelves and located two bolts of soft flannel. She slid one under Ian’s head for a pillow and unrolled the other to make him a blanket.

They took a break for supper. She called the insurance company to check on her house, then she called the drama coach from Guadalupe High. Liz Schumann was delighted to offer her runway and to model one of Heather’s gowns in the show. Liz promised to have her new boyfriend deliver the runway over the weekend, and Heather promised to give him a few tickets to the event.

After supper, they returned to the design studio and the dead body on the floor. Heather finished the first gown and looked at the clock. Seven-thirty. The sun would set soon. She said a silent prayer for Ian that he would wake up. Then she shook her head in dismay. It was happening. She could no longer view these vampires as monsters.

And she was getting drawn into their world.

Jean-Luc woke with the usual electrifying jolt that shot through his body and jump-started his heart. He rushed through his shower and breakfast, for he needed to know as quickly as possible that nothing bad had happened during the day. Was Heather all right? How had Ian fared his first day on the stay-awake drug?

He dressed in gray slacks and a maroon polo shirt—normal clothes. He only hoped Heather wouldn’t look at him like she had last night, with that look of horror and disgust in her eyes. He had to win her back somehow.

He checked the kitchen, but they weren’t there. As he exited, he saw Fidelia leading Bethany toward the stairs.

“Oh, Juan-Luc!” She grinned. “Thank you for the lovely presents.” She cradled the box of tarot cards against her chest.

“I love my new doll.” Bethany held it up so he could see. “Her name is Princess Katherine.”

“I like that.” So the items he’d ordered on Sunday night had arrived. “Do you know where your mother is?”

Bethany pointed down the hall.

“They’re all in the studio.” Fidelia lowered her voice. “Waiting for Ian to wake up.”

Jean-Luc stiffened. “He’s not…awake?”

Bethany giggled. “He sleeps too much.”

Fidelia winced. “Come on, little one. Let’s get you in the tub.” She hustled Bethany up the stairs.

Jean-Luc zoomed to the studio and stopped.

Heather was kneeling on the floor beside Ian, with Robby, Phineas, and Phil surrounding them. She glanced up at Jean-Luc. His heart lurched in his chest. Her eyes no longer showed disgust, but they were glistening with pain. Her generous nature was taking Ian’s dilemma to heart.