Urban Fantasy Collection - Vampires (52 page)

“What I need is a telephone,” I managed.

“After,” she whispered. She turned her head to one side. “Drink first. I want to feel it. I want to feel the pleasure and the pain.”

“I need to use the telephone. I need to call the Demon Heart and have someone come pick me up.” I was proud of myself. Total control was mine. I could resist the young woman underneath me. She started kissing me again. Her breath smelled like those cinnamon buns they sell in the mall. Her heartbeat filled my ears and then I did the only thing that I could think of that would keep me from doing exactly what she wanted me to do. I fell asleep.

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W
hen I woke up, I was in the back of the party van. The party van had two seats up front and two benches along the sides in the back, with heavy shutters separating the driver from the people in back. It had originally been a paddy wagon, but I'd bought it a few years ago and had it fixed up to suit my needs.

The shutters were adorned with crosses. It wasn't anything that would keep a vampire at bay for long, more of an attention-getter to help jar me back to my senses in case I was ever out of control. Talbot had also replaced the rear doors with windowless ones. The other additions we'd made included a good air conditioner and a stereo system.

I realized belatedly that I was not alone. Rachel was in the back with me; my head was resting on her lap. I don't know what it is about the hour or two of sleep that I get each day, but I wake up hungry, much hungrier than I am after twenty some-odd waking hours. Combined with the hunger from before, I didn't stand a chance against it. Rachel was going to get bitten whether I wanted it or not.

Faster than humanly possible, she found herself on the floor of the van as I spread her legs and bit into her femoral artery. As soon as I started drinking, I was trying to stop. Rachel's fear was real. It made things harder to control. It was obvious to the thinking part of me that she had expected it to feel good. Why anyone would expect puncture wounds to feel good is beyond me, but I'd been around long enough to know that the pain often takes humans by surprise.

Fighting the hunger is like being in a wrestling match with a bigger, badder version of yourself; like getting a starving man to slowly sip broth a little bit at a time, only the starving man is ten times stronger than you and at least twice as mean.

I tried to hear Marilyn's voice in my head.
You are not a monster. You are the strongest man I know. When you rose for the first time, I was standing right there and you didn't touch me. Roger himself told you that a newly risen vampire has no self-control. If you could control yourself then, you can control yourself at any time.
Over and over, I repeated it in my head like a mantra.

I still don't remember rising. Marilyn has told me the story, but I don't remember doing any of it. According to her, I rose in full daylight. She was standing over my grave, but I did not attack her. I stood there for a minute in the sunlight, thick black smoke pouring off my exposed skin. Then, I took refuge in the cemetery's chapel. When she followed me inside, I supposedly said, “Am I late for something?” and passed out.

My memory has been like Swiss cheese ever since. I've always blamed it on having been embalmed. Sometimes I forget what happened yesterday, or five minutes ago, but just then, for a moment, I remembered what it was like to control myself. I remembered the calm and ease of my early days as a vampire. I remembered a different me, just long enough to take my teeth out of Rachel and hold her close.

“That was so fucking incredible,” she gasped weakly, “and it hurt so fucking much! Holy shit!” She laughed as I held her. The danger was lost on her. She wouldn't believe how close she had come to death, or maybe she didn't care. I shouldn't have cared, but I did. I knew Rachel. I had a connection to her, through our kisses, through her sister. If I murdered her, she wouldn't be a faceless woman who died in the night, soon forgotten. Knowing the victim makes it more real, makes it harder to forget, and I damn sure don't want to remember.

By the time we got to the club, Rachel was sleeping. Talbot gave me the hairy eyeball as I carried her out of the van, under the awning into the club's rear entrance. Marilyn met me at the door. She looked and smelled old, but if I half closed my eyes, let my vision blur, I could almost see her like she used to be, the red-haired vixen on the motorcycle.

My Marilyn stared at me from behind a mask of age, her hair cut short and grown gray, the once luscious lips dry and stern. Her eyes were the same, though, blue as an ocean and every bit as tempest tossed. Old as she had become, I still wanted her as badly as I had on the day I'd died, but she wouldn't have anything to do with me, not like that, not since my death, not once.

She studied the girl I was carrying. Rachel looked like a trollop in her hip huggers and white tank top. There was a bloody rip where I'd bitten through her jeans. The blood was making the material stick to her leg. “Who is that?” Marilyn asked.

“It's Tabitha's little sister,” I said, handing her to Talbot. That was all I got out before Marilyn slapped me hard across the face. “She…” I let my voice trail off as she slapped me again.

“For heaven's sake, what is the matter with you?” she yelled. The pain was nice. It was nice to receive any physical sensation from Marilyn. Not only had she refused to sleep with me since I'd become a vampire, she rarely touched me. A psychologist could have probably written volumes regarding what that said about my getting into trouble. They'd say I was like a child who did bad things to get my mama's attention. Maybe they'd be right.

I caught Marilyn's arm when she tried to slap me a third time. It was something I'd never done before. “The third slap is foreplay, M,” I said. It didn't even sound like me. It was half growl, half scorn. “Unless you're up for it, I suggest you leave it to the younger ones.” I let go of her arm. She winced.

Talbot stepped between us and inwardly I thanked some higher power for small favors. “Where's Tabitha?” I asked.

“She's in your bedroom,” Talbot answered. “She's a late riser. Most vamps rise early on their first night and she didn't get up until eight. She went to bed a full hour before sunrise. She's looking at maybe eight or nine hours of wakefulness a night; more if she manages to break schedule.”

My short daytime sleep requirement often got me twenty hours or more out of a day-and-night cycle. Maybe I could put up with her for eight hours a night. Maybe not. I checked my watch. It was nine in the morning. I walked back toward the rear entrance and gestured with my head for Talbot to follow me. As we moved past Marilyn again, I could feel anger coming off of her in waves. No fear, though, just anger. When I knew she couldn't see my face, I grinned. “That's my girl,” I whispered.

“We're going to spend the day over at the Pollux,” I told no one in particular. “Have someone bring Rachel orange juice and a big breakfast.”

“I'll take care of it,” Talbot said gruffly. As he fell into step behind me, carrying Rachel, he mumbled something else under his breath. “In for a penny…”

No shit, I told myself. No shit.

If Tabitha was going to sleep until eight this evening then I had eleven hours to figure out what to do about Rachel, not to mention the damn werewolves. The notion that I was forgetting something rolled around in my head. Talbot helped me get Rachel back into the van and across to the Pollux without incident.

Of the two movie palaces that had once been in Void City, the Pollux was the only one still standing. The Freemont may have been a little more stylish, but it had been turned into a parking deck twenty years ago, so I guess the Pollux won. The projector still works and I own a large collection of old films.

I'd kept the original glass entryway, even the old-fashioned central ticket booth, but beyond that, the new doors were reinforced steel, well-decorated, but secure. Beyond the doors, the foyer was still brightly lit by the original crystal chandelier, its glow magnified by the mirrors lining both walls. Rachel took in my absence of reflection without comment, paying more attention to the chandelier.

I'd moved several of the couches and tables from the downstairs lounges to the lobby, creating a sitting area for guests. Rachel plopped down on a burgundy velvet sofa and stared up at the painted art nouveau ceiling. A grand marble stair led up to the mezzanine and my offices. There were more offices and some dressing rooms behind the stage, but I only used them for storage.

“You like it?” I asked.

She nodded. “It's awesome. How do you afford it?”

“I get by,” I told her gruffly. “Guys like nudity and I don't waste much money on groceries.” How long would it take Talbot to get breakfast? If he went to Jackie's on the corner, he could be back in ten minutes. I didn't want to be alone with Rachel for much longer than that.

“If you're thirsty, the soda fountain still works. I only keep the Coke and the lemonade refilled, though. Everything else will get you water. I tried to put in a blood dispenser, but it clogs the machine.”

Rachel watched me with smug contentment. She had just opened her mouth to speak when my rescue arrived. I could smell the food before Talbot opened the door. He was early. I don't pay him enough.

Muscling past the steel doors, Talbot backed into the foyer, carrying two covered breakfast plates. The scent pulled at my stomach. I craved breakfast only slightly less than pizza. One plate had scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and a side of hash browns. The other had two fried eggs (sunny-side up), link sausage, and cheese grits.

“Rachel, isn't it? Do you like your eggs scrambled or fried?” Talbot asked.

“Which does he like?” She asked the question with purpose. To a vampire, that question is a signal, a sign that the woman he's with knows a little about vampires. Talbot remained valiantly smirkless, but he noticed.

“You'll want this plate.” Talbot sat the tray before her, poured some orange juice in a glass, and laid a straw across the top. “I think I'll take my breakfast at the club,” he said, walking right back out the door with the other tray of food.
Bon apéritif
.

Bon apéritif.
Happy before-dinner drink. Fucking Talbot. I pay him too much. I wanted to protest, but the words stuck in my throat. In the split second I'd been distracted by Talbot, Rachel had taken the lid off of her tray, picked up one of the sausage links and commenced licking the grease off of the underside. For lack of a better word, she nearly fellated it.

“Less sexual, more sensual,” I corrected. A rookie mistake most women make is equating eating to sex. For a living, breathing man, that would be correct, but for vampires it isn't about sex, it's about the food…about what we can't have and watching someone else have it. In polite circles, they call it voyeuristic dining, but food porn is more honest.

Criticism made her nervous. Each bite came a bit too quickly and her
mmmms
and
ahs
sounded forced. She had raw talent, though, and unlike Tabitha, she didn't forget that I was watching her. She purposefully let little beads of egg yolk gather at the corner of her mouth, then asked me to wipe it away. When I did, she seized my wrist, sucking the egg yolk from my finger, peering up into my eyes for approval. Long after the yolk was gone, her tongue danced along the bottom of my index finger, the curious stud on her tongue providing an erotic counterpoint to the softness of her flesh. It felt strange and wonderful. I approved.

After breakfast, Talbot sauntered back in and cleared away the dishes. For me, the next quarter hour passed like time-lapse photography. I didn't think there'd been cinnamon in any of the food, but I certainly smelled it. Maybe it was a breath mint or a new perfume. Talbot and Rachel blurred around me, politely avoiding each other in an elaborate dance, while I sat perfectly still, trying to remember whatever it was I'd forgotten. The image of Rachel sucking a little drop of golden egg yolk from my finger haunted my thoughts, making it harder than usual to think straight.

“I killed Brian,” I said suddenly.

“What?” Talbot and Rachel spoke in unison.

“Brian. You know; the guy Roger met through that real estate thing, the one who was always talking crap about the Void City Howlers, trying to start a fight. I don't remember exactly what happened, but I think I ripped his head off.”

“Rage blackout, huh?” Rachel asked.

Talbot and I both looked at her funny. “How the hell do you know about my rage blackouts?” I asked.

She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Sorry. I guess everyone who knows anything about vampires in this city knows about your rage blackouts.” Her pulse quickened, but I couldn't decide whether she was lying or nervous.

“She's got you there.” Talbot walked over to the door. “I just want to know how you're going to break it to Roger. He and Brian seemed pretty tight.”

“Yeah, well, Roger isn't renowned for his choice of acquaintances,” I said, “present company included.”

“Depends on what you're looking for in a friend,” Talbot countered. “He certainly attracts the powerful, wealthy, and influential. Present company included.” He added that last bit with a mocking nod. Talbot had a smirk on his lips and he cut his eyes toward Rachel as he left. “I'll be across the street. Call me if you need anything.”

Rachel squirmed under his gaze. As the door closed, she seemed comfortable again. Too comfortable. “What are you going to do about the werewolves?” She slunk toward me and the vibe was suddenly very different than it had been with Tabitha. This wasn't about sex. I could smell that sex was an option, but this was something different. She was teasing me, flirting with me, manipulating me.

“So…you know about the rage blackouts and the werewolf fiasco. You're pretty well informed.”

“I'm just lucky.” She moved close to me. I couldn't help but notice that her breasts were nearly touching my chest. “I heard some of your employees talking about it.” She closed the gap between us. “That's okay, isn't it?”

It was more than okay, but more because of how she was touching me than the answers she was giving. She could read me better than Tabitha ever could and we'd known each other less than a day. She was extremely dangerous, a very good liar. She hadn't heard my employees talking about the werewolves; she couldn't have. I reminded myself to be careful.