Zen and the Art of Vampires (21 page)

“Don't you come near me,” I said with rising panic, backing up and reaching around blindly for an object to use as protection.

He stopped, a mildly amused look on his face. “Why? What will you do? Call the police?”

My heart sank as I realized the veracity of his words. There was no one I could call to help me. Magda must be in her room by now, but I didn't really want to get her involved. Not with a vampire.

“I thought you wanted to see Alec. Or was your night with him so unmemorable?”

My spine stiffened at his mocking tone. “I do want to see him, not that the night I spent with him is any of your business. I have several things I'd like to ask him, not the least of which is why he felt it necessary to give you my passport.”

“Come along, then,” he said, opening the door to the hallway a smidgen. He closed it quickly. “We have to leave. Now.”

“Is someone coming?” I asked, torn between a desire to seek help and a knowledge that I was better off without becoming involved with the police.

“Yes. Police. Evidently you aroused suspicion getting in here.” He turned off the light, grabbed my suitcase, and flung open the French doors on the balcony.

“But no one saw me . . . unless the desk clerk caught a glimpse. Oy.”

Kristoff didn't say anything, just leaped off the balcony. I followed, closing the French doors behind me, peering hesitantly down to the ground, where he stood waiting impatiently in the indigo shade cast by a nearby hedge. The midnight sun was still up, but at its lowest point, which left everything bathed in a lovely twilight glow.

Everything but the vampire glaring up at me. “Hurry. My car is parked a block away.”

“It's a long jump down,” I said softly, trying to gauge the distance between the ground and the balcony.

“I thought you said you jumped down this way earlier.” Exasperation was beginning to make itself heard in his deep voice.

“Yes, but that was in the heat of the moment. I was scared and panicky. I'm not panicking now.”

Setting down the bag and holding his arms up, he muttered something that I suspected wasn't at all a good reflection on me. “Jump down and I'll catch you.”

“You have got to be kidding.”

His teal eyes glittered wickedly in the moonlight.

“I'm too big! I'll squash you flat,” I pointed out.

“For god's sake, woman, jump now, or I'll leave you to the police.”

I swung my legs over the railing, sitting on it for a moment as I tried to make up my mind.

Light filtered out from the curtains on the French door. Someone was in my room.

“I'll squash—” I started to say again.

“Jump!” he commanded, and I threw all caution to the wind and did just that.

“You see? I told you I was too heavy!” I looked down at Kristoff's face. As I suspected, I had toppled him like a bowling pin. He lay beneath me with a dazed look in his eyes that quickly faded to familiar irritation.

“All women think they're too fat. I am perfectly capable of catching you, regardless.”

His fingers were splayed on my hips, his breath brushing my lips. We were fitted together in an intimate way that seemed to make thinking difficult. His gaze dropped to my mouth, and I started to tingle all over at the thought of kissing him.

A voice shouting from the balcony roused us both.

“Get moving,” he growled as I rolled off him, quickly getting to my feet.

He grabbed my suitcase in one hand and me with the other, dragging me after him as he raced out of the garden.

The sound of someone hitting the ground hard behind us kept me from protesting the cavalier treatment. I concentrated on keeping my feet beneath me as we raced down the block, around a corner, and back behind a small brick building. Kristoff tossed my bag into the back of the red car, shoving me inside before getting in himself.

A uniformed policeman appeared just as Kristoff slammed his foot onto the accelerator, sending us rocketing out of the small parking lot. He swore and jerked on the wheel, narrowly avoiding the cop.

“Holy crap!” I yelled as he took the corner on what felt like only two wheels. “Are you trying to kill us?”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” he ground out, his eyes glittering in the darkness as he sped out of town.

“Where are we going? Are you and Alec staying at a hotel in town?” I asked, looking behind us to see if we were being followed.

“Yes, but that's not where we're going.”

“I think we're clear. I don't see any cars racing up the hill after us,” I said, looking back down at the town as Kristoff shifted gears and sent us flying out of town on the road that led to the main highway. I sat back down in my seat, relieved to have escaped at least one form of trouble. I eyed the other one. “Why not?”

“Because you stalled so long getting off that damned balcony that the police saw my license plate. It won't take them long to trace it back to Alec, which means they'll know where we're staying.”

“I'm sorry, I just wanted to keep from flattening you,” I said, wrapping the tattered remains of pride around myself.

He snorted. “Women.”

“Yeah, well, you have to admit, I was right. I did knock you down.”

“I was off balance,” he said, his gaze fixed on the road. “And you'll notice that you didn't flatten me.”

“That's just a matter of semantics,” I said righteously, looking out the window. “If we can't go to Alec's hotel room, where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“Where's that?”

But he wouldn't answer. He didn't say another word for the next twenty minutes as we drove through the twilight. I ignored him ignoring me and admired instead the lovely soft colors of the sky.

“Why are we stopping here?” I finally broke the silence when Kristoff pulled off a winding road and stopped in front of a long metal gate.

“Welcome to our accommodations for the night.”

My gaze moved from him as he climbed out of the car and opened the metal gate, to beyond where the outline of a rickety pink barn lurched drunkenly against the glowing sky.

Kristoff got back into the car and drove us around to the far side of the broken-down barn, tucking the car neatly away between the barn and a large, corroded metal cylinder, obviously some sort of farming equipment.

“We're staying here?”

“Yes.” He got out, grabbing my bag and hauling it around to the front of the building.

I stayed staring at the back of the barn for a moment or two, noting with mild interest that a rat was observing me from the top of the metal cylinder.

“We're staying here,” I told the rat.

It didn't look impressed.

“I'm not, either,” I told it, then gathering my wits, marched my way through thick, smelly mud to the front of the barn. Kristoff and my suitcase were nowhere to be seen, but a faint light glowed from inside the barn. I entered through one of the double doors that had been left slightly ajar.

Kristoff had a cell phone to his ear, then closed it with a quick, jerky motion. “Alec isn't answering.”

“Do you think something is wrong?” I asked, watching him closely.

His lips thinned a smidgen. “No. The police probably arrived, and he got out quickly. He might have left his phone behind. I'll try again in the morning.”

“Ah. Um. Why are we
here
?” I asked Kristoff as he jerked a couple of mildewy bales of hay off a platform. He had set a flashlight on an overturned bucket, since the interior of the barn was almost completely dark. “That is to say, why are we not at a hotel or something like that? I know we can't go to yours if they saw your license plate, but that doesn't mean we can't go to somewhere civilized.”

He yanked an empty moth-eaten grain bag onto the upper half of his bale platform. “Unfortunately, I did not think to bring a false passport with me, so once the police have my name—which they will get from the hotel where Alec and I were staying—they will simply track that no matter what hotel I register at.”

“Oh.” I thought about that for a moment, distastefully eyeing the refuge he'd found us. There was a suspicious rustling behind the bales. “You couldn't . . . you know . . .
make
someone give us a room without registering under your real name?”

He stared at me. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

“Well, I don't know!” I slapped my hands on my legs in exasperation. “You're a vampire, aren't you? Doesn't that mean you can mind meld with people? Or brain wave them into doing what you want?”

“With my mesmerizing powers, you mean?”

“Yes! Those!”

He sighed a martyred sigh. “I am a Dark One, Zorya.”

“My name is Pia.”

“I do not have magical powers that affect mortals. So no, I cannot stare deep into someone's eyes and convince them to give me a room without first providing my passport and credit card.” He went back behind a half wall and brought out a really filthy-looking blanket.

“Well, what's the use in being a vampire if you don't get any special powers?”

“I didn't say I don't have any powers—I simply said that I do not have any over mortals. And the only one I can
mind meld
with, as you put it, is someone close to me, like a Beloved, and I sincerely doubt such a woman exists.” He plopped himself down on a couple of the bales of hay, and pulled the blanket over him.

“What are you doing?” I asked, feeling somewhat lost and alone. I rubbed my arms against the cold—it was cold and dank in the barn, the night air teasing its way in through a dozen or more missing slats in the walls.

“Going to sleep.” The words emerged with a surly edge to them.

I considered the black lump that he made in the near darkness of the barn.

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” I asked, hating the pitiful tinge to my voice, but feeling particularly vulnerable at the moment. Being helpless in the company of a murderous vampire will do that to a girl.

“I made you a bed over there.”

The black lump bulged in the direction of the clumped bales of hay with the dirty feed bag. I looked at the so-called bed, moving hesitantly toward it. The rustling had stopped. Maybe it was the wind, not rodents.

“Turn off the flashlight.”

“Not on your life,” I said, edging my way over to the bed. One squeak, one sign that there were rats or mice near my bed, and I'd go sleep in the car, small as it was.

“Fine. If you want the police to come investigating who is hiding out in a barn that's supposed to be unoccupied, leave it on.”

“Are you deliberately being as obnoxious as possible?” I asked, hefting the flashlight. It had a nice solid feel in my hand. It would make a reasonable weapon in case anything with four legs decided to attack.

Why did I have a feeling it was the two-legged predators I had to worry about more?

“I thought I was being pleasant.”

“Pleasant.” I snorted. “You wouldn't know the meaning of the word. Don't I get a blanket?”

“No.”

I sat gingerly on the edge of my makeshift bed. “You have one. I'm cold. Why can't I have one?”

Kristoff sighed heavily and rolled over to glare at me, his eyes glowing with a teal light in the dimness of the barn. “Because I don't have a bloody bag full of clothing, and you do. Now, will you turn off that light and go to sleep?”

He rolled back over, leaving me staring balefully at his back.

I had to admit that Kristoff, no matter how brusque, had a point—I had all my clothing, while he had nothing but what he wore. I opened my suitcase and pulled out a sweater and scarf that were intended for use during a visit to a glacier . . . a visit I wouldn't get to make.

Bundled up as much as I could manage without actually crawling inside the bag, I sat huddled on my appointed bed and shivered, flicking the light around the barn to make sure there weren't bats or anything that could come swooping down on me while I slept, occasionally sending the light over to the lump Kristoff made.

He didn't move.

I told myself to stop worrying and just go to sleep, but tired though I was, the cold and discomfort kept me from relaxing. At every little rustle, every cold draft, every breeze wafting the smell of mildewed straw and ages-old manure, I hunkered down, more and more miserable, until I couldn't stand it any longer.

“I'm still cold, Kristoff.”

He was silent so long, I thought he might be asleep. Finally he sat up and tossed me his blanket. It stank of mildew and horse and sweat, but it held delicious warmth from his body.