A Bite to Remember (5 page)

“Really?” she asked with interest, peering around for the ice cream maker.

“I’ll get it,” Tiny insisted, moving to the sink to rinse his own plate. “Take the coffees to the table.”

Leaving him to it, Jackie carried the coffees over. Vincent hadn’t asked for one, so she hadn’t poured him one.

“Here you are.” Tiny placed a small dish of ice cream before her, and announced, “Chocolate with cherries.”

Jackie picked up the spoon and scooped up a bite, moaning with pleasure as it hit her taste buds.

“Good?” Vincent asked with interest.

Jackie nodded and swallowed, then taunted, “No dessert until you finish your dinner.”

Honestly, the man looked as crestfallen as a child at her words and continued determinedly with his meal.

“He doesn’t have to finish his supper. He took too much.” Tiny whisked Vincent’s half-finished plate of stir-fry away, replacing it with ice cream. “Eat up.”

Vincent beamed at the man and set to work on the ice cream.

Jackie made a face as he sighed with pleasure.

“Ms. Morrisey?”

She shifted in her seat and glanced over her shoulder at Allen Richmond as he poked his head into the room.

“A car followed one of the men through the gate as he returned from his break. There’s a woman out here looking for Mr. Argeneau.”

Three

Jackie stood to investigate the woman looking for Vincent, only to pause as a tall, curvaceous, brunette urged Allen Richmond out of the way and stepped into the kitchen. Jackie stared. The woman was beautiful. She also looked extremely familiar. However, Jackie didn’t understand
why
until Vincent moved forward saying, “Aunt Marguerite!”

This was Marguerite Argeneau, Bastien’s mother and Vincent’s aunt. There was a painting of her in the living room of the apartment in New York where Bastien stayed when in the city. Jackie had met him there a time or two over the years and always found the woman in the portrait fascinating with her medieval gown and faraway look. She was even more beautiful in real life and—despite knowing as much as she did about immortals—Jackie still found it difficult to accept that the woman was over seven hundred years old.

While Marguerite Argeneau was older than Vincent, she
was still very young as far as immortals went. Their history went back before the beginning of written history, to the existence of Atlantis and—according to her father’s files—there were at least a handful of immortals who had actually fled the fall of Atlantis.

It seemed the mythical land truly had existed, and it
had
been technologically advanced as some people suggested. So much advanced, in fact, they’d been able to combine nano technology with bio-engineering to create specialized nanos. These nanos, when introduced to a body, used the blood of the host to repair damaged tissue and fight disease as well as to reproduce and regenerate themselves.

They had been programmed to shut down and disintegrate once finished with their work. However, the human body was constantly under attack from sunlight, the environment, or simple aging. There were always repairs to be done and so the nanos didn’t shut down, but continued to regenerate and reproduce themselves to keep their host at peak condition. Those nanos were the equivalent of drinking from the fountain of youth.

Unfortunately, there were some drawbacks. The nanos used more blood than the human body could produce, and so the nanos altered their hosts to allow them to get the blood they needed. They made their hosts the perfect predator, giving them increased strength, speed, and fangs to gain the needed blood. And because sunlight dehydrated the body and increased the need for immortals to feed, it had also given them amazing night vision so that they could live and hunt at night to avoid the damaging rays of the sun, in effect, making them vampires.

“Thank you, Allen,” Jackie murmured as Vincent greeted his aunt.

Nodding, the man backed out of the kitchen, allowing the door to close behind him.

“How was your flight?” Vincent asked as the two broke apart.

“Fine, fine. We had a two-hour delay, though, which is why I’m late getting in.”

“Oh, yes. Bastien said your plane was landing at six,” he murmured.

Jackie glanced at her wrist watch. It was now well past eight. Obviously, they’d both forgotten about his aunt. The fact that Bastien’s mother was flying out to California had slipped her mind entirely. She wished it had slipped the woman’s mind. Jackie hadn’t considered her visit a problem until Bastien had suggested she not mention what was happening here unless she wanted Marguerite’s interference.

Jackie wasn’t keen on interference from anyone, but would never be rude to Bastien’s mother. Not telling her anything seemed the smartest move. She just hoped Vincent had the sense to keep his mouth shut on the matter too.

“And who is this?”

Jackie let go of her thoughts and forced a smile as Marguerite turned bright, curious eyes toward her and Tiny.

“Oh.” Vincent’s smile was stiff as he introduced them. “This is Jackie, my P.I.—”

“P.A,” Jackie corrected quickly, giving him a meaningful stare. She then smiled brightly and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Argeneau.”

“Thank you, dear. It’s nice to meet you too,” she said, taking her hand. “Call me Marguerite.”

Jackie’s smile froze as she felt a ruffling sensation in her mind. Her defenses immediately kicked in and she thought of a brick wall, then started to recite “Itsy Bitsy Spider” in her head for good measure in an effort to keep the woman out of her thoughts.

Marguerite’s eyes widened briefly, then narrowed, but Jackie just forced a wider smile. If the woman felt rebuffed, it was too bad. In her opinion, it was rather rude to intrude on people’s thoughts. Not that most people would even have realized she was doing it.

Marguerite fluttered at the edges of her mind for another moment, then released her hand and turned to Tiny.

“And this is my…er…cook, Tiny,” Vincent added with a pained expression.

Jackie watched Tiny, relaxing when she saw his lips begin to move as he shook Marguerite’s hand. He was reciting “Little Bo Beep.” At least that was what he’d once told her he did when he thought a vampire was trying to rifle through his thoughts.

Their efforts might have kept Marguerite out of their heads; Jackie couldn’t be sure. Unfortunately, the very fact that they’d tried had the added side effect of making Vincent’s aunt suspicious. Jackie could see the emotion flicker in her expression as she glanced from one to the other. After a moment of tense silence, the vampire turned suddenly to Vincent.

“Did Bastien send a package on ahead as promised?”

“Yes, it arrived this afternoon,” he assured her. Then he realized, “Oh, of course. You must be hungry after your flight.”

Vincent moved across the room to the refrigerator and opened it, revealing bagged blood stacked up neatly in amongst the cheese and veggies. “One or two bags?”

Marguerite stiffened at the sight of the blood in plain sight. Her gaze slid to Jackie and Tiny, taking in their inscrutable expressions before she answered.

“Two, please. I’ll have them in my room,” she added, apparently uncomfortable with the idea of feeding in front of them.

Vincent grabbed a couple bags, then ushered her out of the room.

“She’s pretty,” Tiny commented as he sat back down at the table to pick up his spoon and dig into his ice cream again.

“She’s
old,
” Jackie responded dryly. “Super old. About seven hundred years too old for you.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “She probably thinks of me as a punk kid.”

“Probably,” Jackie agreed, then blinked and suddenly wondered if that was how Vincent and other vampires saw
her
…as a punk kid. She didn’t like the idea, but supposed it would explain the arrogance she sometimes sensed from them. Perhaps it was more condescension; the amused patience of the aged with exuberant youth. On the other hand, she thought, while they may think of her as a punk kid, they still called her when they had a problem.

“So who are Jackie and Tiny?” Marguerite asked as she followed Vincent into one of the remaining guest rooms.

“My P.A. and cook,” he answered quickly, but had to turn away to hide his expression as he set her suitcase on
the bed. Aunt Marguerite had always been able to tell when he told a lie.

“Uh-huh.” She didn’t sound convinced. “And when did you start eating?”

Vincent didn’t even try to claim that he’d always eaten. While Jackie and Tiny didn’t know him and couldn’t be sure he hadn’t always done so, Marguerite did know him. He’d stayed at her apartment while in New York and hadn’t eaten a thing the whole time he was there. That thought reminded him of a conversation he’d had with Marguerite’s son, Lucern, at the man’s wedding to his editor Kate a couple weeks ago and he brightened.

“Lucern was telling me that he finds eating helps him build his own blood so that he has to feed less. I thought I’d give it a try.” It wasn’t a lie. Lucern
had
told him that this was why he ate when the rest of them didn’t. It helped him keep his body mass as well as build blood. Vincent had actually considered eating as well as feeding to see if it reduced the number of times he had to feed in a day, but with one thing and another, he hadn’t actually set out to try it. Until now.

“And how do your cook and P.A. know about us?” Marguerite asked, pausing by the bed and turning to spear him with her eyes.

“How do
your
housekeeper and her husband know?” He gave a shrug. “They were told. It saves me having to spend my time pretending when I’m at home.”

Marguerite’s mouth compressed. “And these men crawling all over the house?”

“They’re installing a security system. Crime is rife here. You can’t be too careful.” Vincent waited for her next
question. It was obvious his aunt didn’t believe a thing he was saying and Vincent really wished he could just tell her what was what, but the last thing he needed was his aunt sticking her nose into this business.

“Have you tried to read her yet?”

Vincent’s eyebrows rose with surprise. The question was not one he’d expected.

“No,” he admitted. Vincent didn’t often read the humans around him. To him, it seemed like an intrusion and he didn’t care to intrude on the thoughts of his friends. As for non-friends, ambition and drive could color everyone’s choices and both of those were high in the world of theatre. After the hundredth time of finding out the pretty lady flirting with you so charmingly was really only interested in what you could do for her career…Well, it just seemed better not to bother reading them anymore. Not that this was a concern with Jackie. Still, he’d had no reason to read her, so hadn’t bothered.

Marguerite merely nodded. “I think I’ll unpack and take a shower. Between waiting in the airport and the recycled air on the plane, I always feel gritty after travel.”

“Okay. Come downstairs when you’re ready and I’ll give you a proper tour of the house,” Vincent said, leaving her alone.

Jackie and Tiny were still in the kitchen when he went in. Vincent sat down in his seat, picked up his spoon, then frowned at the melted puddle in his bowl.

“I’ll get you fresh.” Tiny took his bowl and stood to carry it to the sink.

Vincent couldn’t help noticing that Jackie frowned after
the man and supposed she didn’t like Tiny serving him. The title cook/housekeeper was just his cover after all. She didn’t say anything to the large man, however, but turned to Vincent and asked, “So what did you do to piss off one of your own kind?”

He blinked at the question. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you must have done something. There’s a reason they’re sabotaging you like this.”

“It doesn’t have to be an immortal,” Vincent said resentfully.

Jackie arched one eyebrow. “No, of course it doesn’t. Maybe it was a coincidence that the entire cast of your play suddenly went anemic. Although, as far as I know, there really is no such thing as
contagious
anemia.”

Vincent’s shoulders sagged. “Yes. That seems to suggest one of my kind is behind it,” he acknowledged with a sigh. Then he admitted, “I was hoping though that it was a mortal who either hired, or got some help, from an immortal.”

“Does it really matter?” she asked quietly. “Either way, an immortal is involved and surely they don’t normally side with mortals against immortals?”

“No,” he agreed. “And I
have
tried to think of who might be behind it, or even involved, but I really can’t think of anyone.”

“Hmm.” Jackie sat back, a frown pulling at her mouth as Tiny returned to set a bowl of ice cream before Vincent. “Well, think about it some more. If you come up with anyone, let me know.”

Vincent nodded, then asked, “So, what are we going to do first?”

Jackie’s eyes narrowed. “
We
aren’t doing anything.
You’re
going to go about your business. The saboteur is a problem for Tiny and me.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “I’ll go check on how the men are doing with the security system.”

Vincent watched her leave, his gaze fixed with interest on her pert little behind.

“Jackie’s right. You’re better to leave the detecting to the detectives,” Tiny said, drawing his attention. “And we’ll leave the acting to you.”

Vincent grunted and took a spoonful of ice cream, savoring the cold, sweet treat and wondering why he’d stopped eating all those centuries ago. Had he really just got bored with it? It didn’t seem boring now.

“So,” Vincent said after a minute. “Tell me about Jackie.”

Tiny raised his eyebrows, then shrugged. “She’s smart, sharp, and somewhat cynical. She’s also my boss.”

The last was added as a warning that he’d be loyal and Vincent nodded to let him know he respected that. “Bastien said her father started the company?”

“Ted,” Tiny agreed. “He was a real hard-noser. He expected a lot out of everyone…including his daughter. And Jackie never disappointed him.”

“Never?”

“Never in the ten years I’ve known her,” Tiny said solemnly.