Always the Vampire (15 page)

“Careful,” he whined, but he seemed to be breathing easier. “You were never much of a nurse.”

“You didn’t complain the last time I cleaned you up,” I said as I dabbed the blood from his temple with the sopping face towel.

“I was drunk then.”

“That was the next to last time. Now be quiet while I dab your lip.”

He complied, and I worked in silence for a few minutes, grateful that he had the wind and wits to speak in full sentences. His wounds had stopped bleeding, and a lot of mouth breathing helped me keep my gag reflex under control. When I’d sponged away all the blood, I patted his face dry with the second towel.

“Okay, hand me the antibiotic cream.”

“You get it,” he said, thrusting the box in my belly. “My eyes hurt.”

“Baby,” I teased to ease my own tension. A spot between my shoulder blades itched, as if someone had me in their sights.

“So when
was
the last time you nursed me?”

“When Sophia Pappas nailed you in the back of the head with a water pail,” I replied, twisting off the tube cap and then smearing antibiotic cream on his forehead.

“Oh, yeah. She was a pretty little thing,” he added with a half smile.

I snorted and dotted cream on his lip. “She was the most vicious girl in the Spanish Quarter, Triton.”

“She was jealous of you.”

“Right.”

“She was. So were most of the girls our age. You had freedoms they didn’t have.” He wheezed a chuckle. “They thought you had me, too.”

That shot a little pang in my heart, but I shook it off and recapped the tube. “I suggest you downsize that ego so you can walk out of here.”

“No problem.”

Slower than grass grows, he levered himself out of the armchair, then wove to the left, and pitched into my arms.

So much for walking under his own power.

I slung his arm around my shoulders. “Put your weight on me.”

He did, but even with vampire strength, my knees almost buckled from the unexpected awkwardness of holding him semi-upright. Gee, getting him down the stairs was gonna be fun.

I half dragged him to the deck accompanied by his soft groans. Damn, maybe he did have internal injuries. Would shifting heal those, too?

“Lock the door, Cesca,” he muttered.

“Where’s the key?”

“Was on the kitchen counter.”

I looked back through the doorway, then at Triton’s white face and clenched teeth. He was barely vertical, barely conscious, but propping him up was the best plan I had at the moment.

“Lean against the deck rail, okay? Brace yourself with your arms. I’ll get the key and be right back.”

When he nodded, I got him into position and tore back inside to look for the house keys. They weren’t immediately visible, so I began lifting things. Cereal box, power bars, hamburger-casserole package. Stinky sponge, sticky dishtowel. Ick, gross. I searched a few seconds longer, then plunged my hands into a mound of cereal squares and white flakes that smelled like potatoes.

Pay dirt. I found the keys. Two of them on a dolphin ring.

I dashed back to the deck and dangled the set for Triton to see. “These the right ones?”

“Uh, yeah, but we have company.”

He inclined his head toward the driveway where an elderly couple stood. The same couple who’d taken my ghost tour. The ones Gorman thought were—

“Can we be of assistance?” the man called up.

“No. No, thank you. My friend is just, um, sick.”

The woman, dressed tonight in stylish slacks and a sweater set, shook her head.

“No need to tell tales to us, dear. We heard the ruckus in this young man’s apartment and phoned the police.”

I frowned. “Then why are they down the street?”

“Because we told the officers we mistook the address,” the man said. He pulled up his trousers and puffed out his polo-shirt-clad chest. “Since there was a rather raucous altercation in progress down there, they believed us.”

“Now be honest, Clarence,” the woman inserted with a pat on the old man’s arm. “It helped that we’re seniors.” She looked up at me. “People expect seniors to get confused, you know.”

“So true, Imelda,” Clarence agreed.

I concurred. I’d turned 228 my last birthday, and I was sure confused at the moment.

“Here now, let us assist you in getting this young man to the car,” Clarence said as he trotted up the steps. “Mother, you open the car door.”

He moved so fast, he was three stairs short of the deck before I moved to block Triton.

“Sir, thank you, but I can help my friend.”

“Nonsense, Princess. I was a fireman. I know how to carry a person without hurting my back.”

“Princess?” I echoed.

“You’re the vampire tour guide. Cesca. Francesca, Princess Vampire.”

“Yes, but—”

“My dear girl, Melda and I are vampires as well. I promise you, I will neither drop this strapping young man nor harm him in any way.”

“You’re vampires.”

I turned to Triton, who shrugged.

“You didn’t know? Oh, but of course you did,” Clarence chirped and turned to Triton. “Right, then. Up you go.”

Clarence levered Triton onto one shoulder and secured his hold on Triton’s leg and arm. When Clarence straightened, he levitated just above the stair treads and flew down them instead of walking.

“This way is less jostling, don’t you think?” the old man said over his shoulder.

I nodded absently, wondering why Saber didn’t know about these two vamps. Or was he keeping that information from me? And how had I pegged them as human? Damn good questions, but for the moment I lingered long enough to lock Triton’s door and sped to catch up as Clarence gently lowered Triton onto the SSR’s passenger seat.

Melda patted my arm. “There now, not to worry. Your friend will be fine as soon as he shifts.”

I blinked at the wrinkled face. “Shifts, ma’am?”

“Oh, we won’t mention it to a soul,” she assured me.

“But how do you know he shifts?”

“Because we’re vampires, of course. We sense it.”

I had
such
a headache coming on.

The car door closed, and Clarence laid a light hand on Imelda’s shoulder.

I shook off my latest shock. “Thank you, both of you.”

Melda waved a hand. “It’s nothing, dear. Drive carefully.”

They stepped around me and walked off down the street. I knew I should let it go, but I couldn’t.

“Wait, Mr. and Mrs.—”

“Clarke,” Melda supplied.

I nodded. “Forgive me, but have you been vampires long?”

Clarence grinned. “You’re wondering why we’re old, is it?”

“Father, don’t tease her,” Melda scolded. “The short version, dear, is that a young punk vampire caught us returning to our retirement village and Turned us. That was fifteen years ago. We were eighty-five then.”

“But why would he Turn you instead of draining you?”

“He wanted us to serve as his grandparents,” Clarence said. “Forever.”

“But my dear husband,” Melda said with pride, “finally grew strong enough to kill the little criminal. We went to the Vampire Protection people, and they’ve been kind enough to relocate us.”

“Relocated you to where?”

“Why here, of course. We’re renting in this neighborhood until we can find the perfect house for our special project.”

Special project? Why didn’t that sound like a good thing?

“That’s right,” Clarence said with a wide grin. “We’re opening a bed and breakfast exclusively for vampires.”

Minutes later, Clarence and Melda disappeared, and I sat at the steering wheel rubbing my temples.

“The Clarke’s knew, Triton. That you were in trouble, but also that you’d be shifting tonight. They called the cops to save you then waved them off to the house down the block so you wouldn’t be detained giving a statement.”

“Instead I’m detained listening to you rant. Can we go now?”

“You don’t get it. They sensed your nature, but I didn’t sense theirs.”

“I do get it. You’re worried your otherness radar is busted.”

“Or I never had it. At this rate, I won’t recognize the Void if it smacks me in the face.”

“Sure you will. It looks like a rolling oil spill, now drive.”

“I have to call Saber.”

Triton growled.

“En route,” I added, as I started the SSR. “Which beach do you shift on?”

“Try the pier,” he said, meaning the St. Augustine Beach fishing pier.

The police cars were gone when I cruised past the corner. Triton didn’t notice because he was slumped against the car door, eyes closed. At least his color was better.

I punched up Saber on the cell when I hit A1A.

“You find Triton?” he said with no preliminaries. At least he wasn’t shouting this time.

“I did, and he’s with me now, but we have a complication. He was attacked and beaten in his apartment by two men looking for the amulets.”

“Shit. Humans or supers? Were they working on their own?”

“Triton is sure they’re humans. They mentioned a boss but not a name.”

“Ten to one Starrack is behind this.”

“We think so, too.”

“How badly is Triton hurt?”

“Bad enough that I need to stick with him until he shifts and I can be sure he’ll heal.” I paused to take the short cutoff between A1A and 312. “Listen, I’m taking Triton to the pier beach, and I don’t know how long I’ll be, but I have a couple of other things to tell you about.”

“Then I’ll wait for you at home. You can fill me in, and we’ll get Triton to look at mug shots in a few days.”

“Will that do any good?”

“Can’t hurt. If we can track down his assailants, maybe we can persuade them to tell us who hired them. If we get lucky, they’ll not only finger Starrack but tell us where he is.”

“Hold that thought. Is the storm over out there?”

“Yeah, we’re moving tree limbs and picking up the debris. I might be another hour or so, but call me if you have any more trouble.”

“We’ll be fine.”

We disconnected, and I put my cell on the dashboard as the pier parking lot came into view. Bad news was that there were twenty cars parked in the lot and all the closest slots to the beach were taken. Worse news was hearing a party in progress.

I poked Triton on the thigh. “Hey, we need to find a quieter spot.”

He inched his head high enough to see out the windshield. “Damn it. I really need to get in the water, Cesca.”

“You trust me to pick a beach?”

“Just make it quick.”

Normally I’m not a big fan of allowing cars to drive on the beach. Tonight, it was a blessing.

I eased down the Dondanville beach access ramp and onto the sand. And, since the tide was in, I parked close enough to be steps away from the surf. Now to get Triton into it.

I shook his shoulder. “Hey, are you awake?”

“Getting there.” He pushed against the armrest until he was more or less upright. “I smell the ocean.”

“Let’s find out if you can walk.”

My sneakers slapped wet sand when I hopped out of the truck. Hmm. I’d parked even closer to the tide line than I’d thought, but no matter. I’d have better traction by the time I left.

Triton had opened the passenger door, but he moved like a broken puppet just attempting to swing his legs out.

“Damn, I’m stiff as a corpse, Cesca. I need more help than I thought.”

“Then put your arm around my shoulders. I won’t drop you.”

He raised his head and gave me a long look. “What I meant is that I need help stripping.”

“Strip—oh, yeah. I forgot.”

Some vampires may not blush, but I do. And I did. Violently. Thankfully, it was too dark for Triton to see it.

“Can’t you shift and just let your clothes rip?”

“Probably, but I always shift nude. Besides, I’ll need these when I change back in about thirty hours.” He shot me a weak but wicked grin. “Unless you want to drive me home in the raw.”

“I have to pick you up, too? Geez, anything else you want me to do? No, don’t answer that,” I added when he opened his mouth. “Fine, unbutton your shirt while I get your shoes off.”

I toed off my sneakers, then unlaced his and tossed both pairs onto the floorboard. He’d only managed to pull his T-shirt halfway up his chest, so I eased it off.

All the while repeating the mantra,
Be clinical. Be detached. It’s only a chest.
A very ripped chest and an abdomen I could bounce coins on.

“Okay, undo your shorts.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he teased.

Maybe the rat had seen me blush. Which I now willed myself not to do as I heard the slide of his zipper. Was that skin where boxers or briefs should be?

“I always go commando on shift nights. Don’t you remember?”