Kill Me (22 page)

Only I couldn’t see him. That was a bad, bad feeling. Kind of like being a kid and certain that something was hiding in your closet—only it’s dark and you can’t be sure. It was like that, but much worse. I
knew
the monster existed and he was right there, getting ready to do god-knows what.

“Oh, how I want to,” Clive said, his lips grazing my ear as he spoke, before traveling down the length of my neck in warp speed.

I jumped and almost dropped the violin. While fumbling to regain control of the errant instrument, Clive used the distraction against me. He pulled me down from my perch on the arm of the settee and enveloped me with strong arms and his solid torso. I struggled but it was like fighting a strait-jacket. Damn, he was strong.

And excited. I heard his teeth clack near my head at the same time I felt his erection pressing into the small of my back.

My vision clouded red. I was seriously past irritated.

Easy. Stay calm
. A duo of voices sounded in my head. That was a first. I’d become used to hearing my own thoughts and more recently to the voice I assumed was Bette’s, but who was the new voice? I didn’t have time to think about that further, as the curtain parted silently, revealing the stage to the audience. My heart thumped once, hard, but not because of Clive and his disgusting body parts.

It was the crowd of people. There had to be several thousand attendees and they all looked directly at me. How had I not considered that? Oh, god, what if my power failed me? What if I bombed in front of everyone?

The spotlight over my head flickered on, glowing brighter and brighter, until I couldn’t see much of the audience at all. I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse. Not seeing them was good, but knowing they were out there unseen was almost worse. Even creepy, the more I thought about it.

I calculated that I had less than thirty seconds to pull myself together before I was supposed to start. I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes and relaxing into Clive. Erection be-dammed, I needed his talent more.

For the first time I tried to borrow someone’s talent on purpose; I didn’t want to rely on pure dumb-luck. So I pictured my mental brick fortress and nudged a few bricks out of place, leaving a hole big enough to let Clive’s talent in. I tried to picture him playing the violin, to hear the notes. A melody came to me, somber and dark. Gooseflesh spread down my arms.

I felt his hand stiffen on my back, telling me that I’d tapped into his talent just fine for my first official time. Bonus points that Clive didn’t seem to enjoy the connection. Clearly, he was used to being feared, not used. That thought brought a smile to my face as I lifted my eyes, pulled the violin under my chin and prepared to play.

I tapped my foot on the scuffed black stage, counting in to my first note. As the time approached I let myself go, mentally drifting away as I heard myself making beautiful music. It was a slow and morose ballad and I’m not even sure I’d ever heard it before. Nonetheless, it felt familiar to my soul. Or maybe that was Clive’s soul?

Yeah, right. Clive didn’t have a soul.

The song stretched and peaked, undulating around me in a hazy aura of colors that only I could see. I reached my first lull in the song and rested the bow on my lap. Clive shifted ever-so slightly behind me and I could feel his lips brush my ear. I expected him to say something crass or irritating, but he remained silent.

I was overcome with a feeling of sadness and loss. It was like my heart was breaking and I could literally feel it in my chest, cleaving in two. I closed my eyes, willing the pain to recede.

Instead, I saw an image, a flickering still-frame from eons ago. A dark haired man cradled a limp child in his arms, wailing up to the gray sky as rain poured down around them. The cobbled street was dark, lit by dim gas lamps every hundred feet or so. There was no one else around to witness the man’s pain. But I witnessed it still.

Clive nudged me and I came back to myself. I wasn’t sure what had just happened, but if my suspicions were correct, I’d just taken a trip down Clive’s memory lane. That’s the one thing that most people, including myself, forget—monsters are not just born, they are created and shaped by experiences.

But enough of feeling sorry for Clive; I didn’t want to let my guard down any more as far as he was concerned. No matter what he’d experienced in the past or what he’d lost, he was dangerous in the here and now. I’d be smart to remember that.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts and rested the violin in my lap. The guitarist waited a beat after I paused and then stroked the Siren at the exact moment her spotlight came on. A collective gasp rose from the crowd and once the “oohs” and “ahhs” died down I readied myself to join back in. The two instruments played well together. My violin weeping while the Siren wailed. It was both extremely sad and amazingly beautiful at the same time.

I felt a tear escape from my eye and Clive did the first selfless thing I’d witnessed. He’d smelled my bloodied tear and turned my face away from the crowd so they wouldn’t notice the violinist who cried pink. I’d like to say the man had at least one redeeming quality, but even that was probably a stretch.

Clive’s idea to remove the errant blood-tear? Why the bastard kissed me, of course. I can only assume he wiped my face at the same time, but I was beyond surprised and in no shape to do anything other than continue to play through the end of the song.

What stood out most about the kiss was the fact that I did
not
enjoy it. That might sound strange, but it was actually comforting. With vampire talents running amuck lately, it surprised me that Clive hadn’t tried to glamour me or put me under some sort of spell. I couldn’t say the same for Bette or Gregor, at least not with a hundred percent certainty.

My lone thought for the last few bars of the song? If I was so psychically gifted, why the hell hadn’t I seen that one coming?

Chapter 25

As soon as the curtain fell I scrambled off stage. I felt claustrophobic and needed a moment to get my bearings. Gregor looked surprised when I passed by him without stopping. I heard him call my name, followed by Clive telling him to leave me alone.

Everything felt tilted, like the earth was suddenly upside down. In the span of five minutes I was ready to reverse my opinion of Clive. Based on what? That he’d suffered loss and pain ages ago and that he’d not tried to bespell me before he’d kissed me?

I was losing it. I had to be. The rational part of me knew that a handful of normal human interactions did not a good-guy make. I’ll bet even Dahmer did something redeeming every now and again. No, Clive was not a good guy— and I needed to remember that.

I practically ran back to Bette’s booth, hoping that if she was at the conference, she’d come looking for me there. Of course, the booth was empty and dark. I entered anyway, lighting one sconce by the door and leaving the others dark. I huddled in the back corner and let myself calm down before trying to think my way through everything.

My mind was a jumbled mass of thoughts that writhed like snakes in a pit. My marriage was over. I was a blood-sucker. Who could I snack on once I was back at home? Can a vampire raise a child? Did I have feelings for Bette or had she just charmed me, literally, out of my pants? Ditto for Gregor.

Vampire talents notwithstanding, had I ever made a decision that wasn’t based on the emotions or desires of someone else? The knowledge of my empathic abilities tainted my entire life. Had I even loved Pete at all, or had I felt love only because he did?

Oh, my-saints. I was getting dizzy from all the thought-spinning. And further depressed.

“Hey there, fair Claire. Why are you hiding? You should be out catching some glory.” Cassidy strolled into the booth like there was nothing in the world wrong with me sitting there in the dark, huddled in the corner like a scared child. “That was amazing!”

“I just needed a minute. I don’t do well with crowds.” I made up something that at least was based in truth. I ignored the compliment. Those made me uncomfortable and I never knew how to respond, so usually I changed the subject.

“I’ll bet. Most empaths don’t handle a lot of people very well. It’s like getting bombarded with all their junk at once. “ She plopped down on the floor beside me, crossed her legs and leaned up against the wall.

I nodded. “That makes sense. And that’s probably why kid’s birthday parties leave me with migraines. All that chaos and energy must be like an Upper to me.”

Cassidy laughed and shifted her position to face me better. Her expression faded quickly from amusement and into a more serious countenance.

“So, you know these violin people well? Don’t take this the wrong way, but they seem a little odd,” she said.

I wasn’t sure what she was getting at, but the question gnawed at me. I was almost sure it wasn’t just making conversation. Of course, I was seeing demons where there weren’t any, and angels where the devil stood, so who was I to get defensive over one little question?

“A little while.” I brushed some lint from my dress and stretched my legs out. “Why?”

She shrugged and shook her head slightly. “No reason. Just curious.”

“They’re certainly interesting,” I said for lack of anything positive to say regarding Bette, Clive and Gregor. Since figuring out that I’d been be-spelled on more than one occasion, I had a harder time coming up with something positive that I also knew to be true about them.

From outside of the booth I could hear people laughing and mingling. Flashes from the dance floor strobes flickered behind the booth’s curtain. Techno music pulsed through the thin walls. The party was getting well under way and I was cowering in a booth.

If I had never met Bette, I would be out there enjoying drinks and securing business connections, not pondering my uncertain future on the floor of my maker’s booth. I missed being normal more than I thought I would.

“So, how are things? Did you try that blocking exercise I gave you?” Cassidy said.

Crap, I’d almost forgotten she was there. I needed to get it together and at least
pretend
to be normal.

“Things are good. I built myself a nice little brick containment system and it seems to be working very well. I should thank you for that.” I smiled and patted her hand.

She stared at me intently. So much so, that my head felt itchy. Was she trying to test my shield?

“Stop that. You’re freaking me out.” I rubbed my forehead and swatted her away playfully. “Does that mean you have a gift too?”

I’d not considered that before. I just thought she was interested in the spiritual, psychic mumbo-jumbo—one of those Hippy-Dippy sorts. It never occurred to me that she might actually be one of us weirdo’s.

“What? I have no idea what you mean.” She smiled coyly and hopped to her feet. “Come on, I’m dying for a drink.”

I took her outstretched hand. “Me too. I’m positively parched.”

We left the booth giggling like school girls and made our way toward the bar. Since I’d run off stage, the party had doubled in size. Wall to wall, people laughed and engaged in lively conversation. A smooth jazz band provided appropriate background music. I didn’t see the dastardly duo anywhere, but I did spot Domino waiting patiently in the wings. Maybe that meant Bette was finally around.

“Hey.” I tugged on Cassidy’s hand. She stopped and looked at me, and I asked her to get me a drink while I took care of something. As soon as she turned her back to me, I headed straight for Domino.

He didn’t seem surprised to see me coming over. In fact, he reminded me of those palace guards in England—his facial expression didn’t change at all. I wouldn’t let him ignore me though.

“Please tell me that Bette is here.” I practically begged.

Domino didn’t look my way, but grunted a quick, “No.”

I was afraid of that. “Have you heard from her at all? Please tell me you’ve spoken with her?”

I pleaded with the universe for Domino to give me the answer I wanted. I needed Bette. She was the only vampire I half-way trusted and I still had plenty of questions. My life might actually depend on getting those answers.

“Yes. You call her in an hour.” Domino fished around in his jacket pocket and pulled out a cell phone. He handed it to me and walked away.

“Wait!” I called after him. “Don’t you need your phone?”

He stopped, shook his head and said, “I have another. Just call number in history. One hour.”

Then he simply walked away. I scrolled through the phone’s call log, and sure enough, there was only one number in there. Why in the hell would Domino have a burner phone? And why did I have to wait for an hour. I’d certainly fallen down the rabbit hole this time.

“There you are.” Cassidy handed me a fruity mixed drink. “Everything okay?”

I assured Cassidy I was fine and tucked the phone down the front of my dress. I didn’t have anywhere else to put it, so down the bra it went. For the next several minutes, I forgot all about the phone. Instead, Cassidy and I laughed and cruised around. We made fun of a few partiers that were hitting the booze a little too hard.

I almost felt normal—so long as I didn’t let the thousands of blood-carrying bodies get to me. That was a bit of a struggle, but one that I could handle with a little effort.

On our third lap of the large banquet room, my boobs began to vibrate. I looked at the clock on the wall and realized we’d been at it for over an hour. Bette—it had to be Bette calling. I excused myself while fishing the phone out of my cleavage. Cassidy shot me a funny look, but left to go talk to some friends of hers as I walked to the side entrance where it was quieter.

“Bette? Bette, is that you?” The desperation in my voice annoyed even me.

Static swallowed the connection and the line went dead. Shit, flies and horse-feathers. It had to have been her. Who else would be calling?

I found the number in the history and sure enough, it was the same as the only other number on the phone. I hit send and waited for someone to answer. After the tenth ring, the call went to a generic voicemail box, so I hung up. Then I paced. The dewy night air did nothing for my hair or my mood. What the hell was going on?