Kissed by Darkness (6 page)

“Love it!” I chirped merrily. This was kind of fun. The poor guy was starting to sweat. “It’s a really great workout, too, lots of cardio. Keeps me fit.”

He gave me a startled look but managed to refrain from saying anything. I gave him points for self restraint.

It wasn’t that I was fat. Exactly. I’d say average with plenty of curves. Not exactly what one might call “fit.” Certainly not buff, which you’d think I would be with all the exercise I got. But no, I was built more like America Ferrera than Keira Knightley. I blamed it on my mother. I much preferred inheriting her body shape than the dates she scraped up for me.

I gave Edmond my brightest, most innocent smile. I think I might have even batted my eyelashes at him. That’s when he grabbed a wad of cash out of his wallet and threw it on the table. I guessed we were leaving. I didn’t know why I did it since the date had not exactly been stellar, but I snagged my coat and followed him out the door.

That’s when I felt it. That thing I felt when a vampire was nearby. It started with a tingling at the base of my skull, gripping harder and harder as I got closer to the undead. I felt it the minute we stepped out of the restaurant. Well, shit.

The only person on the quiet street in front of the restaurant was a well dressed man with short blond hair. He nodded to Edmond and me. Edmond nodded back. Then Blondie hit us, flinging Edmond into the brick wall of the restaurant and grabbing me around the neck. Obviously he was new in town and nobody had bothered to warn him about me. He probably thought I’d be an easy mark.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Edmond shake his head and stagger to his feet. Good. He wasn’t hurt, at least not badly. That meant I could focus on my job instead of whether or not my date was bleeding to death.

I couldn’t break the vamp’s grip, so I snagged my stiletto dagger out from where it nestled in my cleavage. One of the perks of an ample chest was a convenient place to store weaponry. Unfortunately, the vamp was way too fast for me and the blade went in just to the left of his heart, enough to hurt, but not enough to kill.

He hissed at me, flashing fang, and I noticed his eyes were red. Strange. Vampires usually had the same color eyes in death as they had in life, just faded. But I didn’t have time to belabor the point. I raised my hands in between his arms to break his hold on my neck while at the same time stomping my heel into his instep. There were times three-inch heels came in handy, even if I did nearly break an ankle every time I wore them.

He snarled, but didn’t let go of my throat. Dammit. Only one thing to do. Up came the knee. He doubled over in a bellow of rage and pain and his hold on my throat loosened enough so I could break it.

I brought my knee up again, this time smashing it into his nose, and then used the force of his backward stagger to drag the stiletto out of his chest. I swiped at him, but he moved too quickly and the blade just managed to cut a line across his chest, ripping open his shirt and leaving a thin trail of dark blood. He snarled again.

Then he was gone too fast for even my eye to follow. He must have been an old one. Only the really old ones could move that fast. Dammit. Now I was going to have to go on the hunt. It was so much easier when I could dust them the first time around.

I turned back to my date, expecting to find horror in his eyes. I didn’t. Instead, he looked a little too over excited for my taste. “You really
do
kill vampires for a living. That’s hot.”

Oh, crap. Don’t tell me he was one of those weirdos that got off on vampires and violence and stuff. Ew. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I told him, wincing as I parroted the government’s line, “Vampires don’t exist. Even the President says so.” There’d been a Presidential press conference just last week after some paramilitary group issued a statement claiming vampires were responsible for an attack on the New York subway.

He laughed. “Come on. I saw the fangs. That guy was way too strong and fast to be human. Everyone knows the government is only trying to hide their existence from us.”

Great. He was some kind of conspiracy nut and I’d practically handed him living proof that vampires were real. I could only hope he didn’t have a blog. “Fine then. I told you I kill them for a living. You just didn’t listen.” I started toward my car.

“Well, you didn’t kill that one,” he pointed out.

I rolled my eyes and kept walking.

“So, hey,” he said eagerly, trotting along behind me. “I had a really great time. I’d love to take you out again. How about tomorrow?”

Say what? Was he serious? I unlocked my car door, hopped in, and slammed it behind me. He knocked on the window, so I rolled it down.

“So, how about it? Are you free?”

“Sure I am. When hell freezes over.”

Chapter Five

“So, how was your date?” Kabita slid into the booth opposite me at our favorite restaurant. It was the only Indian restaurant in town, and as such, had become practically our second home. The bhangra music thumping away on the stereo in the kitchen made me a little homesick for London.

I gave her an eye roll and reached for a chapati. “Don’t ask.”

She raised her brow.

“OK, fine. It was just some idiot accountant who thought he was superior to me until I kicked a little vampire ass right in front of him. Now he thinks I’m the best thing since Xena.”

Kabita snorted. “Look out world, Morgan Warrior Princess, has arrived.” She reached for the bowl of poppadoms and snapped off a piece.

“Shut up. Anyway, he’s called me five times since last night even though I told him I’d rather be eaten alive by fire ants than go out with him again.”

One silky black eyebrow rose toward her hairline so high it nearly disappeared under her hair. She stopped munching on the poppadom. “You actually told him that?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, no. Not exactly.”

She rolled her eyes and smacked her hand on her forehead. “What exactly did you say?”

I let out a sigh. “I told him to go forth and multiply,” I mumbled around a mouthful of curry. It was a clever little British-ism that was essentially the same as telling someone to fuck off. Unfortunately, it didn’t translate well on this side of the Atlantic.

“Morgan,” she groaned, “we’re not in London anymore. You can’t tell American men that. They take it too literally.”

Well, duh. I didn’t need her to tell me that. And I definitely didn’t need her to know that he’d doubled the amount of calls
since
I told him that. Some people just don’t get sarcasm. Fortunately for me, I cut my eye teeth on sarcasm. Most of my mother’s side of the family ate sarcasm for breakfast. My mother tolerated us for the sake of peace and unity and most likely her own sanity. Truth be told, she probably ignored our verbal sparring most of the time.

“I’m hoping if I don’t call him back, he’ll get the point.” It sounded totally chicken-shit even to me.

I wondered if a person’s eyes could actually roll right out of their head. I might find out pretty soon if Kabita didn’t stop rolling hers. I often wondered if Kabita could see her brain when she rolled her eyes. “
Morgan Bailey!
You are horrible. You are a chicken. You are … you are …”

“Going to hell?”

She glared at me. “Neither one of us believes in hell and you know it, but you definitely deserve it. How on earth can you go around slicing and dicing the undead and yet be completely incapable of dealing with ordinary mortals?”

She had a point. Except that it wasn’t all mortals. It was just mortals of the male variety. I simply had no idea what to do with the male of the species. They … befuddled me. If they were undead, I could kill them. That was easy. If they were related or friends or clients, I could handle that. When it came to actually dating them, I was completely useless.

My face heated. Maybe I could pretend it was the curry. I hated blushing. Badass vampire hunters did not blush. It was so completely embarrassing. The absolute curse of the fair skinned. Kabita took pity on me. “Honestly, Morgan,” she said as she stabbed at an onion bhaji with her fork, “we need to sign you up for lessons or something.”

“Why? We both know I’d just embarrass myself.”

Kabita smirked. “That’s very true.”

I glared at her. “Gee, thanks a lot.”

“Eat your curry and I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

“Oh, goodie! Thanks, Mom!”
Sarcasm, thy name is Morgan Bailey
. Kabita just gave me The Look.

“By the way, I should probably mention that as we were coming out of the restaurant last night, this random vampire attacked me. Out of nowhere.”

Kabita shrugged. “Yeah. You’re a Hunter. Vampires tend to do that.”

I shook my head. “This one was different. He had red eyes. That’s a little weird, right?”

“You’re right. That is weird.” She sat lost in thought for a moment. “I’ll have to go through the files and check, but I don’t recall coming across anything about vampires with red eyes before.”

“It’s got to mean something.”

“Something besides the usual strange that is your life? Probably. I’ll let you know if I find anything. Anyway,” Kabita said in a rapid subject change, “I need your help tonight.”

Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. Kabita prided herself on solo hunts. “My help? With demon spawn? You’re kidding, right?”

Kabita sighed and dug around in her curry, mixing it with the pilau rice before taking another bite. She chewed a bit, shrugged then said, “Yeah. This one’s a bitch.”

I blinked. Kabita using a swear word, well, it was rather like hearing the Pope advocating pole dancing. It just didn’t happen.

“Right. OK. What are you not telling me, Kabita?”

She didn’t even have the grace to look shame faced. “They’re nesting. And they’re Zagan demons.”

“Well, shit.” I hated Zagan demons. They spat slime. It was totally disgusting, not to mention lethal. The adults were nearly impossible to kill.

She nodded. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

How Kabita could kill those things without blinking, yet go all squeamish over vampires was beyond me.

“Fine, what time?”

“Say about ten tonight, in front of the Central Library. The nest isn’t too far from there.”

“Gotcha.” I stood up, grabbed my jacket and threw a twenty on the table. “But girlfriend, you
so
owe me.”

Kabita glared at me over a forkful of curry. “Oh, yay. Can’t wait.”

***

I wasn’t entirely sure what else I should be doing to piss off the Sunwalker. I mean, Inigo seemed convinced that bandying my motives about a cemetery in the middle of the night was sufficient, but Brent Darroch was paying the firm good money to find his amulet and take out the Sunwalker permanently. It didn’t seem very professional to sit around doing nothing. Not to mention I’d never been particularly good at waiting.

I decided to take a walk in the Park Blocks to clear my head. There was something so bizarrely soothing and at the same time energetic about the Park Blocks. They were simply a narrow strip of park running through the middle of downtown Portland, filled with the usual parky sort of things: grass, footpaths, roses, really weird art, and the occasional bum sleeping on a park bench.

To walk through the Park Blocks was to step out of oneself, out of time, and travel a different path. Or at least it was that way for me. Nobody else seemed to wax particularly poetic about it.

Today the blocks were quiet. A few bees hummed busily about and sunlight warmed the roses sending heady perfume into the air. I strolled slowly, eyes half closed, reveling in the solitude.

As I walked, I shoved my hands in my pockets and felt the edge of a business card. I pulled it out. Cordelia Nightwing. Why not? What harm could it do? Not that she’d been terribly helpful the first time around, but she was nice and you didn’t often meet nice people in my line of work. Even better, according to the card, her apartment was right near the Park Blocks.

A shaft of sunlight through the trees made my eyes water. Obviously I was spending way too much time in the dark. I pulled a pair of sunglasses out of my black shoulder bag and shoved them on my nose. Better.

Cordelia’s building was one of the old brick ones built in the early part of the 20th century that lined the north side of Park Blocks next door to the Portland Art Museum with its artistic water features and creative lighting. Its Art Deco style was very funky and a bit bohemian. Not to mention ridiculously expensive. Having a view of the Park added a hefty chunk of change onto the monthly rent. Crystal balls must pay well.

Personally, I preferred my own house in the Hawthorne District. For the same amount of money, I got my own four walls
and
a garden. Not that I gardened much, but it was a nice place to have a barbecue and it gave Kabita a place to grow herbs for her spells since she didn’t have a garden.

I pressed the button on the intercom and waited until Cordelia’s unforgettable voice chimed out. She remembered me though, granted it’s hard to forget the hair, and buzzed me in.

The lobby smelled vaguely of an odd combination of mildew and new carpet. No amount of refurbishment ever completely covered the scent of age in these old buildings. I wrinkled my nose and desperately resisted a sneeze. It got the better of me.

I skipped the elevator and took the stairs. I used to live in one of these old buildings and knew from experience their elevators were in no way to be trusted despite their cool Perry Mason vibe. I rapped on Cordelia’s door which swung open a minute later.

I had to admit to some relief at the absence of flowing Chinese robes and chopsticks in her hair. Instead, she was wearing jeans which showed off her slender frame, a pretty blue sweater, and bare feet. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she had reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. She looked so … normal.

“Welcome, Morgan. What a pleasant surprise! Come in, come in! Living room’s that way.”

“Hi, Cordelia. Thanks.”

I followed her pointed finger down a narrow hall lined with bookshelves. The shelves were full to overflowing with all manner of books and knickknacks. It was vaguely claustrophobic, but in a nice way. Not unlike those really old book shops like Cameron’s that had been cramming books into every nook and cranny since 1972 so you had to step over piles of vintage copies of
National Geographic
to get at the poetry section.