La Vida Vampire (29 page)

Saber left at six fifteen with his gear, but his declaration of having plans for us lingered. I replayed it as I finished my hair, drank my last Starbloods, and cleaned Maggie’s suite. Not that Saber had left a mess. He’d even stripped the sheets and cleaned the bathroom.

I made the mistake of inhaling his scent from the sheets as I carried them to the laundry room, and fantasies exploded. Us in a hotel room making each other pant and sweat and climaxing at the same time the way it happened in romance novels. Too bad I’d taken
The Kama Sutra
back to the library. I got so hot thinking about getting wild with Saber, I had to stick my head in the freezer.

Which is where Maggie found me when she blew in the door at seven.

“Is the ice maker on the fritz again?” she asked as she propped her little wheeled suitcase by the table.

“Uh, no,” I stuttered and slammed the freezer door. “It’s fine. I’m just, um, making sure it’s on.”

She gave me a raised-brow look. “Did Saber do something to upset you?”

“Oh, no. Not a thing. We’re fine.”

“Where is he any—” Maggie broke off and stared. “Cesca, why on earth are you blushing?”

“Come talk to me while I get ready for the tour,” I said, rounding the island and heading for my room.

“What tour? I thought you had tonight off.”

“I’m filling in,” I told her as I broke out my makeup supplies. “Saber had to go to Hastings to investigate something, but he’s coming back later.”

Maggie leaned against the bathroom counter and frowned. “Is what’s-his-face, Stony, on the streets again? Because I don’t feel good about you working with that nut running loose.”

“They can’t lock Gorman up, Maggie, but it’s fine,” I assured her while I swiped on eye color. “He took a good beating, you know, and I doubt he’s up to following me around tonight.”

I didn’t remember if I’d told her Etienne was our real culprit, but I didn’t mention it now. She’d only freak.

“I can go with you,” Maggie offered.

“No,” I said, wielding the mascara wand. “You just got home. Saber cleaned your suite, and I put fresh sheets on the bed. I’m sure you have things to do before work tomorrow.”

“What are you doing after the tour?”

“You might want to make that
who
am I doing.” I opened the face powder and waited for my wording to sink in. Maggie’s eyes went saucer round. “Oh. My. God. That’s why you were blushing. You’ve had sex. With Saber. Oh. My. God. How did it happen?”

“Well, first, it happened with him on top.”

“Too much information, smart-ass,” Maggie said and lightly slapped my arm. “Come on, you know what I mean. Thursday you didn’t want anything to do with him, and now you’re an item? What changed?”

“I’m not sure exactly,” I said, sweeping the powder brush over my face. “He kissed me on our way back from the tour last night, and then when I was—”

I caught myself before I said “shot,” put the powder brush down, and locked gazes with Maggie.

“The good news is I’m fine. Well, you can see that, right?”

“Spit it out, Cesca.”

“I was shot last night, but,” I said, holding up a hand to keep her from interrupting, “it wasn’t Gorman, because he was in the hospital. The cops don’t know who did it.”

“You were shot?” Maggie’s eyes slitted.

“In the back of my right shoulder in front of the building, ” I confirmed. “The paramedics took me to Flagler, but I was already healing by the time the doc saw me.”

I rounded out the event by telling her that the sheriff’s office and the city police were investigating.

“You were shot last night, but you’re traipsing off to do another tour tonight when Saber’s not going to be there to protect you?”

“He couldn’t protect me last night, Maggie. Neither of us saw it coming, but I wasn’t in a crowd then,” I said as I packed away my makeup. “Tonight I will be, and Saber’s going to catch up to the tour by nine.”

Maggie took a deep breath and unballed her clenched fists. “Let’s skip over this and get to the good stuff. What happened with Saber? Not the intimate details,” she said, giving me a wicked grin, “just the overview.”

I laughed. “You know, I’m not sure.” I grabbed my Regency outfit from the closet and filled her in as she helped me into the gown. “After the detectives left, we were watching the
Monk
DVDs I ordered, and he kissed me again. Then, this afternoon, he took the dressing off my shoulder and things just happened.”

“Good things, I take it?”

“I thought so,” I said, trying not to sound dreamy.

“That’s all that counts. And Saber’s coming back tonight?”

“Well, maybe not here to the condo.”

“Ah, so you may not be home until the wee hours? If then?”

I waggled my brows. “I can only hope.”

Maggie was quiet a minute, then said, “Do you think this is a good idea? You’ll have challenges most couples don’t have.”

“In the first place,” I said as I put my slippers on, “we’re not exactly a couple.”

“But you trusted him enough to sleep with him.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

I gazed at the bed, smiling what was probably a goofy smile, but Maggie was right. I had trusted Saber. I
did
trust him.

“Are you both ignoring the vampire issue?”

I shrugged. “He is, and I finally feel desirable. Right now, I’m letting that be enough.”

I strolled north on St. George headed for the tour substation, cell phone and key in my reticule, a spring in my step. Okay, so I lied to Maggie, but only a little. I did wonder where Saber and I were going, if anywhere. I was in like with the guy, and most definitely in lust. I might be a romantic, but I’m a practical one. Love takes time. More than the four days I’d known Saber—except maybe in old wartime movies where the guy and girl meet and marry days before he ships out. For all I knew, Saber would hightail it back to Daytona and never visit. Never invite me to visit him. Or he could be off investigating all over the state and see me once in a blue moon. And never call in between times. Shoot. Now I was depressing myself.

A man on a red Vespa zipped by on Treasury Street, and I stopped in my tracks. Note to self: Knock it off. A week ago I had a new job and the itch for a man. Four tours from hell and a dead body later, I still had a job and a very hot guy who was hot for me. Saber made my teeth sweat, sure, but just because he was my first didn’t mean he’d be my last. One step at a time.

Some Sunday nights are hopping on St. George, but tonight it was quiet at the north end of town. Even the music from the Mill Top Tavern seemed muted. Maybe I’d have my first normal tour, and nothing would crop up to interfere with a long night of passion with Saber.

My hopes for that elusive normal tour ended when I saw the ten college students waiting for me. Spring breakers. They had the worst earmarks of the breed. Sunburned from hitting the beach, drunk from hitting the bars. A lot of bars, judging from the way they behaved. Loud, rowdy, stumbling, weaving. And that was just the girls. Two of them wore shorts so short and halters so brief, they were a deep breath away from public indecency.

No telling how active the ghosts would be tonight or how they’d react to this bunch. The weather was too calm to stir up the ghosts, and after they’d dodged vampires last night, they could be hiding from me or ticked off and ready to get even. Ghosts could be every bit as touchy or cranky or playful as they had been when they were alive. It would be nice if none of the spring breakers barfed on me. Since my Minorcan costume blouse was shot—literally—the Regency gown was all I had for work.

My phone rang just as I was about to start my opening spiel, and I fumbled in the reticule for it.

“Hey, Cesca,” Saber said when I answered. The connection wasn’t great but adequate. “Have you started the tour yet?”

“Nope, what’s up?”

“I’ll be late catching up with you. I’m in Palatka chasing down this werebite report.”

Palatka was forty-five minutes southwest of St. Augustine. Not a bad drive, but he wouldn’t make it back by nine.

“It’ll be closer to nine thirty before I get there. Should I find you in town or meet you at the condo?”

“I’ll call you when I finish, and we’ll take it from there.”

“Great. No vampires on the tour, right?”

“Nope, just spring breakers.”

“Drunk?”

“Pretty snockered.”

“Give ’em the full show. That ought to sober them up.”

I laughed. “Oooh, evil, Saber.”

“Be careful, Princesca. I’ll see you later.”

I couldn’t help the grin I felt spread over my face. Saber had sounded like he missed me. What a high. Now I could deal with anything. I set the cell phone to vibrate, dropped it in my reticule, and turned to my group to implement Saber’s advice.

“Good evening and welcome to Old Coast Ghost Tours. I’m Cesca, and we have an exciting night ahead of us.” I waded through their beer and tequila fumes to snag the lantern. “If you’ll give me your tickets, we’ll get started.”

Nine pairs of eyes blinked stupidly. One set still held some awareness.

“Are you the designated driver?” I asked the not-drunk-stupid young man with shaggy brown hair.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ah, manners. “Are you also the designated ticket holder?”

“Oh, yeah, here,” he said, thrusting a handful at me.

“Thank you.”

I stashed the tickets in the substation and prepared to find out how functional this group was. I’d stick to the most brightly lit and well-traveled streets first for safety. If one of them fell off a curb, I could get help fast.

“St. Augustine was founded in 1565 and is one of the most haunted cities in America. Tonight we ’ll even go into a few of the buildings where ghosts have been reported, but we’ll start with the Huguenot Cemetery.”

I told the Judge Stickney story, and before I could go on, two of the girls screeched that someone was pulling on their clothes and hair. The ghost culprit was either Erastus Nye or John Hull playing pranks. Both were thought to have contracted yellow fever, I explained. The encounter began the sobering process for the whole group. Sobering to me were the occasional whiffs of blood in the air and the periodic
rrryyyow
of the magick cat. Or I thought it was the magick cat’s howl. Perhaps it was just a cat in heat. I never saw the animal or sensed the source of the blood smell as I traipsed the college kids all over haunted downtown for the full hour and a half. We skipped Fay’s House, but we had chills and thrills from the other ghosts with no stumbles, falls, or upchucking. The ghosts didn’t seem to hold a grudge against me for the vampire tour, and I got through the night without threats or injuries from or to humans. The way my tours had gone? This was a major victory.

I parted ways with my group back at the waterwheel at nine thirty-five and pulled out my phone to call Saber. I found three messages waiting. Figuring one was from Saber, I called voice mail. The first message was from PI Eugene Cassidy who’d rushed his contact in Paris for answers. My mouth fell open as I listened. The chemical company that employed Etienne, he said, had done some investigating while Etienne and Yolette were gone. They proved Etienne had been using their facilities for a private project. From the company’s own chemical analysis and Etienne’s project notes, they concluded Etienne had created a blood scent designed to lure vampires. Damn, no wonder I smelled blood every time Etienne was around. I thought of the photo Eugene had taken of Etienne with a vampire hanging all over him. He’d put the scent on himself. Maybe from the flask. Eugene’s message ended with the tidbit that he suspected Etienne and Yolette’s honeymoon trip was a cover for Etienne to peddle the formula to the U.S. Covenant organization.

Double damn, that fit. The Covenant could lure and kill almost any vampire with Etienne’s invention. I saved Eugene’s message, then listened to one from Saber. He’d talked to Eugene, too, but also to March. Etienne and Yolette’s rental house was empty, and the sheriff’s office had issued a BOLO—be on the lookout—for Etienne. The last message was from Maggie, and her voice froze the blood in my veins.

“Cesca,” she said, her tone tense and too controlled. “Come to Fay’s House right after the tour. Don’t call the police. What?” she snapped at someone in the background.

Someone whose voice I recognized.

“All right. Cesca, the French guy says to come alone or he’ll kill me.”

The message ended. Reality sank in. Etienne had Maggie.

TWENTY

Instinct urged me to streak to Maggie’s rescue, tear out Etienne’s beating heart, and hand it to him. Reason prevailed. Don’t call the cops? Screw that. They could catch Etienne red-handed if they got rolling fast enough. I saved Maggie’s message as evidence and found Saber’s number on my incoming list.

“Saber,” I said when he answered. “Call 911. Etienne has kidnapped Maggie.”

“I’m ten minutes out. Where is she?”

“At Fay’s House,” I said, pacing. “On Cuna and Spanish, I think, but I could be off by a block.”

“You grew up here and you don’t know the damned address?”

“Nag me later,” I snapped.

“Cesca, he’ll want you in exchange for Maggie.”

“I don’t know why the hell he would, but I’ll do what it takes to protect her.”

“Can I talk you into waiting for the cavalry?”

“Can pigs friggin’ fly?”

“Then be careful.”

“Just get here in time to catch him in the act, Saber.”

I disconnected and, with only a smidge of conscious thought, I was there in vampire -speed seconds—just five feet from Fay’s front porch.

Maggie, pale and gagged, sat on the wooden steps, her hands and feet bound to the stair rail with large red plastic cable ties.

Etienne, reeking of blood scent, stood over her with the barrel of a big, black pistol trained at the top of her head. He aimed a second, sleeker black gun at me.

Fay’s furious ghostly face floated at the window, and she rattled the panes until I was sure the glass would break and rain shards on Maggie.

I took in the scene in a matter of seconds and moved slowly closer. No point in spooking Etienne.

“Did he hurt you?” I asked, kneeling at Maggie’s feet.