Real Vampires Live Large (2 page)

I'm not the only one who can hear Valdez and Mainwaring gave the dog a look, like—who's the master here? Good question. Instead of growling at Mainwaring like a good guard dog, Valdez sat down and scratched his left ear. We really needed that flea shampoo.

“Look. The Harley is, I mean was, black without a lot of chrome or anything. Plus the security lights are out. Maybe we should hustle our butts inside to discuss this. Hunters could be stalking us as we speak.” I did feel . . . something out here.

Mainwaring stood and scanned the area with a narrow-eyed look that meant business if anyone dared make a move on us. Finally he shook his head. “We're safe enough. But perhaps you'd like to go inside, closer to your checkbook.”

“Ha. Ha.” I put my hand on his bulging bicep, fluttered my eyelashes and leaned in to give him a cleavage close-up. Mainwaring just glared. Ever try charming an uptight man with a wounded Harley? But charm was all I had at the moment. Unlike a lot of vamps, I'm not rich. I work for a living. This century I started my own business, and it got off to a great start, but there's overhead, stock to buy, my own living expenses . . . Well, you get the picture. Obviously, I don't have enough in my checking account to pay for Richie Rich's Harley. Hey, I buy generic cream rinse. What does that tell you?

“Now, Richard.” I smiled what I hoped was sweetly. Not easy to do when your head feels like it's about to split open. “I'm really, really sorry, but be reasonable. You know I didn't mean to hit the motorcycle. And I'm sure you can afford—”

He turned and squatted next to the downed bike. I knew enough to shut up. For a long moment, he just stared at it, then he picked up a piece of metal that had fallen to the ground. He finally stood and walked closer to me, too close. I held my ground, even though I could practically feel the hostility coming off of Mr. Motorcycle.

“You need to be held accountable, Gloriana. Whether or not I can afford to replace a 1946 Knucklehead is not the issue.”

“Excuse me?” I knew better than to grin, but it was a struggle. “Did you just call your bike a knucklehead?”

“That's the model. A 1946 Harley Davidson Knucklehead. Rare. Valuable.” He was
really
in my space. “Maybe even irreplaceable.”

Oh, jeez. Heaven forbid I should have mangled a vintage cycle. And I
did
feel bad, especially with Richard looming over me. I eased around him to check out the damage.

“Look. I think it can be fixed. It's mainly the back end that's crunched. Why don't you get an estimate or two and then we'll talk?” And maybe I could win the lottery in the meantime.

“It isn't the money, it's the principle.” Richard was right behind me, peering over my shoulder. He smelled like all vamps do, it's a yummy scent that mere mortals can't even pick up. But Richard also had a nice sandalwood kind of thing going on and a male musk that was having an unfortunate effect on my sex-starved libido.

I swore off men after my on-again, off-again maker and mate, Jeremy Blade aka Angus Jeremiah Campbell III, and I faced death at stake-point together on Halloween. I'd expected a little post-action celebration, one-on-one. Instead, Jerry played hero to his best friend's widow, who's thin and beautiful, and, well, thin. You get the idea. Okay, so I'd only been celibate a little over a week, but vamps are sensual creatures. Sometimes that's a blessing, sometimes a curse.

So I was noticing Mainwaring's male attributes. For a former priest, he was surprisingly built. Though I'd heard he'd been a crusader back in the day.

“Crusader then galley slave.” His open vest brushed my back. “And I gave up celibacy a long time ago.”

His breath stirred my hair, which should have been washed two days ago. I inhaled and licked my lips. I'm
really
not good at celibacy.

I turned to face him. Diversion time. “Yeah? Bet that's an interesting story. How'd you escape? I've heard most galley slaves die at their oar.”

“Long story. And don't change the subject.” He stared at the bike for a moment, shook his head, then reached down to pick up his saddle bags.

Gee. He may have given up celibacy, but he wasn't exactly falling under my spell, either. Well, what did I expect? His last girlfriend had been my roommate, Florence da Vinci, ancient vampire and certified sex goddess. Of course Flo isn't her real name, she's paying homage to her favorite Italian city and one of her former lovers. Flo is a love 'em and leave 'em kind of gal. How could I compete with a woman who'd talked Leonardo into painting her into the Last Supper at you know who's right hand?

“I've got an appointment. We'll discuss the Harley later.” With a glance at Valdez, Richard strode off into the night.

“Well, you weren't much help.” I fussed at Valdez while I grabbed the grocery sacks out of the car. Most of the stuff was for the dog anyway. I order the Fangtastic online. It's not exactly a beverage you find at your local mini-mart.

“The guy was pissed. You can't blame him.”
Valdez looked mournfully at the motorcycle. Even in dog form, he is such a guy.
“You're lucky he didn't try to knock you on your ass. If he'd raised his hand, then I'd have made my move.”

“Your move. Yeah, right.” I was being bitchy. Valdez did have some pretty scary moves, which he's saved me with more than once. But Mainwaring dripped power like my old car did oil. I locked the car and headed for the back entrance to the building, stopping when my head screamed again.

“Gloriana. Come to me.”
A husky whisper made me drop my groceries and grab my head. Who or what was this?

Valdez growled and looked around.
“Something's going on. Your head is killing you. Because someone or something is trying to send you a message.”

“Not Blade.”

“Nope. This guy's one bad actor, trying to get you to go somewhere. I'd like a piece of him.”
Valdez growled again and paced in a circle around me.

I held onto my head, queasy with pain. Obviously my dog reads my mind too. I'm used to it. I'm also used to letting him take care of me. Like now.

“What's wrong with a cell phone?” This didn't make sense. Blade sent me mental messages all the time and it didn't hurt.

“Gloriana, come here.”
Same damned compelling voice. I fought the urge to follow it.

“I tell you. It ain't Blade.”
Valdez growled, deep and dangerous enough to give me goose bumps.
“Cut it out, whoever you are. Gloriana's goin' nowhere and you don't want to mess with me.”
Valdez backed up until his tail brushed my legs.
“Suck it up, Blondie. Punch in the code. I figure you'll be okay once we get inside.”

I managed to grab my bags and deal with the code. Believe me, vamps only live where there's great security. We both scooted inside. As soon as the steel door slammed shut, I did feel better.

“
You okay now?
” Valdez nudged me.

“Yeah. That was weird though.” I trudged up the stairs. You get that Valdez isn't really a dog, don't you?

“Careful, you're smashing my Twinkies.”
Valdez is into junk food and the occasional steak. I get him what he wants since I know he'd lay down his life for me. Previous Valdezes have. And isn't that hellacious?

Not my idea, of course. But when Blade and I parted company the first time, centuries ago, he'd insisted I needed a bodyguard. Jerry
made
me, so I give him a certain amount of respect. Respect, not obedience. I do have my pride. But I caved. Of course I sure wasn't going to be saddled with a male guard, even a cute one. That would've cramped my style, big time. And, trust me, Jerry wasn't going to send in a hunk of the month to be with me twenty-four seven. Remember my celibacy issues?

So we'd settled on guard dogs, always named Valdez for some reason. Recent ones have been shape-shifters, though Jerry forbids the guards to be anything but dogs around me. Think Jerry's jealous? Works for me. Anyway, he's got some kind of hold over the guys, this Valdez for sure. I don't know what kind of debt the V-man owes, but it's made for some really fierce and loyal protection.

“I'm okay. You think Mainwaring was doing that to me? Giving me a headache?”

“Good point.” I threw up a block so Valdez couldn't read my mind. I remembered a night when Mainwaring showed me his scary side right here on the stairs to my apartment. The worst part? He'd wiped Valdez's memory. Poor pup didn't realize he'd been whammied into sitting meekly at the bottom of the stairs while I'd fought off the Mainwaring mojo all by my lonesome. “So it wasn't Mainwaring.”

“Mainwaring? You've seen Ricardo?” Florence met us at the door and took one of the bags from me. “Not that I care. I'm through with him.”

“You sure? Because he parks like he lives here.”

“Not in this apartment.” Flo pulled out nail polish remover and a sack of cotton balls. “I hate mysterious men. He keeps secrets. Pah! I have a secret for him. He's the worst lover I ever had.” Flo's cheeks were pink, which meant she was really agitated. Vamps don't have enough blood to flush unless they've just fed. I saw three empty Fangtastic bottles on the table. Okay, so Flo had been hitting the red stuff pretty hard.

I can never read Flo's mind, though I sure as heck try. She reads mine, of course. Everyone does. Unless I block them. Unfortunately, blocking brings on another kind of headache. But I knew Flo was lying anyway. I mean, even
Sex and the City
reruns turned up full blast hadn't completely drowned out her shrieks of ecstasy when she'd been doing the wild thing with Richard. And, trust me, Flo doesn't fake it for anyone.

I let it go. She needed to vent. Neither of us had a decent boyfriend at the moment. And we live forever. Not a situation conducive to self-denial of any kind.

It was almost dawn and I felt it. All day I'd be dead to the world, literally. I threw on a comfy nightgown, glad to be safe inside, no weird voice in my head. I let Valdez into the bedroom and he hopped on the foot of my queen-sized bed. You didn't think I slept in a coffin, did you? That would be so cliché.

Two

Whump, whump, whump, whump.

“Please remain calm. The fire is out. The fire is out. Firemen are on their way and are clearing the smoke out of the building.”

I was wet, cold and lying on concrete. My baby dolls were tangled around my hips and Valdez was barking into my ear.

“Fire?” I took a breath. Smoke. Oh, shit.

“Yeah, fire. I dragged you up here.”
Valdez bumped me with his cold nose.
“But you're okay now, Blondie. Right?”

“Fire!” I swallowed and sat up. A helicopter sporting the logo of a local TV station hovered overhead. Nice. My chubby thighs would be on the evening news.

“You dragged me up here? Flo! Diana!” I jumped up and looked around. I may sleep like the dead, but once the sun goes down, I'm operating on all cylinders. I saw the other resident vamps—Flo, Diana and a guy I knew lived on the third floor—laid out on the roof. They were all wet and all in various stages of stirring. The sun had obviously just slipped below the horizon.

“Yep. I'd say our old buddy Brent Westwood decided to take a parting shot.”
Valdez growled and leaned against my leg.
“Somebody threw a firebomb into your shop and the fire spread from there. Whoever did it had a hell of a nerve pulling that in broad daylight. Of course it's Monday and the shop was closed. Mugs and Muffins was probably open though. I wonder—”

“Shut up, Valdez. I . . . My God!” My legs folded and I sat hard on the concrete again. Just about anything, from a wooden skewer to a chopstick could take a vamp out while she's sleeping. And a fire . . . No amount of healing sleep could bring a vamp back from being a crispy critter. I rubbed my dog's ears. He'd
saved
me.

“How do you know this was Westwood?” We'd been fighting off the big-game hunter, who thought vamps were the biggest game of all, ever since I'd arrived in Austin. After a recent showdown, we all figured he'd move on to easier prey. Parting shot.

Whump. Whump. Whump. Whump. “Medical assistance is on its way. Please wave if you're all right.”

“Yeah, right. Smile for the camera, you mean.” I picked up my sodden sheet and threw it over my head.

“How are the others?” I pushed to my feet again and wobbled over to Flo like Casper the not-so-friendly ghost, Valdez at my heels. Of course my roommate
would
sleep in the raw. Valdez had draped a wet sheet over her but the rotors were blowing everything on the roof all to hell. Flo sat up, giving the camera a nice shot of her boobs.

“We're on camera, Flo. You might want to wrap your sheet a little tighter.”

“What's happened?” She pushed back her dark hair and looked around, then up. “They'd better not be taking my picture. I need my hair dryer, my makeup.”

Hopefully, they didn't have audio. I could hear the lead-in now. “Fire victim runs for blow dryer as rescuers battle blaze.”

I looked at Valdez. “My shop?” My voice cracked. I'd built Vintage Vamp's Emporium from nothing into a thriving business that actually supported me.

“I figure it's probably gutted.”
Valdez sat down and scratched his ear.
“Of course I was pretty busy. When the smoke alarms went off, I had to clear you guys out. And the stairwell was solid smoke.”
He coughed, sneezed, then looked at me for sympathy.