Shades of Gray (32 page)

She was happy, so happy. She should have known it wouldn't last.

At seven-thirty
a.m.
Thursday morning, Edward Ramsey knocked at Marisa's door.

"Hi, Edward," Marisa said, yawning. "What are you doing here so early?"

"You haven't seen the papers, have you?" He thrust a copy of the
L.A. Times
in her face. "I think he's back."

She didn't have to ask who. Her hands were trembling as she took the newspaper and began to read.

VAMPIRE KILLER STRIKES AGAIN

The headlines screamed the news. She read the story quickly. The body of a young woman had been found in the Griffith Park area the night before. There had been no visible sign of a struggle, no indication of violence, save for the tiny wounds in her throat, and the fact that her body had been drained of blood.

Marisa stared at Edward, the paper falling, unnoticed, to the floor. He was back. Alexi was back. She folded her arms over her chest, suddenly cold clear through.

He was back.

"Is Chiavari still hanging around here?"

She nodded. "Come on in." Rubbing her hands over her arms, she went into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of black coffee.

Her parents were due in half an hour. Mike and Barbara would be arriving around noon.

She was getting married in two days.

Alexi Kristov had returned.

"After all that's happened, I can't believe you're still seeing Chiavari. The man's a vampire, for crying out loud."

"I love him." She took a deep breath. "We're getting married."

"Married!" Edward stared at her as if she'd just grown another head. "You're kidding, right? Tell me you're kidding."

Edward had picked up the paper on his way into the kitchen. Now he shook it in her face. "Vampire, Marisa! Does that ring a bell? He's no different from Kristov. Sure, he's handsome as hell, but he's still just a walking corpse. He's capable of murder, just like Kristov. You'll never be safe with him. Never! Some night he won't be able to control his hunger and he'll turn on you."

"Stop it!" She pressed her hands over her ears to shut out his voice. "Stop it! I won't listen."

"You will listen!" He dropped the newspaper and grabbed her hands, imprisoning them against his chest. "He's a killer. You know it. Stop thinking with your hormones and start using your head. Just because he comes in a pretty package doesn't change what he is. He's a vampire, and they're killers by nature."

"He's not! He told me he hasn't killed anyone in over a hundred and fifty years, except to preserve his own life, and I believe him."

"Then you're a fool. He wants you, Marisa, he's wanted you from the first, and he'll do anything, say anything, to have you."

She shook her head. "If he's what you say, he could have taken me at any time. He wouldn't have to marry me. He loves me."

"Dammit, Marisa, he's a vampire. He's incapable of love."

"No, no, no!" She tried to jerk her hands from his grasp. "Let me go, Edward."

"Not until you hear what I'm saying."

"I hear you."

"Do you?"

"Yes," she replied sullenly. "I hear you, but it doesn't change anything. I love him, and I'm going to marry him."

Edward stared at her a moment, and then, with a sigh of defeat, he released her hands. "It's your life," he muttered. "I guess you can throw it away if you want. But before you make a fatal mistake, ask him. Ask him how many people he's killed in the last two hundred years. Don't listen to that crap about not hunting where he lives, or only killing in self-defense. Just ask him flat-out. Ask him how many lives he's taken to sustain his own. And then ask yourself if you want to be next."

"Edward — "

She called after him, but it was too late. He was already gone.

The door had barely closed behind him when her parents arrived.

"Marisa!" Her mother hugged her tightly, then stepped back and looked her up and down. "How well you look…." The words trailed off. "No, you don't look well at all! What's the matter, Marty? Having second thoughts? Well, I can't say as I blame you. You just met the man
— "

Jack Richards drew his daughter into his arms and gave her a bear hug. "Lay off, Marge, we just got here." He winked at Marisa. "You look fine to me. A little tired, maybe, but your mother looked like death warmed over two days before we got married. You got any coffee?"

"Sure, Dad."

Marisa went into the kitchen. Death warmed over. Interesting that her father would use that phrase. She glanced over her shoulder as her father entered the kitchen and sat down at the table.

"Terrible, these killings." He spread the newspaper out on the table, the same paper Edward had dropped on the floor earlier, judging by the wrinkles in it.

"Yes, terrible," Marisa agreed. She handed her father a cup of coffee and sat down across from him.
Ask him how many people he's killed… I never hunt where I live… Ask him how many lives he's taken to sustain his own…
I haven't killed anyone in over a hundred and fifty years…

"What is it, Marty? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Dad, just wedding jitters, I guess."

"Where'd you meet this guy?"

"At a carnival just after Halloween."

Jack Richards laughed out loud. It was a good sound, deep and rich, reminding Marisa of camping trips and hikes through the woods, and birthday parties.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to laugh." He shook his head. "Do you love him?"

"Yes."
There's just one thing wrong with him. He's a vampire.

"Does he love you?"

"Yes."
He thinks my blood is the sweetest nectar of all.
She shook the thought from her mind. "Where's Mom?"

"Unpacking." He reached across the table and took her hand. "If you love each other, truly love each other, everything will work out. Trust me. And if it doesn't, well, you know your mother and I are always here for you."

"I know, Dad. Thanks." She squeezed his hand, thinking how lucky she was to have this man for her father. He'd always been there for her. He'd taught her to ride a two-wheeler, taken her to her first concert, comforted her when she broke up with her first boyfriend, bought her her first corsage. He'd taught her to drive a car, persuaded her mother to let her shave her legs because all the other girls were doing it, slipped her an extra dollar or two when her allowance ran out, helped her with her homework.

"So, Marty, are we too late for breakfast?" her mother asked as she came into the kitchen.

"No, Mom. What would you like?"

"You just sit down and let me take care of it."

"Mom, you're my guest."

"Don't be silly. I'm not a guest, I'm your mother. You go get dressed, and I'll fix breakfast. What do you want?"

Marisa smiled at her parents, thinking how lucky she was. "Whatever Dad wants is fine with me."

"That's my girl," Jack said with a grin. "French toast and bacon. How's that sound?"

"Perfect!" Marisa winked at her father, and then left the room, smiling.

Mike and Barbara and their kids arrived a little after one. Marisa hugged her nieces and nephews. At ten, Mike Junior was the eldest; then came Nikki, who was eight, Mindy, who was six, and Danny, who had just turned two.

"I don't know why you live here," Mike complained as he gave her a hug. "The traffic is terrible."

"But the weather is wonderful."

"I guess. Couldn't you have gotten married in the summer so we could hit the beach?"

"Sorry, Mike."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Just ignore him," Barbara advised. "He's been complaining ever since the plane landed. You know how he hates to leave Colorado."

"How are you, Barb?" Marisa asked, giving her sister-in-law a hug.

"How am I? I'm pregnant, that's how I am."

"That's wonderful!" Marisa exclaimed, and in the back of her mind she heard Grigori urging her to marry a man who could give her children. She looked at Mike's kids. They were all beautiful, well behaved.

"Another baby!" Marge Richards rushed forward and hugged Barbara. "I thought Marisa would have the next one."

"Me too," Barbara said. "We really weren't planning on any more, but — " She shrugged. "Things happen."

Mike grinned. "Yep."

"Congratulations, son." Jack shook Mike's hand, then pulled him into his arms and hugged him. "Good thing you've got those three acres."

"There's room for you and Mom."

"No, thanks, my days of shoveling snow are over."

"Why didn't you tell us this at Christmas?" Marge asked.

"I just found out yesterday. I thought I had the flu."

"Can we watch a video. Aunt Marty?"

"Sure, Mindy. You know where they are."

"I don't want to watch TV," Mike Junior said. "Can Nikki and I play on your computer?"

Marisa smiled at her nephew. "Sure, Mike."

With the two younger kids settled in front of the television watching
Beauty and the Beast,
the adults went into the kitchen for coffee and conversation.

"So I can't wait to meet Grigori," Barbara said. "What's he look like?"

"A GQ model."

"Really?" Barbara grinned lasciviously. " 'Bout time we had a handsome man in the family."

"Hey!" Mike exclaimed. "What about me?"

"You?" Barbara shrieked as Mike poked her in the ribs. "What about you?"

"I'm handsome. Aren't I, Marty?"

"Well…"

"Hey, come on, I'm your brother. You're supposed to back me up."

"Right. Like you backed me up when I asked you if Steve Renouf liked me, and you spread it all over the school that I had a crush on him."

"Haven't you forgotten about that yet?"

"No, and I never will."

"Okay, kids, settle down," Jack said. "I don't wanna have to send you to your rooms."

Marisa and Mike exchanged looks and then burst into laughter, and Marisa thought again how wonderful it was to have her family there, to feel the love they shared for one another.

They reminisced about old times, exchanged news, talked about the wedding. Before long it was time to get ready for dinner. Mr. Abbott's wife had agreed to come and stay with the kids while the adults went out to dinner.

Marisa ordered
pizza
for the kids, and then it was six o'clock.

There were millions of butterflies going crazy in her stomach by the time Grigori arrived. Would her parents like him? Would he like them? Would they notice there was something different about him?

He kissed her cheek when she opened the door. "You look lovely," he whispered, and his breath felt warm and intimate against her ear.

"Thanks. Are you ready to meet everyone?"

He nodded. "Worried?"

"A little."

He smiled down at her. "I love you,
cara."

Words. They were just words. Ordinary words that were said every day, but they washed over her like a soothing balm, calming the butterflies.

"I love you, too." She took his hand and led him into the living room. "Hey, everybody, this is Grigori."

Was it her imagination, or was there a sudden lack of oxygen in the room? Her father and Mike exchanged glances she couldn't interpret. Her mother pressed a hand to her heart. Barbara murmured, "Oh, my, you were right."

Grigori slid a glance at Maria. "Right? About what?"

"I told them you looked like a
GQ
model."

"Ahhh."

She quickly introduced Grigori to everyone, including the kids, and then they trooped outside.

Mike let out a long, low whistle when he saw Grigori's Corvette. "Wow, nice wheels."

"You should see mine." Marisa tossed the words over her shoulder as she slid into the passenger seat. "Mine's red."

Mike looked at Grigori. "She's kidding, right?"

Grigori shook his head.

"But… but how?"

"And it's a convertible," Marisa added.

She grinned at the look of astonishment on her brother's face.

Mike, Barb, and her parents climbed into the van Mike had rented, and Grigori pulled away from the curb. He checked the rearview mirror to make certain her family was following, then gave her knee a squeeze. "You look like the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary."

"I can't help it." She grinned at him. "This is the first time I ever had a better car than Mike." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for that."

"You are most welcome. How was your day?"

"Fine — " The words died in her throat as she recalled Edward's visit that morning. In the rush of her family's arrival, she had forgotten all about it.

Grigori glanced over at her, noting the worry lines in her brow. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it now."

"As you wish."

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

Dinner went well. Marisa watched Grigori carefully. She recalled the time they had gone to dinner at the North Woods Inn. He'd ordered a steak and she would have sworn he ate it. She knew better now. He toyed with the food on his plate, but never really ate anything. Yet she knew that if she were to ask her parents about it later, they would assure her that he'd eaten a full meal.

Talk at the table was polite and restrained at first, but gradually everyone relaxed. They talked about the wedding; then Jack and Marge told about their wedding, and Mike and Barb reminisced about their own. Champagne flowed freely, as did the conversation and the laughter.

"So," Barbara said, "where are you two going for your honeymoon?"

"We're going to stay home."

"Home!"

Marisa nodded. "Grigori said we could go wherever I wanted, but I want to stay home, in our own house, just the two of us."

"You always said you wanted to go to Italy for your honeymoon," Marge remarked.

Marisa looked at Grigori and smiled. "I've been to Italy."

"You have!" her father exclaimed. "When?"

"Not long ago. It was a quick, unexpected trip."

"Really?" Mike frowned at her. "You never mentioned it."

"Didn't I? I'm ready for dessert. Mom, what are you going to have?"