Sire (24 page)

A girl was sitting on a stool by the bar. She was about five and a half feet tall, wearing a plaid skirt and a white button shirt. Strawberry blond hair framed her heart-shaped face. She clutched a Shirley Temple in both hands.

A pair of men stood in front of her. They were older—late twenties, Michael guessed, a bit too old for a club like Indigo. They both wore leather jackets, and their hair was close-cropped.

"So is your boyfriend somewhere around here?" one of the guys asked.

The girl sucked on her straw. "No. I just caught that bastard with Cindy Mellis. Can you believe it?"

The second guy laughed. His eyes never left the girl's chest. "No, I really can't."

"So what are you doing here?" the first guy asked.

The straw disappeared into her mouth again. "Screw him, right? I just want to make him jealous. Make sure he knows that I don't need
him
to have a good time, right?"

The guys looked at each other. "I think we can help you with that, babe," the first guy said.

"Yeah? Are you guys going to a party or something?"

"Or something," the second guy said.

The girl's eyes went wide. "Do you have any," she lowered her voice, and leaned forward, "
beer?
"

The guys laughed. "Plenty. Come on, we'll show you where we keep it."

The girl hopped down and took the first guy's hand, and let them lead her toward the front door. They didn't see her cruel smile, or the crimson in her eyes.

Michael was trembling slightly. He looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes.

"Hey, you're the guy who runs this place, aren't you? My friends would love it if you'd come over and sit with us for a while."

Michael's head snapped toward the voice. A girl in a sorority shirt was staring at him. Her mouth was going
smack smack smack
as she chewed a piece of gum.

Michael growled.

The girl stopped chewing. "Or not." She turned around and walked quickly away.

Michael looked back at the dance floor. This whole thing was wrong. This club. This city. It was evil. And he had supported it, tried to be a part of it.

But no more.

Now, he was going to burn it all down.

Chapter Sixteen

Caitlin was on her way to her suite. She stopped at Bethany's door and ran her hand over the wood. Bethany had been a great girl. A little timid, but she had been coming out of her shell. She really seemed head over heals for Garret, and it looked like he felt the same way about her. Caitlin had looked forward to gossiping with her, and taking her shopping, and all kinds of girlie things. But none of that was going to happen now.

Revenge had never been a big part of Caitlin's life, but then again, she had never had a reason to
want
revenge. The worst thing anyone had done to her was when Jenny kissed Lucas at homecoming. Stupid little things like that. This, this was something different. This was an entire
life
, just gone. Bethany would never graduate college. Never get a job. Never get married. Never have kids. Never have
grandkids.
There were a million things that she was never going to do, because someone had decided to take it all away from her.

They didn't even have a funeral. There was no body, no proof. Officially, she was still just missing.

Revenge had never been a big part of Caitlin's life, but it certainly seemed like the right thing to do now.

Caitlin went into her room, flipped on the light, and yelped. There was someone standing on the far side of the room, looking out the window.

"Michael," she said, and threw her purse on the chair. "Don't
do
that. Especially now. God, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

"I'm sorry," he said, turning around.

"That's okay," she said. "Honestly, I could use the distraction. My brain's going to dark places right now."

Michael glowered. "So is mine."

"What's wrong?" Caitlin asked.

"I talked to Angelica."

"Okay. And I'm guessing it didn't go well?"

"That's an understatement."

"What did she say?"

"She threatened you."

Caitlin dumped herself on the bed. "Great. Did you tell her to take a number?"

"This isn't funny, Caitlin. She's serious. She said that if I didn't stop seeing you, she'd make what Liam wants to do to you look like an amateur effort."

Caitlin practically snarled. "Fine. So we'll be more careful. We'll find a place to meet where she won't know about it. Not your place, probably not here, either. Does St. Troy have any reputable motels that rent rooms by the hour?"

Michael closed his eyes. Anger flickered across his face. "You don't understand. We've ... she's had my blood."

"Okay?"

"You remember what happened when you drank my blood? And Angelica and I were together?"

"...Oh."

A lump formed in Caitlin's throat. Unconsciously, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and tried to disappear into herself. She felt violated, like someone had stuck a webcam in her bedroom or something.

But then she felt angry.

Another person—another damn vampire—that felt like she could just take Caitlin's choices away. Like Caitlin wasn't a person, like she wasn't important.

"Who the hell does she think she is?" Caitlin said. "She can't tell us not to see each other. She can't
threaten
us!"

Michael spoke quietly, but there was anger beneath his voice. Caitlin could tell that he was straining to contain it. "Yes, she can. For now." His eyes were positively volcanic.

"Michael?" Caitlin asked quietly. "What are you going to do?"

He smiled, and it wasn't a pretty sight. "One thing at a time. First, we deal with Liam. Then I'll deal with Angelica."

Caitlin wasn't sure how to react. This was a side of Michael she hadn't seen before. She'd seen him fight, she'd seen him
kill
, but she'd never seen him ...
enjoy
the idea.

"Where's Evan?" Michael asked.

"He's with Alexis. They're kind of ... occupied."

***

The girl was too thin. Angelica knew that trends came and went, but she hoped that the whole heroin-chic thing would hurry up and go away. You could count the girl's ribs, for God's sake. There wasn't even enough flesh to sink your teeth into.

But she was energetic. Both she and the boy were covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and both of them were out of breath. Angelica appreciated their enthusiasm.

After they had cuddled a while, the girl lifted her head from the boy's chest. "I should probably go," she said.

"What's wrong?" The boy got up on one elbow to look down at the girl.

"Nothing," she said, smiling at him. "But I have an eight AM tomorrow, and I really need to stop not going to those."

"So spend the night. It's not like your stuff is far away."

"I'd love to," the girl said, "but we both know that if I stay, we will be getting the exact opposite of sleep."

The boy smiled. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"I always am." The girl pecked him on the cheek. The boy pulled her close, and kissed her fully.

Angelica felt like tapping her foot.

Finally, they separated. The boy stared at the girl while she dressed, a silly grin on his face. But Angelica just couldn't get over how
skinny
she was.

"See you tomorrow, Evan," the girl said from the door.

"Goodnight, Alexis."

The door closed, and the boy rolled over to blow out the candle burning on the nightstand.

"I think having an open flame is against the rules," Angelica said.

"Holy shit!" the boy yelled, and jumped to his feet. "Who the hell are you? How the hell did you get in here?"

Angelica looked him up and down, and ran her tongue over her lips. "Damn." She looked up at his face. "You're on the football team, aren't you? I thought you were familiar." She looked back down, and bit her lip. "I might become a fan."

The boy—Evan, his name was—grabbed a sheet and wrapped it around himself.

"Aww," Angelica pouted.

Evan started walking toward her. "Listen, lady, I don't know who the hell you are, but—"

Angelica sighed. These muscley boys were fun to look at, but they were never very bright. She looked into his eyes and reached for his mind. It was almost embarrassingly easy to find the core of his self and grab hold of it, and once she had done that, it was a triviality to replace his thoughts and ideas with her own.

The boy stopped in his tracks. The expression slipped off his face, and his hands fell to his sides. And the sheet fell to the floor.

"Much better, Angelica said. "Now, you're friends with Caitlin, right?"

"That's right," the boy said mechanically.

"And you've met Michael?"

"Yeah. He's going to help us kill Liam."

Angelica's eyebrow shot toward the ceiling. "Really? I didn't think he had it in him. Actually, I'm certain that he doesn't have it in him. Is there some kind of a plan here, or is this just the 'commit suicide' kind of mission?"

"We have a plan. Kind of."

"And that plan is ...?" Angelica prompted.

"Fire. We're going to burn him with fire, and then Michael is going to cut his head off."

"Well, you're certainly master strategists," Angelica said. She walked around him—admiring his back side on the way—and sat at his desk. She crossed her legs primly. "I hate to break this to you, but we aren't as flammable as the movies make us seem. We'll burn, sure, but no faster than you. So unless you have a flamethrower ..."

"We have magic."

Angelica cocked her head. "Really? Where the hell do you people come from? I haven't met a mage in ... God, it must be three hundred years, and now I've had two of them in my city in the last year. Is the college offering classes or something?"

"No. Michael gave me a book."

"Ah," Angelica said. "The little witch we ran off must have left her grimoire behind. Do you have it here?"

"It's right there," the boy said, pointing toward an old leather book.

Angelica started flipping through pages. She read for half an hour, occasionally glancing up at the boy standing in front of her. He really was nicely shaped. Finally, she found what she was looking for.

"Here," she said, handing him the book. "This is the spell you want to use. It won't kill him, but it will slow him down enough to give Michael an opening."

"It won't work," the boy said, still in a monotone. "I'm not strong enough."

Angelica smiled. "Oh, is that right?" She stood and pressed up against him, running her fingers up the sides of his legs, across his stomach, and over his chest. "I think I can help you with that."

She extended as single talon, and traced a line across her breast. Blood started to run down her skin. She pushed the boy down onto the bed, and climbed on top of him. "Drink," she said.

Angelica closed her eyes and savored the feeling. A warm body beneath you, the racing of his heart, the hunger as he drew life out from you. It was intoxicating. Having someone drink from you was almost as pleasurable as drinking from them.

Eventually, she pushed him away. She wanted the boy to be strong enough to cast the spell, but she didn't want to go and make him a vampire or anything. He was pretty, but he wasn't someone she wanted to spend the rest of forever with.

"It'll only last a few days," Angelica told him, "so you better get moving on this plan."

She walked toward the window, then stopped. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

Well, of course she could. She still hadn't released his mind. "What does he see in her? Michael, and Caitlin? Why does he love her? What does she have that I don't?"

"I don't know," the boy said.

She looked down at her blood-stained skin. "Is it my chest? Are big breasts back in style again? Are my breasts too small?"

"I'm not a boob guy," the boy said.

"Well that's obvious. Your girlfriend is a stick." She opened the window and started to climb out, but stopped.

"Evan, I want you to do something for me. Can you do something for me?"

"Of course."

"Thank you, my sweet little boy. When Liam is dead, I have a little job for you ..."

Chapter Seventeen

They were in the girls' dorm. Caitlin and Alexis sat on the couch, Garret was by the television, and Michael stood in the corner. Evan sat in one of the chairs, the book of spells open in front of him. He had just finished explaining his plan.

"What do you think, Michael?" Caitlin asked.

Michael had a dark look on his face. "Yeah, that would work.
If
he can pull it off. Which is a damn big
if.
"

"I can—" Evan started.

"Morgan couldn't even hold the containment spell long enough for us to take a shot at him. And this ..." he shook his head. "Blood magic is a different game."

"It's not
that
kind of blood magic," Evan said.

"Fantastic. So we're not
directly
summoning a Vile Thing from the Beyond."

"I'm getting better at this every day. I know I can pull this off. I
know
it."

Alexis nodded, and put her hand on his arm.

"Look, I'm glad you're excited about this, and I'm happy you've got a girl to cheer for you. But all the confidence in the world isn't going to help us if we go against Liam and blow it," Michael said.

"I'm not going to blow it," Evan said.

"Big talk."

"You want me to prove it to you?" Evan asked, an edge in his voice.

Michael's eyes hardened, and a razor-thin smile appeared on his face. "I'd love it."

"
Okay,
" Garret said. "So we have a backup plan."

"Quick, painless suicide?" Michael asked.

"Fire," Evan said. "If the spell doesn't work, we set the place on fire. The containment spell should hold him long enough for us to at least get away."

"Why isn't fire our first plan?" Michael asked. " Trap him, throw gas on him, and toss a match." He looked up at the ceiling, almost wistfully. "It's too bad I can't eat hot dogs anymore."

Evan shook his head. "Vampires don't burn fast enough. He'd probably survive long enough to escape the circle, and then we're back to square one."