Soul Survivor (12 page)

T
he panic attack was coming on strong. That stone—that damn stone. It had been the catalyst for so much that went wrong six months ago. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult and George stared at me, eyes tinted with concern.

“Monica?”

I couldn't come out and say anything about the stone—Claudette was bound to hear anything we spoke within the store. With a deep breath, I forced my raging heart to calm down; the blood rushing through my head was a violent river. I walked over to the stone and being sure not to touch the damn thing, pointed to it. “Isn't this beautiful,” I said to George pointedly, doing my best to give him the ol' “something bigger is going on here” eyes.

Initially, he just stared at me in confusion; then, finally, recognition washed over his fine features. “Oh. Oh! Um, yeah, that's really striking.”

Jane came rushing over, sensing a sale like a vulture can sense death. “Oh, isn't it just beautiful?” She yanked it off the rack and held it up to my collar. “Would you like to try it on?”

I crumpled away from the piece in the same way a vampire would shrivel away from the sun. “No! I mean, um, yes, it is, but . . . I meant . . .
that
one.” I pointed to another stone necklace that had been right next to the blue one.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, still as cheerful as ever. “I'm sorry. I could have sworn I saw you pointing to this one.” She put the wretched stone back on its hook. “Claudette gets most of her jewelry from the most unusual places. The stones themselves are all acquired by her own family.” Jane grabbed a second necklace, this one red and matte, holding it up to my neck. “Would you like to try this one on?”

“Oh, I really shouldn't.” If I had to spend any more time with this girl, the only thing I wanted her slipping around my neck was a fucking noose. “We should really go.”

I left the store, dragging George behind me. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed when we left and I clamped a hand over his mouth, putting a finger to my lips. Who knew how far her hearing stretched?

It wasn't until we were safely in our rental car, driving back to the hotel that I allowed him to speak. “Holy shit!” he said again. “Do you think
she
has the hit out on you?”

“How should I know? I've never even
met
her before. Why would she want me dead?”

He shrugged, managing to keep his hands positioned at ten and two on the wheel. “I don't know, baby girl. Aren't we under her protection while we're here, though? Technically, Lucien doesn't control us while we're under her territory.”

The thought sent a fearful tremor through my body. “Maybe the stone just came from her store. It doesn't mean she is the person behind this whole Lexi/Wills thing, does it?”

When George didn't respond, I had my answer. Coincidences were rare in our world. That stone being here in the same city where all these murders were taking place meant something. Though what that something was baffled me to no end.

The rest of the drive was quiet and when we pulled into the hotel, I could see Drew and Adrienne at the hotel bar sitting at a high-top table, hands entwined. I groaned, falling against the brick outside.

“What now?”

“Inside. Drew and Adrienne. Being all—you know. Affectionate and shit.”

“Oh, affection and shit. That is a bad combo,” George said with a smile.

I sent him a tired one in return. “You know what I mean. I just don't want to deal with them right now.”

He shrugged. “So don't. Teleport to the room.”

“After my battle with Aaron, I barely had enough energy to style my hair this morning. I won't make it to this evening if I use my remaining powers to avoid Drew.”

“I arranged for us to go to this bible study, bowling night thing. We'll definitely be able to get you recharged there. I could really use your help. Rob is wary of me—if we can get him to hook up with you first, I can ease my way in.”

My head dropped in my hands. “I'm not really sure what that means, my head is so foggy. But if it will get me some power, I'm all for it.”

 

By the time the sun had fallen, I was dressed and ready for an awful night of bowling. I hated bowling. It was up high on my list of things I hate right next to Crocs and Celine Dion. To start with, it never mattered how hot you looked—once you put on those stupid shoes, your outfit was just shot to Hell. I did my best regardless, with tailored camel dress pants and a red wrap shirt that dipped into a deep V revealing impressive cleavage for my rather small frame. After spending almost an hour straightening my hair and applying makeup—I looked pretty damn good. Not to mention the glow of my body compensating for the lack of power in itself was probably enough to attract any man back to my bedroom.

As George and I made our way down the hall, we caught sight of Drew standing at his open hotel room door, leaning on the frame. Slipping a tip into the room service deliverer's hand, and holding a tray of food and a bottle of iced champagne. Champagne. I halted in my tracks, body going numb at the sight. Even if the champagne was only for Adrienne, how dare she order a whole bottle with an alcoholic sharing her room.

Drew caught my eye, too, and he shifted his weight, maintaining eye contact. I stalked over to him. “What are you doing?” I said, eyeing the bottle.

“Monica, not now. Really, it's not a good time.”

I peeked over his shoulder into the room, not seeing Adrienne anywhere behind him. “Where is she? Is she the one who requested a bottle of champagne?”

“Monica.” George touched my arm, in a gentle movement. Good time or not, I didn't give a shit. Drew did not need to be anywhere near alcohol.

“What are you
thinking
, Drew? This will be the second time you've been brought to alcohol because of Adrienne. Remember the first? Remember when you tore through my kitchen looking for whiskey?”

Drew flicked a grateful glance at George that suggested he appreciated the attempt. The moment between the two just made me burn that much more. “Monica, I'm fine. I'm just surprising Adrienne with a dinner.”

“Dinner
and
champagne.”

“Yes. Dinner and champagne. That's it.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “That's never it. Not for a recovering alcoholic.”

With a sigh, he flopped against the door frame. “Monica, I haven't seen Adrienne much at all yet on this trip. I was really looking forward to tonight. Please don't ruin it for me.”

“You clearly don't need
me
to ruin the night,” I spat. “And if she loves you like she claims, she should be just as enraged by that bottle as I am.” I turned quickly and hustled to the elevators.

“O
h, my Hell.” I leaned back on the cheap plastic primary-colored seats and my head fell onto George's shoulder beside me. “This is even more horrible than I imagined it would be.”

“Eye on the prize, baby girl. Their auras are shining brighter than Marie Antoinette's jewels.”

“Can't I at least have a beer?” I whined like a child stuck in detention.

“Nope. They've got to believe we're just as holy as them. No trust, no ass.” His gaze traveled back to Rob, the blond guy he'd met on the trail. “But look at him—he's never even had pussy. The boy has no clue he's gay.”

“And we're gonna help him, right?”

“Oh yeah.” George winked at me.

“Monica!” one of the girls on my team called. “Your turn!”

I stood up, breathless, the bowling ball feeling heavier than its eight pounds advertised. I lined up the sights and bowled a perfect split—on purpose. I loved the shouts when I was able to take down both pins. Strikes were easy in comparison. After my team hugged me and cheered, I took my place next to George again. He stood to take his turn when Rob slid into his seat.

“Nice job. I thought for sure there was no way you'd get that spare.” I looked him over and immediately understood the appeal George was talking about. Strong jaw and chin, high cheekbones. Striking blue eyes and blond hair. This kid was a walking Gap advertisement.

“Thanks.” I flashed a smile and angled my breasts toward him. He glanced down—but didn't seem to notice or care. He sort of looked because he was supposed to. Like the way one looks at tofu on a menu. You know you should, but when you sink your teeth into it, it's just never quite right. Even if George and I did end up taking a chunk of this guy's life, we would be helping him overall for sure. “You got the strike last round, right? Impressive as well.”

Rob rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Well, there's not a whole lot else to do around these parts other than camp and bowl.”

“Somehow I think that must be a gross exaggeration.”

He shrugged. “Maybe a little, though not as much as you probably imagine it to be.” He made eye contact with another guy sitting across from us. “Hey, did you meet Dave?” He did a guy-like head gesture thing and Dave came over. He was good-looking as well. Not quite the picture-perfect image Rob was—Dave's nose was slightly crooked and teeth weren't the straightest I'd ever seen. But he would definitely do for the night. Like all the rest in the group, his aura was sparkling. Not quite as shiny as Rob's, again. My guess he had probably been with a woman before—once, maybe twice. Probably a long-term girlfriend he thought he was in love with or some shit like that.

“Dave, hi. Nice to meet you,” I said while taking his hand. Rob stood and Dave took his place next to me, where we engaged in the normal getting-to-know-you chitchat.

A chill lightning bolted up my spine. Someone—no, some
thing
was here. It took me a moment to place the aura. Vampire. And as I looked over Dave's shoulder, Dejan stood at the bar, staring at me with cold eyes.

“So,” I said, looking into Dave's dark, almost olive-colored eyes, “when do we start the Bible-study part of this evening?” My stomach clenched as I asked the question. I didn't want to be anywhere near a Bible or anything holy.

“Oh, probably after this game. On bowling nights we don't spend too much time on theology. We save the real deep discussions for Wednesday evenings. You gonna be around? It's at Rob's house this week. He's making his famous pancetta.”

“Huh. You don't say?” I eyed Rob again. Pancetta. Snapping my eyes back to Dave, he had leaned in even more, his arm snaking around the back of my chair. “Yeah, maybe. We'll see.” I slid out of the bucket seat, getting to my feet. “Excuse me a minute. I'm gonna get a Diet Coke.”

His eyebrows twitched down ever so slightly. “Oh, cool. I'm pretty sure they have a caffeine-free one over there. We had to petition to get them to put it in.”

“Oh.” I feigned enthusiasm as best I could. I was certainly not going to win Best Actress anytime soon. “Great. Be right back.”

Dejan had shifted so that his back was to the group after our initial eye contact.

“What are you doing here?” I spoke through a clenched jaw, whispering.

“Good evening, Monica,” he said, lifting a bottle of beer to his lips. “You're looking well.”

“It's been a while.” I fiddled with one of my rings, spinning it around my index finger.

“Not really.” The slightest smile flickered beneath his pale, bloodless lips. His skin was as pale as I remembered, but no longer starved and hollow. It glistened with a dewiness that women paid good money to achieve with expensive moisturizers. His dark eyes sparkled like two onyx stones.

“Oh. Right.” I remembered six months back, lying bloody on my foyer floor.... Dejan fighting beside Lucien and Julian to save my soul. “What the Hell was that about, anyway?”

He shrugged in a noncommittal way, taking another sip of beer. “I like to keep tabs on you. My peculiar creation.”

My face flushed and I could feel the heat burning my cheeks. “Oh? By killing innocents and branding them with my family crest?”

Dejan sneered, lip curling back before sliding a glance to me without moving his head. “You know I had nothing to do with any of these murders. But clearly someone wants to pin it on me.” His shoulders hunched over more, hollowing out the space between his flat stomach and the edge of the bar.

“That's why you were at the crime scenes? The one this morning and in the town square?”

One eyebrow raised toward me. “It seems as though I am not the only one checking in,” he said through a chilling smirk. “They are, however, doing a terrible job in framing me.”

I paused as a server (and I use that term very loosely) came over to take my Diet Coke order. “What makes you think they're trying to pin it on you specifically?”

“Me—my kind—what's the difference?”

My beating heart pounded against my chest. Hell, this man made me nervous. And why shouldn't he? The very vampire who had changed my existence forever for the worse sat just beside me. He could rip the throat out of every human here in less time than it took most to eat a burger.

“It's nice to know I still make your pulse race.” He leaned in close, inhaling deeply at my hairline.

“I assure you, Dejan—it's not for the reasons you believe. Is that the only reason you're here? Because someone is attempting—and failing—to frame a vampire for these murders?”

“And . . .” He paused, his smile barely visible and teetering on the edge of being deathly dangerous.

“And?” I repeated.

“Like I said.” He finished the bottle, tipping his head back with one final glug, “I like to keep tabs on you.” Reaching into a leather messenger bag, he pulled out an old book, tossing it in front of me on the bar.

“What's this?” The binding was worn almost all the way through, the pages so old I feared they might disintegrate if I touched them.

Dejan pulled out a wallet from his back pocket and threw down some money as well. “It's a Bible. Not blessed, so those of our kind can touch it. Figured you might need to borrow it for a while.” He gave a nod to the group of bowlers behind us.

When I looked back to Dejan, he was already slipping out the door. “Thanks,” I said quietly, as I tucked the Bible under my arm and grabbed my glass of caffeine-free Diet Coke.