Star, Starland Vamp Series, Book 1 (2 page)

“Ms. Star?” the pretty receptionist asked, bringing me from my reverie. “Dr. Abbott will see you now.” Dr. Abbott was the fifth human I’ve worked for within my time here. Although my bosses age and gradually die, never once have any of them asked me why I do not age.

They already know.

“Very well,” I nodded, giving her a gracious smile. She was used to seeing me now. I remember the first time I smiled at her five years ago. She was young and, even though we were both female, she staggered a bit.

“Ms. Star,” Dr. Abbott began, rising from his desk; a gentleman. “It’s so good to see you again.” He acted like he hadn’t seen me in a while. This must be important.

“Likewise,” I said, smiling, “And please, call me Abigail.”

He didn’t shake my hand. “Do you mind?” Dr. Abbott pulled a digital scanner from inside his desk.

“Not at all,” I replied, smiling sweetly, then held out my hand. Any other human would have been dazzled, but he was unmoved, all business.

A moment later, the scanner glowed blue after he scanned my hand. A second later it beeped and he checked the reading. “You’re clean.”

I sat down politely in a stiff, wooden chair across from his high power desk and daintily crossed my legs. I was not impressed. “Let’s cut the bullshit, Sam. What can I do for you?”

Dr. Abbott smiled. “I see you haven’t changed, Star.”

My sweet smile returned. “Abigail, please.”

“As you wish,” he said, clearly enjoying the dangerous exchange. He knew who I was and how dangerous I could be. “The reason why I’ve called you here today is that I need you for a secret mission.”

“I kind of gathered that,” I said, matter of fact. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t secretive and dangerous.

Again, he smiled. “And I need your ultimate discretion.”

“Of course.” I crossed my hands over my knees. To him, I didn’t look a day over 16. In reality I was changed when I was 18. I look young for my age. “Let’s cut to the chase, Sam. What’s the job?”

“I see some things haven’t changed,” Dr. Abbott laughed. “Patience never was one of your virtues.”

“Among others,” I replied, still smiling.

“Here’s the deal,” he began, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “I need you to be a bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard
?” I almost shouted. “I haven’t been a bodyguard for years! Come now, Sam, I’ve been on covert missions, an assassin for the government, but a bodyguard?” It was too easy. I’d be bored stiff within the matter of a week.

“Yes, a body guard,” Sam replied sternly.

“No,” I said curtly, rising from my seat.

“Sit back down,” Dr. Abbott directed, pointing to the chair.

“You’re treading on dangerous ground,” I said, my green eyes flaring as I pushed a lock of wavy brown hair away from my face.

“Please,” Dr. Abbott replied a bit sarcastically, gesturing toward the chair.

I slowly sat down. After a moment of silence, I asked, “Who is it anyway?” Maybe it was the president or a dignitary. Once, I had to pretend to infiltrate a drug cartel to be the bodyguard of a drug lord. He didn’t live long.

Sam’s grey eyes searched mine as I waited. He sighed. “He’s my son.”

“Your son?” I replied, getting to my feet. “Okay, I’ve heard enough.”

“Star,” he yelled. “Sit down!”

Within a second, I was around his power desk with my hand on his throat. “Tread very carefully, Sam.”

“Let him go,” a male voice called out as he entered the room. It was a voice I knew well.

“Fredrick!” I shouted, surprised. He was the vampire who changed me during the Revolutionary War when I was dying. He saved my life and quickly became my mentor and friend, and had taken the place of my father since.

“Abby,” Fredrick said with a smile. “They call me Rick now.”

“Not Fred?” I asked, letting go of Dr. Abbott like nothing had transpired.

“No, I never liked it,” he said, moving to my side with lightning speed. “Rick is much more modern.”

I wrapped my arms around him in a hug. I didn’t have to worry about being careful hugging Fredrick, or Rick, as he now wanted to be called. A moment later I released him, and walked at human speed to the front of the desk, while Dr. Abbott coughed and rubbed his throat.

“I wouldn’t be asking you this if it wasn’t important,” Dr. Abbott began. Then I looked at Rick and he nodded. So, he was Abbott’s bodyguard. Figures.

“Dr. Abbott here was just telling me about a job he wants me for,” I explained to Rick.

“So I’ve heard,” Rick replied. So, he was in on it.

I nodded, then turned my attention back to Abbott. “Why me? Why not one of your human CIA agents? Or, better yet, a Secret Service agent?”

“This matter has to be handled delicately,” he replied, then I understood.

“He doesn’t know about this, does he?” I asked, putting the pieces together.

Abbott shook his head.

“And you don’t want him to know about this, do you?”

“No.”

“How old is he?”

“He’s 18.”

“High school?” I asked, incredulous, sinking back into my chair.

Rick suppressed a smile.

“You fit the bill,” Dr. Abbott calmly replied.

“Meaning, I look like I could be in high school,” I finished. I looked at Rick, but he was no help. He just shrugged his shoulders, innocently suppressing a smile. I released my breath in a gust. “Why do you need
me
? Or someone like me?”

Dr. Abbott knew my meaning. “My son is in grave danger. They’ve found him.”

I nodded, understanding. “The Others.”

“Yes. Please protect him at all costs,” Dr. Abbott continued, “but be discrete.”

“Don’t tell him,” I added, understanding.

“And keep him alive at all costs and with any means at your disposal,” Dr. Abbott continued, looking deeply into my eyes.

I understood. He knew what I was and what I could do. He was even willing for him to become a vampire if it was necessary to save him. “I understand.”

“And one more thing,” Dr. Abbott continued. “Never grab me like that again, if you want to live.”

I raised an eyebrow, incredulous, and smiled sweetly. “Are you threatening me, Sam? Because I don’t like to be threatened.”

“Okay,” Rick intervened. “That’s enough.”

“Just don’t do it again,” Dr. Abbott reinforced.

“Then don’t order me around.”

He nodded. “You haven’t changed.”

I sighed and sat back down again. “Who am I going in as?”

He knew exactly what I meant. I didn’t mean a disguise; I was a shape shifter. A vampire shape shifter. That was why Dr. Abbott didn’t shake my hand when I came in. A vampire shape shifter must touch the people they wish to impersonate to get their body print. If I wished, I could now impersonate him. That was also why he used the digital hand scanner on me when I came in. When I change into another person, only my fingerprints remained the same. The CIA developed the hand scanner to detect and determine the identity of fingerprints immediately. It was the only way he could be sure it was me and not an imposter.

“You’ll be going in as yourself,” Dr. Abbott answered.

I nodded understanding. “What’s my cover?”

“You’re a high school student. You can choose your cover.”

“Thank you,” I nodded sweetly.

“And Rick will pose as your father.”

“Oh, come now, Sam,” I replied, crossing my arms. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“Not for you. For my son,” Dr. Abbott supplied. “Rick will help you with your cover.”

“Your son needs two bodyguards?” I asked, unable to believe the turn the assignment had taken.

“There will be more than one of them coming for him,” Dr. Abbott replied. “And we don’t know if any are … well … like you.”

“Meaning, a shape shifter,” I supplied, rolling my eyes. Great. I was going to babysit a teenage boy and didn’t know how many or what exactly was coming after him and I was to pose as a teenage girl with a father. I must be insane. “I’ll do it. When do we leave?”

“Immediately,” Dr. Abbott replied. It was certainly dangerous, probably entailing more danger than he revealed. I’d known Dr. Abbott for years and, despite our exchange, I liked him and trusted his judgment. It must have been very serious, indeed. “Rick will apprise you of the details on the way.”

“On the way?” I asked Dr. Abbott, unbelieving. “He doesn’t live here in Washington D.C.?”

“No,” his faded grey eyes turned sad. “He lives with his mother and she’s refusing protection.”

“I see.” It
was
serious. I thought for a moment, remembering the vow I took to preserve human life, then I turned back to Abbott. “Sam, I’ll take care of him. I promise.”

He nodded, taking my hands into his. I already had his body print, after all. Then Dr. Abbott looked directly into my bright green eyes with all the seriousness he could manage. “I’m counting on it.”

I nodded, understanding. He wouldn’t be sending us unless it was serious.

“We’d better be going,” Rick said, interrupting my reverie. “We have a long ride ahead of us.”

I nodded, squeezing Sam’s hand one last time. And within moments, we were in Rick’s black Mercedes GL450 SUV on our way to who knows where to be a bodyguard to a teenage boy I didn’t know. Heaven help me.

Rick steered his Mercedes SUV onto US-50 E on our way to Maryland. Great. I wondered where we were going, but didn’t feel the inclination to ask.

“Clothes?” I asked Rick, who was concentrating intently on the road even though he didn’t need to. His reflexes were so great that he could deflect an accident in the time it takes to flutter an eyelash.

“Packed,” Rick responded. His bright green eyes never left the road. All vampire’s eyes are green. He must have a lot on his mind. But out of anyone in the world, he was the one person I trusted the most. I would give my life for him, since he once gave me mine.

I nodded. Not that it mattered. I could always get something when we arrived. But if we were going to some remote area, it might draw attention if I started receiving weekly deliveries from Sax. I leaned back, settling in for a long ride, thinking of Rick, and how it all began.

***

My father and I lived in Boston, Massachusetts, when we first met Rick, Fredrick, as he was known then. I was young, only 16, and it was the year of our Lord 1773. I was infatuated with Fredrick’s dark good looks, his light brown wavy hair with burnished highlights that glowed amber in the sun, and brilliant green eyes. I had seen him around town, but when our eyes met, I quickly averted them, as a proper lady of the day should.

Not long after, he became a friend of my father’s, and was very dashing, even though he was a bit older than myself, appearing to be in his mid-twenties. The British had already landed and had lived among us for a few years, hoping to regain control of the colonies. But it was already too late. Britain had allowed us to survive on our own for many years and we had formed our own government. When Great Britain tried to exercise their control over us, we rebelled.

Then one night, my father had dressed up as an Indian, going so far as to smear ashes and soot over his skin and face, and carried a tomahawk. The garb did not cover his protruding belly and he had even discarded his powdered wig—as was the style—for the occasion.

I stifled a giggle upon observing his absurd manner of dress. “Where, pray tell, are you going tonight? Perhaps to a masquerade, father?” I held my hand to my face to conceal my amusement.

“No, child,” Father replied. “Never you mind, just go to bed, young lady.”

Then, children did not question their parents, but I was almost of marrying age—a lady. “Where are you going, father?”

“Do not ask questions that you do not want the answer to!” Father bellowed. Although his voice sounded funny coming from this Indian, I did not laugh. He was serious. He began again, calmly, “I do not want you to be party to the events of this night, child. It is better that you were not involved. Now, lock the door when I leave and go to bed.”

“But father …”

“Do as I say!” he ordered.

With wide eyes, I nodded. Father never spoke to me in this manner! How could he do so now?

“When I go, lock the door behind me, Abigail,” Father ordered as he opened the heavy wooden door, making an eerie creaking sound. He paused in the doorway, “I love you, child.” And a moment later, he was gone.

Confused, I rushed to the door, holding it open. And in the street, my father joined other men, each dressed as Indians just as my father, with their faces and arms smeared with soot, and among the men stood Fredrick. Eying me in the doorway, he stopped and met my gaze, then turned and joined the other men.

Later, I learned this was the night of the famous Boston Tea Party. My father, along with Fredrick and many other men, threw barrels of tea from three British ships in the harbor into the Hudson River in protest of taxation without representation within the British courts.