The Vampire's Protector (9 page)

Chapter 9

S
ummer woke to daylight filtering through the bedroom curtain and the intriguing strains of a violin piece she'd never heard before. It had a gypsy lilt to it. Fun and peppy. Yet, it crackled. Nicolo must have figured how to plug Domingos's violin into the amp she kept out in the garage and turn the volume to low. Good boy.

Did she just think
good boy
? She needed more sleep. Or maybe a new perspective on this situation. She was merely entertaining a visiting celebrity, right?

A celebrity she wouldn't mind learning far more intimate details about than a few kisses and tender hugs.

She rose and wandered into the bathroom. With the curtain still pulled between the bedroom and living room, she had minimal privacy because standing out in the garage, Nicolo could see her shower if he simply turned around. She didn't care. He could look all he liked.

After a shower and brushing her teeth she found a pair of loose jeans in her closet and pulled them on. A Bitter/Sweet T-shirt featured the red outline of devil horns above the band name which looked as if it had been written with spattered blood.

The gypsy dance changed octaves and increased speed. “That's not one of his,” she decided. And when the song suddenly changed to something she did recognize, she was startled. “He's playing Bitter/Sweet's ‘Welcome to the Fire.'” He'd managed to pick it up merely by hearing it performed once last night.

“He really is a genius.”

In the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of water and then wandered into the garage barefoot. She wiggled her toes appreciatively on the cool concrete.

Nicolo hadn't turned around once while she'd been showering. Bummer.

Ahem.

The guy wore the same pants he'd been buried in and no shirt. The muscles on his back flexed deliciously as his bow arm moved back and forth, teasing the strings to sing. She'd always been a back kind of girl. Abs and biceps? Nothing wrong with the front side. But a wide-shouldered back with muscles that screamed for exploration? Add to that the lush fall of coal-black hair skimming those muscles? Mmm... Her fingers ached for touch.

He certainly could not have gotten those muscles during his previous lifetime. Beyond their fingering skills, violin players were not known for their physical prowess. And she suspected the concept of working out hadn't existed back in his time. He did have long fingers that quickly danced across the strings. She recalled the history she'd read about him had claimed a doctor who had once examined him had made the statement that his hands and fingers were large but not abnormally so. Nicolo simply had dexterity, flexibility and speed attributed to years of practice.

A glance over his shoulder spied her, and he stopped playing. “I like that composition!”

“I guess you do. You remember it from last night?”

“Yes, but I prefer it in E minor.”

“I noticed. I think Johnny would like that version, as well. Keep that up and you'll be a heavy-metal rock god in no time.”

“That sounds favorable.” He splayed out his arms, which gave her a great view of his hard pectorals and impossibly rigid abs. “I don't mind being compared to a god.”

“I imagine not.” She didn't mind the view either.

“But it does crackle, yes?”

“Yeah, that's the pickup. Need to fix that. So what was the gypsy dance you were playing before this one?”

“Ah, just something I made up while you were showering. I didn't look. Well, not too much.”

She felt a blush rise, and that was so startling she twisted at the waist as if she was looking for something in the kitchen. But really? She wasn't afraid of a little flirtation. And she had been eyeing him up, down and all around. “Nothing wrong with looking.”

“Is that so? Then next time I will look longer.” He winked. “As for the gypsy tune, when previously alive I was constantly filled with inspiration. I am so pleased my muse has not left me. Though, the whispers are distracting.” He twirled the violin bow and pointed upward as if to indicate something coming from above. “Must be your neighbors.”

“The whispers?”

He swung the bow before him, pointing all about. “Don't you hear it? Sort of a subtle whisper. I can't make out the words, but it is annoying.”

“You must be hearing voices, buddy. I don't hear anything but the buzz from the amp. I need to tear that apart and check out its insides.”

And yet. She had heard whispers while down in the storage room where she'd found the violin. Was it coincidence?

“So are you up for some clothes shopping today?” she asked.

“Oh yes. It was a great struggle to force myself to put on these trousers. I was buried in this clothing, by God. It doesn't feel comfortable but rather like something a zombie would wear.”

Summer chuckled. “You know I was just kidding about the zombie thing.”

“You were not. And that's perfectly fine. Neither of us knows what will come of me. Let's just keep our hopes up for all my parts staying intact, shall we?”

Summer's eyes strayed to his abs. “Fingers crossed,” she said. Sucking in the corner of her lip, she restrained herself from reaching to touch.

“Now you are looking at me.”

“Huh? Uh...that I am. Lots to admire.”

He straightened, preening a palm down his abs. “I thank you for the compliment.”

Yes, well, if she didn't turn and find something better to do right now she'd probably have to touch him. And then all thoughts would turn to biting him. Deeply, and for a very long time. Mmm...

“I got a text from Verity this morning,” she said, fleeing the sensual thought. “The witch I told you about. We can stop by her place after we suit you up in some new clothes.”

“I am hungry, as well. You don't have any food in your fancy icebox with the light that flickers on when you open the door.”

“Yeah, well...” She pointed toward her chest. “Vampire.”

“Tell me about that,” he said as he set the violin in the case and loosened the bow before also placing that in the case. “Do you bite people every day?”

“I need blood about once a week.” More so really, because of her small drinks, but she didn't like to reveal that terrible anxiety to others. “It tastes great. No, I don't kill people.” Not anymore, if she could help it. “Don't have to take that much blood to survive. And, no, you can't watch. Anything else?”

“Touchy,” he muttered, and he slid his eyes down her for an assessing summation. “As a matter of fact, there is something else I am curious about.” One hand stroked up his chest to rest over his heart. His eyes met hers in a stunning fix of smoldering connection. “Is drinking blood a sensual experience for you?”

She raised a brow, seeking truth in his eyes. Was he asking for himself or purely out of curiosity? Because she got the questions all the time. That's why she quickly rattled off all the answers to get it over with. But something in the glint dashing his pupils made her wonder about his intentions. And she wanted to entertain those curious thoughts.

She cautioned her tone to not touch a tease. “Do you want me to bite you, Nicolo?”

“If it is a sensual thing?” He glided a palm down his bare chest. Man, oh man, did that move make her heartbeats stutter and her skin grow warm. Such a fine piece of man flesh. “I'd give it a try.”

“But if you're not going to get off then it's not worth the pain, eh?”

“Get off?”

She shrugged. “Get hot. Get aroused. You know.”

“It's been a while,” he said. “I do have...needs.”

“As do I. The first of which is—” Not getting emotionally involved!

He held up a finger to silence her. His eyes traced the ceiling then down around the room. “You don't hear that?”

Was this a side effect of him rising from the grave? Or would she have to face the realization that whatever she'd unearthed down in the Italian cellar might have followed them here? Because she didn't have the violin in her possession anymore. Yet if he were still hearing those same silvery whispers she had heard...

“No, I don't hear anything. What's it saying?”

“Nothing distinguishable.” He shook his head yet tilted it as if seeking the source. “Odd. It seems to trail about inside this carriage parking area.”

In the kitchen, Summer's cell phone rang. “Don't follow it,” she said as she went to answer the ring. “It could be something you don't want to meet. Hello?”

“Summer, this is CJ.”

“Oh hey.” She had expected Director Pierce. “You get the violin tagged and tossed?”

“Is that what you Retrievers call it? We don't toss the objects you collect. We handle them very carefully. And in fact, I did tag the black violin last night after you handed if off to me. I set it in storage and then went to look for some heavy-duty wards. Still hadn't found any until this morning. When I intended to ward the violin, and notify the Director of Acquisitions the mission was complete, I found the spot on the shelf empty.”

“What?”

“The violin is gone. I've searched the stacks, thinking I might have misplaced it. We do have a large storage room. Nothing. I know where I had placed it because the dust is disturbed. Now it's gone. Have you seen it?”

“Why would I...”

Her vision wandered into the garage, where Nicolo paced around the Veyron her father had driven into a street pole. What was whispering to him?

She didn't have to wonder very long.

“I don't know,” CJ said. “Sometimes the objects we store have a mind of their own. I should have put a basic ward on it to hold it tight, though I doubt that would have been sufficient. You might take a look around to see if it's returned to you for some odd reason. Otherwise, I'll take a look through the entire Archives. It's got to be here somewhere. Then again, if it was created with diabolic magic...” His sigh rifled over Summer's shoulders in a chilly warning.

“Sure, CJ, I'll look around. Let me know if you find it.”

He rang off, and before she could click off, Nicolo rushed toward the Audi. It was as if he were being called toward the car by an unseen force.

“Nicolo!” she called. “What are you doing?”

“I'm following it,” he hastily said over his shoulder.

The silver Audi needed a wash after her adventure through Italy. He stopped before the trunk and pressed his palms to it and then leaned down to put his ear to the place where CJ had performed remarkable auto-body magic.

“What is going on?” she said, coming to a stop beside him.

“The whispers. They are inside this vehicle,” he stated. “Open it, if you please.”

“But. That's impossible. There's no one in my trunk. And the violin is gone. You saw me hand it to CJ last night.”

Though, after talking to CJ...

He splayed his hands toward the trunk, indicating she open it. “Humor me?”

“Hang on. The keys are in the kitchen.” She quickly retrieved the keys.

Nicolo leaned against the car, hands on the trunk behind him. The pose showed off his ripped abs. And she could not look away. Nor did she.

“It's odd, isn't it?” he said as she realized her gaze was glued on his midsection. “I've never had such toned muscles. I like this new life.”

She sucked in a breath and steeled herself not to stare. “Move aside.”

He did so. Summer clicked the trunk release, and it popped open. They both gasped upon seeing what sat inside.

Chapter 10

S
ummer watched Nicolo's hands move toward the violin. She grabbed his wrist, wrenching him away from the trunk. “Do not touch that thing.”

“How did it get in there? I saw you hand it to the dark witch last night.” He rubbed his bare arms, then reached toward the trunk again and recoiled. Yet his hands shook and his breathing had increased.

It was as if he was compelled, and Summer feared that compulsion. It had been activated when she had discovered the violin. It may not stop until the instrument was destroyed.

“Yes, we've got to destroy it.”

“No!” Now he was the one to grab her by the shoulders and pull her away from the trunk. “Bring it back to your Archives. Just get it away from here.”

“It has to be destroyed or it will continue to whisper to you. I've heard those whispers, Nicolo. It wants you to play it. Don't you understand that?”

“Yes, I understand that. Do you realize how difficult it is for me to stand here and
not
grab that abomination?” He shoved a hand through his hair, clenched his fingers and then shouted. Slamming a fist on the trunk edge, he cursed. “I have to play it!”

She struggled with him as he grabbed the case. He was strong, but she was, too. An elbow to his ribs forced another curse out of him.

“Summer, it is mine!”

She managed to jam her foot against his knee, bringing him down, and he released the case. Summer slammed the trunk shut with the violin inside. He lunged for her, gripping her around the throat. But he didn't squeeze. Eyes wild, he shook his head and released her as quickly as he'd grabbed her.

“I'm sorry! The cursed thing wants me! Please, get it away from me!”

“I'll take care of it,” she said.

He stood back, nodding resolutely. Fingers clenching and unclenching by his sides, his jaw tightened. He was not defeated, but she sensed he would not harm her to get to it. Unless the compulsion grew too strong. Then what would he do? He was capable of defeating her; she had felt his strength.

“Go...play Domingos's violin. Maybe that will satisfy the weird compulsion you feel,” she said. “I'll be back in a bit and when I return, I'll take you shopping for some clothes.”

He slapped a hand to his bare chest, nodded, then silently turned to the kitchen. But he paused a few steps away and looked back.

Summer shook her head at him. She had brought this black violin up from hiding; it was now her responsibility to put it back into hiding.

“Thank you,” he muttered. “I truly do not want to harm you, Summer. I admire you. I...I desire you.”

She gulped hearing that statement. They were both on the same page—when they were not at each other's throats.

“And while I am smart enough to realize it is the violin that unleashes my wicked temper,” he continued, “I also know I can't fight that compulsion.”

“I get that. I'll get rid of it. Just stay here. Okay?”

“Yes, I will pick up the violet violin.” He staggered toward Domingos's violin.

And Summer saw then how helpless he was to fight the compulsion. It spoke to him in ways she could never imagine. It had been connected to him, since the nineteenth century.

She jumped in the car and shifted into Reverse. As she backed onto the street she knew she had to drive...somewhere. Where? If she brought it back to the Archives the violin would return here, she felt sure of that. It had to be destroyed. And buried.

“Yes,” she muttered and steered toward the vast city park, the Bois de Boulogne.

* * *

Nicolo paced the floor. He repeatedly passed the violet metal violin, glaring at it. It was an abomination. Electrified?

“No,” he muttered. Not an abomination. The violet instrument produced exquisite sound. Nothing about it was wrong, if he overlooked the crackles that Summer said she could fix. It was a veritable work of art for this new age in which he found himself.

The abomination was the black violin Summer had found in Cella Monte. Why had Achille not destroyed that violin? Had his son tried? What dark evils had kept his son from accomplishing that task? He didn't want to know what Achille might have suffered to accomplish the task he had asked of him.

Who owned the home in Cella Monte and had taken care of the horrible thing all these years? Would knowing provide him a clue?

If it did, what would it matter? It still called to him—he could sense the wicked lure rushing through his veins—yet the whispers had faded. Thankfully. Still, he worried about Summer alone with the thing. It was pure evil. Would she be safe? She had been alone with it once already. And that event had brought him back from death.

Perhaps he should have gone along with her.

No. He turned and paced a line before the gray divan. He wanted to go along only to get his hands on the thing and play it. Because he must. His fingers yearned to hold the neck and glide the bow across the strings. It was all he could think of. It was as if he had been resurrected only for that purpose.

Had he been? Had his resurrection merely been the first step? And then to play the thing would grant him the power he had denied so adamantly all his life. Sure, he was strong now, and he had some strange ability to read people by touch.

He'd seen Himself. Had witnessed the creature's dark, ineffable powers. And...now he felt those very same powers as a seed within his own body. Just waiting for germination via melody.

Yelling in frustration, he turned and punched a fist into the wall. It dented inward, and the thick layer of white paint cracked under his fingers. Drawing back the fist, he rubbed his knuckles. Foolish. He was a musician. He hands were his greatest asset. And the punch had done little to alleviate his aggravation.

Summer had been gone over an hour. Where was she? He should go looking for her.

Yes, he would go out and find the violin—er, Summer.

He paused on his route to the shower area, where his shirt and shoes waited. Shook his head.

Just sit. She will return. Without the evil thing. Play the electric violin. Get lost in that feeling. And all will be well
.

The garage door glided upward, and Nicolo jumped and turned about.

Summer parked and got out with a smile on her face. “Just me. Didn't mean to give you a fright.”

She shoved blond strands from her dirt-smeared face and wandered toward the kitchen. Nicolo followed on her heels, noting her jeans were dirty and her hands, as well. With a glance to the wall he'd punched, she turned to give him a lift of brow.

“Sorry. I'll see to the repair of that.”

“Don't worry about it. I know you're frustrated.”

“Yes, well, what have you been up to?” he asked.

“I buried it,” she said without fanfare. “In a big wooded area.”

“You—” Offended that she take such a fine instrument and bury it, Nicolo stopped himself from protesting. Much as his heart pleaded against the travesty, she had done what she felt the right thing. “Your Acquisitions will not be upset?”

“I tried to contact the director, with no reply. He's in meetings with some bigwigs all day. So I had to take matters into my own hands. That violin is dangerous.”

“What if someone were to dig it up?”

She paused before the shower and slid her fingers down the glass wall. “I made sure it would be unusable. I need to take a shower. If you don't mind giving me a bit of privacy by maybe taking the violin over to the corner of the garage?”

“Yes, but—Summer.” He touched her arm, pausing her again. He smudged her cheek with a thumb, wiping off some of the dirt. Could he find the instrument? If he followed the whispers—no!

Forcing himself to accept what she had done, and knowing it was what was right, Nicolo nodded resolutely. “I thank you again. I know you are trying to protect me. It means very much to me that you care.”

“I got you into this mess. I should probably do my best to get you out of it.”

“I can keep myself out of it by refusing to play the violin.”

“But do you have a choice?”

“I'm not sure.” He took her hand. Images of her life started to assault him. He could see her digging a hole in the park, and he swiftly pushed that away. Yes, he could control it. Good. “I don't like to feel so ineffectual. I've always taken charge of my life, be it good, bad or mistakes made I lived to regret.”

“Like gambling?”

“You know about that?”

“History records you opened a casino right here in Paris.”

“Yes, what a fabulous failure. I do love the thrill of a wager. Does it still stand? Are there yet casinos in this new age?”

“Everywhere. If you're nice to me, I might even take you to a modern one.”

He straightened. “I would like that. Something to distract my mind from other things.”

“Like wanting to play music?”

“Oh, I always want to play. It's just I've to be careful which violin I do play. That electric one seems safe, yes?”

“Yes. Play that one all you like. But I'll have to get it back to Domingos soon. They have another gig next weekend.”

“Yes, you must return it to its owner. Perhaps I could purchase my own? Though I haven't any money. I'll have to make due with listening to others perform. I'd love to see the opera.”

“We could do that this evening. They usually offer last-minute ticket sales on cancellations. But I'm a mess. If we're to get you some new clothes none of the shops on the rue Royale would allow me in looking like this. Give me twenty minutes and I'll be a new person.”

Nicolo asked, “Might I...join you?”

He looked around the shower wall to see she had paused from lifting her shirt and turned to look over her shoulder. The tiniest smile curved her mouth. And then she said, “Yes.”