To Catch a Vampire (9 page)

“You’re a great dancer,” Denise says.

“Thanks,” I say, swinging my arms in the air.

“Your boyfriend’s, like, really cute,” she says. “You can tell he totally loves you.”

Really? “Thank you.” I don’t even correct her by pointing out that Oliver is supposed to be my husband.

“He’s old, like really old, right? He’s kind of scary.”

“Oliver’s a pussycat.”

“I bet Freddy’d like to meet him. He so likes hanging out with the old ones. Always gives them, like, the freshest blood and great parties. I could totally introduce you!”

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

A semi-normal looking boy in khakis and black shirt smiles at Denise, who smiles back. She spins away from me to start grinding on the boy. I take this opportunity to slip off the dance floor and back up the stairs, where Oliver sits talking to a handsome African American man sporting long cornrows, sunglasses, and tight leather. Both look up from their full drinks as I approach.

“Did you enjoy yourself, my darling?” Oliver asks. “We certainly enjoyed watching you, did we not Phineus?”

Phineus smiles, showing off his fangs, white as snow. We’re just making friends left and right tonight. I sit beside Oliver, who immediately drapes his arm over my shoulders, pulling me to him.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt you two,” I say.

“We were just comparing the nightlife now as opposed to back in the eighties.”

“The 1880s,” Phineus says with a thick Southern accent.

I grab my drink and sip. “Right.”

“A simpler time,” Oliver says.

Just what I need. Two old farts talking about the good ole’ days. We’ll be here all night. “Fewer people too, I bet. It’s so hard to find people nowadays. It seems that even the vamp population has boomed. We’ve been trying to find some old friends of Oliver’s, and it’s been near impossible. Maybe you’ve seen him. JR, thin, black hair, hangs out in a group?”

Phineus isn’t paying attention. He waves to a Nubian beauty in a gold dress on the other side of the room, and then stands up. “Sorry. Excuse me.” Our new friend walks toward the woman.

I scoff. “Are all vamps rude? I mean, did all their manners get sucked out with the blood?”

“It would appear so,” Oliver replies with a thoughtful smile. “I am sorry you are not enjoying yourself tonight.”

“We’re working. It’s not supposed to be fun.” I sip my drink. “So, now what?”

“You dance more. I do enjoy watching you.”

“My feet are killing me.”

“Then we sit here, taking in the ambiance, and wait for others to come.”

“How do you know they will?”

“I intrigue them. They can feel my power.”

“‘Your power?’ Conceited much?”

“I am an elder. With age comes power. That is why there is no Lord or Lady under three hundred years old ruling a territory.”

“Then why aren’t you off ruling Hawaii or North Carolina or something?”

“I abhor politics.”

“Speaking of politics, why don’t we just go talk to this Freddy guy and see if he knows our people? I mean, he’s the ruler, he
should
know what’s going on, right?”

“It is not an option.”

“But he—”

“It. Is. Not. An. Option,” he says, drawing out every word.

“Okay! I won’t suggest it again.”

My female intuition is tingling. There’s a story here, and I’ll get it out of him yet. Until then, I need another drink.

_____

Three hours, two rum and Cokes, and a glass of water later, we pull into the garage of the Dauphine. And I am tired. I haven’t been up until two clubbing since I was nineteen. I remember why now. My feet throb. My legs ache. I smell like a locker room. Who knew I’d feel so old at twenty-six?

And it was boring.
So
boring. We sat there for the most part waiting for vamps to approach and make polite conversation. About once every half hour one or two join us, talk for about ten minutes, and then go back to hunting. One after the other these impossibly beautiful creatures paid homage to us. And with over a thousand years between them, what did they talk about? The Black Death? The Sixties? Nope: fashion and celebrities. Maybe they’ve spent too much time playing human, I don’t know, but I was surprised Oliver knows so much about
The Real Housewives
.

Some knew our vamps, though. Either seen them around or shared a meal with them. We got the name and description of two more: Liang and Ken, both skinny Asians with matching pixie haircuts. All were at the club Purgatory on multiple occasions, where Linda and Don were last seen. Guess where we’re spending tomorrow night? Maybe there will be a staking to break the monotony.

I climb off the bike and pull down my skirt before Oliver turns around. I can breathe again when I pull the helmet off. My hair’s plastered to my face by a thin layer of sweat covering my whole head. It is eighty degrees at two a.m. I hate Texas.

We walk—well, I hobble—up to the house without a word. I open the door and a blast of cold air escapes. The house is quiet. If I’m lucky everyone is out doing their bloodsucking thing. It looks as if I did luck out until we reach the stairs; Marianna steps out of the library, blood-filled glass in her hand.

“Hello, you two,” she says with a sly grin. “Enjoy your night?”

“We did, thank you,” Oliver says.

“Not turning in for the night, I hope? We have so much to catch up on,” she says, licking her lower lip. I have the strongest urge to take off my heel and stab her with it.

“Later perhaps. Come on, my darling.” He lightly presses on the small of my back. I start up the stairs with him close behind. I don’t open my mouth until the second lock clicks on our door.

“What a b-word,” I say, peeling off my boots. Dear Lord, does that feel good. Tomorrow I’m burning these darn things.

He drapes his jacket on the chair. “Only to some,” he says.

I sit on the bed with a sigh, and start massaging my poor feet. I’ll have to do this for hours to make them even ten percent better. “Oww.”

“Would you like me to—”

“Absolutely not,” I snap. “I think you’ve touched me enough for one day, thank you.” Three times he lightly ran his thumb across the mound of my breast. I’ll admit, the first time I got the tingles, but by the third I wanted to bite the finger off.

“I have had centuries to perfect my technique.”

“So you keep reminding me.” I start pressing on the other foot. “I’m sure Marianna would love to let you practice your technique.” This isn’t working. I’m too tense. I know what I need, something I’ve been dying to do since I set foot in this crappy state. “Why don’t you make our report to Kansas?”

“Very well.”

I pull out my suitcase and root around until I find my pjs and swimsuit. I’ve never been one to pass up a pool, and luckily most of the hotels we stay at have one. I’ll swim, shower, and then crash. I purposely packed my ugliest pajamas: a Wango Tango oversized shirt and white cotton pants. The swimsuit is a black one-piece that hides my tummy. While I do this, Oliver retrieves his cell phone and dials Kansas. I shut the door on the bathroom.

Yikes. I haven’t seen a mirror since we left. Wish I’d continued that streak. My makeup is blotchy, the eyeliner and mascara cover half my face, and my hair either sticks up or remains plastered to my head in random places. I’m scarier than any vamp. I have to literally peel off my clothes. The boning on the corset has created some funky indentations on my flesh, almost like welts. I can’t look anymore. I avert my eyes as I pull on the suit. After wrapping a towel around me as tight as a mummy, I step out.

Oliver sits on the bed talking into the phone. “They were very helpful. We had no problems getting access to the files.” His eyes follow me to the door. “Hold on a moment, Wolfe. Trixie, where are you going?”

I open the door. “Swimming.”

“Wait!” But I close the door. As quiet as I can, I creep down the hall to the stairs. Nobody accosts me as I walk down the stairs, through the house, to the backyard.

It’s as beautiful out here as the rest of the house. The same lawn furniture from the upstairs porches sits around the nearly Olympic-sized pool and hot tub. Trees and grass surround the pool, providing extra privacy. Like any body-conscious woman, I step into the blissfully cool pool before tossing off the towel while simultaneously plunging in. I instantly feel better. There is nothing like cool water on a hot night. I sigh as I just float on my back. We’re far enough outside of the main city that some stars shine through. A distant half moon accompanies them. I wonder if Will’s staring up at the same moon this very minute. Probably not. He hates looking at the moon. It must be like gazing at the seconds ticking by before a bomb goes off. Or maybe he is. Maybe he couldn’t sleep and instinctively knows what I’m doing right now, so even though we’re a thousand miles apart, we’re together. I wasn’t lying before. I miss him something fierce. He—

The sound of a closing door pulls me out of the night sky. Oh, wonderful. A shirtless Oliver, sporting only his red boxers, glides toward me. I scoff and roll my eyes. He places his towel on the chair nearest to me.

“I thought I would join you,” he says, slipping into the pool.

“Oh, you did, did you?” I say with another scoff.

“Yes,
wife
,” he says. “I did.”

Oh, crud. We’re in public. I should be happy to see my half-naked husband. I muster a smile. “Great.”

He swims toward me, pale arms gliding in the illuminated water, then past me with grin Number Two until he reaches the edge, where he stands. “We really must purchase you a bikini.”

“When pigs fly, pookie.”

“Come to me.” He beckons with his finger.

I swim to the edge. Immediately he grabs my hand, pulling me into him. I fall into his chest, and at the same time he slams my back into the edge. He presses his entire body onto mine so I’m wedged between concrete and a hot vamp. “What are you doing?”

He answers by lowering his head to my neck. My whole body tenses. The last time his mouth was that close to my neck, I was literally scarred for life. But my skin is met by lips, not fangs. I try to jump away, but can’t. He kisses my neck, twice, then a third time. The tension becomes tingles from toes to eyes. I can’t feel the cold water as my skin warms. My body, hussy it is, betrays me by pressing closer to his. His hard chest pushes into my breasts. My eyes close so there’s nothing but those warm lips, and his body on mine. I think my brain shuts off, especially the reason part. I feel nothing but … yum. My toes curl. A rush of warmth cascades down my body despite the cold water. I’ve imagined this, those lips on me. I run my fingers through his soft hair, tugging on it to bring his lips in tighter. His mouth moves to the other side with more soft kisses. It’s been a long,
long
time since someone’s kissed any part of me. Pol Pot could be kissing me this way, and I’d react. Right? That’s what I thought.

Oliver whispers something, but I’m in fairyland, so all I can muster is “Huh?”

The kisses stop. “I said we are being watched,” he whispers after another kiss.

I wrap my arms around his neck. “Oh.”

He pulls his mouth away. “It is not safe for you to wander around the house alone at night,” he whispers.

With his mouth nowhere near me, I can think again. Crud, there’s someone watching us. “Is that why you followed me?” I whisper.

“Yes.”

The door opens behind us. He leans in, kissing my nose. I giggle like a little girl. “You’re so silly.”

“I do hope I am not interrupting anything,” Marianna says.

I release Oliver, spinning around. Marianna saunters toward us, fake smile on her face. Her eyes give her away. They’re zeroed in on me. Oliver backs away. “We were just … swimming.”

“Is that what they are calling it nowadays?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Um, I think I’ve had enough swimming for one night,” I say. I walk toward the steps and grab my towel. As quick as I can, I wrap it around my wet body—but not fast enough, judging from the amused smile. I’m going to owe Nana a nickel: what a bitch. “Baby, are you coming?”

Oliver glances at me, then Marianna, then back to me. “Of course, my darling.”

Ha. Take that. I hand him his towel as he climbs out, unabashedly drinking his form in with my eyes. After he wraps the towel around his waist, I take his hand, entwining my fingers in his. I pull him toward the house, giving the unmistakably evil eye to Marianna as I pass. She scoffs.

“I will be up for the rest of the night Oliver, if you get bored,” she calls as we step inside. Lord, give me the strength not to stake her.

When we get back to our room I slam the door, hopefully waking up the termites so they can eat this house down around her. “I’m taking a shower,” I mutter.

“It is not wise to anger Marianna,” Oliver says picking up his clothes from the floor. “She has killed people for less than a cruel look.” He puts back on his pants, and when I walk back out from the bathroom, he’s buttoning his shirt.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I have delivered you safely to the room, and now I shall give you privacy. I know you are exhausted.”

“You’re going to talk to
her
, aren’t you?”

“We are on precarious enough footing as it is. Any further trouble, and I fear we will not be able to keep our heads above water. I will attempt to smooth things over with her.”

“I don’t believe this! After how she treated me?”

“It must be done. This has nothing to do with—”

“You are such an unbelievable jerk! If you gave a damn about me you wouldn’t even
think
about her, let alone do what we both know you’re going to do! You kiss me, then you go and kiss her? You don’t care about me at all, do you? You pretend you do, and make me believe you do, and then you … and then you don’t … ugh! What kind of husband are you?”