Blood Curse (6 page)

"Staking me in the neck won't bring an instant death,” he warned as his fangs receded. His own heart raced now, pumping valuable blood through his system, wasting precious power. He was suddenly ravenous.

"No, but it'll make it damned hard for you to drink me before I get a chance to finish you off."

"You're not a killer, Aria.”
But I am,
he thought grimly, as hunger rolled through his system. Even with the stake at his throat he had a good chance of beating her. He could easily push her away from his body, knocking her off balance and buying himself the time he needed to sink fangs into her flesh before she could recoup and shove in the stake. But he couldn't do it. He was far too hungry now. He couldn't trust himself to leave her enough blood, especially when he could sense just how damn good her blood would taste. “Forgive me. I was thirsty and you smelled really good. I won't let it happen again."

"Why should I believe you?"

"I've saved your life once already.”
Please lower the stake so I can spare it once more,
he pleaded silently as his self-control wavered. Damn it. He was two centuries old. His control had been impenetrable for more than one of them. What was it about this woman that weakened it? “I'll allow you to keep the stake,” he said, deciding it might actually be for the best. He doubted the Dream Teller would consider draining the woman to be protection, and in his current state he just didn't know how well he could uphold his vow to keep his fangs out of her flesh. “Just lower it."

He sensed the fear and indecision swirling inside her mind as she remembered their first meeting in the alley behind the nightclub. In her heart she knew he was trustworthy, but her mind wouldn't let go of the fact he was a creature of the night, a monster . . . a vampire who'd came too close to tasting her.

Rialto nearly gasped as realization slammed into him. He was picking up on her thoughts and they hadn't even shared blood. Before that moment he would have sworn such a thing was impossible.

It was his ability to pick up on her thoughts which told him the frightened woman had no intention of lowering the stake. Instead she kept him there, close enough to lick her skin while the hunger inside him grew. He didn't want to fight her, much less drink from her, but his hunger wasn't giving him very many options.

Salvation came in the form of an obese, sweaty pimp. The back door of Fat Kracker's swung open, and a large round man and a young, scantily clad blonde, who was too drugged out of her mind to manage the simple act of walking, came out. The man shoved the girl to the ground and reached into his jacket.

"I'll teach you to steal from me, you filthy crack whore,” he said, pulling out a handgun.

Rialto shoved Aria to the ground and plowed into the man with lightning speed, tackling him before he could get off a shot and knocking the gun from his grasp in the process. The man was too dumbfounded to scream, but he fumbled to defend himself, scratching Rialto's skin with his watch as he tried to get a grip on his throat.

Too hungry to waste time playing with his meal, Rialto sank his fangs into the wet, salty skin covering the man's jugular and drank his fill, ripping his way across the man's neck, making sure he would leave a gaping wound for Aria to watch heal. The man smelled of sweat, smoke and fear, but his blood was rich and quenching, just what Rialto needed.

It didn't take long until he'd satisfied his thirst but the images which assaulted his mind while he drained the man forced him to keep going until he took the last sip of blood the man could spare. It wasn't until the man's heart beat its last beat that he dropped him to the ground like the pile of waste he was and stepped away.

He reached into his back pocket for a moist towelette packet, but stopped short of opening it. Aria needed to see him this way, with his victim's blood dripping from his chin. She needed to see him at his worst in order to chase away any lingering remnants of desire she still held.

"Come here,” he said gruffly, turning to face her, unprepared for what he found.

She had crept a few feet away from the fire escape, positioned as though her initial intention was to run away, but her gaze had apparently locked onto him during the attack. He'd expected terror and disgust, maybe even sympathy for the victim, in her gaze, but instead he found her looking at the scene in rapt fascination, her eyes warmed with hunger.

"Aria!"

She shook her head as though coming out of a trance and looked once more at the scene. The hunger and fascination in her eyes was replaced with fear before she turned and made a run for it.

Rialto bit out a curse and ran with the speed of light, capturing her quickly. He held her with one arm wrapped around her waist, the other clasped over her mouth, and lifted her off the ground. He carried her toward the man as she kicked her legs and tried to bite through his hand, ignoring the pain and the frustration she evoked.

"Look at him,” he ordered, lowering her so she stood firmly on the ground before the dead man's body.

Right before their eyes, the huge gashes he'd made in the man's neck healed. “He is not completely drained,” he explained as she gazed down at the man's body in disbelief. “To kill someone, you drink until the heart ceases to beat and then you let go. Considering the man is an obvious lowlife, there probably won't be much of an investigation into his death. If there is, it'll be determined that he died due to heart failure.” He sensed her fear ebbing and removed his hand from her mouth.

"You didn't have to kill him to prove your point,” she said in a low voice, thick with fury and a touch of guilt. Rialto could touch her mind well enough to realize she thought he'd killed the man for the sole purpose of showing her how the healing properties in vampire saliva worked.

"My initial intention wasn't to kill tonight. Look at her,” he said softly.

Aria shifted her gaze to the blonde lying unconscious on the ground and gasped, finally seeing what he'd known all along. “I thought she was a woman. She's just a girl!"

"I'd say about fifteen.” Rialto's stomach churned in disgust. “This man was her pimp. He made her sell her body and her pay was cocaine, a drug which possessed her and made her do whatever he wanted until he was through with her. He was about to kill her when I intervened. If I hadn't killed him, he would have merely gotten up, dusted himself off, and repeated the process with another unfortunate little girl . . . or boy."

"How do you know he was her pimp?"

"I can see inside people's minds when I drink their blood.” He let her go so he could wipe away the blood starting to dry on his face and waited for a response. After receiving none he took his gaze away from the young girl and turned it toward Aria. His breath caught in his throat as he felt the heat of her desire. He followed her hungry gaze, realizing he hadn't wiped the blood away from his neck where the man's watch had scraped him. She was staring at the scratch and, to his horror, she licked her lips.

"Aria!"

She jumped at his harsh tone as he quickly wiped away the trickle of blood that had escaped the small scratch. It was just like in his dream. She saw his blood and became instantly addicted. He wouldn't let her taste it. She would be lost then.

"I, uh—” she stammered as the longing daze in her eyes subsided. She looked around in confusion and, if he was correct, embarrassment. “The girl. We can't just leave her here, can we?"

"I suppose not,” Rialto murmured. He bent down and hoisted the unconscious girl onto his shoulder. “There's a church nearby. The pastor there is a night owl. He'll watch over her."

"A pastor?"

Rialto grinned as the irony struck her. “Yes, Aria, although you've seen about the worst of me, I still do associate with men of God on occasion. So far I haven't been struck by lightning while crossing over a church's threshold."

Fifteen minutes later, Rialto and Christian, the church's leader and fellow vampire, stood over the young girl's body and prayed. Though he focused his concentration on asking God to save this unfortunate girl from her addiction, he could feel the weight of Aria's disbelieving stare. How sad it made him to know she never would have suspected he prayed, that he believed in God and goodness. He chose not to tell her that Christian was a vampire. She'd had enough surprises for one night.

"Amen.” The vampires ended the prayer in unison.

"Take care of her,” Rialto said, extending his hand to his old friend, a man who was older than him by far but looked younger. His dark hair was cut into a short, boyish style and his flawless, golden skin added to his youthful appearance.

"You know I will,” Christian said solemnly, shaking Rialto's hand before casting a glance to where Aria sat in a nearby pew, her normally bright eyes darkened by a mix of anger, confusion and sorrow as she stared at the young girl's unconscious form. “Who's the woman?"

"Her name is Aria. The Dream Teller sent me to protect her,” Rialto answered, his voice low.

"She's mortal,” Christian stated.

"I know."

"Why would the Dream Teller send you to protect a mortal?"

"I have no clue."

"Well, what are you protecting her from?"

"Again, not a clue. Her mother was murdered not that long ago, left in a park with supposed fang marks in her neck. That probably has something to do with it."

Christian studied Aria for a moment. “Does she have any brothers or sisters?"

"I'm pretty sure she doesn't, why?"

"Because the mother of one of my parishioners, a young man, met the same fate a few weeks ago."

A cold chill ran through Rialto's body. “The killer has struck more than once and is leaving fang marks on the bodies?"

"This is not good."

"That's an understatement. The Dream Teller must have known and sent me here to stop it."

"Maybe the woman is supposed to be the next victim."

Rialto clenched his fists tight, knowing if anyone dared lay a finger on Aria he would rip them limb from limb. He blinked, wondering where his rage came from. Despite the years of dreams, the woman was still a stranger to him.

"Rialto?"

He turned to look at his old friend and noticed the odd look he got in return.

"Rialto, does this woman know what we are?"

He looked away before answering, feeling ten kinds of fool. “She knows what I am, but in my defense, she knew it before we met."

"How could she know? Who is she? Is she a hunter?"

"No,” he answered, grinning at the memory of her in the alley with her little bag of stakes and holy water. “She's just a murdered woman's daughter."

"Murdered women's daughters make vengeful acquaintances. Does she believe a vampire truly killed her mother?"

"She did, but now she knows a vampire couldn't have left fang marks."

"She knows this because you told her and she took your word for it?” Christian asked, but by the way he looked at the teenager's body Rialto could tell he was putting the pieces of the evening together.

"She knows because she watched me kill this young girl's pimp."

"Oh, Rialto, what have you done?"

"I saved a young girl's life and showed a woman hell-bent on revenge that vampires aren't to blame for what happened to her mother,” Rialto answered defensively, already on edge enough from the night's events. He didn't need to be reprimanded by his friend on top of everything else.

"How do you know she doesn't still blame us? She could just be waiting for the right moment to attack."

"I know because I've touched her thoughts,” Rialto admitted, struck again by the enormity of that fact.

"She allowed you to drink from her?"

"I haven't taken a single sip of her blood."

Christian stared at him in confusion. “I thought you could only touch the thoughts of a mortal while you drank from one."

"So did I."

They both focused a curious gaze upon Aria who chose that moment to look up at them. She looked so lost that Rialto's heart constricted just looking at her. He'd give anything to put a smile on her lovely face. Frowning, he wondered where the hell that thought had come from and quickly pushed it aside.

"I need to get this girl situated before my morning rush of parishioners hits,” Christian said, scooping the teenager up in his arms. “Be careful, Rialto. Something strange seems to be going on here. You might want to contact Seta."

"Good idea,” he said in agreement before leveling narrowed eyes on Aria. “And don't worry about me being careful. It takes more than a pretty face to get me to let my guard down.” He might not have to worry about the woman trying to kill him, but he knew she was still dangerous. Witch or not, she was working some kind of magic on him, and for that reason alone, he knew better than to turn his back on her.

He said goodbye to his friend and walked over to Aria. “Ready to go home?"

The look she gave him was spiked so heavily with uncertainty he didn't have to touch her thoughts to know he still frightened her.

"You still have your stake, Aria, and I promise not to touch you. I've already drunk my fill of blood."

"Am I expected to believe you?"

"I'm a lot of things but a liar is not one of them,” he murmured, holding out his hand. “You trusted me enough to bring you here. Nothing about me has changed since then, so trust me enough to see you home."

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes,” Aria answered for the tenth time since their departure from the church, although she didn't know if she would ever be all right again. The very world she had always known no longer existed.

I just witnessed a vampire slaying a man.

She should be frightened, horrified, repulsed,
something
other than what she was feeling. And what was she feeling? Whatever it was, it wasn't normal. But what about her life
was
normal?

Her parents had decided to have a biracial child in tiny little Pickahoe, Indiana, knowing such a thing was not condoned there.

Not normal.

Her father was murdered by white supremacists.

Not normal.

Her skin color changed dramatically from warm seasons to cold, causing her to appear either white or black depending on the time of year.