Blood Curse (7 page)

Not normal.

Her mother was murdered by a vampire, only it wasn't a real vampire because they don't leave marks, so it must have been someone pretending to be a vampire.

So
not normal.

And now she was sitting in her apartment with a real vampire, a sexy as hell vampire who repeatedly seduced her in her dreams, no less. A vampire who had just killed a man in front of her, and rather than be disgusted, she had felt herself wanting to . . . what? Reach out with her tongue and lick that small trace of blood which had seeped out of the scrape on his neck, that small trickle she had smelled from eight feet away?

Way not normal.
In fact, it was down right demented, and that made her one sick puppy.

"Maybe I shouldn't have fed in front of you."

No, you shouldn't have,
she thought as she looked at Rialto, who sat on her sofa, his long legs stretched out before him as he leaned back against the cushions, each arm stretched out over the back. It worried her how natural he looked lounging on her sofa, in her apartment, in her life.

"Well, for what it's worth, I believe you now,” she conceded.

"Then at least it worked.” His eyes were full of concern, odd as that was.

She found herself wanting to cross the floor, wanting to get closer, but instead opted to remain seated at the dinette table. Her mind was tired and making her see things that weren't there. This man was not a protector, despite having saved her life. He was a vampire, and she couldn't overlook that little fact.

"So, the question is, who killed my mother and made it look like a vampire had done it? And what was the motive?” she asked, needing to get her mind off him and what he'd done.

He seemed to think about that. “Any number of enemies. Anyone who knew for a fact of our existence and wanted to bring us out into the open, some twisted vampire wannabe, a psychopath . . . or some wacko who just thought it would be fun to see what would happen once her body was found like that. I don't know."

Aria nearly smiled, so thankful he hadn't referred to her mother as “The Body” like the jerks at Baltimore Homicide did. To them, once a person died, they became just another body. They failed to think of that person as someone who meant a great deal to those who were left behind, someone who had been filled with so much life. An errant tear escaped before she could blink it back.

"Aria."

"I'm fine,” she choked as raw emotion filled her throat, more tears threatening to fall, but he was already kneeling before her.

"We'll find her killer."

"
We'll
find her killer? Why are you being so helpful now? It wasn't so long ago you threatened to kill me."

"It wasn't so long ago
you
tried to kill
me
,” he responded with a hint of a smile. “The Dream Teller sent me to you for a reason, and so far your mother's murder is the only reason I can see."

"You were sent to help me find my mother's murderer?"

"I think so. For whatever reason, this murderer branded your mother with fang marks. My kind can't take the risk of mortals discovering our existence."

"I take it you won't be calling the police if you find the killer?"

"We have our own way of meting out justice,” he answered, his eyes darkening with the promise of retribution.

"Maybe it's wrong of me, but I'm glad to hear that,” Aria admitted. “Anyone evil enough to kill a woman as kind as my mother deserves no mercy."

She thought back to the alley behind Fat Kracker's and imagined him delivering the same justice to her mother's killer. The image stirred something inside her, some dark part of her struggling to get out, and she recalled the scent of Rialto's blood so strongly he may as well have been bleeding before her now. Her mouth watered with anticipation as she wondered how rich and flavorful his blood would taste coating her tongue.

Shocked by her own thought, Aria bolted straight up in her chair, her mouth gaping as she looked into Rialto's narrowed eyes.

"What is it?” he asked.

"N-nothing,” she stammered trying to still her heart before it lurched out of her chest. What the hell was wrong with her? “I'm just trying to piece together why someone would kill my mother and make it look as if she were a vampire victim."

"Are you sure that's all?” He seemed to study every inch of her face, his stare cutting right through her, straight inside her mind. And suddenly she knew that he knew. Just like he knew it when he saw her staring at that small trickle of blood on his neck, licking her lips, thinking of what it would taste like. He
knew
.

"Of course."

He didn't believe her. Any idiot could see the proof of that etched into every line of his gorgeous, bronzed face.

"Aria, what you saw tonight, what you've been through, would be hard for anyone to understand. I know it must be confusing, and you're probably unsure about what exactly it is you're feeling right now . . .” He broke off, letting his gaze fall to the floor, as if he might find the rest of what he wanted to say scattered there.

"I'm fine,” Aria said a bit too defiantly, and wondered if she was trying to convince herself instead of him.

He shrugged as if giving up on the argument—if it could even be classified as an argument—and walked back over to the sofa. He snagged Alfred Dunn's journal from the coffee table before sinking back onto the blue cushions. He leafed through the pages and let out a grunt of derision. “How did you come to gain possession of this?"

"I got it at the library. The librarian's aide knew that I was studying vampires—"

"Studying ways to kill us, you mean."

"I thought one of you had killed my mother."

Rialto shrugged, his body language seeming to say it was all water under the bridge. “I can't believe you came across this at a library. I knew this man."

"You knew Alfred Dunn?"

"How else do you think he knew my name? He was a rather odd fellow. He saw dead people. He communicated with them."

"Really?” Aria tried to recall what she'd read in the journal earlier. “He doesn't mention that in the diary."

"Actually, he does. Many of his “sources” listed in here are actually apparitions. To him, seeing dead people was normal. What actually fascinated him was the vampire race. I think that's what drove him crazy. He wanted to hate us, but instead he was in awe of us."

"Why?"

"I have no idea. I only met him once, when he was searching for Eron."

"Did you know Eron?"

"Yes. We were part of The Order, a group of vampires who made it our mission to bring true justice upon the evil who walked among us. We only drank from truly horrid people, killing them in the process. Murderers, rapists, and the worst of all—child abusers."

"Why did Eron kill Alfred Dunn's son?"

"He was a child molester. He never touched his own, but there were plenty of other small victims. Eron never warned Alfred, though. Alfred had a vision, saw Eron feeding on his son. I'm afraid by the time that incident had happened, Alfred's special gifts had already started to drive him mad."

"Alfred Dunn was a psychic?” Aria turned toward Rialto, intrigued by the story.

"Yes, his main gift being the ability to see and converse with the dead. When he had the vision of Eron killing his son, he started hunting us, but he never really posed a threat. He was too intrigued by us to harm us, and we were too intrigued by him. The ability to speak to the dead is something we envy, especially since we have lost so many lives dear to us."

She'd never thought of that. Her own soul was weighed down with grief after losing two parents. How many loved ones had Rialto loved and lost? And why did she feel jealous over the thought of Rialto possibly having loved other women?

"Anyway, some of the stuff in this journal is accurate, like the lists of names and known hangouts, even if it's outdated. Most of what's in here, though, are just the bitter rantings of an old man who loved his son dearly and refused to see the evil inside him."

"An old man who insisted on blaming the real evil on your kind."

"Yes, and it sickened him that he was intrigued by us. Many are intrigued by us. It's not a crime."

Aria cringed under his gaze, knowing exactly what he was referring to. Unfortunately, what she felt while watching him feed was more than intrigue. It was the same thing that coursed through her blood in those fragments of dreams she remembered. Pure, undiluted lust.

"What's the reality, Rialto? What's it like being a vampire?"

He sighed heavily, seeming to mull over the thought. “We're just like everyone else, only we're harder to kill and we do need to drink blood to live, just not as often as people would assume. Unless of course we want to remain powerful. As I said earlier, there are good and bad in all life forms. That's true for us, too. But the good ones—we try to destroy the bad before they can do any harm.” His eyes closed for a second and Aria saw a slight flinch as his skin pulled taut. She wondered what awful memory he was reliving but didn't dare to ask.

Then he opened his eyes and continued, “Bottom line, we're stronger than you and we're immune to disease. Some may think it's great to live nearly forever but it's a lonely existence and I wouldn't change over anyone."

"Change over?” Aria couldn't hold back the awe that escaped into her voice but immediately wished she had when Rialto's hard, burning eyes torched through her. “Not that I want to be changed over. I was just curious. I mean, can anyone be turned? How exactly does it work?"

"None of your damn business.” Rialto rose abruptly and moved across the room, stopping in front of a piece of artwork hanging on the wall. He pretended to study it, but the effort was a thin disguise. He was avoiding her curiosity, clear and simple.

Aria wrung her hands, unsure what she'd done to offend him. Had she even offended him or was something else wrong? She wished she could see his face. Maybe it held a clue as to what was going through his mind, but he kept his back to her.

Turning her head to gaze out the window, she was instantly filled with alarm. The first pale golden hues were rising in the sky, indicating the coming of dawn, and there was a vampire standing in her living room.

"The sun is starting to come up,” she said, an edge of panic in her voice. “Shouldn't you be locked in a coffin or secured in a dark cave by now?"

His back shook with laughter. “You have been watching way too many movies,” he said, turning to face her. She took in the laugh lines splayed around his eyes and wondered how old he'd been when he'd been turned. Late twenties to early thirties, she assumed. “Ironically,” he said, his mouth twisting into a grin, “I did hide in a cave just a few days ago as I entered Maryland, but only because I could sense you so strongly and my stubbornness wouldn't allow me to take time to rent a room. I don't need a coffin, Aria. A dark room will suffice."

"But I thought the slightest bit of daylight—"

He cut her off with a shake of his head. “Only direct rays from the sun can harm us, not daylight itself, and I'm old enough that I've built up some immunity. I can't tolerate it for long, but I won't instantly burst into flame."

"But you'll still burn before you can get back to where you're staying?"

"Yes."

Aria bit her lip, her gut instincts warring with common sense. He was a vampire, a strong, incredibly fast predator who drank human blood and had nearly lost control with her once. Yet he was also a protector, a man who'd saved her from two street punks and had rescued a young girl from a brutal pimp. He was also her best chance of seeing justice rendered. If the police caught her mother's killer they'd put him in a prison and he might be released years later. If Rialto caught him, he'd ensure the killer never hurt anyone again.

"You can stay here,” she said quickly, before she could change her mind. “I'll sleep in my mother's room, you take mine, but I warn you that I'm a light sleeper, and if you so much as poke your head through the bedroom door, I'll separate it from your neck. Vampire or not, that would kill
anybody
."

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A cold wind breezed over her body, waking her gently from sleep. She opened her eyes, her gaze following a trail of white fog which entered the bedroom from beneath the door. The cold chill left her body, replaced by warmth and a sense of familiarity as the fog swirled upwards at the side of her bed, taking human shape

She pushed the sheets aside and sat up in bed, her heart beating rapidly as the person emerging from the mist became increasingly more familiar.

Warm tears trickled down her cheek as she blinked, emotion clogging her throat to the point she couldn't speak. Her mother stood before her, a vision of beauty in a long, white gossamer gown. Her pale blond hair shimmered, as though backlit by the sun, and her smile was pure radiance

"You're dead,” Aria managed to whisper as fresh tears slid down her face. “You can't be here.

"I am always with you,” her mother said, her smile fading. “Even in death I will watch over you."

"What's wrong?” Aria asked, watching fear seep into her mother's eyes as cold air once more stirred through the room.

"Danger comes your way."

"What danger?"

"I should have warned you earlier, taught you to be stronger.

Her mother's image shimmered, blinking in and out. Aria reached for her, but her hand found no purchase. Her mother was only there in spirit, a spirit which was quickly fading.

"Warned me of what? The killer? Mama, who killed you? Tell me his name!"

"I don't know the name, only the face.” She was fading faster now, mist swirling up from the floor to cocoon her again.

"Mom!

"Watch out for the vampire,” her mother said as the fog engulfed her and she vanished.

Aria woke to find her hand had gone stiff from clutching the crosses around her neck during the night. Her skin was pebbled with goosebumps and dried tears were sticky on her cheeks, but she was alone in the room. No chilled air or tendrils of mist remained.