Broken Heart 01 I'm the Vampire, That's Why (6 page)

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"The Consortium," answered Patrick.

"Which is what?"

He lifted a shoulder, an elegant shrug that drew my attention to his broad shoulders.

"You'll find a fact sheet about The Consortium on your PDAs," said Stan.

Everyone retrieved their PDAs and turned them on. Some took out styluses and starting tapping and Stan droned on about how to operate the devices, where to find information, and how to contact the Consortium. So, I turned on my electronic thingamajigger, too. On the left side was a row of icons. One looked like a little sheet of paper with "FAQ" typed underneath it. I tapped the symbol.

The Consortium FAQ

Question:
What is the Consortium
?

Answer: The Consortium is a five-hundred-year-old, not-for-profit organization created to facilitate relations between humans and non-humans. It is run by a council of duly elected officers who serve on the Board for hundred-year terms.

Question:
What is the Consortium's purpose
?

Answer: The Consortium's primary purpose is the betterment of all Earth's creatures through advances in science, technology, and medicine. Its secondary purpose is to build bridges between parakind and mankind so that one day, all sentient beings can live together in peace and prosperity. Our

"bridge-building" is accomplished in many ways, and includes financing archaeological and historical research, creating safety zones for parakind, and donating funds to charitable causes.

Question:
Who can join the Consortium
?

Answer: Anyone interested in supporting the Consortium's goals and submitting a financial donation of $100,000 or more. Members must also take a blood oath to uphold the Consortium's Code.

I stopped reading. So this Consortium ran around and facilitated relations between boogeymen and humans? Hmmm. What did "creating safety zones for parakind" mean?

My gaze zeroed in on Patrick. "So… not all vampires are part of the Consortium?"

"No, but those who are must agree to follow our Code of Ethics."

"What happens if they don't?"

"Their membership is revoked."

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"That's it?"

"It's a voluntary organization, love." He smiled. "We only want to help you."

"Yeah. By keeping us as hostages."

"As I promised,
a thaisce
, I will strive to keep your mind off such matters."

His voice was silky and his eyes, just moments before as cold as ice, now shimmered with heat. While Patrick tried to enthrall me, and I'll tell you it was working, I did a little vampire math and came up with an answer I didn't like.

"Who else shared your blood?" I asked.

The question surprised him. He settled into his chair, assuming his previous devil-may-care attitude. And he remained silent.

"
Who else
?" I waved at the Panel of Doom. "There are only seven of you. One of y'all did some overtime and you're probably the oldest, so it's only logical to think you'd offered your bloody charms to a couple more victims."

The other vampires shifted restlessly, their eyes slitted dangerously as they glared at me. I stuck out my tongue. That cracked up four of the men, who slouched in their seats and returned their gazes to the Vamp 101 participants. The rest, including Ivan Taganov and Miss Pixie With Fangs, kept their attention on me.

What's the matter, love? Are you jealous? Patrick's voice was inside my head. Inside my freaking head.

Well, if he could be in my mind, that meant I could be in his.
No, I am not jealous
! I sent out a scorching wave of fury right into his brain. His head jerked as if he'd been slapped. I grinned in petty satisfaction.

His brows rose in either surprise or acquiescence.
Only one other
, he admitted,
but I do not claim her
.

Before I could ask just what the hell that comment meant, the rear door to the gym squealed open and we all heard the slapping of flip-flops on the waxed floor. The hair on my nape electrified and I felt a snarl catch in my throat.

"Sorry I'm late," said the soft voice of a young woman. "My son wouldn't—"

Her voice choked off as I stood up and whirled around. The fury I'd just directed at Patrick was nothing compared to the rage burning inside me now.

One more new vampire had joined our ranks. And it was the only person in town I'd want to see dead… the conniving bitch who'd stolen my husband with her youth and her charm and her goddamned big breasts.

Charlene Mason.

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I had Charlene flat on her back, my fangs at her throat, before that bitch could blink. I was hungry, too, and the idea of slurping the blood of a betrayer made me salivate.

Then Patrick was there, hauling me off and dragging me out of the gymnasium. The last thing I saw was Stan helping Charlene stand and the smirk on Linda's face as she gave me a thumbs-up.

"What the hell is going on?" asked Patrick. He pinned me against the wall and I knew that even with my newly acquired strength, I wouldn't be able to budge him.

"I'm hungry," I said.

"Hunger isn't the reason you attacked Charlene. You intended to kill her."

I processed his accusation and felt a teeny tiny stab of guilt. So, okay, maybe I didn't want Charlene dead. Well,
more
dead. "I bet her blood tastes like a septic tank anyway."

"Why do you hate her?"

"It's a long story."

"We have time."

"No kidding."

He sighed and his grip lessened. "If you don't want to tell me,
a thaisce
, I can always ask Charlene. She is under my protection."

"Yeah, yeah. The Consortium. Blah, blah, blah."

"No, Jessica. My personal protection. When a human goes through the Turn, the Master is bound by tradition and by blood to protect those he brings into our world."

Cold horror filtered through the burning embers of my anger. "No. Goddamn it, no! Please tell me you didn't let Charlene suck your thigh."

"Of course not," he said, "she took her salvation from my neck."

Well, what was the damn difference? I leaned, against the wall and shrugged off his grasp. His hands slid down my shoulders, his fingers grazing my bare arms before he stepped back. The kernel of guilt wedged in my gut blossomed into a painful, pulsating ache. A light wind brought the scent of honeysuckle. My gaze lifted to the sliver of pale moon that hung in the black sky.

"I'm being a royal bitch," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Forgiven." He smiled, looking as if he wanted to kiss me, but thought better of it. "And Charlene?"

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I looked at my feet. "She fucked my husband, okay? Then she had his kid. Rich and I were in the middle of a messy divorce when he got into a fatal car accident a year ago."

"I see."

"I'm glad someone does because I can't see clearly at all. Rich is dead and Charlene is an outcast and I
still
feel hurt and angry and mean-hearted. And now I'm a vampire and I don't even get the satisfaction of outliving Charlene. I don't get to watch her get old and fat and gray. And she will always be younger than me. Forever." Oh, I was pitiful. Pathetic. I felt Patrick's thumb slide under my chin. He pushed gently until I looked at him. "What?"

"Would you like to get out of here?"

"Desperately."

He grabbed my hands and we rose into the air. My stomach dipped and twisted. Last night, I'd flown over my house without a thought about how I was doing it. This time, with Patrick, I suddenly realized I was hovering above the ground with nothing to hang on to if I fell.

"You can't die, love," said Patrick.

"Stop reading my mind."

"I'm reading your expression."

We rose higher and higher until we floated above the gymnasium. The air was thick with humidity and even though I no longer breathed, the wetness seemed to fill my lungs. Patrick guided us upward until the high school looked like a big stack of yellow LEGOs.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Where do you want to go?"

Loaded question, buddy. Where did the undead go, anyway? I wanted to go somewhere where I felt alive, where I felt human, where I felt
normal
. Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to decide. One second, I was flying along like a wingless bat, and then the next, whoosh… down I went, like a freaking lead balloon. Luckily, Patrick grabbed me and lowered me to the ground.

When I was done cursing and shaking, I broke away from his very yummy arms and looked around. We had landed at Putt 'Er There, a mini-golf course that had gone out of business last winter. Broken Heart,Oklahoma , might be a haven for women and men suffering from lost love and bad relationships, but the town itself was suffering, too.

Like most small towns, we relied on agriculture and tourist trade to keep us going. But the farms in the area were struggling badly and had been for a while, thanks to drought and low market prices caused by heinous factory farming. Tourists didn't stop here anymore to do antiquing or have lunch at quaint tea shops. Those places had closed up. Many people had sold their homes or their businesses and left.

Somewhere along the way, we'd lost the desire and drive to save Broken Heart. We had no hope, but you know, we also seemed to relish the despair. Souls trapped in a purgatory of our own making.

Sheesh. Was being a vampire making me über morbid or what?

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I watched Patrick check out the place. His gaze took in the dilapidated buildings and knee-high grass.

He rounded the small but deep pond and walked to the windmill, which had toppled over after Wilson Jones rammed his truck into it. Willie lived a mile away, but after one too many whiskeys at the Barley & Boob Barn, he missed the dirt-road entrance to his place and plowed into Putt 'Er There.

"
Barley and Boob Barn
?" asked Patrick.

"You are really creeping me out with the mind-reading thing." I gestured toward the west, where the only viable business near Broken Heart still existed. "Old Farmer Smythe sold his farm to some guy fromLas Vegas . He razed all the buildings except the bam. That he converted into a strip club. We think hanky panky goes on out there, too, but no one really bothers to check."

"Why?"

"For one thing, it's the only place bringing in people. They gas up at the Thrifty Sip and buy dinner at the Old Sass Cafe. The girls at the Bam get their hair and nails done at Patsy's place." I poked at a tuft of grass with my shoe. "For another, the county sheriff gets paid to look the other way. Truthfully, the activities at the B and B are the least of our worries."

"Yes," said Patrick, nodding. "It does seem that your town is in a lot of trouble."

"Broken Heart barely exists anymore. We have two bona fide police officers and a voluntary fire department. The elementary school burned down a while back, which means all the kids go to the high school. Businesses are failing and citizens like me, who can trace their roots all the way back to the founders, are leaving. We have, maybe, three hundred people living here now. It's like the place really is cursed."