Here Comes the Vampire (15 page)

I worked on the other two English teachers for awhile, cruising my database until I found a couple of prospective matches, and then I turned my attention back to my crappy life and the DVDs.

Keep the faith, I told myself as I put on my earbuds and turned on my iPod. Demi Lavato started singing about breaking hearts and I hit the PLAY button on the first DVD in my stack and settled in to watch.

#

“I need someone else.” Ash left me the cryptic message two days later after his date with Sally the English teacher. “She wasn’t a virgin.”

Duh.

I set him up on another date with another Hooters girl, a blonde still waitressing over on Fifty-eighth, and went back to my meeting with my mother, Remy and Remy’s mother. We were debating what font to use on the programs.

No, really.

My mother wanted classic script. Mama Tremaine wanted Georgia and I wanted a specialty font called Bleeding Cowboys.

“It’s got personality.”

“It’s ridiculous.”

“It’s my commitment ceremony.”

“And my son’s,” Mama Tremaine added. “Remy, dear, what do you think?”

All eyes turned toward a very frazzled looking Remy who--after a few endless days of meetings, arguments and my hysterical crying—looked ready to squeeze out a few tears of his own.

“Who the fuck cares?” was on the tip of his tongue, but he’d learned the hard way that that sort of reply would only lead to more meetings, arguments and crying, and so he shrugged. “Whatever Lil wants.”

“I want Bleeding Cowboy, don’t you?” I gave him a pointed stare.

“Of course.” He swallowed. “I love Bleeding Cowboy.”

Atta boy.

My mother turned on hergavhim. His mother turned on him. And I ducked out of the stationary shop and went next door to grab another Red Bull because all of the late nights and useless DVDs were starting to affect my acting skills. I’d actually buckled earlier that evening on the ice sculpture. I’d wanted shoes, of course. My mother had wanted a great big M for Marchette. She’d been so adamant that I’d caved even though it made absolutely no sense because my committed name was Tremaine. Hence I should have insisted on a T.

But in the born vampire world, it wasn’t about following proper etiquette. It was about who had the bigger balls.

Hence my mother’s win.

I handed over my debit card for the Red Bull and walked back outside to wait for the bloodshed to finish. I popped the tab and tried to ignore the creepiness washing over me. A familiar feeling now that it had been days since I’d seen Riley.

But how long since he’d seen me?

He was watching. I knew it. I could feel it.

Watching and waiting and plotting to make a move.

I guzzled the can and tried to get a grip. I was over halfway through the DVDs. I just had to keep pushing on with my plan, and ignoring the text messages from Ty.

Not that there’d been a ridiculous amount. Just one asking how I was and telling me he missed me. I missed him to, but I wasn’t going to text him back and say that. Because then he would call and I would have to tell him what had happened, what might have happened, and I was hoping to avoid that.

But with each day that passed and the commitment reception grew closer, it was looking more and more like the inevitable. Like Remy and I were actually going to waltz down the aisle and declare our union to the world, or at the very least, nine-hundred and sixty-two born vampires (my mother had added my great uncle Lucias and his brood from Naples).

“It’s settled,” my mother announced, waltzing out of the stationary shop. “Remy wants Bleeding Cowboy and that’s what we’re going with.”

Go Remy.

“We’re going with the classic for the menu printing for the family meet and greet tomorrow night.”

“The
what
?”

“It’s just a little gathering I threw together for the wedding party and the immediate family. Oh, but I did invite your cousin Phillipa because Remy will have his best man there and he’s still single, so I thought we could help your Aunt Colette out by introducing the two of them. She’s been trying to match up Phillipa forever.”

“But I didn’t know about any meet and greet—“

“Not your worry. It’s all on me. Just be ready to greet your guests at seven o’clock sharp. And wear something appropriate.” She eyed the yellow Bob Macke dress I had on. Cute and trendy and much too pastel for her taste. “You look much too bright.”

I would have been happy at the statement, if I hadn’t been stuck on the notion of my immediate family and Remy’s immediate family all in the same house together for the vampire equivalent of a rehearsal dinner.

I was so tired.

So stressed.

So... defeated.

For the first time I started to think that maybe, just maybe I might not be able to right this wrong. I’d been through so much over the past few years. Crazy kill
ers. Power hungry warlocks. Horny weathermen. And I’d managed to survive them all.

But this was different.

I wasn’t making progress fast enough. On top of that, Riley was hot on my heels. And he wasn’t going away.

Maybe I’d beaten the odds too many times and it was my time to finally go down. To bite the dust.

Once and for all.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

No one was biting the dust, least of all me.

That’s what I told myself as I picked out napkins and threw a few more hissy fits and stood my ground against my mother and Mama Tremaine when it came to the music selection for the band.

No big band. Or swing. Or ballroom.
No
. I wanted eighties and top 40, and that’s what I was going to get.

Remy backed me up, as usual, even when I insisted on the Guns-n-Roses’ version of
Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door
for our first dance. Much to the shock and dismay of both our mothers.

It simply would
not
do.

But I did it.

Winning that last battle boosted my confidence and renewed my desperation, and sent me straight home to what was left of the DVDs.

I snuggled up with Killer—okay, so he’s a pain-in-the-ass, but I was desperate for some comfort—and started on the last two dozen DVDs.

The first went into the Hopeless pile the minute I saw the sunshine glimmering off the massive outdoor pool and I went for the next one.

The time flashed just a few minutes shy of midnight and I settled in to watch for the next few hours.

More boffing in the stairwell. A few altercations in the casino. An assault in the hallway—

My thoughts slammed to a halt as bolted upright. Three empty Red Bull cans hit the floor and rolled as I watched two men--their faces unrecognizable as they faced away from the camera--pull a knife on a burly looking man with a Duck Dynasty beard.

The man’s head snapped up, his eyes collided with the camera and I saw a flash of red in the pupils.

A werewolf.

The thought struck, but then the figures moved so fast that they blurred and just like that, the hallway was empty again.

No men. No knife. No blood.

But it didn’t matter. The look on the werewolf’s face had said it all.

Rage and pain and
death
.

This was it. This had to be it.

Forget an explicit sex episode. We’re talking a full-fledged
murder
.

Maybe.

I hit the rewind button and moved back through the footage. I saw the two men dressed in black. The one on the right held a large knife. I hit PAUSE on the footage and studied the image, definitely a vampire judging from how fast he’d moved on the footage. But Riley?

He
was
wearing black, but then so did the majority of vampires in the free world. He also had a similar build. Same dark hair. Same menacing stance.

Yep, it was him. Probably.

Why else would he be after the footage?

Because he works for the guy who actually did it. Or maybe the guy who did it is his best friend. Or maybe he’s just an anonymous someone hired to clean up the details.

The possibilities went on and on, all different, all leading to one final, chilling conclusion.

For whatever reason—because he’d done it or was covering for the person who had committed the crime—Riley was out to retrieve the surveillance footage and cover up the murder.

That meant eliminating any and all witnesses.

My hands trembled as I retrieved the DVD, slid it back into the case and shoved it under the mattress.

I spent the next fifteen minutes wishing I’d never seen the footage in the first place. Forget saving my ass and giving back the tapes. No way would Riley let me just hand them over and go about my business with a murder at stake. He would know that I’d seen.

Even more, I would know.

I had to
do
something.

I thought of calling the pol"/d ake. He wlice or Remy or even Ash. And then, before I could stop myself, I grabbed my cell and punched in Ty’s number.

His voice mail picked up on the second ring.

“I don’t know what to do,” I blurted before I managed to take a breath and get a grip. “I’m sorry. I know you’re busy, but I really need to talk to you. Just for a few minutes.” I killed the connection before I gave in to the tears burning the backs of my eyes.

Ugh. I was such an idiot.

Now there would be no avoiding Ty while I tried to wiggle my way out of the commitment to Remy.

He would call back.

I would answer.

I would tell him about the tapes and why I had them and then I would have to tell him about Vegas because it was the right thing to do.

It was one thing to sin by omission. But to outright lie?

I couldn’t do that to him.

Which meant I could stop worrying about Riley killing me because Ty was sure to do it for him when I admitted that I might/could have/most likely had boffed Remy in the elevator.

And I wouldn’t blame him one bit.

I closed my eyes as the truth beat at my brain.

I was
so
screwed.

#

“So you just screw this on like this,” my father said the next night as he stood in the middle of the living room and demonstrated the bear trap he’d just ordered off the internet.

Not that he was going after a bear, but he figured size wise it would be perfect for Viola and her buddies.

“You screw on the switch and hit the trigger and bam, no more werewolves.” The metal clicked and everyone in the room toasted to my father’s brilliance.

“Can I borrow you for a minute?” my mother asked when she managed to disengage herself from the spectacle and pull me to the side. “The florist sent over the centerpiece samples. There are five. All yellow. All hideous. We have to talk about this.”

“I’ll meet you in the dining room in five.”

Okay, so it wasn’t like I could tell her to take a hike. Not when I was sleeping upstairs, drinking all their blood and mooching off their high-powered security system.

I would give her five minutes and then tell her to take a hike.

“Perfect.” Her gaze shifted to my father. “Now if I can just get your father to put away his new toy, then maybe we can all have a civilized get together. Not that I have anything against a little werewolf vengeance—it’s my grass, too—but our attention should be focused on the reception tomorrow.”

“I invited Viola to the reception,” I blurted.

“What?”

“She’s a business client and I think it’s important that I have all of my clients present to see a happily ever after in action. It gives me more credibility.”

“Viola is not—“

“On second thought, maybe she shouldn’t come. Maybe I shouldn’t even come. Maybe it’s a huge mistake to make such a big deal—“

“She can come, but don’t say a word to your father. Not. One. Word. Understood?”

“I’ll do my best.” I watched my mother head for the bar and a newly opened bottle of imported French Peasant—she had a cellar full now that I’d ordered new blood from Renoit’s—and then I headed for the back patio.

I was two steps shy of the door when Remy caught my hand. “I want you to meet my uncle. He’s here from the old country.”

“Aren’t they all?”

“His name is Jean Paul Tremaine and he’s in shipping. He runs his business off the East coast. Very powerful man. I do all of the security work at his warehouses. He’s one of the patriarchs of painess off the family.”

“Which means he needs to sign off on me?”

“Something like that. Let’s go.”

“Sure thing.” I tamped down my anxiety, pasted on my best smile and let him pull me back inside.

“Uncle Jean Paul,” he announced, pulling me up to a tall, thin man with piercing black eyes and a pretentious air.

Yeah, yeah. That described practically all of the vampires in the room, but this one was different. Even more pretentious. And obviously someone Remy really wanted to impress.

“This is Lil,” he told the older vampire. “She has an outstanding Orgasm Quotient. And her family dates back to pre-Napolean.”

No
She’s beautiful. She’s smart. She’s successful
.

Even though I was, you know, all of those things.

But none of that mattered in the born vampire world. The only thing of any real importance was my bloodline and my ability to reproduce. And while this was a truth I’d grown up with, one I’d even resigned myself to, hearing it out loud just kind of pissed me off.

“So you’re Lilliana Marchette?” Remy’s uncle asked.

“Guilty. And you’re Uncle Jean Pierre.”

“The one and only.”

“Why don’t you two talk while I go see about Aunt Agatha?” Remy asked, patting me on the shoulder before he turned and walked away.

“Remy has told me so much about you,” I told Uncle Jean.

The older man arched an eyebrow. “He has?”

“Of course. We talk nonstop. Why, we lay basking in the glow of our love for hours after we do the deed, talking about our hopes and dreams and how much we love each other. Cuddling.”

“What did you just say?”

“That Remy and I like to cuddle. After we make love.” The words were out a split second before I felt Remy step up behind me. I braced myself for his denial, but he didn’t say anything. He simply stood there and I took the opportunity to hammer home just how inappropriate I was for Remy Tremaine. “I can’t have sex without love. Love is the deal breaker.”