Hunting Karoly (3 page)

I sighed and held out my glass. “You think I’m a total wino. You think if you drink my blood you’ll pass out for three nights.”

“I’d certainly get a little tipsy.”

“I’m not tipsy,” I confessed. “I’m completely rat-arsed.”

Glancing at him to see the effect of this admission, I saw the gold lights dancing in his eyes. Was he laughing at me again?

He said, “That’s another thing about this city. I speak seven languages fluently, including English, yet I understand only one word in five of anything that your people say to me. What the hell is ‘rat-arsed’?”

“Drunk,” I said. “
Extremely
drunk. Like Eskimos have lots of words for snow, Glaswegians have a thousand for drunk. Fu’, maroculous, arse-holed, stocious, pissed, steamboats…”

“Steamboats?”

“Don’t ask. And don’t mock. This is a fine city.” I sniffed, growing maudlin. “Oh it has its problems, sure, but there’s nowhere better…”

He blinked at me. “Are you encouraging me to
stay
in your fair city, vampire hunter?”

“Why should I care?” I muttered into my glass. “I won’t be here.”

“You will be at your Centre, fighting spirits?”

“Or not,” I said darkly.

“How did you set fire to your hair?”

By the time I’d explained that, both of our glasses were empty and he was laughing quietly. More surprisingly, perhaps, so was I, realizing for the first time that it was a funny story more than a personal tragedy.

Reaching across him for the bottle, I hiccupped. “All right, Charlie,” I said, splashing the last of the wine into the two glasses more or less equally, “What’s your story? What’s with the accent?”

“I do not have an accent,” he said with dignity. “My English is perfect.”

“Leesten to heem,” I mocked, “creature of the night…!”

“It’s been a long time since I tasted a vampire hunter,” he said conversationally.

I hooted derisively into my wineglass. “You won’t touch me—I’m too pissed for your refined taste buds.”

“Are you sure about that?” His deep, suddenly soft voice caused my stomach to lurch. I glanced up to find his darkened eyes on my lips. Worse, his hand resting on the sofa back moved and grasped my hair. Not that there was much for him to get hold of, but he managed to pinch enough of it between his strong, cool fingers to tug my head back.

His touch on my scalp was electrifying. Terror and lust seemed to have become the same thing, especially when his mesmerizing gaze dropped to my exposed jugular.

“A word to the wise, little vampire hunter,” he whispered. “Never bank on it.”

His other hand, still holding the wineglass, came up. Two of his fingers uncurled from the stem and he brushed his knuckles across my neck. I shivered. “Besides, although you have a delectable throat, there are other ways to taste.”

His long, pale fingers trailed down the length of my throat and lingered over the hammering pulse at the base of my neck. His lips curved, very slightly but enough to reveal the points of his lethal fangs.

Oh Jesus.

Those devastating fingers moved on, tracing a line down the center of my chest to my cleavage, where they parted so that each could brush the naked curve of a breast. His gaze lifted to mine, to see, perhaps, if the heaving of my breasts was due to desire or fear. Then he slid both fingers down between my breasts.

I gasped and he smiled, slowly withdrawing his fingers so that both knuckles and fingertips grazed my skin. The effect was more arousing than most sex I’d ever had, but my erratic—all right, my pissed—mind was distracted by other matters.

“How do you do that without spilling any wine?”

The laughter I’d become so attached to sprang back into his eyes. He released my head and drew back a little.

“Practice,” he answered. “And sobriety.”

“Sobriety?” I hooted. “After drinking half a bottle of wine? To say nothing of Maggie and Davie.”

Somewhere, in the tiny part of me still remotely attached to reality, I couldn’t believe I was being quite so blasé about all this. Several unreadable expressions flitted across his pale, beautiful face. None of them detracted from the drunken companionship I felt for him by now, particularly as his hypnotic green eyes as well as his lips were still smiling at me. I was very aware of his arm still resting along the sofa top, just touching the back of my head.

“You were telling me,” I reminded him, “about the accent.”

He said, “I was born a Magyar, in what is now Romania.”

Grinning, I said, “Transylvania?”

“If you say so. I am traveling for my health.”

I stared at him. “You’re taking the piss.”

“Mental health,” he corrected. “In a word, I was bored. I arrived here a week ago.”

“And the Prince Charlie stuff?”

His lips twitched. “While I was out cold…”

“After biting the wino?”

“Exactly. He stole my clothes.”

Breathless with suppressed laughter, I gasped out, “Oh dear…”

“This was outside the back door of Kelvingrove museum. I lay naked under a carpet undisturbed for two nights. On the third, I followed the night guard inside and stole this.”

I frowned. “Why didn’t you just steal the guard’s clothes? They’d have been less conspicuous!”

He shrugged. “I liked this better. Anyhow, no one questions me. I come here every night. Someone is always getting married, so I blend in with the wedding parties, although on the whole it is safer to drink from the staff. I limit my intake from the guests.”

Involuntarily, I glanced over at Davie, still sleeping like a baby in the corner. “Do you never kill anyone?”

“Of course I do. I’m a vampire.”

Uncertainly, my eyes came back to him. He didn’t look sad or ashamed. He didn’t look proud or scary either. He simply stated a fact.

“If I’d ever believed vampires really existed,” I said, “I’d never have believed in one like you. And I can buy into every kind of vampire you like—the aloof and evil kind, the savage animal kind
and
the vampire with a soul kind. I’ve been in love with Anne Rice’s Louis since I was fourteen! But you’re just weird.”

To some, my words might have sounded like a criticism, a statement of disappointment.
He
actually seemed flattered. I saw a definite softening in his cold eyes and the skin around them actually crinkled as he smiled. Fascinated, I watched the smile die and the skin smooth out almost as pristine as a child’s once more.

For some reason, my breath caught. I felt his touch, featherlight on my cheek. His head bent nearer mine and I saw his lips part. My heart began to drum because he was finally going to kiss me. The butterflies in my stomach went wild with anticipation. Then the door of the conservatory crashed open, letting in a sudden wave of noisy laughter and music. The overhead light blazed, blinding me, and Nick’s voice called out, “Oi, Jenny! Davie! Are you in here? Maggie and Jack are leaving!”

I blinked to clear my vision and a frisson of renewed fear rushed up from my toes. Though close enough to kiss, the vampire’s presence had changed suddenly—or perhaps I’d just woken up to the fact that his idea of drinking companion wasn’t mine. His cold, hard eyes gazed beyond me, presumably at Nick, as if assessing his next meal.

With a sickening jolt I realized my pleasant private party was about to turn nasty and that the only possible winner of the fight to come was the vampire.

While I still tried to reorient myself, I heard Nick say uncertainly, “Davie?”

Quick footsteps sounded and then Nick swung into view, kneeling beside the best man. The vampire stood, a blur of quick, menacing motion and belatedly, I scrambled into action, catapulting myself off the sofa to stand between him and Nick.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled like thorns. I needed to be watching the vampire and yet I couldn’t if I was to address Nick with any semblance of normality.

“He passed out,” I managed—he would never know how guiltily.

Nick glanced toward the sound of my voice. “Aye, so I see…” Catching sight of the vampire beside me, he did a double take and his eyes grew wide. “Well! Quite a night, Jen! And I thought I was the belle of the ball.”

Ignoring that, I went somewhat belatedly to help Davie. As I walked forward, I felt the vampire move, knew an instant of terror as his cool fingertips trailed sensuously along my bare arm. I shivered, because despite the fear, his touch still inspired a lust I couldn’t deal with.

“What’s your friend called?” Nick asked as I crouched down beside him and gently slapped at Davie’s mumbling face. He didn’t look like much of a lumber any more.

“Charlie,” I said with the ghost of a laugh. It was hysteria. Davie shook his head and opened his eyes blearily. Without considering what I did, I brushed the dried blood off his neck with the backs of my fingers. I could see no wounds.

“Fair enough,” said Nick. “Hey, Charlie, any chance of a hand over…? Where’d he go?”

I looked round quickly, but apart from the three of us, the room was empty.

Chapter Three

“Jennifer! Phone!”

My mother’s eternally accusing voice cut through my dreams with the force of an axe through butter. Without opening my eyes—I knew how bright daylight was—I shouted, “Tell them I’ll call back!” Or at least I tried to. No sound came out the first time, so I swallowed my dry throat and tried again. This time it worked—up to a point.

“I can’t!” shrieked my mother. “It’s your work, for Christ’s sake!”

“Oh shite.”

How in God’s name was I meant to deal with these bastards in this state? Besides, didn’t I have something very bad to tell them? Or decide whether or not to tell them. Oh yes. The vampire.

Hysterical laughter caught in my throat as I swung my legs out of bed. I groaned when the dizzy headache hit me full force. How could I possibly tell them that? That not only had I let a vampire feed from at least two of my friends, but that I had sat around getting drunk with him afterward?

I wasn’t even going to
think
about wanting him to bite me. Or kiss me. Or worse. No, I wasn’t going there.

Staggering out of the bedroom, I found my way to the phone in my mother’s room.

“Hello!” I said into the receiver, with what I hoped was efficient morning cheer. “Jenny Jordan.”

“You sound dreadful,” came the clipped tones of my boss, Nigel Devon. “Are you ill?”

“No,” I said, disgruntled at the failure of my cheer to impress him. A moment later, I could have kicked myself. Not only could I have wangled myself an extra couple of days off, I could have avoided the following conversation.

“Good, because there’s a bit of a situation up there.”

“Up where?” I asked, since Nigel had a habit of thinking about the whole of Scotland as if it was some sort of village where everything was within walking distance of everything else.

“Glasgow,” he said impatiently. “You
are
in Glasgow?”

“Oh yes,” I sighed.

“Well, I think you’ve got a vampire.”

I dropped the phone. This was probably a good thing since it meant that at least Nigel didn’t hear the strangled squawk that escaped from my lips. However, I did have to explain about my clumsiness and endure his contempt again while I desperately tried to fathom how he could have found out about me and the vampire so quickly.

“Right,” he said at last, “are you holding the phone with both hands?”

I stuck my tongue out at the mouthpiece. “And both feet,” I said to annoy him.

Ignoring that, he went on, “There have been several attacks around the city, including one night watchman at Kelvingrove Museum. The worrying thing is, this is probably just the tip of the iceberg, because if this vampire is the one we think it is, then most of his victims never remember they have
been
attacked. He uses some sort of hypnosis combined with a healing power…”

“Then he doesn’t kill his victims?” I said eagerly, too eagerly, though fortunately Nigel misunderstood why.

“Don’t sweat it, Jenny,” he mocked, “I don’t want you to
contain
the vampire, just see if you can find out roughly the area he’s hiding in. And yes, he does kill, though usually when he’s bored and ready to move on. The rest of the time he prefers a quiet life with as little aggravation from local police and people like us as possible. Do you have a computer there?”

Struggling to keep up, I floundered, “Yes, my laptop…”

“Fine. I’ll email the locations of the attacks and you can try to find some likely hiding spots for the vamp. Frank and Hilda will contact you when they get up there tomorrow. I’ll send some notes on vampire lairs as well.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“Right. Try not to screw this up completely, Jenny.”

Though I stuck my tongue out at the phone again, I couldn’t really blame Nigel for his distrust. Sighing, I simply said, “I’ll try…Nigel?” I added hastily as he seemed about to hang up. “Who is this vampire? Where did he come from?”

“We think…believe it or not…Romania.”