Single White Vampire (23 page)

Lucern accepted the morning cocktail. He downed it in one gulp, then handed the empty glass back. What Kathryn Falk said was true, unfortunately. But Lady Barrow couldn't know that the protectiveness on Kate's part had been purely professional in nature—she had promised to look after him and had fulfilled that promise beautifully. As for the sparks…

Oh, well I do try to keep my writers happy, Luc.

Lucern's mouth tightened as Kate's words rang through his head. He didn't think she had faked all of her passion, or that she had done it as part of her job, but she had left him this morning as if none of it mattered. Or as if she feared he might take it to mean more than it did and cause an awkward scene or something. And he might very well have, he realized. He might have done something as foolish as ask her to come home to Toronto with him, or…

His mind shied away from the “or.” Lucern wasn't ready to admit his possible desire to spend an eternity with Kate. To laugh and cry and fight and make love
with such passion for centuries. No, he wasn't ready for that.

A glass appeared before his face, which Lady Barrow had refilled for him. When he hesitated, she said, “She'll come to her senses, Luc. You're a handsome, gifted, successful man. Kate will come to her senses. She just needs time.”

Lucern grunted and accepted the drink. “Time is something I have lots of.”

 

The comment was to weigh heavily on Lucern's mind over the following weeks. He returned to the hotel with Lady Barrow, but didn't stay any longer than it took to pack his bags. He headed back to the airport and took the first available flight back to Toronto.

His house, his safe haven for some time, seemed cold and empty when he entered it. There was nothing there but memories. Kate sat on his couch, lecturing him about the importance of readers. She rushed anxiously to his side in the kitchen to exclaim over a head wound he didn't have. She laughed, did a little dance and gave him a high-five in his office. She moaned and writhed with passion in his guest-room bed, which he had pathetically taken to sleeping in. She haunted his mind, filling it nearly every moment of the day. But that was all she did.

Lucern got the Internet chat program she had requested he get, and he often exchanged instant messages with Lady Barrow, Jodi and some of the other writers he had met at the conference, but while he had Kate on his list of contacts, she never appeared online. Jodi seemed to think she was blocking everyone. He
considered sending her an e-mail, but couldn't think what to say. Instead, he sat at his desk, listening to time tick by as he watched and waited for her to appear online. Time was something he had a lot of.

It was nearly two weeks before he grew tired of waiting and watching. In disgust one morning, he turned the chat program off and opened his word-processing program. He thought he would make his first attempt at a work of fiction. Instead, he found himself recounting the story of his first meeting with Kate, then everything that followed that meeting.

It was a cathartic experience writing the book, like being there and reliving each moment. He laughed at some of the events he hadn't found funny at the time, like his codpiece getting caught on the tablecloth, and his frantic attempt to get condoms. He didn't laugh at her leaving, so that's was where he stopped the story he had entitled simply
Kate
.

He put his last entry in the story some few weeks after he began, then pushed wearily to his feet. He felt a little lighter than he had upon leaving the conference, but not much. He was grateful he had met and spent time with Kate Leever. He would always carry her in his heart. But he was both sad and angry that she hadn't given them a chance to have more.

He switched off his computer, glancing angrily at the answering machine on his desk. Lissianna, who had insisted they all needed one since they usually slept during the day when most business was done, had bought the machines for everyone last year at Christmas. Lucern hadn't bothered to listen to his messages in the past, but he had since returning home. He'd kept
hoping that Kate would call, even if just to ask when he would have another book done. But she hadn't called once. And none of the messages on the machine tonight were from her, either.

There was a message from his mother, and others from Lissianna, Bastien and Etienne. Lucern had been avoiding his family since returning from the conference, and while he knew they were worried about him, he didn't feel like talking. He didn't feel like talking to anyone, really, except for the people from the conference. He had met them all with Kate. Somehow, chatting to them over the computer made him feel closer to her. And sometimes Jodi or one of the other women had a bit of news about Kate that had made its way down the writers' grapevine. Nothing important though. She was editing so-and-so's book right now. She had rejected that model's book. She had a cold coming on. She had fought it off.

Lucern ignored the blinking light of his answering machine and headed for his bedroom. His stomach was cramping with hunger, and his body was achy with the need for blood, but it seemed like a lot of effort to go downstairs and raid the fridge. He didn't even have the energy to undress. Luc simply walked into his room and collapsed on the bed. He'd sleep for a while, he decided. A long while. He'd feed later.

 

The sun was just rising when Lucern fell asleep; it had long gone down when he woke up. And the aching that had nagged at him when he lay down was much worse. He had to feed. Rolling out of bed, he made his way downstairs to the kitchen. He drained two bags of
blood while standing in front of the refrigerator, then took another back upstairs. The bag was nearly empty when he entered his office—which was a good thing, since the sight of someone sitting at his desk startled him enough to spill the last few drops on the floor.

“Bastien.” He glared at his brother. “What are you doing here?” He glanced at the computer screen and froze as he recognized the last chapter of
Kate
.

Bastien closed the word-processing program with a click, then offered an apologetic expression. “I am sorry, Lucern. I was worried about you. I just wanted to be sure you were all right. You have neglected to return calls from any of us, and won't visit or allow us to visit you. We were all worried, so I came to see what you were up to.”

“When did you get here?”

Bastien hesitated, then admitted, “I came just after dawn.”

“You've been here all day? What…?” The question died in his throat. He knew exactly what Bastien had been doing. His brother had read all the way through the story of Kate, he'd read every word to the last page. Luc's gaze narrowed on the younger man. “How did you know I would write it down?”

“You have always kept a journal, Luc—at least since paper became easier to come by. You always wrote things down. I often wondered if you didn't do so as a way of distancing yourself from it all. Like you do by shutting yourself away here.”

Lucern opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Neither of them would believe his denial, so why waste the effort? Turning away, he walked over and
slumped onto the couch. He was silent for a moment, then scowled and asked, “So, what do you think of my first work of fiction?”

Bastien's eyebrows rose, but he didn't call Lucern on the obvious lie. Instead he said, “I think it's a very poor attempt at a romance.”

Lucern stiffened, affronted. “Why?”

“Well…” Bastien began to play with the computer mouse on Lucern's desk. “For one thing, the guy's an idiot.”

“What?” Lucern sat up straight.

“Well, sure.” Bastien's lips twitched. “I mean, here's this all powerful, handsome, successful vampire writer, and he doesn't tell the girl he loves her. Heck, he doesn't even say he likes her.”

Lucern scowled. “She left before he could. Besides, she didn't tell him, either.”

“Well, no. But why should she? Most of the time the guy's such a surly jerk, she's probably afraid to.” When Lucern merely glared at him, Bastien gave up all pretense. “You should have followed her, Luc.”

“She wasn't interested. She was just doing her job.”

“I'm quite sure her job description didn't include sleeping with you. Or letting you feed off of her.”

“Bastien's right,” a new voice said from the doorway.

Both men glanced over in surprise. Marguerite Argeneau looked at her sons, then entered the room and moved to sit beside Lucern. She took his hands in hers, stared sadly into his eyes and said, “You should go to her, Luc. You have waited six hundred years for Kate. Fight for her.”

“I can't fight for her. There is nothing to fight. She has no dragons to slay.”

“I didn't mean you should fight in that way,” Marguerite said impatiently. “Besides, has that ever worked in the past? Gaining a woman's attention by slaying her dragons only makes her dependent. It isn't love, Lucern. That's why you never got the girl in the past. Kate doesn't need you to slay her dragons. Though she might welcome your help once in a while, she's strong enough to slay her own.”

“Then she doesn't need me, does she?” he pointed out sadly.

“No. She doesn't need you,” Marguerite agreed. “Which leaves her free to truly
love
you. And she does love you, Lucern. Don't let her go.”

Lucern felt his heart skip with hope, then he asked warily, “How could you know she loves me?”

“She was half in love with you before she ever met you. She came to love you fully while here.”

“How would you know?” Lucern persisted.

Marguerite sighed and admitted, “I read her mind.”

He shook his head. “Her mind is too strong. You couldn't have read it. I couldn't.”

“You couldn't read her mind because she was hiding it from you. Kate was attracted to you and afraid of it. As I said, she was half in love before she ever met you. That scared her. She closed her mind against it and therefore against you.”

Luc shook his head. “How could she have been half in love with me? She didn't even know me.”

“Your books, Lucern.”

He shrugged impatiently. “Lots of women think
they're in love with me thanks to those damn books—I saw them at that conference. They didn't know me at all.”

Marguerite sighed. “Those women were attracted by your looks and success. Kate is different. She's your editor. She didn't believe in vampires, and wasn't smitten by your success. She fell for the real you. She recognized it from your writing.”

When Luc looked doubtful, his mother made a tsking sound. “How could she not? You are just as surly and reclusive in real life as you were in the recounting of Etienne and Rachel's story or any of your other books. Your voice shone through. You were completely honest in those books, showing the good and the bad. In truth, you revealed more of yourself in your writing than you generally do in person, because you revealed your thoughts, which you usually keep hidden.”

Lucern still didn't believe it.

Marguerite borrowed a page from his book and scowled furiously. “I am your mother, Lucern. You will trust me in this. I would never lead you astray.”

“Not deliberately,” he agreed. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Tears pooled in Marguerite's eyes, and Luc knew his mother wanted to banish the loss and sorrow from his past. “Trust me, son,” she said. “Please. Don't give up your happiness so easily. Your father did that. He grew weary of life and gave up on it, and nothing I could say or do could bring back that spark. You were precariously close to following in his footsteps. I have been worrying about you for some time. But Kate's arrival shook you up and brought joy back to your life.” She
clasped his hand. “Lucern, it was as if you were reborn. You smiled and actually laughed again. Kate could give you so much you've missed—a son or daughter, a companion, joy. Don't let your pride stand in the way.”

Lucern stared at his mother, her words revolving in his head along with another woman's. The psychic at the conference had said something very similar.

“You had begun to weary of life,”
the woman had said. “
It all seemed so hard, and the cruelties of man had begun to wear you down. But something—no, not something, but someone—someone has reinvigorated you. Made you feel it might be worth living again. That there is still joy to be had.”

“Hold on to her. You will have to fight for her, but not in the way you are used to. Weapons and physical strength will do you no good in this battle. It is your own pride and fear you will have to fight. If you fail, your heart will shrivel in your chest, and you will die a lonely, bitter old man, regretting what you didn't do.”

Lucern felt the skin on his neck prickle. His gaze slid to his mother, and he asked, “How do I fight for her, then?”

Kate stared at Allison, her mind reeling. The head editor had caught her in the hall just outside Chris's office and stopped to tell her that she had just gotten off the phone with Lucern. He wanted to discuss the possibility of doing a book-signing tour, but he wanted Kate to fly to Toronto to explain the particulars.

Kate couldn't believe it. She didn't believe it. Why was he sending for her? Perhaps the Argeneau blood bank had run out of blood, some bit of her mind whispered snidely, and she winced in pain. It didn't matter why he wanted her to go to Toronto. She couldn't do it. She wouldn't survive another encounter with him. At least her heart wouldn't. She wasn't at all sure it had survived the conference. It was still battered and bloody.

“I'm awfully busy, Allison. Couldn't Chris fly up there in my place? Maybe he could take over Lucern altogether, in fact,” she added hopefully. “It would proba
bly be for the best. I don't think I can handle Lucern.”

“The hell you can't!”

Kate whirled around as Chuck moved up the hall to join them.

“If there's a possibility we can get the bastard to do that tour, you're going. The expense of your flight there and back is minuscule compared to how much that book chain was willing to put out for this tour. And the opportunity for publicity is incredible. It means articles in newspapers of every city the tour hits, maybe even television interviews. If you want to keep your job, you'll get your tail on the next available flight and convince Amirault to do this tour.”

Kate didn't bother correcting Chuck about Lucern's real name. She was too busy considering quitting. Unfortunately, she couldn't afford to quit. She had bills to pay. Taking her silence for acquiescence, Chuck harrumphed and turned to stalk back up the hall to his office.

“It'll be fine,” Allison assured her with a pat on the arm. Then she too went back to her office.

“So, Lucern is finally sending for you.”

Kate turned to find Chris standing in his office doorway, smiling.

“Just to discuss the book-signing tour,” Kate said in dismissal. She headed for her office.

Chris snorted with disbelief and followed. “Yeah, right. Like Lucern Argeneau will do a book tour. Forget about it. He wants
you
.”

Kate sat down at her desk with a sigh. “Close the door please, Chris. I don't want everyone to know about
this.” She waited until he had closed the door, then said, “He doesn't want me.”

“Are you kidding? The guy's crazy about you.”

“Yeah,” Kate muttered dryly. “I could tell that by the way he's been calling and sending me flowers.”

Chris sat on the corner of the desk and shrugged. “Hey, you're the one who sneaked out of our suite like a thief. You've gotta figure the guy might hesitate, maybe think you're the one not interested.”

Kate stiffened. That thought hadn't occurred to her. Hope reared its pitiful head. “Do you think so?”

“I'd stake your life on it.”

Kate blinked, then gave a half smile. “My life, huh?”

“Yeah.” He grinned and shoved himself off her desk, walked to the door. “Well, I'm ninety-nine percent sure, but I'm not suicidal. Better you than me if I'm wrong.” Then he left.

Kate watched the door close behind him, then peered at the paperwork on her desk. The conference had put her behind. She'd tried to catch up on returning, but was so distracted she seemed to just be slipping further behind. She wasn't going to get any further ahead now, either. Not till she found out where she stood with Lucern.

Grabbing her purse from under her desk, she stood up. It was time to stop moping and being miserable, and to sort this out. Especially if there was a chance…She didn't finish the thought. She already had too much hope building in her.

Chris stood in the hall, glanced back with raised eyebrows when she left her office. “Where are you going?”

“To catch a plane,” Kate answered.

“Oh.” He watched her walk past, then followed saying, “Um…shouldn't you call or write and let him know you're coming?”

“Like he'd answer the phone or read the letter.” Kate snorted. “No. It's better this way. He wants me in Toronto. He's got me. I hope he's ready.”

 

“Uh, lady? Did you want to get out here or not?”

Kate tore her gaze away from the front of Lucern's house and forced an apologetic smile for the taxi driver. The man was twisted in his seat, watching her with concern. He was being terribly patient. She had paid him several minutes ago, but then instead of getting out, she had sat staring fearfully up at the house.

“I'm sorry. I…” She shrugged helplessly, unable to admit that while determination had carried her this far, it was starting to flag and terror was taking its place.

“No, hey, that's okay, lady. I can take you somewhere else if you want.”

Kate sighed and reached for the door handle. “No, thank you.”

She got out and closed the door, then stood to the side of the driveway as the taxi backed out. Since she had caught a ride straight from the office to the airport—she hadn't even stopped to pack—she had come with nothing but her purse. She now gripped it with both hands and struggled to keep her breathing regular. She couldn't believe she was actually here.

“Well, you are, so you had best get it over with,” she told herself.

Somewhat emboldened by her own firm voice, Kate
walked up the sidewalk and crossed the porch. She raised her hand to knock at the door, then paused as she realized that it wasn't yet noon. It was bright daylight outside. Lucern would be sleeping. Kate let her hand drop with uncertainty. She didn't want to wake him up. He might be really cranky if she woke him up. It might get this whole meeting off to a bad start.

She glanced at her watch. 11:45. There were a good six hours or more until dark. She considered sitting on the porch and waiting, but six hours was a long time. Besides, she was rather tired. She hadn't slept a full night since leaving the conference. She wouldn't mind a nap. That way, she would be refreshed and wide awake to meet him.

Kate turned and looked at the street, then sighed. She didn't have a car or any way to call a cab, so she couldn't go to a hotel. And she wasn't napping on his porch like some displaced street person. She turned back to the door again, hesitated, then reached for the doorknob. Turning it slowly, she was surprised to find that the door opened. He hadn't locked it. What kind of an idiot left his door unlocked? Anyone could walk right in and stake him. And she had already seen someone do that to him, so he couldn't claim no one would. She would just have to talk to him about that.

In the meantime, she couldn't just walk away and leave his door unlocked. She would just go inside, lock the door behind herself, and nap on his couch. It was for his own good. Kate smiled at her reasoning. It might not hold water, but it sounded reasonable enough. Almost.

Kate had closed and locked the door and made it
almost to the living room when she heard a clank from the kitchen. She turned abruptly, prepared to hurry back outside and knock, then grew still again. What if the noise from the kitchen hadn't been made by Lucern? He
should
be sleeping and he
had
left the door unlocked so that just anyone could walk in and rob him. Kate lived in New York; the crime rate was high there. Toronto was supposed to be a big city. Crime was probably rampant here, too. She had to see about the noise. She would just peek into the kitchen door. If it was Lucern, she would slip back outside and knock. If it wasn't Lucern, she would slip outside and run to a neighbor's house to call the police.

Turning back, Kate moved carefully up the hall, walking as quickly and silently as she could. Once at the kitchen door, she paused to take a bolstering breath, then eased the door open a crack…and nearly shrieked in alarm. It wasn't Lucern in the kitchen. It was a stranger, a woman—a cleaning woman, judging by the bandanna on her head and the mop and bucket in her hand. What had alarmed Kate was the fact that the woman was halfway across the kitchen to the door and moving fast. Kate would never get back up the hall and out of the house before the woman appeared.

Unable to think what else to do, Kate let the door slip closed and plastered herself against the wall behind it. She closed her eyes and held her breath for good measure. The door creaked open. Kate waited. She heard footsteps move past, up the hall away from her; then she opened her eyes, hardly able to believe she hadn't been caught. She stood there for another heartbeat; then, suddenly overcome by fear that the woman
would turn back and spot her after all, Kate slid into the kitchen.

The door was just slipping closed when Kate saw the cleaning woman stop outside the living room and snap her fingers, then turn around. Almost hyperventilating with panic, Kate glanced frantically about the kitchen, spotted the door on the other side. Rushing to it, she pulled it open to find stairs leading down to a basement. She hesitated, but the footsteps were now audible from the hall. The woman was coming back.

Kate stepped down onto the first step. Pulling the door almost closed, she left it barely cracked so that she could see. A heartbeat later, the kitchen door opened and the cleaning woman came back in. She moved to the sink and out of sight, then came back a moment later and left the kitchen. Kate almost stepped out again, then paused and decided to wait just in case.

She stood in the near total darkness, feeling the yawning black pit at her back, aware of every single creak the house made for approximately thirty seconds before her cowardice urged her to find the light switch. She flicked it on, and the dark was immediately chased away. Kate released a relieved breath. That was better. She was just standing at the top steps to a basement.

Her thoughts stopped as she glanced nervously down the stairs. The end of a shiny mahogany box could be seen from where she stood.

“It's not a coffin,” Kate told herself firmly. Moving down another step, she tried to see more of the box. “It's some kind of hope chest. Oh, I hope it's not a coffin.”

She had to go almost all the way down the stairs to
see all of it, though she knew long before that it was indeed a coffin. A sense of betrayal overwhelmed her. Lucern had said he wasn't dead and didn't sleep in coffins. Or had she just assumed he didn't sleep in coffins? He
had
said he wasn't dead, though. But if he wasn't dead, what was the coffin for? Maybe he just hadn't wanted to upset her, so he had lied about the dead part.

He'd been right. She was upset.

“Oh, dear God,” she breathed. “Sleeping with a man six hundred years older than me I can deal with, but a dead guy?” Her eyes widened with horror. “Does that make me a necrophiliac?”

She pondered briefly, then shook her head. “No. Lucern isn't dead. He had a heartbeat. I heard his heartbeat when I rested my head on his chest. And his skin wasn't cold. Well, cool but not cold,” she pointed out. There might not be anyone to hear, but she felt better convincing herself. Until she heard her voice say, “Mind you, his heartbeat also stopped at one point.”

Kate groaned at the reminder of the night Luc was staked. Then she muttered, “Surely dead guys can't get the wonderful erections Luc did. There would be no blood flow.”

She'd become quite happy with that reasoning when her voice betrayed her again. “Of course, there's always rigor mortis to consider.

“Just open it,” Kate muttered to herself in disgust. She had slowly eased her way to the side of the coffin, arguing with herself as a distraction. She continued to talk to distract herself as she reached out to open it. “There's probably a logical explanation for all this. Luc probably
stores things in it. Things like a cello, or maybe shoes, or…a body.” That last possibility came out as a squeak as she finally lifted the coffin lid…and saw the man lying inside. Then his eyes blinked open, he grabbed the sides of the coffin and started to sit up. That was when the lights went out. Kate began to shriek.

 

Lucern sat up, his eyes popping open. He thought he'd heard a woman scream. When the sound came again, he catapulted out of bed and rushed for the door. That shriek had been one of terror. He couldn't imagine what was happening downstairs. It sounded like someone was being attacked. He charged down the hall, then the stairs, and peered into the living room where one of the cleaning crew stood frozen. The woman was pale, her eyes wide with fear.

“What is it? Why did you scream?” he demanded.

Apparently unable to speak, the woman merely shook her head. Turning away, Lucern continued up the hall. Despite the woman's frightened appearance, there hadn't appeared to be anything wrong with her. Besides, the screaming had seemed to come from the back of the house rather than the front. Another shriek pierced the silence as he rushed for the kitchen, proving he had guessed right. But this time he could tell that it hadn't just come from the back, it had come from the basement.

Cursing, Lucern crashed through the kitchen door. He had specifically told the cleaning company that his basement and upstairs were to be left alone. No one should be in the basement.

“Jesus, how many of you people are here?” Lucern snapped when he spotted the woman frozen by the basement door. She was staring at it as if it might explode at any moment.

“Two of us, sir,” the woman answered, then immediately cried, “I just turned out the light. That's all I did. The door was cracked open and the light was on—I just turned it out. I didn't know anyone was down there.”

Lucern ignored her and dragged the door open, then flicked on the switch. The screaming did not stop, though it was growing hoarse. Lucern was halfway down the stairs when he heard Etienne saying, “It's okay. It's just me. Really, it's okay.”

When Luc reached the bottom step, he saw his brother standing to the side of the stairs, hands held up placatingly.