The Bite Before Christmas (23 page)

Marguerite nodded. “They are friends, and Genie seems open to the idea of a vacation romance for Carolyn. As does her other friend Bethany.”

“I'm not interested in a vacation romance,” Christian growled.

“Yes, dear, I know,” Marguerite said patiently. “But it's a start. You have to work your way up to this.”

He shifted impatiently, but knew she was right. “Okay, so how can Genie help?”

“With the right prodding, I'm quite sure she'll help convince her,” Marguerite assured him. “But, in the meantime, I don't think you should even talk to Caro again until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Christian sat up abruptly. Cripes, he wanted her now. Waiting till tomorrow was—

“You have waited five hundred years. One day won't kill you,” Marguerite said, patting his hand soothingly. “Besides, it won't really be tomorrow.”

When he allowed his confusion to show, she smiled. “Shared dreams.”

“Oh, man.” Zanipolo punched Christian in the arm. “Shared dreams are supposed to be hot.”

“Hopefully between talking to Gia, encouragement from Genie, and the shared dreams, she may be more willing to overlook the age difference.”

Christian suspected it wouldn't be that easy, but merely asked, “Is she close enough to have shared dreams?”

“She's in the villa below yours,” Marguerite grinned. “We arranged it.”

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“Don't thank us. We haven't won her for you yet,” Marguerite said, and then warned, “and I suspect no matter what we do she'll still run eventually.”

When Christian stilled, she shrugged. “All of your brother's life mates ran at some point or other,” she said quietly. “It's a frightening prospect for a mortal. They have not only to accept our existence, but trust in nanos, something they didn't even know about before meeting an immortal.”

Christian glanced up as Genie suddenly appeared at the table, smiling widely.

“Oh, you guys are great. Everyone I've talked to loves you,” she announced happily, and then asked, “Where's Gia?”

“She's in the ladies' room. I'm sure she'll be right back,” Marguerite answered. “Christian was just asking about Carolyn, but I don't know her as well as you. Perhaps you can answer his questions?”

Genie's eyebrows rose as her gaze shifted to him. “Sure. What do you want to know?”

Taking his mother's cue, Christian smiled and said, “Everything.”

If you've enjoyed the latest Cat and Bones adventure, you'll love Vlad and Leila's story,

Book One in the Night Prince series
,

available in April 2012.

I
faced my captors in what looked to be a hotel room, my hands folded in my lap as if I were placing a dinner order and they were waiters.
If you ever meet another vampire, don't panic. You'll only smell like prey,
Marty had warned me. I knew what my captors were after seeing their eyes turn glowing green. That was why I didn't bother lying when they asked me how I doubled as an electric eel and had the ability to siphon information through touch. If I lied, they'd only use the power in their gaze to make me tell the truth—or do whatever else they wanted—and I didn't want to give them any more control over me than they already had.

I also didn't try to run even though they hadn't tied me up. Most people didn't know vampires existed, let alone what they could do, but because of my ability to pick up information through touch, I'd known about vampires years before I met Marty. My abilities meant I knew all sorts of things I wished I didn't.

Like the fact that my captors had every intention of killing me; that topped the list of things I wished I didn't know at the moment. I'd seen my death after being forced to touch the auburn-haired vampire again, and it was an image that made me want to clutch my neck while backing away screaming.

I didn't. Guess I should be grateful that my unwanted abilities meant I'd experienced so many horrible deaths; I could look at my impending execution with a morbid sort of relief. Getting my throat ripped out would hurt—I'd relived that through other people enough times to know—but it wasn't the worst way to die. Besides, nothing was set in stone. I'd seen a glimpse of my
possible
future, but I'd managed to prevent Jackie's murder. Maybe I could find a way to prevent my own.

“So let me get this straight,” Auburn Hair said, drawing the words out. “You touched a downed power line when you were thirteen, nearly died, and then later, your body began giving off electric voltage and your right hand divined psychic impressions from whatever you touched?”

More had happened, but it wasn't information I wanted to reveal and he wouldn't care about those details anyway.

“You experienced the voltage part yourself,” I said with a shrug. “As for the other, yeah, if I touch something, I get impressions off it.”
Whether I want to or not,
I silently added.

He smiled then, his gaze roving over the thin, jagged scar that was the visible remains of my brush with death. “What did you see when you touched me?”

“Past or future?” I asked, grimacing at either memory.

He exchanged an interested look with his buddies. “Both.”

How I would love to lie, but I didn't need psychometric abilities to know if they doubted me, I'd be dead in moments.

“You like eating children.” The words made bile rise in my throat that I swallowed before continuing. “And you're intending to drink me to death if I don't prove useful to you.”

His smile widened, showing the tips of his fangs as he didn't deny either charge. If I hadn't seen similar menacing, fanged grins through the eyes of people I'd been psychically linked to, I would have been pants-pissing terrified, but a jaded part of me simply acknowledged him for what he was: evil. And I was no stranger to evil, much as I wished otherwise.

“If she's the real deal like we heard, it could give us the edge we've been looking for,” his brunet companion muttered.

“I think you're right,” Auburn Hair drawled.

I didn't want to die, but there were some things I wouldn't do even if it cost me my life. “Ask me to help you kidnap children, and you may as well start in on my neck now.”

Auburn Hair laughed with what appeared to me genuine mirth. “I can do that on my own,” he assured me, making my stomach lurch with revulsion. “What I want you for is more . . . complicated. If I bring you objects to touch, can you tell me about their owner? Such as what he's doing, where he is, and most importantly, where he
will
be?”

I didn't want to do anything to help this disgusting, murderous group, but my choices were grim. If I refused, I'd get mesmerized into doing it anyway, or get tortured into doing it, or die choking on my own blood because I was of no use to them. Maybe this was my chance to better my circumstances and change the fate they intended for me.

Why do you want to?
a dark inner voice whispered.
Aren't you sick of drowning in other people's sins? Isn't death your only way out?

I glanced at my wrist, the faint scars that had nothing to do with my electrocution marking my skin. One time I'd listened to that despairing inner voice, and I'd be lying if I didn't admit part of me was still tempted by it. But then I thought of Marty, how grieved my aunts would be, how I hadn't told my dad I loved him the last time we spoke, and finally, how I didn't want to give these bastards the satisfaction of killing me.

My head came up and I met the leader's gaze. “My abilities are tied to my emotions. Abuse me mentally or physically and you'll have better luck calling a psychic hotline to find out what you want to know. That means no murdering anyone while I'm getting information for you, and no touching me at all.”

That last part I said because of the lustful look the brunet had been giving me. My skintight body suit didn't leave much to the imagination, but it was what I trained in. I hadn't expected to be kidnapped today or I'd have worn something more conservative.

“Don't think you can mesmerize me into forgetting whatever you do, either,” I added, waving my right hand. “Psychic impressions, remember? I'll touch you or an object nearby and find out, and then your human crystal ball will be broken.”

All the above was bullshit. They could do anything they wanted and I'd still pull impressions from whatever my right hand touched, but I'd used my most convincing tone while praying that, for once, I'd prove to be a good liar.

Auburn Hair flashed his fangs at me in another of his scary smiles. “I think we can manage that,
if
you deliver what you say you can.”

I smiled back with nothing close to humor. “Oh, I can deliver, all right.”

Then I glanced at the light socket behind him.
And that's not all I can do
. The horrible accident that had forever altered my life had left me with one more ability, and if I was lucky, that ability would save me
.

A
uburn Hair's name was Jackal, according to what his friends called him. Their names sounded equally made up, so I mentally referred to them as Pervert, Psycho, and Twitchy, since the latter couldn't seem to hold still for a second. Twitchy and Pervert went out over an hour ago to get some things for me to touch. I'd spent that time sitting on the edge of the hotel's lumpy mattress, listening to Jackal talk on his cell phone in a language I didn't recognize. I was getting chilly in my leotard, but I didn't pull the covers over me. All my instincts were urging me to stay still and not attract any attention to myself, as if that mattered. The predators in this room were very aware of me even if they didn't glance in my direction.

When Pervert and Twitchy came back, I looked at the duffel bag they carried with a mixture of dread and optimism. What was inside might lead to more grisly images blasting across my mind, but it would also ensure my safety. Until I proved I could psychically spy on whomever it was they wanted to find, I was as good as dead.

“Put the objects in a row on the bed,” I directed Twitchy, ignoring the startled look he gave me. If I acted like a pitiful damsel in distress, then that's how they'd treat me. But if I acted like a vital tool in their search for whomever they wanted these objects to lead them to, I upped my chances for survival.

At least I hoped I did.

“Do it,” Jackal said, folding his arms across his chest. His stare felt like weights dropping onto me, but I took in several deep breaths and tried to ignore him. Seeing what Twitchy took out of the duffel bag helped with that.

A charred piece of fabric, a partially melted watch, a ring, something that looked like a belt, and a knife that shone with a distinct silvery gleam.

That last item made my heart skip a beat, something I hoped the others chalked up to nervousness instead of what it was.
Excitement
. Marty told me the movies had it all wrong when it came to vampires. Wooden stakes wouldn't harm them, nor would sunlight, crosses, or holy water. But silver through the heart meant the party was over, and now I had a silver knife within grabbing distance.

Not yet
, I warned myself. I'd wait until they were so convinced I was helpless that they wouldn't think twice about leaving a silver knife within easy reach. Or until at least two of them left again, whichever came first.

“All right,” Jackal said, snapping my gaze back to him. He nodded at the objects. “Do your thing.”

I mentally braced myself and then picked up the charred piece of fabric first.

Smoke was everywhere. Twin beams of light cut through it, landing on the vampire half concealed by the forklift. Terror flooded him as he realized he'd been spotted. Tied into his emotions, I shuddered as well, feeling his horror as his attempt to run was stopped short and rough hands hauled him back.

At first the smoke was so thick I couldn't see past the bright gaze lasered on me. Then I saw dark hair framing a lean face that had the shadow of stubble around the jaw and mouth. That mouth stretched into a smile that wasn't cruel, as I'd expected, but surprisingly good-humored.

“Raziel,” the dark-haired stranger said in a chiding tone. “You shouldn't have.”

I'd heard parents scold their children more harshly, so I didn't expect the torrent of fear that flooded over Raziel.

“Please,” he gasped.

“Please?” The stranger laughed, revealing white teeth with two distinct upper fangs. “How unoriginal.”

Then he let Raziel go, turning around and waving farewell in a friendly manner. I felt relief overwhelm me to the point that my knees trembled, but Raziel didn't let that stop him. He lunged toward the warehouse door.

That's when the fire swarmed him, forming out of nowhere. It climbed up his legs in coiling, merciless bands, making me scream from the sudden blast of agony. Raziel tried to run faster, but that only made the fire climb higher. He flung himself onto the floor next, rolling, every nerve ending howling with anguish, but the fire still didn't extinguish. It kept growing, covering him with ruthless, hungry waves, until a roaring blackness rushed up and consumed him. The last thing Raziel saw as he floated above his lifeless body was the dark-haired vampire still walking away, his hands now lit up by flames that somehow didn't scorch his skin.

I blinked in disbelief. When my eyes opened, I was back in the hotel room curled into the fetal position, much like Raziel had been when he died. I must have instinctively mimicked his actions with the memory of those phantom flames.

“Well?” Jackal's demanding voice was a relief because it centered me in reality instead of the nightmare I'd been forced to relive. “What did you see?”

I righted myself on the bed and threw the charred piece of fabric at him.

“I saw someone named Raziel get Krispy-Kremed by a vampire who apparently can control fire,” I said, still trying to shake off the echoes of that gruesome death.

The four of them exchanged a look that could only be described as delighted. “Jackpot!” Psycho exclaimed, pumping his fists into the air.

From how happy they were, I guessed that either Raziel hadn't been a friend or they already knew what had happened to him and this had been a test.

“Let's be a hundred percent sure,” Jackal said, his grin fading. “Touch the ring next.”

I looked at it with dread. It probably contained the essence from another death, but unless I wanted to hasten my own, I had no choice.

I picked it up, tensing in grim expectation, but a scattershot of images I'd already seen filled my mind. They were still revolting enough to make me want to vomit, but in addition to being in the grayish colors of the past, they felt fainter, like I was watching a movie instead of experiencing them firsthand. With a shake of my head to clear it, I set the ring back down by Jackal.

“Maybe you made a mistake. The only impressions I'm picking up off this are yours, and they don't tell me anything new.”

His hazel eyes gleamed emerald for a second, and then he let out a loud whoop that made me flinch.

“It's not a fluke, she's for fucking real!”

Anything that thrilled a sadistic child murderer freaked me out, but I tried not to let it show.
Don't panic,
Marty had said.
Prey panics, and then prey gets
eaten
.

“On to the next one?” I asked, trying to sound as cool and collected as I could under the circumstances.

They stopped their high-fiving to look at me. “Yeah,” Jackal said, pushing the knife toward me. His excitement was almost palpable. “Only this time, I want you to concentrate on the firestarter. Try to see where the bastard is, not just what happened when he butchered Neddy.”

That told me the knife would make me relive another murder, but that wasn't what made me pause before reaching for it.

“The firestarter?” I repeated. “
He's
who you want me to find through these objects?”

Are you out of your minds?
I almost added, but didn't because even if they were, I wasn't.

“You can do it, right?” Jackal asked, all mirth wiping from his expression.