Under Wraps (16 page)

“I’m too creeped out to eat.”

Parker snaked my plate and swallowed my pizza in one gulp.

“Obviously you’re not.”

He went for a second piece. “I need to keep my strength up. Someone’s got to look after you.”

I glanced up at Parker as he studied the grain on the table.

“I don’t need taking care of,” I told him.

Parker swallowed, then took a long pull of his beer. “Yes, you do. That’s why I’m staying here tonight.”

That familiar anger started to roil again. “Says who?”

“Says me.” He leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet onto the table and reaching for the remote control.

“Don’t make yourself comfortable.” I lifted up Parker’s ankles and dropped his feet to the floor. “Besides, I think I’d rather take my chances with the killer, thank you very much.”

I stood up, holding the front door open, but Parker didn’t move. Instead he just flashed that Cheshire grin and took another swig of his beer.

“You’re spunky,” he said finally. “I like that.”

“I’m not joking, Parker.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “I appreciate your help, but I can take care of myself.” I eyed the open door. “Thank you for the shooting lessons. I’ll see you at the station tomorrow?”

Parker stood up reluctantly and slid his jacket off.

“Parker!”

“Relax,” he said, striding up to me. “I’m going. But I’m not leaving you unprotected.” Parker took my palm and laid his gun, still warm from his chest, into it. “You know how to shoot and you know how to dial the phone to reach me. I really hope you’ll do the latter.”

I lifted my chin. “Thank you.”

“It’s loaded, so be careful. Put it somewhere safe.”

And then he kissed me.

Parker Hayes closed my hand, pushed my arm to my side, and swept a delicate kiss over my lips.

I wasn’t sure whether to shoot him or tear off his clothes.

I wanted to be indignant and angry and feminist, but he smelled so good, like cut grass, campfire, and soap, and his lips were so dizzyingly soft. By the time I had finished arguing with myself, he was gone.

I shut the door, shuddered at the gun in my hand, and tossed it into the freezer for safekeeping.

I spent a full two minutes watching Eric Estrada sell swampland before I speed-dialed Nina. “Hey,” I yelled when she picked up, “where are you? Is Vlad with you?”

“Huh?” I could hear the thump of bass, the tink of glasses, and a rumble of laughter in the background. “Sophie? Is that you? I can barely hear you.”

I pushed out my bottom lip and sniffed. “Can you come home? I’m scared.”

I heard the phone fumble, and then the tink and rumble were quiet. “Sorry about that—it’s so loud in here,” Nina said. “Now what were you saying?”

I could feel my lip begin to quiver, the familiar warmth rising in my throat. “Mr. Howard is dead.”

“Oh. Well, Sophie, Mr. Howard was like, a hundred and three. He was kind of on his way out.”

“No, Nina, he was murdered! Well, not exactly murdered, murdered. He fell down the stairs.”

I could practically hear Nina’s eyebrow rise. “So he was murdered by stairs?”

“Nina!” I paused, considering. “Where are you? Have you or Vlad been home yet tonight?”

“No,” Nina said, stretching out the word. “I haven’t. I went straight from UDA out with that werevamp that came in for his relocation papers last week.”

“You didn’t even come home to change?”

“I should have. His stupid claws messed up the beadwork on my brand-new Maggie Sottero. I’ve been leaving a trumpet-bead trail wherever I go. And Vlad met up with some equally moody friends around nine, so I don’t think he’s been around the house either.” Nina paused. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” I said quickly. “I just wanted to make sure you both were okay.”

“Do you still want me to come home?”

I blew out a long sigh. “No. I guess I’ll be okay.”

“Don’t worry, Soph. I won’t be long, I promise.”

When I opened my eyes I could see nothing but blackness. I pushed down my cocoon of covers and glared at the glowing red numbers on my digital clock: 3:17. I snuggled back down against my pillow when I heard it: a gentle scraping against the wall, then the sound of—fingernails?—something tapping against my bedroom window.

“Nina? Vlad?” I called. “Nina, is that you?”

No answer.

I pushed off my blankets and padded into the living room but stopped short, standing in the doorway. The living room was silent, bathed in darkness. The scraping sound started again as did the incessant thump of my heart. I hurried to the kitchen, snatching my frozen gun out from between a box of icecream bars and vegan corn dogs.

“Nina?” I hissed again. “So help me, I’m going to shoot a hole in your undead head if you don’t come out here and stop scaring the crap out of me!”

The scraping stopped, and I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

And then I heard my bedroom window being pushed open.

“Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I whispered, sinking to my knees on the linoleum. I crawled around, gun thawing in my hand, vowing to install telephones in every room of the house from here on out.

I winced, hearing my blinds clatter, the trinkets on my windowsill falling as someone climbed through. “Ohhh …” My teeth started to chatter and I pushed myself up, clamping both my hands on the butt of the gun, just the way Parker had shown me.

I heard someone bumping around in my room, and I took a tiny step, inching myself closer to the phone.

Step. Inch. Step.

The gun bobbed in my hands, and I tried to grip it more tightly, the cold from the frozen steel and my own warm sweat making my palms itch. I was within reaching distance for the phone when I was startled by the sudden silence and then a deep, low breathing. I glanced up, seeing the shrouded figure hunched in the doorway. I stepped back, steeled myself, and leveled the gun. I felt the power roil through me as my fingers inched toward the trigger. I clamped my eyes shut and wrenched my mouth open, letting out a wailing howl as I pulled back and launched. I opened my eyes just enough to see the dark figure over the barrel of the gun as he tore back toward the window, hurling himself over my table and scraping the windowsill before he disappeared into the darkness.

My legs felt rubbery and hot; I sank onto the carpet and crab-crawled into my bedroom. I chanced a glance out the window, but there was nothing below. Whoever had broken in was long gone. So I clamped the window shut, throwing the lock and closing the curtains and blinds for good measure. I crawled to my nightstand, leveled my breath, and dialed the phone.

Chapter Twelve

I opened my front door timidly, just an inch, and my eyes settled on Parker’s. His were deep and intense, but that cocky half smile was still playing on his lips.

“See? I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

I threw open the door, and Hayes sauntered in.

“Look, if I weren’t feeling so”—I glanced nervously toward my open bedroom door—“violated, and if I weren’t so concerned about the safety of all the other tenants in the building, you wouldn’t be here.” I tried to stand tall, look fierce, hide the fact that my heart was thumping in my throat and that I’d paced a bald spot in my carpet, jumping at every little sound over the last half hour.

Parker was unfazed and dropped onto the couch, grinning at my pink rubber-ducky pajamas. “Nice jammies,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said, pulling my bathrobe tighter across my chest.

Parker looked around the apartment. “This place is really nice. I didn’t really get a chance to look around earlier….”

I pursed my lips as he stood up again, looking at my books, scrutinizing the photos in frames on my mantle, on the wall. “I guess demon paper pushing pays pretty well.”

“Well,” I started, “it does. But I’ve also got a roommate.”

Hayes straightened and looked at me, startled. “A roommate? You never mentioned …” His eyes wandered to my bedroom door standing open. “I didn’t notice another bedroom.”

“There really isn’t one.”

“Oh,” he said, his blue eyes wide and apologetic. “I didn’t realize you were—that you were living with someone.”

“Oh. Oh! No, not like that.” I fought the smug smile on my lips.
He thinks I’m sleeping with someone! Well of course.
I straightened up, brushing a lock of red hair from my shoulder.
Why wouldn’t he think that? I’m cute, I’m … standing here having a conversation in my head while Parker Hayes stands there staring at me.
“She’s a vampire,” I blurted. “Nina, remember? She’s a vampire so she doesn’t sleep. So”—I shrugged—“no bedroom.”

Hayes looked around. “Then what does she need a place for?”

I strode across the room and pushed open the guest room door, revealing the room that had been completely converted to a walk-in closet, housing the rows and heaps of Nina’s couture, collected during the generations of her afterlife.

Hayes let out a low whistle. “Holy crap. That woman can shop!”

I shrugged. “Wait until you’ve been alive one hundred and forty-odd years. See what you accumulate.” I kicked Hayes’s bag off the couch and sat down, Indian style. Hayes followed me and sunk down into the pale yellow cushions, looking tense. “Isn’t it kind of weird living with a vampire? I mean, aren’t you afraid she’s going to bite you?”

“Nah.” I kicked my legs out in front of me, crossed my ankles on the coffee table. “They’re not all monsters.”

Parker nodded slowly, and in the few minutes since he’d been in my apartment my heart had slowed to its regular, calm
thump-thump.
I followed his eyes as they swept over my cheap IKEA furniture, the array of celebrity magazines on the coffee table, the books on my shelves. He blinked at a well-worn porcelain doll high up on the bookshelf.

“She’s Nina’s,” I said, rolling up onto my tiptoes and gingerly pulling down the doll. Her pale, perfect skin mirrored Nina’s flawless complexion, right down to the color and cool, slick feel. Her eyes were painted a cornflower blue and wide open in a constant wonder. Her hair was slick and black like Nina’s, but she had the corkscrew curls of a little Victorian girl, and they were gathered at the nape of her neck with a limp satin bow. She was dressed in a threadbare white gown, its hem woven through with a satin ribbon. The pale yellow hue of the once-white garment betrayed its age.

I looked down at the doll. “It was hers from—from before.”

“From before she became a vampire.”

I nodded. “It’s the only thing she keeps from then—from her human life. You know, when I first met Nina—we started at the UDA the same week—she was this tough-as-nails vamp chick. You know, black leather bustier, blood-red nails, the works. I was terrified of her.”

“Because you thought she was going to eat you?”

“No.” I sat down on the couch, the doll resting on my knees. “I never worried about that.”

Parker raised his eyebrows, and I hurried on.

“She was terrifying because she didn’t seem to care about anything. Most vampires live in nests or families. Nina didn’t. She was always alone. And then one day Sampson gave me an assignment. There was a vampire they suspected was about to go rogue. Going rogue in this case means street hunting. The UDA clientele is strictly forbidden to street hunt—to take their prey from the general population.”

Parker gulped. “Well, that’s refreshing. I guess.”

“This suspected rogue was on the street all night, frequenting a particular spot where a group of runaway kids hung out. Word was the vampire kept trying to get one of the kids alone.”

“Separate them from the herd?”

“Right. So I was supposed to investigate and let Sampson know if the vampire needed to be … handled.”

“Handled?”

“Vanquished. Killed. The UDA takes their rules seriously. Anyway, I went out to the Haight where these kids were, and sure enough, the rogue vampire showed up.”

“And it was Nina?”

I nodded. “Yeah. And she
was
trying to separate one from the flock. It was a girl—maybe thirteen, fourteen years old. The poor thing was filthy. Her clothes were torn, her hair was matted. She was a throwaway kid; no one would have noticed if she walked the street one day and wasn’t there the next. She looked like every other kid out there.”

“So, easy prey.”

“That’s what I thought. I followed Nina out to the girl twelve nights in a row. I couldn’t get close enough to hear what they were talking about the few times they did talk, and I wasn’t sure if she were just working slowly. Sometimes a vampire will befriend a human—offer eternal life or whatever—and in return …”

“The human brings them fresh meat,” Parker finished.

“Right. One night Nina got the girl into a car with her. I followed them, and Nina drove the girl home.”

“Just home?”

I nodded. “That’s it. She was a runaway. Nina brought her home.”

Parker frowned. “That doesn’t sound very vampirey.”

I smiled. “I know. I was waiting in my car the night she did it. I followed them, and then, thinking I was being real stealthy, parked under a tree on the opposite side of the street, when suddenly Nina was sitting in my passenger seat. Vampires are rather hard to sneak up on. Ssense of smell, lightning speed, you know.”

Parker smiled.

“Nina told me if I told anyone at UDA what she did, she’d kill me. And believe me, when that much leather bustier and fang is in your passenger seat threatening death, you believe it. I asked her why though—why that girl, why bring her home. Nina just shrugged and said, ‘Little girls need their moms.’” I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. “We both knew how it felt to lose our moms. Nina couldn’t go back to hers once she’d changed and I—well, you know about my mom. I guess we bonded over that.”

Parker patted my hand softly. “That’s really nice. And I don’t mean to be callous, but sweet-as-pie or not, how do you decide to
room
with a vampire?”

I shrugged, tucking the doll back to her space on the shelf. “Are you kidding? Have you seen what a two-bedroom goes for in San Francisco? I’d room with Satan himself for a view like that.”