Vampires! A Bundle of Bloodsuckers (29 page)

She was startled by the sound of Quade’s voice, close. Without mental preparation, she jammed her foot back into the cuff. It hurt like hell. She held her breath until the wave of pain subsided.

He ambled into her personal space and enveloped her in blood breath, appearing somewhat dazed. His pale eyeballs looked weirder than usual. Did drinking blood make him high? “I hope you’re suitably uncomfortable. It shouldn’t be much longer now. The loser formerly known as The Assassin should be plotting your rescue as we speak. I need to go up to the penthouse to take care of some business, but I’ll be back before you even miss me to roll out the red carpet. Red carpet, get it? Blood?” He doubled over laughing, then straightened, and vanished. Tempest watched a cloud of fog seep through a crack in the ceiling.

She frowned. That was too convenient. Was it a trap? Did Quade somehow know that she’d been able to slip out of his restraints? Or was he that overconfident? Did she really have any choice?

Breathing deeply, she envisioned herself on stage, blissfully playing her guitar. When she recognized the familiar trance state, she focused her imagination on one limb at a time. Her hands came out easily and, after a couple of tries, her feet followed.

She almost fell on her face before she remembered to stop imagining her feet as noodles.

The staked vampires still whimpered and moaned, unable to rise. She probably only had a couple of minutes to find a way out of Quade’s insane asylum. She ran across the room to the only set of stairs, then scrambled up and turned the knob on the door. Locked! She pulled on the handle, hoping it might just be stuck, but it didn’t budge. Turning, she scanned the area for any other escape route and saw nothing. She’d just swiveled and grabbed the door knob again when the door opened, and she was pushed back, almost stumbling down the stairs.

A smiling head appeared.

“It took you long enough,” Malveaux said.

M
alveaux’s hand darted out to catch Tempest as she teetered on the stairs. The shocked expression on her face – not to mention her sensuously displayed, magnificently naked body – prompted a wide smile to curve his lips, and triggered a twitch in his ever-ready cock.

“Let go of me, fuckwad!” She yanked her arm out of his grip. “What are you smiling about?”

He was irrationally happy to see the gorgeous musician. Much more jazzed than he had any business being. Her thoughts and emotions were transparent. She’d been worried about him and was relieved he’d returned.

Tempest stared at him for a few seconds, her eyes narrowing as anger clouded her features.

“Were you just waiting out there, pretty boy? Letting me be pawed, sucked on, and tortured for your amusement? Did you get your rocks off? ”

He lowered the wattage on his smile and shook his head. “Actually, I just arrived. I had to go fetch the Jag and grab a quick snack to speed the healing.” He stroked his hand over the perfect, wound-free chest visible through his unbuttoned shirt. “I also had to prepare our resting place for the day. We’d better get moving.” He paused mid-sentence, listening. “Ah, yes. Our host will return shortly. I’d love to rip his heart out now, but there are only a couple hours of darkness left, and I have other plans. His true death can wait one more night. Come.”

“Hey! Put me down! I’m capable of getting myself out of here!” Tempest shouted when he scooped her up into his arms.

Walking briskly up another set of stairs and out the back door, Malveaux chuckled as he tightened his grip on her struggling form. Her resistance was half-hearted, but he understood the wild vixen well enough by then to know she’d always go down fighting.

“Yes, yes. I know. Feminism, and all that, but regardless of gender, you’re human, which is like comparing a Model-T to a rocket. I am, of course, the rocket.”

As if to prove his point, he propelled them down a snow-filled alley so fast his feet barely touched the ground.

“It’s fucking freezing out here. I’m tired of having my naked ass hanging out for all the world to see. I notice
you
have clothes on. Where are . . .”

Malveaux opened the door and unceremoniously deposited her into the Jag. The rest of her words melted as she sank into the warmth blasting from the heater.

“Ahhhhhh,” Tempest moaned.

“See?” He took the driver’s seat. “What would you do without me?” he teased.

She shifted her gaze, studying him. “I look forward to finding out.”

“I don’t believe you.” He turned his head and smiled. “You forget that I can read between the lines.”

She snorted. “Up yours, fang. And what kind of idiot leaves a fancy car running in an alley in the inner city? Were you just begging for it to be stolen?”

“Nobody can steal my car. Another one of my undead abilities is rather like spell-casting, but much more primitive. I can simply surround the car with an aura of dread, the same kind of creepy feeling humans experience when walking through a graveyard at night. It’s an excellent repellant. Oh, I almost forgot.” He reached into the back seat, grabbed something, and thrust it into Tempest’s lap. “Here. I’m sure you were missing this.”

She held up her father’s jacket, slipped it on, and then zipped it up. Snuggling into the worn-out garment, she mumbled, “Thank you.”

“It was the least I could do.”

“You got that right,” she snarled. “You obviously went back to the church. Is that where we’re going now?”

“No. We have to improvise. Any port in a storm, as they say. I collected everything useable from the church. We can get more supplies tomorrow. It’s a good thing the nights are so long this time of year. I did make one stop for your benefit, though.”

He reached into the back seat again and pulled out a bag containing a couple of sweat pants, several sweatshirts, some socks, and a pair of running shoes.

She poked through the stash on her lap, recognizing the name of the discount store on the labels. “You shopped?”

“Let’s just say I procured. They’re probably not the perfect size for you, but at least they’ll keep you warm.”

She scrambled into her new clothes as she talked. “That’s great. Thanks. I don’t suppose you cruised any junk food places as well? My stomach is growling like a pissed-off lion.”

“Food?” He turned toward her, frowning. “Food! I have to admit I didn’t even give it a thought. It’s been so very long since I ate anything . . . solid. Let’s find a place now. There should be something open twenty-four hours, right?”

They drove in silence for a few minutes, until Tempest erupted into sound and motion as she pointed to a familiar drive-through burger place. “Yes! Pull in, pull in! Burgers from heaven, come to me! I could eat a frickin’ vampire!”

Malveaux smiled at her antics and jumped through the necessary hoops to collect the odoriferous food. He’d forgotten how unpleasant human food smelled. He would’ve preferred to sink his fangs into the neck of the pimply boy hanging out of the delivery window.

Tempest ordered a lot of food, and she made fast work of ripping through the first paper to get to the prize. She wolfed down several big bites, moaning with pleasure, and then sat back, ecstatic. She’d just jammed a handful of French fries into her mouth when she gasped, expelled the fries, and groaned. “Stop! Stop the car! I’m gonna hurl!”

“Hurl? What’s hurl?” But the gagging sounds provided a clear explanation, and he pulled the car to the side of the road.

She opened her door, leaned out, and lost the contents of her stomach.

As she sat back in the seat, he could see sweat glistening on her face. Her heart pounded, her breathing shallow.

“Wow. What the fuck? I must’ve eaten too fast.”

“Have you ever done that before?” he asked. “Maybe after not eating for quite a while?”

“Nope. Never. I’ve got a cast-iron stomach. I’m sure I just tried to cram too much food in too fast. I’ll take small bites and try again. You can pull back onto the road. I know you need to claw your way into the Earth before the sun comes up. I’m fine.”

He frowned at her again, and then turned his gaze to the windshield, easing the car onto the snow-covered road.

Eating too fast wasn’t the issue. He was sure of it. He’d seen this behavior too many times before to miss the significance. She sat still, her eyes closed, the burger forgotten in her lap. He tuned into her thoughts, picking up confusion and a hint of fear. The fear intrigued him, so he slipped into her mind, replaying the events that occurred during their separation. There it was. Quade had forced her to drink his blood. Malveaux had a strangle-hold on the steering wheel, his white fingers turning blue from his anger. The cretin was going to pay for taking what belonged to him.

How had everything gotten so fucked up? All he had to do was transform Tempest when he had the opportunity, and now, even if he performed the ritual, she could die. Mixing such strong vampire blood put the situation into unknown territory. The thought of ripping the asshole’s heart out only spiked his rage. He raised his hand, made a fist, and punched it into the door panel, cracking the authentic oak detailing.

Tempest jumped in her seat, French fries flying. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” she shouted. “You scared the shit outta me. Have you no respect for sick people? I’m recovering, here!”

He stared straight ahead, scowling, and tried to remember the stone-cold killer he’d been only a couple of days ago. Before this human storm had upended his existence. Before she’d made him want things that were dangerous to want.

“Hey, fuckwad.” She rested her hand on his leg. “What’s going on? The temperature in here just took a nosedive. What are you pissed about?”

Startled by her touch, he swiveled his head toward her. “I was thinking about what Quade did to you and what I’m going to do to him. I’m annoyed that I have to wait until tonight.”

“Yeah, well,” she pulled her hand away, “we’ll definitely kick his ass. As soon as I get my second wind. I’ve gotta tell ya, I feel like crap. Maybe there was something funky about that burger, and that’s why I ralphed.” She picked up a French fry from the floor, tentatively stuck it in her mouth, and nibbled slowly. She repeated the process a couple more times then sat back, smiling. “That’s more like it. Those little suckers just slide right down.”

Her last words barely rolled off her tongue before she gagged, grabbed the empty food bag, and lost the fries.

She flopped back into the seat and groaned, clutching her stomach. “Shit. I’m sick. That’s just what I need on top of every-fucking-other thing that’s happened over the last couple of days. I’m just going to close my eyes for a little while. Maybe that’s it. I’m just wiped, and it’s all your fault.”

As soon as she closed her eyes, he gave a mental command for her to drop into a deep sleep. If his suspicions were correct, sleep was the only pain free option for her. At least until she fed on something she could keep down. And having Tempest unconscious certainly would make things easier when they got to their new daytime resting place.

T
empest opened her eyes, or thought she did. Everything was black.

She reached up to feel if her lids were still closed, and her hand grazed something hard above her. By reflex, she tried to sit up and smacked her head on that same surface. When she lay down and tried to rub the sore spot, her hand ran into the same barrier again.

“Holy fuck. What now?” she said out loud, as she often did when things got weird. The last thing she remembered was sitting in Malveaux’s car and saying she was going to sleep for a while. This didn’t feel like the inside of the Jag.

Using both hands, she tentatively pushed on whatever it was, which now that she noticed, was covered by some kind of soft material. It moved, but not much. It was heavy. She was just about to push harder, when it occurred to her that she had company. Slanting her gaze to the side, she tried to make out the form lying next to her. There wasn’t much light, but she could see the profile of a face. A familiar face.

Tempest exerted more pressure against the hardness above her and light flooded her eyeballs. She’d pushed open the hinged top of a huge, red satin-lined coffin. She sat up and found herself in some vast warehouse-type place. It reminded her of those giant furniture stores where you had to ride little golf carts around to find the cheap entertainment center of your dreams.

What was she doing in a furniture store? No. Wait. There were no coffins in furniture stores. The strangely large, dirt nap box was fancy. Gold handles, shiny black surface, like the thing in that old Stanley Kubrick space movie.

A horrible idea hit her, and she gasped. “Shit!” She turned to Malveaux, stretched out along side her, and ran her fingers down his still, oddly blue face. His skin was frigid. She shook him, “Hey, fuckwad. Where are we? Wake up!” Nothing.

Truly panicked now, she stood. “Jesus Christ! I’m a frickin’ vampire! I’m dead! The son of a bitch did it after all!” She didn’t know if she wanted to kick the shit out of Malveaux, scream at the top of her lungs, or sob like a baby.

She built up a good head of pissed-off steam, and then another thought occurred to her. She touched her own warm skin. “Wait a minute. If I was dead, I’d be cold like heat-and-serve pretty boy, but I’m not. Okay, maybe I’m not dead.” She looked down at Malveaux, creeped out by the idea that he actually did die during the day. An involuntary shudder wiggled down her body. She’d been locked in a casket with a dead guy.

Voices echoed in the distance, and she jumped out of the coffin, which was tucked back in a corner of the vast room, displayed on a fake, tiger-fur rug. She reached up and closed the coffin lid. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to find a dead guy in one of the demo caskets. She crouched in the shadows.

The voices receded, and Tempest let out the breath she’d been holding. When the coast was clear, she crawled out from her hiding place and stood. Where the fuck was she? As if in silent answer, a neon sign directly across the room flickered to life:

Crazy Dave’s Death Emporium

Coffins ‘R’ Us

Cremations While You Wait