Much Ado About Vampires: A Dark Ones Novel

  I knew what he was doing, knew it wasn’t what I should allow, but was helpless to stop him. It’s just sex, I quietly told my inner devil. I haven’t had sex in forever, and he’s really, really good at what he does, and it’s confusing things. Besides, now that we’re out of the Akasha, he’ll have other people to feed from. He’ll go off and dine on prettier, younger women, and I won’t feel so guilty about him anymore.

  But how, my devil asked as Alec rolled off me, pulling me with him, will he get along without his Beloved?

  I shushed her lest he hear the thoughts rolling around in the private part of my mind, guilt riding me hard nonetheless. It was getting harder and harder not to tell him the truth about what had happened in my past-life regression. I had no idea if Beloveds could be reincarnated, but I had a very bad feeling that I was going to have to broach that subject with him sooner rather than later.

  The real question was, if I was his Beloved, did I want to spend the rest of my life with a vampire?

  Alec murmured something about me getting some rest before we got to Italy, promptly falling asleep, his gentle snore ruffling my hair as he curled up behind me, one arm around me, holding me tight against his chest. The wonderful scent of him mingled with a slightly earthier note of our activities, causing me to relax against his warmth. I felt oddly protected despite the fact that the man holding me could be brutal when driven to it, and I was unwilling to look any closer at the warmer, softer feelings that had suddenly started to take over my mind.

  I’d think about it later, when I could put a little distance between us. Then sanity would return to me. Wouldn’t it?

  My inner devil laughed until I fell asleep.

  “OK, your friend has seriously good taste,” I told Alec some ten hours later as he skirted the sun and stepped into the shade cast by a lemon tree that stood next to the front doorway of a beautiful cream-colored stone villa. The house itself was gorgeous—with a dark tile roof, green shutters, and elegant Gothic archways, not to mention extensively landscaped grounds—but situated on a hill overlooking Florence, it had a view that took my breath away. “Is the rest of the house as pretty as the outside?”

  “Yes. Ring the bell, would you?”

  I pressed a discreet bell that lay flush against the stone wall, warmed by the morning sun. “You did tell them we were coming, didn’t you?”

  Before he could answer, the door opened, and a plump blond woman smiled expectantly and said something in Italian.

  “Hi,” I said. “Are you Pia?”

  “Yes, I’m Pia. Er . . . have we met?”

  “No, but Alec described you as being very pretty and having a lovely smile, so I guessed it must be you.”

  “Alec? ” She looked startled. “You’re a friend of Alec’s? ”

  “Yes. Um . . .” I slid a glance over to where Alec stood in the shade of the tree, leaning against the trunk, obviously waiting for me to give him the go-ahead to dash through the sunlight. “You’re not still mad about him seducing you, are you? Because if you are, you don’t have to help us. Not that I mean that to sound ungrateful or jealous or anything like that. I mean, what happened in the past is no business of mine, obviously. But he seemed to think that you guys weren’t still angry with him. . . .” A tall man with dark curly hair and brilliant blue eyes loomed up behind her. His eyes narrowed on me, raking me from head to foot. I sighed. “You are still angry, aren’t you?”

  “Who is this? ” A second man pushed his way out past Pia. He was shorter than the first, very thin, with a narrow face and pinched expression, as if he smelled something nasty. He gave me a once-over that made me faintly uncomfortable.

  “My name is Corazon Ferreira,” I answered, embarrassed as hell. Dammit , Alec, your friends are still pissed at you!

  They are?

  “She’s a friend of Alec,” Pia told the tall man, who I assumed was her vampire. The two of them gave me a strange look. “This is Brother Ailwin. He’s . . . uh . . . he’s going to help us out with a little problem we have concerning a friend.”

  I murmured a polite nothing, feeling horribly in the way.

  “Perhaps you wish to conduct this business another time?” the skinny man asked, turning his sour face on Pia.

  “No, no, we want it done as soon as possible. Er . . .” She shot me a hesitant look. “I’m sure we can come to some arrangement regarding the terms of your summoning a lich for us.”

  “I will, naturally, be obligated to charge more since the lich in question belongs to an Ilargi.” The man gave me a considering look, his eyes filled with speculation.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I’m interrupting. I’ll come back—”

  “No, please, don’t leave, we’d love to talk to you about Alec, wouldn’t we?” She turned to the large man behind her.

  “Yes, we would. We are finished here. We will expect the ceremony to take place this evening, Brother Ailwin,” Kristoff said.

  What is taking so long? Who is that man who keeps looking at you?

  Some priest, I think, and we’re in the way. Just so you know.

  We are not. And that is no priest.

  “That is too short of notice,” the man said, biting off the words as if he was reluctant to let them go. “But assuming you will pay for my time, I will make the arrangements.”

  Maybe he’s a monk? I asked as the man, with one last look at me, got into a small car and drove off. He seems kind of ascetic to me. Although he’s wearing jeans and a shirt like anyone else. Do monks still wear robes?

  That is no monk, either, querida. I do not like the way he kept looking at you.

  Jealous? I asked with a smile.

  Not in this case.

  The grim tone to his words had my mental smile melting away to nothing. I had to admit that Brother Ailwin was making me more than a little nervous.

  “So, you’re Alec’s friend,” Pia said as both she and Kristoff examined me again.

  “Was a friend,” I growled, “if he keeps up pulling this sort of stunt on me. Look, I’m sorry to have bothered you and interrupted your meeting. We’ll just be on our way.”

  I started to turn from the door but stopped when Kristoff said, “We?”

  You didn’t tell them we were coming, did you?

  Why would I do that?

  “Oh my god,” I said, mortified to the tips of my toes. “He didn’t tell you we were coming. I’m so sorry. I’ll yell at him later on your behalf, all right?”

  “He who?” Pia asked, stopping me when I would have marched away to give a certain vampire a very large piece of my mind.

  You are in so much trouble, buster!

  I’m well aware of that. The Moravian Council is not going to be happy.

  Not with them, with me! I could die of embarrassment! These people think I’m a pushy interloper! And I am! “Alec.”

  “Alec is in the Akasha,” she said slowly, as if I were a nutball.

  Great, and now they think I’m crazy, too! “No, he’s not. He’s right there.” I waved a hand toward the tree.

  Pia moved out of the doorway to look, her hand shading her eyes against the sun before she gave a whoop of happiness and ran toward the tree.

  “Er . . .” I looked from where Pia had flung herself on Alec, who was spinning her around in the shade, to the vampire standing very close behind me. Alec had told me a little of his history with Kristoff, including the fact that he was the one responsible for Kristoff being a vampire in the first place. “Your . . . um . . . Beloved seems to be happy to see him. I’m confused.”

  “No more so than am I,” he said, his voice rich with an Italian accent. He pushed past me and strolled toward the tree, not running through the sunlight as I assumed he would. I stood in the doorway and watched as he and Alec sized each other up for a moment, then embraced in a bear hug that looked like it should have broken at least one rib.

  OK, I guess I was wrong.

  About many things, love, but I try not to point them out too f
requently.

  Stop being smug. I thought they were pissed! How come your friend isn’t affected by sunshine?

  He is, but Dark Ones who are Joined have more of a tolerance to the sun. I’m sure Kristoff still avoids it when possible.

  “This is . . . oh, my. We never expected you to get yourself out. That’s why we . . . oh, dear. Is Cora . . . um . . . Kristoff, maybe you could . . . ?”

  Something was wrong with Pia. She looked uncomfortable, and slightly distressed, and she kept shooting little glances past me toward the house.

  “Come into the house,” Kristoff said with a dark look. “There is much we have to . . . explain.”

  What’s up? I asked Alec as Pia bustled past me, her gaze curious as she sized me up.

  I have no idea, but it can’t be too bad. Despite your concerns, they are happy to see us.

  I said nothing to that, but the uneasy feeling continued.

  “Who was that man?” Alec asked Kristoff.

  “Brother Ailwin? He’s a lichmaster. We’ve been negotiating with him to steal Ulfur from whoever the Ilargi is who has him.”

  “Alphonse de Marco,” Alec said, nodding.

  Pia and Kristoff stopped and stared as Alec pulled me into the house after him.

  The inside of the house was even more attractive than the outside, long, cool rooms with stone floors and arched entryways giving way to a columned loggia. Through a large set of French doors, I could see outside to where a small tiered garden rose into the hillside.

  “You know who the Ilargi is? Alphonse de . . .” Pia sucked in a huge breath. “Al! Al from the tour! Oh my god, he is the Ilargi? Holy cow!”

  “Interesting, but not, I think, of utmost importance at this moment,” Kristoff said, his hand on Pia’s back as they escorted us into the house proper. “Alec, we need to talk.”

  “This is so lovely,” I couldn’t help but say, wondering how many people it took to keep up a house and grounds of this size. The room we were in was clearly a favorite, the walls a dappled oatmeal color, bearing a number of small, brilliantly colored, but obviously quite old paintings of the Renaissance style. Antiques mingled with more comfortable furniture, a blue and cream rug on the floor mimicking a mosaic. Outside, the garden was dotted with red and amber flowers, along with a thousand different shades of green. “And the views are outstanding.”

  “Perhaps you and I should have our discussion in the library,” Kristoff said slowly, his speculative gaze on me.

  “There’s nothing you can say to me that you can’t say in front of Cora,” Alec said in an even tone. “For lack of a better phrase, we are bound together.”

  “Temporarily,” I said quickly, giving him a look that should have melted his hair right off his head. “We’re temporarily bound together.”

  “Cora is in denial,” he told the two of them. “There’s nothing temporary about our bond.”

  “Er . . . bound together how?” Pia asked, her face rigid with some strong emotion.

  “It’s a long story. What did you have to say to me?” Alec asked.

  Pia swallowed nervously, glancing over at Kristoff.

  “Maybe I should leave,” I murmured, moving toward the door. “I think I’m in the way.”

  “You’re not—” Alec started to say at the same moment that a shadow moved in front of me, and a woman stood in the doorway, pinning me back with a glare.

  “Yes, you should leave. You’re most definitely in the way, and I, for one, don’t appreciate you trying to steal my man.”

  Alec spun around to stare at the woman, a stupefied expression on his face. “Eleanor?” he said, looking as if he had just taken a kick to the gut. “It can’t . . . Eleanor ? ”

  “Who exactly are you?” I couldn’t keep from asking, the hairs on the back of my neck rising.

  “I’m Eleanor of Riger,” she said with a venomous look and toss of her head. “And I’m Alec’s Beloved.”

  Chapter Nine

  I stared at the woman, stunned beyond anything in my experience. She was shorter than me, barely over five feet, with dishwater blond hair, shrewd black eyes, and a sharp, angular chin that was raised as she looked down her nose at me. This was me? The past me? But how could that possibly be? I shook my head, so confused I just wanted to walk out and leave it all behind me.

  “Eleanor,” Alec repeated, finally pulling himself together as the woman—I couldn’t think of her as me, since she was nothing like me—walked over to him, and without a glance at anyone wrapped her arms around him and damned near sucked his face off.

  “Yes, my darling, it’s me. I’m back.”

  “But . . .” My fingernails dug into the flesh of my palms as I struggled to keep from yanking her off Alec. “But I . . . er . . . Alec’s Beloved is dead. She was run over by an oxcart several hundred years ago.”

  “How do you know that?” Kristoff asked, giving me a long once-over.

  “I . . . uh . . . I had a vision of the event.”

  “Ah.” He didn’t look convinced, but let the matter drop as Eleanor came up for breath. I noticed Alec didn’t seem to be fighting her very much, although his expression was anything but overjoyed to see his longlost Beloved. Or, rather, the original version of her.

  Jesus wept, what had I gotten myself into? I should be happy she was back. Now I could wash my hands of him and be through with vampires forever.

  My inner devil delighted in the feelings of intense unhappiness that thought triggered.

  “I was dead,” Eleanor said, kissing Alec’s chin before turning to face me. I ground off a good layer of enamel trying to keep from yelling at her for doing so. “But they had me brought back.”

  “We know a necromancer,” Pia said, her gaze flicking between Alec, Eleanor, and me. “We thought if we brought her back, the council would be forced to get you out of the Akasha, Alec. We didn’t know that you . . . that Cora . . . oh, man, what a mess.”

  “One that I’m sure we can figure out,” Kristoff said, gesturing toward a couple of couches. “Please sit, Cora.”

  “Where are my manners? Yes, please, sit down, all of you. We have so much to talk about.” Pia shook off her stunned expression and smiled as she moved over with me to one of two couches.

  “It’s a lovely room,” I said, standing awkwardly by the door, miserable but refusing to acknowledge that when Eleanor, with one hand on Alec, tugged him down next to her on a love seat. “And a lovely house.”

  “It is pretty, isn’t it? It’s built on a twelfth-century tower that was later part of a monastery. There’s a cloister and everything. But I can show you around the house later—there are so many questions that Kristoff and I have. Like how did you meet the Ilargi who stole Ulfur? And how did you get out of the Akasha, Alec?”

  Alec had been watching me with an avidity that evidently didn’t make Eleanor happy at all, for she put a proprietary hand on his thigh and gave me a cool look as he answered. “I have Cora to thank for that.”

  “Do you indeed?” Eleanor said softly.

  “Are you a . . . what do they call them . . . ? ” Pia turned to Kristoff.

  “Guardian,” he said, eyeing me. “She does not appear to be one.”

  “I’m not. I’m a secretary. I got zapped into the Akasha myself, and when I was de-zapped, I arranged for Alec to be brought out, as well.”

  “Why?” Eleanor asked.

  I swallowed back the urge to shout at her that I was his Beloved, not her, and I had saved him because he needed me, chastising myself for such stupidity. I had an out in the form of Eleanor—I would be an idiot not to take that.

  And leave Alec, never to see him again.

  My heart shattered as everyone looked at me, curiosity almost palpable.

  “It seemed like the thing to do,” I said lamely, avoiding Alec’s gaze, but all too aware of the swift lance of pain that shot through him at my words.

  Both Pia and Kristoff looked at me as if I had turned into a giant dancing panda bear.


  “I think Kristoff’s right, and you’re going to have to tell us what happened from the beginning,” Pia said, gesturing toward a pale blue brocade couch.

  As I passed Kristoff, he froze, an odd look on his face as I could have sworn he sniffed the air.

  “Cora, why don’t you—what?”

  Pia turned a shocked expression first on her Dark One, then on me.

  “What what?” I asked, wondering if I had somehow offended them.

  “You’re . . . you’re a Beloved? Alec’s Beloved? But Eleanor . . . Kristoff, are you sure?”

  It was my turn to freeze. “Uh . . .”

  “Cora can’t be my Beloved,” Alec said, rising from the love seat, much to Eleanor’s dissatisfaction. His face was a mask, absolutely devoid of emotions, but I could feel them all twisting around inside him. “I don’t say that we don’t have a blood bond, but . . .” His voice trailed off as he glanced toward Eleanor.

  “What sort of a blood bond? ” she asked, her eyes narrow with suspicion.

  Alec ignored her as Pia spoke hesitantly.

  “But . . . but Kristoff said . . . he said she smelled . . .” Pia blinked at me.

  “I smell?” My voice came out close to a shriek, because honestly, if being told you stink by people whom you were going to ask for help isn’t a moment to shriek over, I don’t know what is. “I don’t know what . . . I mean, I took a shower.... Did I step in something? . . . Jesus wept, Alec! Why didn’t you tell me I stink?”

  “Kristoff is wrong,” Eleanor said, her voice as hard as granite. “I am Alec’s Beloved. He said I was, the first day he saw me. He was courting me, had asked my father for my hand, and I was going to agree to it, except that stupid woman with her stupid oxen came down that hill and ran me over.”

  Sympathy welled up inside me. I knew just how bitter she felt about those oxen and that woman. I was just as annoyed when they had run me over.... What was I thinking?

  I put my hands to my head, hoping to shake some sense into it.

  “No, no, you don’t smell at all, Corazon,” Pia said soothingly, reaching out to pat my arm. I backed away, worried that I might have some sort of hideous Akashabased body odor that had escaped my notice. Why the hell didn’t you tell me I stink? I could just die!