Blood Bath & Beyond

“I’m almost finished unpacking. Everything arrived perfect, although that lamp that I love didn’t do so well. It’s got this big chunk missing from it and I have no idea where it went. So now my cool lamp is a cool lamp missing a big chunk. I’ve faced it to the wall. I don’t think anyone will notice.”

  I gritted my teeth. “I called for a reason, Amy. Can you just let me talk for a second?”

  There was a pause. “Somebody sounds grumpy tonight.”

  “I’m not grumpy.”

  “Everything going okay with Thierry?” She hesitated. “There are no…problems…are there?”

  It had taken Amy a while to warm up to my fiancé and I knew she still had difficulties now and then with the idea of me wanting to marry him, even though she kept these opinions mostly to herself now that I had the ring on my finger. “Well, there are problems, but not what you might think.”

  “I’m here for you, Sarah. Anytime, any way. Seriously. If you ever, I don’t know, change your mind about anything, you should feel free to come out here. A couple days, a week, whatever you need. Barry won’t mind if you take the guest room. Well, he’ll mind a little, but he’ll get over it.”

  My grip tightened on my phone. “That’s probably not going to happen.”

  “Not surprised. But consider the offer out there, anyway.” She yawned loudly. “Sorry. Wow, I’m so tired. Today’s been jam-packed and I have to get up super early tomorrow. But it’s been really great talking to you. Thanks for calling, I really appreciate it.”

  “Yeah, no problem. But—”

  “E-mail me! Bye!”

  And then the line went dead.

  I scratched Amy—who admittedly hadn’t been the most reliable person I’d ever known—off my list of people who could potentially help me. It only reminded me that I needed to deal with this alone. The last thing I needed, even if she’d been willing to fly down here and help me, was to draw someone else I cared about into trouble with the Ring. My blatantly going against their orders by not getting on that plane was bad enough.

  Amy had improved a lot when it came to accepting Thierry as a major part of my life, but I knew he didn’t make a fabulous first impression on a lot of people. Two months ago I’d taken him with me to announce our engagement to my parents—who’d been anticipating their only child having a wonderful, flashy wedding one day, since as a kid it was one of my favorite subjects. I even tore pictures out of wedding magazines of the dresses I liked best and tacked them to my bedroom wall.

  “Engaged,” my father had said with surprise when I showed him my diamond ring. “To him? Sarah, honey, what are you thinking?”

  I’d really thought this would go over better. Sure, the first time my parents met Thierry, the fact that technically he was married to someone else was a bit of a fly in the ointment, but things had changed. A lot.

  “I love him,” I’d said simply, as if that would smooth everything over.

  “But he’s so completely different from you. You are lightness and joy and humor and he’s…well, he’s none of those things.” My father had glanced over at Thierry sitting stiffly with my mother as she showed him some photo albums from when I was a kid. “I get a bad vibe from him.”

  “You get a bad vibe from him?” I repeated. “What is this, the seventies?”

  “Does he ever smile?”

  I felt defensive. “Sure he does.”

  “I mean, he’s handsome. And I know he has money. I can see why women might be attracted to him. But, Sarah…you need a man who will truly love you, not just provide for you. You need a partner in life, an equal, not one who will treat you like a possession.” He shot another glance in Thierry’s direction. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t see the two of you together forever.”

  There wasn’t much more to say after that. I could argue until I was blue in the face, but it was clear that my father—and my mother, although she’d never state it so bluntly—didn’t approve of my fiancé.

  But I was twenty-eight, not eighteen. If my father told me not to date somebody because he got a “bad vibe,” I couldn’t really be expected to toe the line and go up to my room and behave myself. Could I?

  I mean, I hadn’t even told my parents I was a vampire yet, so they had no idea how deep the waters ran with me these days. I was putting that little conversation off. Indefinitely, if I could manage it.

  Later, in the car, things were quiet until Thierry finally spoke.

  “Your father despises me.”

  “I don’t know if I’d use the word despises.”

  “What word would you use?”

  “Um…dislikes? Intensely?”

  Thierry’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I don’t know what I could have done differently.”

  I hissed out a breath. “Well, maybe smiling might have helped. You looked like you were doing an impression of the angel of death tonight. And when you’re around recent retirees who are packing up their things to head to Florida, I don’t think that’s appreciated very much.”

  “I smiled.”

  “You briefly bared your teeth. Most living creatures consider that a threatening gesture.” I pressed back in the passenger seat. “Whatever. I don’t care.”

  “You don’t care that I am inept at smiling or that your father hates the sight of me?”

  “Actually, he thinks you’re handsome. And wealthy.”

  “But not good enough for his daughter.”

  “He thinks you’ll treat me as a possession, not as an equal.”

  “I see.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I’m sure he wouldn’t think anyone’s good enough.”

  Thierry kept his eyes on the road ahead as he merged onto the highway heading back toward the city. “I’m not used to…family situations. I regret that I was unable to make a better impression on your father. I don’t know how to make amends for this.”

  A little of the tightness in my chest lifted and I turned my face to look at Thierry’s profile in the darkness of the car. “You don’t have to make amends.”

  “I don’t?”

  “People don’t cozy up to you easily. My parents included. I’m not surprised.”

  “Old habits. I naturally try to keep people at a distance.”

  “You do, no question about it. You did the same with me too many times to count, remember? You have a very prickly exterior that needs to be navigated very carefully. Kind of like a really sexy cactus.”

  His lips curved a little at that. “A cactus.”

  “Cactus, porcupine, thorny lizard. Pick one.”

  “If I’m so prickly, then how do you let yourself get so close to me?”

  “Simple.” I slid over a little so I could place my hand on his chest, over the left side of his jacket. “I know what’s in here.”

  “My cell phone?”

  “Oh my God. A joke. No, Mr. de Bennicoeur, I know your heart. And there’s nothing prickly or cactusy about it. I mean, sure, it’s a little blackened and singed at the edges—”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Really.”

  “And a bit shriveled.”

  “Sounds unpleasant.”

  “Nope. It’s beautiful, actually. Best heart I’ve ever met.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

  His gray eyes flicked to mine. “Becauseevery last shriveled and blackened piece of it is yours.”

  His shields were down—his prickly protection he’d built up toward the world all around him. In his eyes I could see his worry about disappointing me when it came to my parents’ approval, and his uncertainty—even after all the time we’d spent together—about whether I’d change my mind about him.

  He knew as well as I did that we were opposites in so, so many ways—from age, to experience, to demeanor, to outlook on life. Opposites might attract, but did they have any real chance to stay together?

  My own heart warmed up so much by what he’d said that it spilled over like a tiny volcano in my
chest. My hand slipped beneath his jacket to feel the slow but steady beat of his heart beneath my touch. “I promise to take very good care of it.”

  He brought my hand up to his lips. “I appreciate it.”

  When people ask me how I could love a man like Thierry, I think of moments like that—moments that make me realize I’d do anything for him because I know he’d do the same for me. And that we have something very special between us, something private, something not everyone in the world is lucky enough to have.

  And that? That’s worth fighting for.

  I got a room at a crappy little motel off the Strip, one that didn’t have a flashy interior or fantastic stage show. It was called Glitter, and much like the Mariah Carey movie by the same name, it made me want to curl up in a ball and rock myself to sleep. Luckily, there were no cockroaches hiding under the stiff cotton sheets, or at least none that wanted to come out and say hello while the lights were on. However, I knew they were in here somewhere. I sensed their curiosity about the fanged brunette sitting on the edge of the bed trying not to lose hope.

  I stared up at the stained ceiling just before I shut off the light and thought about Thierry. I missed him so much. My heart ached that he thought I was back home by now, back to my normal life without him. He might be staring at the ceiling of the beautiful Bellagio suite that was now serving as his temporary prison before he was found guilty of murder and immediately put to death by a cold-blooded assassin.

  Still, that was a five-star hotel and this was…not. At least he could get room service if he wanted.

  I tossed and turned for an hour before, finally, a chorus of cockroaches sang me to sleep. Or maybe it was just the TV left on in a neighboring room.

  I really hoped it was.

  The next morning, I’d escaped the mildew-scented clutches of Glitter. I honestly didn’t know how long I’d be staying in such absolute nonluxury, but I didn’t think I’d get away with only one night.

  The tight black dress I’d worn last night had been shoved unceremoniously into my suitcase and replaced with much more practical black jeans, a plain white tank top, and a pair of red Keds.

  I’d hoped I would wake up with the answer to what had happened and who was to blame, but I utterly had no idea. Why would that hunter kill Bernard in public? Even hunters had a code they operated by. In their own misguided way, they were trying to protect humans from your average fanged threat. Protecting humans didn’t include traumatizing them in large numbers.

  It made no sense to me.

  “Money talks.” Duncan said that. He was a hired mercenary, informant, whatever. Much like a stripper, he moved in the direction of dollar bills, wherever they waved.

  “Somebody must have hired him,” I mumbled to myself.

  Yeah, well, it looked like Thierry had done just that, didn’t it? He’d threatened Bernard in public. But if Thierry wanted Bernard dead, Bernard would have simply disappeared without a sound, without a trace, never to be seen or heard from again.

  He’d be able to have someone killed and the body hidden—easy as pie. The chilling thought was strangely reassuring. It only reminded me that Thierry was one hundred percent innocent here. He’d never be this sloppy.

  So who else would do this and try to point the finger at Thierry?

  As I walked quickly along the sidewalk and past the shiny black pyramid of the Luxor Hotel, although I wasn’t exactly sure where I was headed yet, I turned my attention to my phone to check messages—presently, zero. I’d thought I might hear from Thierry by text or e-mail, checking that I arrived home safely. Since there was nothing here, I decided his laptop and phone must have been taken away from him.

  Bastards. They weren’t giving him any chance to prove himself innocent, locking him up in that room without any way to contact the outside world. It was all up to me—and, given my worm’s-belly level of confidence this morning, that really didn’t ease my mind at all.

  Again, I wasn’t watching the sidewalk and I did what I normally did in a case like that and slammed right into someone.

  “Sorry,” I blurted out before I even saw who it was.

  Jesus Christ stared back at me. Long white robes. Long hair, full beard, kind brown eyes.

  “Are you all right, my child?” he asked.

  Talk about a sign from God. “I—I’m fine. Thank you.”

  He smiled as he rubbed the shoulder that I’d come close to dislocating. “You’re troubled, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am. Very troubled.” I cocked my head to the side, surprised by what I thought I’d just seen. “Are those—do you have fangs?”

  His smile widened to show off his sharp canines. “I do indeed.”

  Jesus Christ was a vampire. At least—this one was.

  Now that I thought about it, it wasn’t totally out of the realm of possibility. Immortal, forever young, rising again after death, et cetera.

  I peered closer at his pointy pearly whites. “Are they real?”

  “What is real, my child, is what we believe to be real. Are you aware of the apocalypse? It is coming very soon. The signs are all around us.”

  “The apocalypse?”

  “Yes. Armageddon. The end of the world as we know it.”

  I blinked. “Given the week I’ve had, that sounds about right, actually.”

  “Take this.” He thrust a flyer at me that was printed on neon green paper. “Memorize it. The vampires are coming to kill us all and turn us into creatures of the night. All humans will be destroyed. But don’t be afraid, my child. It’s the next stage of our evolution. We must embrace it.”

  “Okay, if you say so.” I stared blankly at the flyer, which was printed with type so tiny that it made even my supernaturally perfect eyesight go a bit squinty at the edges.

  “They’re here in Las Vegas as we speak,” he continued, although he’d lowered his voice as he warily looked around the busy sidewalk. “Gaining strength and draining specially chosen victims. There have been six so far. The seventh will be today. Onward to thirteen, the original number of my disciples. Every one is important to lead us to the glorious future.” He clutched the stack of flyers to his chest. “I am here to personally witness the future of mankind forming in the shadows of the night.”

  I stared at him. “I’m guessing that those fangs in your mouth are the stick-on kind, right?”

  He nodded. “For now. But you must have faith that I am here to lead us all forward toward the vampire apocalypse. I do this purely out of love to help humans evolve to their next level of existence.”

  I nodded. “So I’m going to…uh, leave now. I have other things to do. Great talking to you, though.”

  “Go with God, my child. Go with God. I will next see you when we all rise again.”

  I went. Whether it was with God or not, I couldn’t say for sure. Talking to Vampire Jesus did help give me some new information, after I sorted through the crazy parts. It told me that the serial killings weren’t totally off the grid. People did know about them, even if it hadn’t been confirmed in the newspaper or anywhere else.

  I hated to say it, but I honestly didn’t care about the serial killer. It had nothing to do with Bernard’s murder, so I couldn’t waste time worrying about it.

  Maybe Thierry could talk to Markus one-on-one and work this out. It seemed as if they had some sort of history together, since Thierry knew all about what happened to his wife and kids that had helped to turn the enforcer cold as ice. Then again, when you had been around as long as Thierry, there probably weren’t all that many people you didn’t have some kind of history with.

  I knew I was fooling myself. Markus was a black-and-white kind of guy—he wouldn’t see any shades of gray here. All logical signs pointed to Thierry being responsible for killing Bernard—he had the motive, he had the means, he had the opportunity. Now Bernard was dead and somebody had to pay for that.

  Markus was going to kill Thierry.

  I had to figure this out before that happened.
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  You’re going to fail.

  No, I’m not.

  Yes, you are. You’re going to let Thierry down when he needs you the most.

  My inner voice had never been my biggest cheerleader, but today she was louder than ever before. I leaned against a wall and squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Breathe,” I told myself. “Just breathe. It’s going to be okay.”

  I couldn’t lose him. We’d only just begun.

  Great. To make matters even worse, I now had the Carpenters song stuck in my head.

  “Who could have done it?” I murmured. “Come on, Sarah. Think. Who could have hired that hunter to kill Bernard?”

  “I have an idea or two about that,” a dry and familiar voice said.

  I opened my eyes and hitched my purse up higher on my shoulder. Out of all the people on the sidewalk who were walking past me without a second glance, only one had stopped. And it was a very short one.

  Victoria Corday looked brightly up at me, a sweet smile on her adorable face. Today she wore a fuchsia sundress and her sunlight-blond hair was straight instead of the ringlets she’d worn last night.

  “What did you just say?” I managed.

  “Let’s make a deal, puppy. You help me and I’ll help you.” She glanced nervously behind her. “And I’m going to need some of that help in about three…two…one…”

  A man in a security uniform thundered up beside her, his face red and sweaty. “Thought you could get away from me, did you?”

  “Mommy, help!” Victoria ducked behind me and put her hand on my leg as she peered out at the man. “This bad man is chasing me!”

  “Darn right I’m chasing you, kid. That’s what I do with thieves.” The security guard glared at me. “Is she yours?”

  Oh, hell. I really didn’t need this right now.

  In that split second, I had to decide what to do next—not that I had a whole lot of choice here. I looked down at Victoria, who had that “I’m an innocent child!” look—she did come by it honestly—painted on her face. And the security guard…he looked furious. It wasn’t hard to piece together what had just happened.

  Victoria had handed in her beauty pageant sash for a license to steal. Well, Thierry had told her to find other ways of making money. I guess she’d started immediately.