Blood and Kisses

chapter 15



“Cole.”

The light was too bright. Cole squinted against the razor sharp shards of pain. She tried to sit up and realized her eyes weren’t the only thing that hurt. It felt like her brain was bouncing around in her skull. She groaned and put a hand to her aching head. The surface beneath her was soft. A bed?

“Cole.”

She recognized Poole’s familiar voice, though he sounded strangely hoarse, but still fought to open her eyes. “The lights.”

“Oh.” Seconds later, there was a swoosh, and the light dimmed. She opened her eyes.

Poole leaned over her. He wore a flimsy hospital gown and robe. She was in a hospital. Nearby, a row of cheap woven curtains on a transverse rod were backlit by the sun. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

She shook her head, then regretted it as pain shot through her tender skull and the room became a carnival tilt-a-whirl. She felt as if her head were made of papier-mâché and could be punctured like a piñata if she moved it too hard. “No.”

“They said you might not. From what I’ve learned, Damek was choking me and you shot him. He must have knocked you down trying to get away, because you have quite a bump on your head. They started looking for us when we didn’t show up at the new scene, but a patrolman didn’t find my car until morning. He found us both unconscious in the basement, although I came around as they were calling the ambulance.”

“So Damek got away?”

Poole nodded solemnly.

“Damn.” She tried to get up.

Poole pushed her back by the shoulders. “Hey, hey. You’ve got a concussion. You’re here overnight for observation.”

“What about you?”

“Some bruising, but they’re going to release me in a couple hours.” He looked down at his attire. “I’m having someone bring me some clean clothes. Mine have dirt and blood all over them. They’ll be entered into evidence.”

“What’s the status of the manhunt?” Cole thought about jumping out of bed and pulling on her clothes. She hated to think of missing the excitement, but even speaking hurt. She’d get up later.

“Damek didn’t return home or to his club. But he’s not exactly inconspicuous. It’s only a matter of time ‘til we find him.”



Cold rain pounded her head, soaking her hair instantly as they raced for the car. Water muffled shouts sounded behind them. She could hear the rhythmic splashing of men running over the sound of her own footfalls and heavy breathing.

Were they catching up? She didn’t dare glance back to check.

Her sodden clothes weighed her down, making every step like slogging through mud. Gideon’s hand in hers drove her on. God, the driveway hadn’t seemed quite this long when she hadn’t been half-drowned and on the run, and the rain made it damn near impossible to see, but hopefully the men behind them had the same problem.

Finally, the cool slick metal of the car handle met her fingers. Gideon ran around to the driver’s seat and as soon as the lock clicked she jerked open the door and slid inside. Water dripped in rivulets down her cheeks and chin, wetting the seats and mats.

The car engine roared to life. She swallowed. The rain sheeting the windshield transformed the world outside into a wash of colored pixels, but she could make out the boxy shape of the patrol car they somehow had to make it past.

“Ready?” he asked, revving the engine and gripping the steering wheel with pale knuckles. “I’m going to have to try and clip the front of the cop car at the right angle to shove it out of the way and hope the airbags don’t go off.”

Thalia grabbed the door handle with both hands. “This isn’t a movie, Gideon. Why does this sound like something that’s been busted on Mythbusters?”

“You have a better idea?

“No.”

His eyes glowed in the gloom. “Then here we go.”

The impact happened so fast, Thalia barely had time to register more than the screech of grinding metal. She gritted her teeth, wincing a little at the thought of the damage to Gideon’s beautiful car. They shot out the gate. The hot stink of burning rubber filled the car as the jaguar fishtailed on the slippery pavement, and then the tires found traction and they were free, for the moment.

“You do realize, they’re going to be right behind us?”

“Not if they can’t get through the gate.” Gideon reached up and pressed a button. She craned her body around and caught a glimpse of the wrought iron structure moving in the distance.

She settled back in her seat. “That ought to buy us enough time to ditch this car and find some place to hole up.”



“Wegman’s?” Gideon quirked a dark eyebrow at the storefront before them. The effect was rather lost since the movement released the raindrop perched on top and it rolled down his cheekbone.

Thalia huffed and dragged him inside the vast grocery store by his wrist. “Sunset isn’t until almost ten. You know any other place open that late? Don’t,” she flashed him her palm. “No more bars. And I can get some food at the café here without drawing much attention.”

Towing him into an empty row of freezer cases, she conjured a drying spell and a warm wind swirled around them, evaporating most of the water.

At the market café, she ate quickly, stuffing an egg roll in her mouth without really tasting it. Gideon watched her without speaking, and glanced at his phone as she tossed the remains of her meal. “One more hour. Let’s go browse the book section.”

He rifled through a magazine and Thalia tried to get into a brick sized bestseller, but her mind kept wandering. She supposed she should be worried about catching the rogue, but for some reason her mind refused to stop running through Gideon’s kiss earlier in the day and its abrupt end.

Behind her book, her hand found the edge of her mark, slid up and covered it.

“Why do you do that?” He strode to her and lifted her hand away from her cheek. The rough edge of his thumb stroked the pink skin of her birthmark.

She sighed. “You have to ask?”

“I do.”

She shook her head. “I had a nickname in middle school. Phantom. I got it after an eighth grade trip to see Phantom of the Opera in Toronto from a boy named Billy Lasher.”

“Where does he live?” The tone of Gideon’s voice made Thalia smile, but the urge faded quickly.

“It wasn’t only him. The other kids were just as bad.” Even the witch kids had kept their distance. She was going to be the Champion after all.

And then Peter Drury had moved to town from Costa Mesa, California, in her senior year of high school. By then she’d taken her nickname to heart, had learned to hide her birthmark and slip quietly through the school day without drawing painful attention to herself.

“There was a boy. He was sweet to me.” The laugh that escaped her had little humor in it. “Made me feel like a normal girl. He even invited me to the senior ball.”

She glanced up at Gideon. His mouth was tight, his eyes intent. “He asked me to meet him behind the bleachers at school.”

When she’d arrived, she’d found he had spread a plaid woolen blanket on the grass. A wicker picnic basket anchored one corner. He gave her flowers, daisies, and Queen Anne’s lace, probably taken from a nearby field, and brought out a bottle of cheap red wine. The bleachers backed up to a small wooded area and it felt as if they were the only people in the world.

She smiled a bit as she remembered how awkward he had been as he had opened the wine, and how terrible that first swallow had been. They’d passed the bottle back and forth. Many swigs later, Peter began to kiss her, his lips wet and sour with wine. Suddenly, Billy Lasher and five other boys burst laughing from the trees. They pounded Peter on the back, congratulating him on getting close enough to kiss the phantom.

He’d acted as if she weren’t even there. “Yeah, I had to get drunk to do it, but I did it. Where’s my money?” Billy handed Peter a twenty-dollar bill.

Feeling as though she’d been punched in the stomach, she’d stumbled into the woods, away from their scornful eyes and threw up. To this day, she didn’t know how she’d gotten home.

She’d cried so much that evening, she’d had no tears left for the night of the ball. She’d watched, dry-eyed, out the window, as other boys and girls in the neighborhood, dressed in crisp tuxedos and floating gowns, had posed for pictures on their front lawns, gotten into their shiny cars or limousines and left for the ball. Her dress hung abandoned in her closet, still in its plastic bag, tags intact.

For years she’d wondered why her sixth sense had failed her that day, but maybe she’d simply wanted to be loved so much, wanted to belong so badly, she’d ignored the warning signs.

She took a deep breath. “I don’t know why we’re having this conversation.”

She pulled away and turned her back.

The only mystery left was why Gideon hadn’t broken off their kiss sooner. She supposed it was his nature. Vampires were reputed to be intensely sensual. No doubt, it could have been anyone.

Stop it! You are what you are. Live with it!

The snap as she closed her book seemed unusually loud to her ears, but all Gideon said was, “It’s sunset. Let’s go.”



Thalia stumbled a bit in Gideon’s arms as she found her feet. They stood in the hazy disk of light beneath one of the few working streetlights in the area.

He’d teleported them a few blocks over from the derelict house she’d followed the rogue to after he and Gideon had fought. The procedure had entailed being way too close to him. She pulled out of his embrace and drew a deep breath. “Wow, that was amazing.”

“Unfortunately, it takes a lot out of me. After you show me what you’ve found, I’ll have to feed.”

Thalia concealed a shiver. His words evoked an image of his dark head bending over the pale neck of a woman. She closed her eyes against the sharp pang of envy she felt for the unknown woman and forced her attention back to the immediate concern. She started forward, only to have Gideon drag her back into the deep shadow of a tall hedge. “The police have staked out the place.” He indicated a small silver car with a jerk of his head. “We can’t just walk in.”

“Sorry. I’m not used to being a fugitive.” Thalia uttered the last word of an invisibility spell, covering them both. “Come on.”

Once inside, they made their way upstairs. Thalia choked on the putrid stench. She held a hand to her nose and tried to breathe through her mouth. Dim light filtered in through the boarded up windows from the streetlights outside, but it was difficult to see. An illumination spell or a flashlight would be seen from the street. Her eyes grew accustomed to the inadequate light and she could make out black marks spattered on the light-colored wall. She forced down the lump in her throat. “Is it...?”

Gideon’s eyes glowed red in his shadowed face as he nodded. “Blood? Yes.”

“Why would a vampire waste all that blood?”

Gideon circled the room. It was clear he was having no problem seeing. “Maybe it’s a game to him. He staged this crime scene to draw the police.”

“Where were Cole and Poole attacked?”



At the top of the wobbly stairs leading to the black hole that was the cellar, Gideon scented the musty air. He could detect every molecule of aroma in the room. He sorted past the revolting smell of rancid blood floating down from upstairs, the odor of the people who had passed through the room, familiar and unfamiliar, the myriad scents that composed the reek of an abandoned house, rotten garbage, fly dirt, mildew. He identified urine, drugs, and fast food, as well. There had been squatters in the house at one point. “He’s gone. The only woman here before us was Cole.” Unless she’d stayed shifted the entire time she was here, which he doubted, Inanna wasn’t the rogue.

He ventured down the stairs. Somehow Thalia’s small hand had become lodged in his. It felt good, right. He should pull his hand away, but couldn’t seem to find the will power. He could see well, but Thalia shuffled along behind him, feeling her way. “There are no windows. I think we can risk a light.”

Thalia muttered a few words and light flared. She moved forward to examine their surroundings and dropped his hand. His hand felt more than empty; it felt cold. The chill seemed to travel up his hand to his arm and invade his chest, centering in his heart. He longed to have her hand again.

He rubbed his palm against his chest to dispel the feeling and swept the cellar with his keen gaze. “There’s nothing here.” Disappointment pressed against his chest. He’d hoped to find some clue that would lead him to his mysterious enemy. Being close to Thalia day after day, smelling her unique fragrance, feeling the heat of her body, and yet being unable to make love to her was constant torture.

“We’ll have to go back to watching the B.B. and C., but it’s not going to be easy to dodge the police.” As Thalia walked back over to the stairs, her cell phone rang.

“Hello.”

He recognized Mina Shaw’s mature voice on the other end.

“Thalia. I’ve called a meeting. The council requests your attendance.” Her tone implied it wasn’t a request at all. He couldn’t see Thalia’s face. Her back stiffened.

Distress seemed to pour off her in waves, but her voice was steady as she answered tersely, “I’ll be there.”