Pool of Crimson

chapter 3



I’d just set my bag down on the kitchen table when my phone started singing “Dancing Queen.” Amblan, my best friend and old roommate, had thought messing with my phone was funny the night we sat around watching Disney cartoons. She’d been bored. I should change it but it made her happy, and it wasn’t that embarrassing, not really.

After a year of living with her and her new fabulously gay lifestyle, I couldn’t keep up or keep her out of trouble. There just weren’t enough hours in the day for me to earn a living, kill vampires, and chaperone Amblan. I’d tried to only hunt vampires on the weekends so that I could get some sleep but the vampires just didn’t seem to go for that plan. They needed to eat everyday apparently.

The bondage scene was the perfect hunting ground for my undead friends and Am the perfect victim; low self-esteem, questionable family ties, and no one waiting for her at home. She could disappear for days and no one would know, so I tried to stay in touch regularly, almost every day just to make sure she was all right.

“Hey, Am, what’s up?” I asked in as cheery a voice as I could force out. I was already tired.

“Dahlia, you have to come out with me tonight.” Her desperation tumbled from her lips in a frantic jumble of words I barely understood. “Lizzy’s having a function down at the bar for her brother before he goes to Afghanistan. They’re raising money for his kids.” Her words were quick and breathless.

“Okay, Am, what time are you picking me up?” I conceded with a deep breath. I’d have to wear boots and the calf sheath for my bowie knife. I’d bought a silver-plated Stag 80 Bowie Knife several years ago because I needed something that I could depend on in a close fight. It fit perfectly into my knee-high boots and, like wearing a great bra, it was snug to the skin, and I forgot it was there until I needed it. You can tell a lot about a girl by the weapons she hides.

The line went dead for a moment.

“Really? You’ll come,” she asked in disbelief.

“Really,” I agreed. She was all I had.

“I’ll pick you up ‘round ten. Oh, and it’s Angels or Demons tonight. Just thought you’d wanna know,” she added quickly with a giggle and hung up the phone.

“Angels or Demons?” I growled as I rolled my eyes and threw my head back in frustration. I suppose that made my choice easier. I had to wear my boots, so demon it was. Plus, I looked like hell in white.

I collapsed on my couch and got comfortable after putting my phone on the charger. I’d spent most of the day going over numbers, budgets, and arguing with my administrators about salaries and benefits. It’s a real juxtaposition to watch the administrators in my academic department fret about ridiculous issues like not being included in an email and know that I had killed a vampire the night before. The bitch’s last punch still pulsed along my ribs with every move I made and every breath I took. Pain put everything into perspective for me. I wanted to forget all the nonsense. I closed my eyes. Just for a second. I had to rest.


I was disoriented, cold, and in a void of darkness that had no beginning and no end.

It was empty.

I was alone.

The sheer size of the nothingness surrounding me sent my heart racing. In the distance, someone whispered, soft and soothing. The voice was deep, male, almost familiar. In my gut, I knew there was something threatening lurking underneath the words but I couldn’t make them out. I walked for what seemed like miles, getting no closer to the voice or anything else. My heart thumped in my chest as I started to panic.

A shrill scream echoed off in the distance and reverberated around me, vibrating the air as if it was something solid until my skin tingled painfully. Whatever was out there was almost on top of me. I jumped further into the void and disappeared.


I awoke on the couch with a start, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. “I hate those damned dreams,” I mumbled under my breath. I sat up, trying to figure out what time it was, hell, what day it was.

It was dark outside.

I glanced down at the cable box and saw I had a little more than two hours to eat dinner and get ready before Am showed up. More than enough time.

I tried to shake off my dream and forget all the anxiety that came with it, which took more effort than it should have. My skin still tingled from the sound of that voice and ear-piercing scream still ringing in my ears.

After showering, I put on the darkest makeup my skin tone would allow. I’m pale, plus I spend a lot of time in the dark. I blew out my own golden blond bob and put on the finishing touches before heading to my bedroom to get dressed.

I’m curvy with no ass and long legs, which make pants hard to fit, and am well endowed, which makes tops almost impossible with my long torso. I put on a pair of self-adhesive thigh highs and a garter belt for good measure with a short black mini. I put on a red lace bra and paired it with a tight black suit vest. The lacy edge of the bra was visible from underneath the vest. The curve of my breasts peaked out in soft mounds of milky white flesh. The vest and bra would be much cooler in the bar than a sweater.

I filled my wrists with bangles of black, red, and silver bracelets and stacked them almost to my elbow. Then I put on a necklace of sterling silver with a matching teardrop pendent that landed squarely between my breasts. Mere contact with silver wouldn’t stop a vampire from killing me, but it would hurt like hell. It might make a vampire hesitate before going for the throat.

I had, at one time, worn a silver crucifix but you had to believe, I mean really believe, for it to work. I hadn’t believed in a very long time. Silver burned on contact, and silver would keep vampires from healing as quickly as they normally could. I tried to always have it on hand. A silver-plated knife was an easier kill than driving a stake through their hearts any day. I’m a fan of anything that makes my life easier.

After sliding on my boots and fitting the knife in its sheath around my calf, I studied myself in the mirror. I looked pretty good; more importantly, I felt good.

Amblan used her key to come in, and I called out to her. “Hey, Am, I’m still up here.” Her heavy boot-clad footfalls on the hardwood stairs echoed in my silent house as I continued primping in the mirror.

She filled the doorway, leaning casually against the doorjamb. “Damn, you look good enough to f*ck,” she said with a playful smile.

“You know I’d let you but I don’t want you to get too attached,” I teased, taking in her stunning outfit. I hated her. She was 6’1”, gorgeous, and weighed about 135 pounds without even trying. I had to work to lose every pound but she existed in a world of high metabolisms and effortless beauty. Am had dyed her hair red, black, blond, black cherry, and brunette so many times that I couldn’t remember what her original color was, and I wasn’t sure she could either. The current color was black with blue highlights and frosted tips. She had an affinity for tattoos. Her piercings were the kind that accentuated her pleasure and not just for show. She was absolutely beautiful and didn’t even know it.

“Do I need anything else?” I asked, glancing in the mirror one last time.

“Just your sexy self and some cash for the auction,” she said as she grinned at me.

“Should I bid on you?” I asked, shaking my head in playful disbelief. I already knew the answer. I wouldn’t be going otherwise.

“Only if it gets above $100. Megan said she could only afford that much, and I don’t want Gillian to win. She’s psycho. I don’t want to spend a single night with her, that’s for damned sure.” She smiled at me like a kid who wants something expensive from their parent. Trust me, Am was an expensive date.

“Do you think I’m made of money?” I snipped as she continued to grin at me, ignoring the fact I sounded like my mother. I appreciated that. “You’re paying for my drinks tonight then.”

“Sweetie, trust me. In that outfit, you won’t have to pay for a damned thing.”


The Box was a lesbian dance club and bar hidden on a back alley downtown. It was situated right next to the YMCA, which at 2 a.m. was a frightening place, even for me. Humans can be just as scary as the undead. They’ll kill you for much, much less. Vampires kill mostly for survival. The creeps in the alley at 2 a.m. will kill for kicks, cash, or crazy. The YMCA was home to some of Columbus’s premier residents; nut jobs, crack heads, drug dealers, and those not permitted to live within a 1,000 feet of a school.

Amblan and I walked through the door without paying a cover. Big surprise, she was a favorite with the owners and hadn’t paid a cover in over three years. She was a favorite everywhere she went.

The music pumped, and the beat pounded in my chest as the bass thumped. Every joint in my body throbbed with the deep booming tones. People pushed against each other on the dance floor in a mash of bodies. I merged into the sea moving in a steady current toward the bar as claustrophobia made my muscles clench. Bodies pressed so close together there was no breathing space between me and the rest of the room, filling my senses with body heat and adrenaline.

Bolts of white, red, and black fabric draped from the ceiling, creating a pinwheel above the bar. The servers were dressed in angel costumes with slender white wire halos hovering above their heads, white tanks, tutus, and go-go boots to match. The dancers on the pedestals at the corners were in tight red vinyl cat suits with long pointed tails and horns. Yes, a little cliché, but for the first time since we left my house, I smiled.

We pushed our way through a faceless mob to the bar where I ordered a glass of tonic. A very masculine woman to my right plopped a ten-dollar bill down on the bar with a smile in my direction and picked up the tab. She was nice, a little handsy, but personable, and I screamed a “thank you” into her ear over the loud thump of music filling the club.

As I sat on the edge of the bar stool listening to her talk about her last girlfriend and how much she missed her, a brief flash of a familiar face in the crowd caught my attention. My eyes narrowed on his olive complexion and the ample supply of black chest hair peeking out from his orange paisley shirt. We were long overdue for a proper introduction.

Smarmy sat on a high stool across the dance floor on the other side of the bar with two other men who were a little too muscular and well groomed to be straight. Standing alongside Smarmy was a tall, ebony-haired woman who was absolutely stunning with high cheekbones, almond shaped dark eyes, and full, pouty lips. Her oval face was soft and petite.

The men were clearly muscle and a little too pretty to be effective. I doubted they had even ever been in a fight. The ebony-haired woman’s long arms moved gracefully, shifting her hands smoothly through the air as she spoke. The shining black hair falling easily down her back brushed lightly over her butt. Ebony was lean, with a dark olive complexion that radiated a bronze shimmer. In the flashing disco lights of the club, she looked like she was covered in glitter. The black spandex cat suit she wore clung to her lithe body, displaying every curve. She got plenty of nibbles from the women around the dance floor, without even trying.

The crowd around the Ebony Goddess listened to Smarmy, but watched her. He stuck out. You don’t see many straight men in a lesbian club, and if you do, they don’t look like a Mediterranean bohunk. The whole group looked peculiar, out of place.

The group of women surrounding Smarmy and the Ebony Goddess got larger with each seductive smile and flippant swish of her hair. They had attracted at least five more women to their school of fish since I’d been watching them. I edged away from the bar, completely ignoring the woman who bought me the drink. I had a twinge of regret but when I looked back, she had moved on to someone else. Good for her.

I had to get close enough to hear what was going on without Smarmy recognizing me. I had no doubt that the moment he laid eyes on me, he’d raise the alarm, and I’d lose the only lead I’d had in almost a week.

I passed through the dance floor, bumping and grinding as I went, trying to get through the crowd. More than one hand pressed inappropriately against the inside of my thigh and ass as I made my way through the dancers. I leaned up against the railing circling the dance floor and listened, trying to appear inconspicuous.

Smarmy and the Ebony Goddess were behind me. The cool push of vampire power nudged against my skin, sending a shiver up my spine, despite the heated club air. I could barely make out bits and pieces of what Smarmy said over the thump of the music.

“... killer party ... tonight ... as many as you can find.”

I glanced down at my boot with a panicked jerk of my head. I wasn’t properly armed for a full frontal assault.

I ducked under the railing, keeping my head low and my face turned away from Smarmy. I joined the fish as they followed the vampire and Smarmy out. As the group started to move toward the door and out to the street, I motioned to Amblan on the dance floor and, with a turn of my wrist, silently asked her for her keys. She threw them to me over the heads of a few dancers without question, but gave me a puzzled look. She raised her hand to the side of her head and signaled me to call her. I nodded with an apologetic grin as I left. I knew she could find a ride home without any trouble. There were any number of women that would love to do her a favor. She’d be mad if Gillian won the auction but that just meant I’d have to buy her breakfast in the morning. Maybe lunch, too.

“Here’s the address,” Smarmy said over the music. “Come as you are. It’ll be a killer party,” he finished with a horribly creepy smirk, exposing too many large teeth.

I glanced down at the address another woman had written on her hand and had a vague inkling I’d seen it before.

The house was on Divers Street, just off Goodale Park in Victorian Village. The wealthy had lived there a hundred years ago, and the well-off professionals lived there now. The area was littered with Victorian homes, tree-lined streets and beautiful green spaces. The people who lived in Victorian Village were busy and didn’t know each other. They walked their dogs, went to and from the local bars, and the area was close to a quick getaway, the interstate. It was an easy neighborhood to hide in.

I committed the address to memory and headed for Amblan’s truck. I checked the gas gauge. A hair above empty. I was going to have to fill it up for her, too.

When I got to the address, I realized it was a house I’d seen a hundred times. I’d admired its gothic revival architecture since the first time I’d seen it. The house was enormous; built in red brick, resembling a real life castle encircled by the city. I’d always thought the house was a museum or a banquet hall. I couldn’t imagine someone actually paying a heating bill for it. The grounds covered an entire city block with the house taking up most of that area. It had always seemed too quiet, too pristine, and too sad. Now I knew why.

I knew better than to enter the ‘party’ with the rest of the group. I hadn’t been recognized at the club, but I wasn’t holding my breath and taking the chance I’d go unnoticed this time.

There had to be some way to get in without Smarmy or the vampire with him seeing me, hearing me, or smelling me. I banked on her losing my scent in the plethora of other humans walking around, but I needed to find another way to get in other than the front door. I ditched my loud bangle bracelets in the glove compartment of Am’s truck and stepped out onto the street. The crisp autumn air hit my bare skin like ice grazing my body and gooseflesh spread across my arms and legs. I shivered in the cold air and rubbed my skin to keep it warm.

Perfect!

I approached the house from a few blocks away. A window was propped open on the third floor. There were no lights shining through, no curtains, and no furniture that I could see. It had to be the attic.

“Well, shucks, if I’d only thought to bring some repelling equipment and a grappling hook,” I whispered under my breath. A large oak tree next to the house soared up into the night sky, getting close enough to the open window that I hoped I could make the roof at least. I wasn’t dressed for scaling a tree trunk or in the mood for a hospital visit when I fell the three stories to the ground. I wasn’t Batman for Christ’s sakes. I walked around the house, hoping for a better option.

“I guess it’s the tree or nothing,” I breathed to myself.

A low branch hung over the next-door neighbor’s garage and looked sturdy enough to hold me. I climbed up onto the roof from the trellis and made it shakily to the branch across the shingles.

After about fifteen minutes of climbing, I’d ruined my hose, ripped my skirt, and snagged my lacy bra, but I was glad I hadn’t worn a jacket. Sweat ran down my forehead, blurring my vision and stinging my eyes.

“I’m going to have to add rock wall climbing to my regiment. Jesus,” I breathed as I continued to climb higher and higher so that I could drop down onto the roof and walk across the shingles to slide down into the open window. “I had better f*cking fit in this God damned window,” I said through clenched teeth as I lowered myself. I gripped the edge of the small roof jutting out over the open window. The hard grain of the roofing shingles burned the palms of my hand as I slid down.

“Please tell me I didn’t just shimmy up a tree for nothing,” I grunted as I lowered myself down onto the windowsill, holding on to the small battlement. I pushed the round, hinged window open farther with my foot. I slid easily through the window onto the solid surface of the hardwood floor and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. I almost kissed the floor as my entire body slipped inside the house.

The air was cold, almost frigid in the open space of the empty attic. Goose flesh spread across my skin as I pushed myself up off the floor with roughened and still tender hands. There was no insulation to trap the heat but there didn’t seem to be any heat to trap. It was 60 degrees outside, and it felt like 40 degrees in the attic. It was colder in the attic than it should have been.

A chill ran through me and my muscles tensed a second before a blast of wintry ice cold air bombarded me. It surrounded me, whipping my hair and skin like a December windstorm.

My mind filled with the shrieking terror of death as a semisolid mass of thick fog flowed into the attic. I gasped as pain-gorged shrieks invaded my brain. Images consumed my mind and pierced my consciousness, like someone had taken an ice pick to my brain. I was surrounded by anger, warning, fear. My legs went weak and disappeared out from under me. I collapsed into a helpless heap, squeezing my head in an attempt to keep the unwanted sensations out.

I’d never met anyone who could do what I did. From the time I was five years old and was caught talking to the woman who no one else could see, I knew I was different by the horror on my mother’s face. I didn’t tell her when I saw others. I couldn’t take that look in her eyes, the fear, the shame, and most of all the disdain.

I closed my eyes as tight as I could. There were so many ghosts filling my ears with their terror, my nostrils with the smell of decomposition, my skin with their painful chill, and my eyes with tears as I tried to push them out of my mind. I couldn’t pick out one spirit from another. There were too many of them. They were all mashed together in a mass grave of energy, pushing the weight of their anguish down on me. Everything was tangled together; each emotion, each hurt, and every fear so that I couldn’t distinguish one from another.

I had to shut them out.

I tried to breathe and focus my mind. I’d gotten good at that over the years, but this was different.

They wouldn’t let me ignore them ... not this time.

“Stop,” I whimpered. “Please stop.” My brain felt like it was seeping out of my ears and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

They finally relented enough that I could open my eyes without a searing pain through my brain, but their heavy weight on my body as they pressed down on me and the fog filling the attic, smelling faintly of sulfur, didn’t pull away. I was completely consumed by their fear, and all I wanted was to crawl in a dark corner and hide.

“I can’t help you,” I whispered in an agonized plea through clenched teeth. I stared up to the soft shimmering light hovering above me. A single spirit stood, well, floated before me. She was an older woman, blurred around the edges like a smudged chalk outline. She had long white hair, the color of freshly driven snow that floated freely down to her ankles, as if alive. The deep lines of age around her mouth spoke of years of hardships and sacrifice. Her penetrating ice-cold blue eyes glowed vibrantly in the darkness.

I stood as best I could on shaky legs and faced her. Her gaze focused on me, and the corners of her mouth turned up in an approving smile.

“I can’t help you,” I said again, only this time, my voice was solid and sounded like me.

That’s more like it.

A breath of acceptance washed over me, and my heart slowed to a manageable pace. I didn’t feel like it was going to beat out of my chest anymore. That was a good thing.

The spirit cocked her head and shrugged her shoulder as if to say, you can’t blame me for trying.

I breathed a sigh of relief as the fog of spirits cleared out, leaving me satisfyingly alone in my brain. She faded quickly once the others were gone, but I was left with the question as to why there were so many. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself before gingerly stepping forward to test my shaky legs. I surveyed the room around me when my knees didn’t give out. Yeah for me!

The mansion was old, old enough to have an actual door to the lower levels instead of a trap door. The attic had probably been servants’ quarters when it was first built so there had to be a door somewhere. I just had to find it in the dark and keep from tripping and making enough noise to wake the undead again. I could do that, right?

Luckily, the attic was clear of debris, and I navigated it easily. The door down to the lower level creaked as I opened it, but there was little I could do about that.

My parents’ house was filled with doors that were over a hundred years old with the original brass hinges, and those doors creaked no matter what I did. Often they didn’t even fit in the doorjamb due to swelling. This one was no different.

I peeked out from behind the door at the bottom of the narrow stairs. A long hallway stretched out before me with five or six doors lining the right side and a banister on the other overlooking the two-story foyer. I couldn’t see down the rest of the hallway beyond the large grand winding staircase. It was too dark.

The doorbell rang ominously with a flat dull sound that filled the open foyer with a dead tone. The sound set my teeth on edge as the sour note turned my stomach.

The group from the club, led by Smarmy and the Ebony Goddess filed in below to a room just beyond the staircase and outside my line of vision.

Life sure is easier when dinner’s delivered?

Someone turned the music up, and the sound of glasses clinking from behind the closed door faded as the party kicked into gear.

I made my way along the wall to the staircase. I stayed in the shadows and away from the soft light given off by the dimmed large-drop crystal chandelier hanging in the foyer. I crossed the hallway quickly and took the first few steps down and stopped. Another door opened off the foyer, and light from an office flooded the ground floor, illuminating the entire foyer. The downstairs was out for me. I couldn’t cross the foyer to the party below without being noticed by the four people in the office.

The music from the party softened to almost a whisper as the doors closed on Smarmy and the group from the club. Laughter and glasses clinking echoed in the empty foyer. I pressed myself against the wall of the stairs as flat as I could. I needed to get out of sight, but my curiosity nagged at me. I wanted to see what was going on in that office. I slunk down a few more steps, moving slowly around the curve of the stairs until I could see inside the open office door. My heart was pounding furiously in my chest. I just hoped no one noticed. My sweating palms slid easily against the smoothness of the wall as I stopped just short of the curve in the stairs.

An older man sat behind the desk. He had mostly silver hair with only a few remnants of the black his hair had once been. He had a rugged face, like he’d lived most of his life in Montana on the back of a horse, or was a relative of the Marlboro man from all of those billboards in the 80’s. His unusually pale skin and the cold rush of icy power gave him away as vampire. Another man flanked him and stood motionless at his right. The second vampire’s jaw was hard as granite. His gaze remained fixed, without movement or even a blink. He stood creepy still. A person could forget he was even there until he killed you.

He was pale with black hair the color of coal, the kind of black that shimmers in the light like vinyl and gives off the slightest tint of blue.

I knew him the moment I’d seen him. He was just as intriguing here as he’d been in the gallery.

In the gallery, he was fluid and graceful with a playful smile on his face. As he stood next to the Marlboro man, he seemed withdrawn and as hard as stone, untouchable. My vampire statue wore dark denim jeans with a crisp white shirt, un-tucked, under a heather gray sweater that appeared soft, like cashmere. He looked good, really good and there was a slight twinge of shame as my heart raced at the sight of him.

What’s wrong with you? He’s not attractive. He’s a vampire. He’s NOT attractive!

The Ebony Goddess from the club lounged on a brown leather club sofa against the far wall of the office, like she didn’t have a care in the world. A fourth vampire in the center of the room stood before the desk, trembling, his head bowed and his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

“You have failed me again,” the Marlboro Man said, severing each word cleanly from the next. “I should leave you to the sun. But unfortunately, no one would see it. You have endangered us for the last time.”

Ebony rose from the couch lightning quick and swung a sword the length of her arm swiftly through the air, severing the tongue lashing recipient’s head, which toppled from his body to the floor with a hard bounce.

The thick splat of his blood combined with the head hitting the floor turned my stomach. His body collapsed to the floor in a lump of limp body parts that slowly shriveled to an unidentifiable mass of withered flesh over bone.

With an aristocratic flick of his hand, the Marlboro Man motioned to Ebony. “Leave his body in the chamber for everyone to see before you dispose of him permanently. He must serve as an example,” he said, waving the entire situation away as if it was nothing more than a mess to be cleaned up.

The Ebony Goddess moved without further orders, gathering the pieces of the decomposing body into her arms, then carrying them away like common trash.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I fought back the gasp lodged in my throat.

SHIT! I can’t let them find me.

The two men were quiet, almost statue still, waiting. When Ebony reentered the room now empty handed, the Marlboro Man addressed them both. “I don’t like having to explain to the Ahriman group what happened to their emissary. Did your pet at least get what she carried?” he asked, his voice thick with venom and his eyes as sharp as daggers.

“Yes, Master, he did,” she snapped out quickly. “He also gave me a description of the woman.”

“We know who the woman is!” Marlboro Man bellowed. “It’s the Blushing Death. It’s always the Blushing Death. Always the Blushing Death!” A growl reverberated in his throat as he slammed his hand down on the desk’s surface. The sound of wood cracking and snapping beneath his fist rang out through the foyer. The Ebony Goddess jumped, but my vampire beside him didn’t move a muscle. The Marlboro Man took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, then his jacket. “We cannot make any more mistakes. We are too close to the ceremony for any complications.”

Who is the Blushing Death?

“We will see to it,” my vampire from the gallery said without emotion. His voice was flat with no cadence as he stood beside the Marlboro Man in his marble beauty.

“No more. The Blushing Death has been a thorn in my side for too long,” the Marlboro Man snapped.

“I was told,” Ebony Goddess sneered with malice in her voice, “that Patrick here got quite close to her at the gallery.” She smirked like she’d just told on her brother.

Oh Shit! The Blushing Death. Are they talking about me?

“Is that true?” the Marlboro Man asked, incredulous. “What can you tell me of her?”

“She’s ...” My vampire paused for a long moment. A small smile crested his full lips. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and his eyes held the slight twinkle I remembered from the gallery.

“Patrick?” the Marlboro Man prompted.

Patrick froze, replacing the softening of his shoulders with the hard, statuesque form he’d maintained throughout the meeting.

“She’s only a human. I don’t believe she’s a real threat,” he said with confidence.

My jaw tightened in anger, and I balled my hands into tight fists.

I’m NOT A THREAT! We’ll see about that, a*shole!

“You don’t? She killed an emissary of the Ahriman group, and you don’t think she’s a threat?” Marlboro Man asked, brow raised.

“She picks off the weak,” Patrick said, smug confidence dripping from his tone. Then a smile reached his eyes as his face remained stone cold sober. “She’s actually doing us a favor. Maybe you should send her some flowers to thank her, Dominique, for doing your job for you.” It was impossible not to hear the sarcasm in his voice.

Did he just make a joke?

By their expressions and stunned silence, Marlboro Man and Ebony Goddess were just as surprised as I was at Patrick’s comment.

“Enough!” Marlboro Man bellowed. “We must be extremely careful. We still need fresh blood and the stone before we can do anything.”

Patrick cleared his throat and looked away. The Ebony Goddess released a deep breath as her shoulders squared and she clasped her hands behind her back in tight fists.

“Is there something I need to know?” Marlboro Man asked, anger heavy in his words.

“No, Master.”

“Her servant lost it,” Patrick said, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

The Marlboro Man rose from his desk with the controlled precision of a predator. His careful steps and the hard line of his stiff body spoke of caged violence. His power rippled through the house like a winter storm with hurricane force winds. His hand shot out and struck her across the face. He moved faster than my eyes could follow, and I held in a gasp of surprise. Now was not the time to give myself away. Ebony Goddess hit the floor in a flat thud of flesh against hardwood.

“Find it!” he forced through clenched teeth. “Now, get out.”

Ebony Goddess crawled to the door, over the threshold, then rose awkwardly to her feet. When she didn’t collapse, she continued on and didn’t look back. Patrick followed her to the door, then shut it softly behind him with a soft click of the lock.

Movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention. A vampire had started up the stairs from another room off the foyer and was headed my way, quickly. I crept back up around the corner at the top of the stairs as quietly as I could and hoped to God that the vampire hadn’t seen me.

Maybe he’d go the other way.

I sat, crouched in the shadows of the darkened hallway and prayed he would pass me by. I held my breath and sat motionless in the dark as his footsteps grew closer and closer to the top of the stairs and to me. I was afraid to draw my knife, knowing that he would hear the slick sound of metal sliding against leather. His footfalls echoed in my ears like a bell tolling in an empty churchyard, making blood pump through my veins and pound in my ears.

I actually felt the bastard stop by the shift in the air, the twinge of knots in my gut, and the cold prickle of power along my skin. His cologne filled the air like body odor in a high school locker room; musky and acrid, burning my nose. I tried not to breathe as my eyes watered.

I heard an audible intake of air and froze.

He smelled me.

He turned his head slowly in my direction, a pleased expression curving the corner of his mouth and violence in his stance. His predator eyes shimmered in the almost nonexistent light.

Shit!

He was on me before I saw him move. He yanked me from the floor, twisting me and slammed my back against his chest. He wrapped his hand crushingly around my throat and threw his other arm across my chest like a vice, then pulled me tight against him, crushing me. His erection pressed hard against my ass while his breath grazed my cheek and his fangs were sharp against the skin of my neck.

“What’ve I got here? A present?” he asked, a malicious tone in his voice. “I think I’m gonna open it.”

He ripped my feet from the ground and dragged me down the hallway. I tried to struggle. I thrashed and kicked as hard as I could, even as my feet dangled off the ground. I couldn’t move my arms to pry his hand away from my throat. I only connected a kick with the vampire’s body about once every three times, not nearly enough to hurt him or get him to let me go. I was just exhausting myself.

“I like ‘em with a little fight in ‘em. Maybe I’ll let you scream before I kill you. I think I might like the sound of that.”

He released the hold he had across my chest, and my hands went to the grip he had around my throat. I dug my fingers in between his grip and my throat, scratching my own skin with my nails in my desperate attempt to be free.

The soft click of a lock filled my ears, and all the warning bells in my head went off. My heart pounded ferociously against my chest and adrenaline shot through my body. I tried elbowing him in the gut and kicking him in the shins. I tried anything I could think of to get him to let me go. If he got me in that room, I knew I was dead. I also knew that it would take a long time for me to get dead.

He didn’t even flinch as my boot heel connected with his kneecap. He whipped me around, slamming my legs on the doorframe as he threw me into the room. I was airborne, weightless, for a split second as the wind whipped around me and landed hard on my stomach on a bed, slamming into the oversized oak headboard.

SHIT! I was in a bedroom. This had just gone from merely deadly to f*cked up and deadly. I didn’t care if he ripped my throat out then and there but he wasn’t going to shove his dick anywhere it didn’t belong.

I scrambled to the far side of the bed as my mind focused solely on the danger at hand. I was panicked and I knew it. All I could see in my mind were his hands on me and his body holding me down, trapping me. I had to get away.

He grabbed my ankle in a grip that could break the bone with a hair more pressure, yanking me back to his side of the bed with a quick jerk. The shock of his strength reverberated in my knee and hip joints as my bones pulled from their sockets just enough to ache. I grabbed for the opposite edge of the bed and tried to pull myself away from him.

I couldn’t get away.

His other hand slid up the back of my leg and pushed my skirt up over my ass. I kicked at him and pulled at the edge of the bed with all the strength I had in me. I didn’t care if I broke my leg. This wasn’t going to happen.

I wouldn’t scream. No matter what he did, I wouldn’t scream. He wanted to hear my fear and my pain. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I bit down on my lower lip, hard enough to draw blood as he tore at my stockings.

My heart pounded in my chest and my breath was ragged against my throat as he yanked me back to him one more time. My wrists stretched as my fingers slipped from the edge of the mattress. I slid back to him, burning my exposed skin against the harsh fabric of the cheap bedspread. My nose filled with the scent of dirty musk and I tried not to gag as his fingers slipped under my panties and tugged. The fabric ripped as he tore the elastic against my pelvis.

F*ck!

I turned slightly to my side and angled one good kick to his chest. The impact of the blow ricocheted through my leg, like kicking a tree, but he stumbled back a step. Just one step, but it was enough. I was free.

He dangled my torn panties on his index finger with a smile curving his thin lips with violence. He ran my torn lace panties across his nose, taking a deep breath. “I’ll make you scream yet, honey,” he said as his eyes narrowed on me.

I took a deep breath and cleared my mind.

This f*cker’s gonna kill me. He’s gonna tear me up before he does it, too. Think, damn you, THINK!

I crab walked to the far side of the mattress, skimming my now bare ass across the scratchy bedspread. He tossed my panties over his shoulder and knelt on the bed. He reached out and grabbed my left ankle, then yanked. I raised my right leg to shove my foot in his throat. The knife shifted slightly in my boot.

The knife, you dumbass! Oh, thank you, Jesus!

I reached down my leg and slid my hand into my boot, wrapping my fingers around the firm, warm handle. My salvation.

I looked down the length of my body to the vampire still holding my ankle. He fumbled with the button and zipper of his pants with one hand.

This would have to be quick.

I took a deep breath and pulled the knife free in a swift and clean motion. I lifted my body with my core and shoved the knife through his throat in a single hard jab. The blade pushed through muscle and tissue before it reached its hilt and broke through the other side of his neck. His muscles tightened around the blade, gripping the silver. His warm blood pulsated and poured down his neck and over my fingers.

His wide eyes met mine as he reached up to grab my wrist. I yanked the knife from his throat and with all my fear and anger behind me kicked him in the solar plexus. No one made me a victim, never again. He staggered backward a few steps, blocking my exit.

I got to my feet and yanked my skirt down with my free hand as quickly as I could. Blood was everywhere, the carpet, the bed, and the walls as bled out like a sieve. The knife’s silver coating would keep him from healing himself as quickly as he normally could have. He dropped to his knees as blood left his body and pooled on the floor.

“I’d love to hear you scream before I kill you, but I’m afraid I cut your vocal cords. So sorry,” I said, vengeance thick in my voice giving the sarcasm bite. I brought my knife back over my shoulder and swung the weapon with all my might. It slid through his throat and spinal cord like cutting warm butter. His body dropped to my left a few seconds after his head hit the ground and rolled under the bed on my right. I breathed deeply for the first time in what seemed like forever and closed my eyes.

He didn’t touch me. He didn’t touch me. He didn’t f*cking touch me.

I opened my eyes, calmer than before and let instinct take over.

“I have to get out of here,” I said softly to myself as I turned and cleaned the knife on the bedspread before slipping it back in my boot. “Can’t just walk out the front door.”

I looked around the room frantically for something, anything that could get me out. I walked to the window and pulled back the drapes. A two-story drop straight down. I couldn’t make it, not with my legs intact.

I flung the drapes back, stormed across the room, and placed my ear to the door. If they’d heard us, or if they smelled the blood, the vampires would be on me in mere moments. I was a sitting duck ... trapped. I glanced up at the ceiling to pray to anyone who would listen for help. I wasn’t particular anymore. I strained my ears to listen.

Nothing.

“Is that?” I whispered as my eyes locked on a small metal obstruction in the smoothness of the ceiling. A sprinkler system. “I guess vampires don’t want to burn up in a fire in the middle of the day. Smart vampires.”

I didn’t have a lighter.

I ran to the dead vampire on the floor, blood still pouring out of his neck like I’d turned on a faucet. I flipped him over and searched his pockets.

A wad of cash. Not helpful.

A switchblade. Really? Do you really need a switchblade with the fangs, buddy?

A pack of American Spirit cigarettes. Closer. Ew, but closer.

A piece of paper with someone named Brandy’s phone number on it. A*shole.

A Zippo. Eureka!

I ran to the other side of the room and grabbed the small chair seated at the vanity and dragged it across the floor. The ceilings in this place were almost twelve feet high. I stepped up onto the seat of the chair and hoped it didn’t collapse under me. The thing was delicate and unstable as I tried to balance my weight on the edges of the chair. It was probably more than 70 or 80 years old and wasn’t built for Amazon women like me to stand on. If I broke it, then where would I be? Screwed, that’s where.

I finally managed to get my balance in my heels on the edges of that damned chair and hold the lighter up to the sprinkler. It took about three minutes for the first spray of water to hit my head before the system went off at full blast, covering me in cold water.

The first shouts of women getting wet echoed from down stairs. I jumped from the chair, not caring anymore if it broke. I flung open the door and took off down the hall at a dead sprint. I wanted the hell out of that house. The water washed over me. It was cold and soaked me to the bone. It also washed the blood from me in dirty red streaks as I ran. I grabbed hold of the banister as I turned the corner and headed down the stairs.

People ran for the front door, hands covering their heads as shrill shrieks of vanity filled the foyer. I was going to make it. I was going to get out of this house with everyone else and make it one more night.

The door to the office opened as I hit the bottom landing. The sprinklers were not going off in that room and two familiar vampires stood in the doorway. Patrick and the Marlboro Man watched. I would have laughed at the confusion on their faces as the people fled and their first floor filled with water, but I had to get out of there.

I slowed. I could feel someone’s eyes on me, and it made my skin crawl. Smarmy stood next to Patrick, a grim expression furrowing his brow. Patrick stared at me intently, recognition in his dark eyes and a smirk on his kissable, full lips.

So much for going unnoticed.

I descended the last few stairs alone, confident and with my head held high, even though I knew I looked like I had just wrestled a bear and the bear had almost won. I met Patrick’s gaze and gave a slight nod. I couldn’t help the quick grin gracing my lips. His nostrils flared and a small, knowing smile of malicious amusement turned up the corners of his mouth. He watched me from under dark lashes, making my shoulders tense and my heart race at the carnal look in his eyes.

I followed out several screeching women with a cocky tilt of my head in Patrick’s direction.

Olly olly oxen free! I sang in my head as I high-tailed my ass down the street. I jumped into Amblan’s truck, revved the engine, then pulled out onto the road in a screech of tires and the desperation of survival.

I flipped the Zippo in my hand as I hit 40 miles per hour down a residential street. I released the breath I’d been holding since that vampire’s fingers had clenched around my throat. A warm, salty tear slid down my cheek and caressed my nose before I was able to brush it harshly away.

I could cry later.

I had to get home and take a shower.