Mortal Bite (Golden Vampires of Tuscany) Page 6

  “So where the hell is it?” Dag demanded.

  “He says he sold it.”

  “Well, ask him again, and this time, make sure he understands he’ll lose a body part.”

  There was silence. Dag knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.

  “I…I already did that, sir.”

  “Well then kill his wife, in front of him.”

  “Did that, too.”

  “His child then!”

  “Yes, and their pet dog before the boy.”

  “Fuck me.” Dag wanted to kill someone. He eyed all three of his comrades, very slowly. They stared back at him, and only the one with the toe problem squirmed, moving back and forth and scratching his ankle. Dag took a deep breath and then let it out. No sense getting upset over a lowly bookstore owner and his family.

  “Sir?” Sidney squawked on the line.

  “I’m thinking, damn you. This will cost you, Sidney.”

  Dag could hear water running and realized it was the sound of someone peeing in his pants. No doubt Sidney had been smart enough to call his paramour first, telling her to disappear before he made this call. Dag would find her, if he had to.

  “Sir, I think I have a way to find out who bought the book. He uses a book selling service online. I’ll have to get the information from the company who actually deposited the funds in his account. Take me, oh, maybe a couple of days, tops.” Sidney’s words were wavering. Dag heard the heart pounding in the man’s mortal chest.

  “One day. You have only one, then I come and eat you, and everyone you know.” Dag flipped his phone shut with a snap of the wrist.

  Two of the onlookers stared into the eyes of the third dark vampire. Did they think he was so stupid he didn’t know that the third dark vamp was Sidney’s halfling son? A vampire/human son of the man he’d just threatened to torture and destroy? They scooted their chairs away from the young vamp, and Dag smiled.

  There would be time enough for killing, getting even. He had an errand he wanted them to run first.

  Chapter 11

  Paulo watched Lucius climb the wooden steps to the white gingerbread house on Johnson Street. At least that’s what Lucius had called it. Paolo agreed that the ornate Victorian trim did look like frosting on a wedding cake. In San Francisco they called them Painted Ladies. Here in Healdsburg they were sparkling jewels of a bygone era. Summerhouses for the San Francisco elite during the latter part of the 1800’s.

  A young, beautiful witch with long flaxen curls, about Lucius’s age, greeted him at the door with a plastic jack-o-lantern and deposited a healthy handful of candy into the brown shopping bag he had colored at school on Friday. And she gave him a smile that Paolo knew Lucius could not appreciate just yet.

  Paolo saw the Jett brothers leaning against a Jeep, whispering to each other. He nodded to them, but didn’t get a response. He knew they preferred a racier detail than watching a lone mortal child trick-or-treating with his vampire father. It wasn’t personal. It was just boring.

  He thought he might release them early to go do whatever it was that they did at night. They weren’t celibate, and were known to love women, yet he wondered how much sex, blood, beer and pool they could consume in one evening if they had the night off.

  Or, maybe they never had the night off. Paolo had never asked Marcus what the arrangement was.

  Lucius had squeezed through an overgrown hedge in front of a dark house next door.

  “Hey there, Lucius. Light’s not on. That means…”

  The front door swung open and a tall, dark female vamp stood in the candlelight of her front room. Heavy blackout curtains were draped over the windows, which had made it appear that no one was home, or that they didn’t wish to be disturbed.

  Paolo watched the Jett brothers whip to attention and trace right up on the porch to stand guard next to the boy.

  She looked them over like they were two enormous pieces of black licorice. Their leather pants showed bulging muscles, and no doubt they had a wild man-scent that charmed her in that dark way. Paolo didn’t like the animalistic behavior and hair trigger of the darks. There wasn’t anything human or soft or familiar about any of them. It was all force and instinct. It was the part of him as a vamp, although a Golden one, that he despised the most.

  “Well, I got me a little boy and his friends. I’ll give the boy some candy, but you three can come in for a while, if you’ll trust your little charge to the night,” She said it as she began to unbutton her black dress.

  Lucius was staring at her chest with his mouth open. Lionel Jett grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her, which released her left breast to full visibility. Even Paolo had to admit it was a thing of beauty. But the Jett boys were unmoved.

  “Save it, Drucilla. We’re correcting the boy’s mistake.”

  “You hear that, young prince?” she said to Lucius, as she wiggled against the Jett bodyguard. “He dares to call you a mistake. I sense a bit of Maya flowing in your veins. Where, pray tell, is your delicious father?”

  Lucius started to turn and point to Paolo, but the brothers shoved the vamp inside and picked the boy up, instantly transporting him halfway down the block.

  Paolo walked quietly down the sidewalk toward them, but when he looked up, Drucilla stood at the doorjamb and smiled in that way Maya used to, like she had all the secrets and would use them to destroy you. He was relieved to discover his dick did not respond. She toodled with her fingers. He could feel her eyes follow him down the street.

  It bothered him for the rest of the evening, how the presence of fearless dark vamps here in California was infringing on the idyllic life they used to have. Encounters like these were more frequent. Everyone in their family had noticed. The darks appeared to be picking a fight, or preparing for war.

  He wasn’t afraid of war, since it took a lot to cause his death. But war always took its toll on the innocent, as it had claimed the lives of the entire older generation of Monteleones. The mortal women who loved Goldens risked their lives every day by doing so.

  And so did Golden children.

  Marcus was in the study when Paolo got home with Lucius. The Jett boys took off on their Harleys.

  “Straight to your room. Go shower, and I’ll come in to read you a story in a bit,” he said to his son. With the sound of little footsteps attacking the wooden staircase, Paolo strolled to the open door of the study to consult with his brother. He closed the door behind him.

  “Something wrong, brother?” Marcus said as he frowned and looked up from his ledger.

  “How well do you know the Jett brothers?”

  “Almost as well as you. We spent a lot of time together while you were off in the New World getting yourself serially married.”

  A flash of anger overtook Paolo and he let his brother see it.

  Marcus got up and embraced him. Paolo held his arms straight at his sides. “Those were unkind words, and I apologize. I never understood your decisions, but then, I never spent any time trying to. That’s my fault. Not yours.”

  “It’s not anyone’s fault . I merely sought a different path.” Paolo stepped back and out of the embrace. He twisted the heavy Monteleone ring he wore on his right hand, a ring identical to the one his brother wore. “I should be more used to it. Of course you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Not until I saw Anne that night as a mortal female could I fathom how you could fall for a human woman. But I felt the fating with her that night, even though I didn’t smell vampiric blood. Even though I hadn’t tasted her, yet.”

  Paolo nodded at the small acknowledgement from Marcus, and turned to examine the extensive collection of rare books. He thrummed his fingers along the bulging and withering spines. “The woman I met last night studies vampires, can you believe that?”

  “Well then, good for you. Although I would warn you to be cautious. She is mortal?”

  Paolo nodded. “She thinks they are abominations.”

  “Ah. I suppose you’ll go about changing h
er opinion, then?”

  “I’m thinking I won’t tell her anything.”

  “Well, that’s your choice. Probably best. No need to breathe a word to have a pleasurable accommodation, is there?”

  Paolo’s nostrils flared. Fire burned in his gut. He normally would have been overcome with anger, but the thought of seeing her tomorrow kept him thinking about what she would look like, smell like, taste like. If he had to lie to have that opportunity over and over again, he knew he would.

  I am a wretch. Not worthy of this noble family’s name.

  Marcus came over and stood squarely in front of him. “What in the devil’s gotten into you, Paolo? You are not yourself.”

  Paolo fingered a frayed burgundy book with gold lettering. How many of these books had his mortal father read? How many times had he read them, looking for answers? Looking for a path?

  “I feel a swelling in the dark vampire covens. They are everywhere now. We even saw them tonight when Lucius was trick-or-treating. I was most grateful for the Jett brothers.”

  “Where was this?”

  “Johnson Street. You know the house next to the one Lucius calls the Gingerbread House?”

  “No. I do not know it.”

  “There was a dark vamp there who knew Maya, or at least said she did.”

  “I can see how this would distress you.”

  “Not sure what would have happened if the brothers hadn’t been there. Is the world changing so fast we cannot stroll down a dark street without worrying about them using the opportunity to prey on the most vulnerable of our kind?”

  Marcus was deep in thought.

  “You obviously trust them—the brothers, I mean,” Paolo added. “What if they aren’t enough?”

  They looked at each other the way they used to when they were reaching their age of decision. Marcus had always been sure he wanted to turn. Paolo waited until the last minute, and had been looking for a sign their other siblings convinced him was never going to come.

  In the end, Marcus had waited for Paolo, both brothers taking the step the same day. They spent the sunlight hours watching their skin turn, watching the changes take hold. By nightfall they were completely turned and starved for blood, and for sex. They set out together to satisfy both urges until morning of the next day.

  Paolo had spent the next day alone, in bed, in complete despair, sure he would spend eternity in hell.

  They heard a soft knock on the door. Marcus opened it to see Lucius standing there in his Batman pajamas with a book under one arm.

  “What are you reading, young prince?” Marcus didn’t notice Paolo’s gasp, but did see Lucius’ eyes expand. “Did I say something wrong?” He glanced between Paolo and his son.

  “That mean lady called me a prince, too,” Lucius blurted. “I could tell she doesn’t like children, and she showed me her fangs. Nice ladies don’t do that.”

  “She’s the one I was telling you about,” Paulo whispered to Marcus.

  Marcus knelt in front of the boy. “Well, we have very good security here. You are under my protection. And your father is one of the strongest men I know, Lucius.”

  The boy nodded and collapsed into Paolo’s embrace. Marcus stood and again the brothers shared a look.

  It was time for bed and the story Paolo had promised. He set his sights on making sure the rest of the evening went off without a hitch, that Lucius could fall safely asleep in his bed without a care in the world.

  He knew he and his brother would be up half the night talking about the dark days and the even darker ones arriving very soon.

  Chapter 12

  Cara pointed to the eastern bulge on the map of India. The overhead projector purred. Heat from the lamp wafted up to her face, making her perfume bloom. She’d worn a low-cut, fuzzy sweater and had added some cologne between her breasts.

  I’m way too young for a hot flash. But that’s exactly what it felt like. And the experience was pleasurable, not embarrassing. No mistaking the signs of what she recognized as pure lust, unadulterated animal attraction. She couldn’t wait to see the dark man she was meeting today at lunch.

  “It was here that Fraser did extensive studies on the temples in the Sind. Being a man, he was fascinated with the harem women there, especially one blue-eyed beauty whose name we do not know.” She looked up as her class chuckled. She couldn’t see their faces, but noticed the projector light reflecting off the glasses of some of her students.

  This was always part of the story classes loved the most. She removed the map of India and replaced it with a cellophane page of text, adjusting the focus so the class could read along with her on the white screen.

  “I had heard stories about British officers marrying Indian women and fathering children. Often these daughters came to no good end, as they stood between the thresholds of two cultures. They were dark-skinned beauties with blue eyes. They were not considered British, although they were British subjects without rights. Their mothers could find no place for them in India, and unless they married a Halfling, one of their own caste, they were reduced to becoming the pleasure things of the Sultans and wealthy families. But Indian society hated them. They were a scourge, a reminder of a failed policy of colonialization, hypocrisy.”

  The room was silent. Carabella continued. “I was introduced and allowed access to one harem of the great Sultan scholar, Martam Vishnu, who had been tutored in the classics by a teacher from my birthplace in Scotland.

  I was allowed to study at will. I read scrolls that were nearly 1500 years old. I began reading about the vampires of the Sind for the first time, in documents dating back to some 300 years A.D. The temples at Shastra were conceived at that time. A whole village was planned, and may have flourished there. Very little of that civilization remains, except for some of the precious writings, and the temples.

  I found the writings to be fascinating, sensual, and certainly erotic. I was taken aback that they worshiped a blood lord who ruled over their kin. It was rumored that he could raise the dead. He could also cure any number of sexual problems, especially lack of desire on the part of the woman.”

  Carabella looked up and switched on the lights. There was a groan from the class.

  “Have to save something for you to look forward to in Wednesday’s class. Until then, write a five- to ten-page essay as though you were this explorer Alasdair Fraser. Go on your own private journey. What would you find? What would you write about?”

  “Are we supposed to do research?” a student asked.

  “You should probably ask a girl out for the first time, Kevin,” someone chimed in and the class burst into laughter.

  “Only into your own psyche. That’s all the research I want you to do,” Cara told her class with a smile.

  “That’s going to be a scary place, Ms. Sampson,” one student shouted out.

  “Well, do your best, then. Borrow someone else’s fantasy,” Cara answered. “Remember, this isn’t real. Vampires aren’t real. But just pretend, if they were, how would you go about doing your own research. What could you find?”

  The class spilled out, one by one. Cara collected her things and slung her computer case over her shoulder, heading to the parking lot.

  He was seated at a table near the rear of the restaurant, in a corner. The Monday lunch crowd was never a large one. She’d forgotten how tall he was, so when he rose to his feet when she approached, it startled her. Her shortness of breath made the room seem to spin. He wore a citrus and spice combination cologne she didn’t recognize, but instantly loved, almost as though it was laced with pheromones.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said without touching her. Her hand had started to wander out in front of her, so she diverted it to remove her jacket.

  “It’s self-service. Everything is very good here,” she said trying to calm her nerves.

  “What can I get for you, then?” He moved along the wall and brushed past her on his way to the counter. The glancing touch warmed her skin and she felt h
er cheeks flush.

  “Chicken Caesar salad. I’m afraid that’s what I order every time.”

  “And to drink?”

  “What are you having?”

  “I was having a glass of red wine. They have a very good Merlot.”

  “Um…too soon for me. I’ll have an iced tea.”

  He motioned to the chair in front of her. “Please. I will be right back.”

  She felt him looking at her while she heard him ordering her food. Though she was facing the back wall, she had the sensation that his gaze covered her in a thin, sensual veil. It felt like she was protected as well as being held in a golden cage. She closed her eyes and wet her lips. She remembered the moment at the ball when he had run his finger down her cheek and over her lower lip. She could feel it all over again right now.

  “Your food, Carabella,” he said as he leaned very close and whispered in her ear. The feel of his warm breath on the side of her face brought her gently out of her trance. One hand rested on her shoulder, and the other offered a plate of crisp romaine covered in slices of chicken breast and grated Romano cheese.

  He sat across from her and raised his wineglass. She raised her iced tea and sipped, dropping her eyes. But he did not.

  “You aren’t eating?” she said.

  “My schedule’s been hectic. I ate something earlier. Sorry.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and breathed in deeply to gather herself. She picked up her fork and began to dig into the salad. He was leaning back, tipping the wooden chair, and smiling right at her.

  “Have we met before?” she asked between bites.

  Whatever are you doing? Where did that come from?