“Well…” I braced my shoulder against the wall to steady myself. “You need to be more careful. It’s too bad your sire was a jerk, but it happens. Find some new friends to help you out—”
“Like you?” she asked hopefully.
My head felt very cloudy. “Like me, or there are… there are lots of other helpful vamps in the city.” I swallowed hard. “It’s really warm out tonight, isn’t it?”
“It’s February.”
“Hot for February.”
The fledgling looked at me strangely. “Are you feeling all right?”
My purse dropped to the ground as the warmth continued to course through me. “I’m just fine.”
She squinted at me. “Your black eyes are a bit freaky.”
The slight cloudiness in my mind turned to thick fog.
“Black eyes are a warning sign. Even the nicest vampires are dangerous when their eyes turn black. Consider that your first lesson in survival.”
Something in the tone of my voice made her take a quick step away from me. She was trembling again.
“Uh…” She gulped. “So I think I’m going to, like, leave now.”
She gave me a look that could only be described as fearful and then nervously began to walk around me. I reached out and grabbed her by the throat much as I’d done before with the hunter. She made a scared, strangled sound.
The blood flowed from her forehead like honey. So warm, so alive… so tempting. My vision narrowed more than it already had.
“P-please…” she stuttered. “Please d-don’t hurt me.”
Why did she think I was going to hurt her?
Because you are going to hurt her, the nightwalker inside me said.
It was as if I could see myself, but from miles away. The rational me was far away now and I was yelling and frantically waving my arms, scared for the girl, scared for myself. My chain had been off for too long. My nightwalker had taken control now—and she was very hungry.
I pushed the fledgling up against the wall, focused only on one thing—the gentle pulse at the side of her throat. I felt my fangs elongate. Normally a vampire’s fangs were small and barely noticeable—sharper than a human’s canines, but nothing that would raise any alarms if you didn’t know what you were looking at.
But a hungry vampire… well, that was a different story. Whether at her core she was a good vamp or a bad vamp, the hunger that raced through her body turned her fangs into the perfect weapon meant to sink into soft, warm skin to get what she desired most. Human blood was necessary for survival, but vampire blood was addictive and decadent—like dessert, like alcohol, like a drug.
And no matter how much the normal me screamed or fought, the nightwalker’s need to feed would win out. It was clear, focused, and so very natural. And there was no way to predict if the fledgling would survive when it was all said and done. Not tonight. Not with the way I currently felt.
My lips peeled back from sharp fangs as I pushed the fledgling’s head to the side, swept back evidence of her bad dye job, and grazed the surface of her skin.
The very next moment something yanked me away from her and I staggered across the alley. I turned with a hiss. There was a dark figure standing in the shadows.
He wore a red mask that covered most of his face.
The man glanced at the fledgling. “Leave now.”
Without needing to be told twice, my potentially delicious bleached blond meal ran out of the alley. I couldn’t see straight. I was so hungry. It blinded me to everything else. My thoughts were cloudy and my darkened gaze now locked on the stranger’s throat.
“Don’t even think about it,” he said, his voice low.
But I was thinking about it—in my foggy kind of way. The anger at being interrupted filled me and I clenched my fists at my sides. I moved toward him, my focus never leaving the side of his neck. “Let me guess. You’re the Red Devil? The real one?”
He took a step further into shadow so all I could see was his outline. “I am.”
“So that means you’re my bodyguard now.”
“Correct.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard.” My eyes narrowed. “As you can see.”
“All I see is a stupid woman who should be wearing the gold chain that dampens behavior like this. You could have killed that fledgling.”
Stupid? A flash of anger cut through me. Did a pathetic excuse for a vampire vigilante just call me stupid?
I really didn’t like it when people called me stupid.
“You need to mind your own business,” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“This is my business.”
Normally—since Thierry hadn’t exactly been very forthcoming with the details—I would have been curious to know more about who this guy was and where he came from, but I’d had enough talking. I walked directly toward him. He glared down at me through his mask. I registered nothing except his heartbeat and the knowledge that warm blood coursed just beneath his skin. Everything else was background noise. I slid my hands up his firm chest and he didn’t resist or try to pull away.
I went up on tiptoes to whisper into his ear. “I bet you taste very good.”
The moment before my fangs would have sunk into his throat, his hands came around my upper arms like iron vises. He pushed me away, turned me around, and before I could do anything about it, he slammed me up against the cold hard wall.
I tried to fight him, but I was in an awkward position. He crouched for a moment and then got back to his feet. Something cold and thin pressed against my throat.
My eyes widened. Was he going to strangle me? Maybe try to decapitate me? According to my research, that was one of the most effective methods to kill a vampire if you didn’t mind the wet work.
But nothing painful happened. The very next moment he let me go. I felt at my throat to find the gold chain he must have retrieved from my open purse on the ground and put back on me. The hunger and darkness left in a near-painful whoosh and my knees buckled. I had to fight to remain standing.
The Red Devil’s back was now toward me.
“Don’t let this happen again,” he growled.
When he left, I sank to the ground, one hand on my chain and the other over my mouth to cover my shock.
Shit. That was close. That was too damned close. I’d been mad about what the Red Devil had said before, calling me stupid. But he was absolutely right.
I could have killed that girl. And if he hadn’t stopped me I think I would have.
So much for coming to her rescue.
Chapter 3
Sarah!” George exclaimed when I returned to the club. “We’ve been worried about you.”
I glanced at Amy, who was still on the dance floor, attempting an awkward, high-heeled version of the Running Man. “Yeah, it looks like it.”
“Amy hides her concern really well. Where have you been?”
Secretly meeting with Thierry. Trying to save an innocent, but badly dressed fledgling. Going homicidal and nearly making the fledgling more than just a fashion victim. Getting reamed out by the Red Devil.
All of the above.
“I was in the washroom,” I told him instead.
“For twenty minutes?”
I put a hand over my stomach. “You do not want to know the details. Trust me.”
He made a sour face. “Forget I asked.”
I would never take my chain off again. Ever. Stamped it, no erasies. I twisted my finger around the very necessary piece of jewelry.
George gave me a thorough look. “Now that you mention it, you don’t look so good.”
“Really?” I said dryly. “Because I feel like a million bucks.”
He crossed his arms. “Then the inflation rate is not in your favor. Do you want to leave? Had enough with the partying for one night?”
I let out a long, shuddery breath. “To put it mildly.”
I felt sick and ashamed by what had happened. And sweaty. And miserable. And horrifically embarrassed. And sc
ared. And… well, that basically covered it.
That was a whole smorgasbord of emotions to deal with at one time so I knew the stress showing through on my face was impossible to hide.
Amy pranced off the dance floor and made a beeline over to us. “Hey! You’re back. Want to dance?”
I looked at her wearily. “Not a chance.”
“You’re such a poet!” She grinned and pulled a cell phone out of her small, beaded bag. “I borrowed this from you earlier. Mine was dead and I had to call Barry. You have a text message waiting there. Somebody with the initial G?” She could barely control her curiosity. “Who’s G, Sarah? Hmm? Someone hot?”
I snatched the phone away from her. I hadn’t even realized it was missing. I glanced at the screen and my stomach took a deeper nosedive. “G is for God, if you must know. I’ve recently become incredibly religious. It must be my Bible quote of the day.”
Yeah, like she was buying that one.
“Grant?” she guessed. “Maybe Gary? Geoffrey? Gerard? Greg? Gaston? Stop me if I’m getting close.”
Gideon.
My knuckles whitened as I clutched the small pink phone.
“I didn’t mean to read it,” she said innocently. “But he wants to see you immediately and apparently you know what he wants.”
I gave her a tight smile. “Super. Thanks for letting me know.”
“Well? What does he want? A midnight rendezvous? A little boom-shaka-laka?” Her smile was blindingly white. “Sarah, I’m so impressed. You had me convinced you were still pining over stupid Thierry. You could have told me, you know, instead of being all secretive about this new piece of yummy. Then I wouldn’t have bothered setting you up with Jeremy.”
“I am obviously an enigma,” I sighed wearily, “when it comes to the yummy.”
“Details! I want details!”
George raised his eyebrows. “That makes two of us. I live with you and even I didn’t know about this. Keeping secrets from your bestest friends, Sarah?”
If only they knew.
I slipped the phone into my bag. “Right. Well, I think I’m going to call it a night.”
Amy and George exchanged a glance.
“Fine,” she said, pouting. “Be that way. But I’ll figure out who your new mystery man is. Just give me time.”
I pasted a frozen smile on my face. “You’re immortal now. Take all the time you need.”
Then I grabbed my coat and left the club, attempting to ignore her dirty look and George’s curious one. Neither attempted to follow me, which, based on my dour mood and where I was headed, was a very good thing.
“You got my message?”
Gideon’s deep voice greeted me from the shadows of his fourth-floor suite at the Madison Manor. If I could find a bright point in this otherwise dark scenario, the boutique hotel at Spadina and Bloor—in the part of Toronto called the Annex—was only a few blocks away from Darkside. His room in the restored Victorian mansion even had a fireplace, which currently wasn’t lit despite the cool temperature of the room. As far as I knew, he didn’t go out. Why should he when I was only a text message away to do all of his chores?
The ensuite bathroom light was on. Otherwise the main room was dark, the blinds drawn. To my left, double French doors led to a snow-covered balcony overlooking Madison Avenue.
“Obviously I got your message,” I said tightly. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You are.”
“Can I turn on a light?” I felt at the wall for the switch.
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
But it was too late as I flicked on the overhead light. Gideon glared at me from the chair in the corner. He immediately raised his hand weakly in an unconscious attempt to cover the scars on his face, but then gripped the armrest instead.
I’d seen enough pictures of Gideon in his prime, before the accident, to know that he used to be extremely attractive. Those days were over, at least for half of him. One side of his face was covered in ugly scar tissue, but the other side was still flawlessly handsome.
When I first met him, before I even knew who he really was, he wore a scarf over his face to hide his identity and disfigurement as well as pretending to be the Red Devil. Now I didn’t think he left his room at all. Along with the scars came a whole lot of pain as the hellfire continued to burn through him. He was not a happy camper to say the least.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“As well as I look.”
“That bad, huh?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Possibly worse.”
“Serves you right. You ever heard of karma? Maybe this is your punishment for killing so many vampires.”
“Maybe.” He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “Did you bring it?”
“Yup.” I knew what he was talking about. I reached into my purse and pulled out the small package. I didn’t know what it was, only where to go to get it. The man behind the desk at the New Age store had handed it over to me earlier today as if he knew exactly who I was and what I wanted, no questions asked.
“Bring it to me.”
When I approached, he turned his face so I couldn’t easily see the scars. I wanted to roll my eyes. Gideon was very vain. He hated how he looked now and he didn’t want anyone to see him. Couldn’t say I blamed him for that. He looked like hell. Literally.
The scars seemed to be spreading and getting worse, causing him even more pain than before. Despite myself, my stomach twisted at that thought. He’d threatened the people I loved in order to blackmail me into siring him. He’d shot me with a tranquilizing garlic dart—twice. He’d forced me to break up with the man I loved.
Gideon Chase was evil, no question about it.
But being face to face with him reminded me how much I hated seeing anyone in constant, agonizing pain, no matter who they were or what they’d done.
I was such a wimp.
“Is that concern I see on your face?” he asked, as if he’d read my mind, a small smile in his green eyes.
“Concern? For you? Not likely. I hate you. And in three days when this is all over, I never want to see you again.”
He shook his scarred head. “I don’t think you hate me half as much as you’d like to.”
After everything he’d threatened, with everything he represented, it would be completely crazy and illogical for me to feel anything for him except hate.
Right?
Of course it would.
“No, trust me,” I assured him. “I despise you.”
His lips curled, except on one side they didn’t move at all because the scar tissue was too thick. “Quite honestly, I think you should be thanking me for helping you to end things with the master vampire.”
I crossed my arms. “I’m not discussing Thierry with you.”
“You don’t have to.” He placed the package I’d delivered on the small table next to him and leaned back in his chair. “I’m just saying that he didn’t appreciate you as much as he should have.”
“Can I go now?” I eyed the door.
“In a minute. I think you have me all wrong, Sarah. You’ve convinced yourself that I’m the bad guy—”
“You are the bad guy,” I reminded him.
“If I was the bad guy, would I have saved you from being staked that night? You’d be dead right now if it wasn’t for me. I also gave you that very special gold chain you wear around your neck right now.”
I touched the jewelry in question. “That was all to get me to do what you want.”
He sighed. “I don’t see why this has to be unpleasant between us. We can be friends.”
“Friends?” I repeated. “You’re a hunter and I’m a vampire.”
“And your point?” He looked amused with me.
“I’m going now. I brought your… whatever it is. Party on.” I turned to leave.
“Don’t you want to stay to see what it is?”
I actually did. I was extremely curious, so sue me. I’d decided not to open
the package when I received it, but curiosity killed the cat and all that. This kitty had had plenty of brushes with death lately, so I wasn’t going to take any more chances.
There was a crinkling sound as he unwrapped the brown paper packaging. I swiveled around on my heels as he removed a black box from inside, which he opened to reveal—
“A wristwatch?” I said, feeling less than impressed. “That’s what you had me pick up for you? That’s very underwhelming, I have to say.”
“This is a very special watch. It’s not as special as your chain, but it’s pretty close.” He traced the tip of his index finger over the face of the very ordinary-looking timepiece. Then he stroked the scars on his face. “It’s actually a glamour spell cast into a wearable object. I had it specially made. You wouldn’t believe what something like this costs. Luckily money is no problem for me—I set aside a great deal of cash in case I ever needed to go into hiding.”
I knew that a “glamour” magically helped someone appear beautiful or different. If somebody had a large nose and he or she had a glamour it could look like a small nose. Real-life airbrushing. Didn’t change what was underneath, but sometimes appearances were enough.
Without another word, he slipped the watch on his wrist and fastened it. The very next moment a thin band of light moved over him. Wherever the light touched, Gideon’s scars disappeared completely.
My eyes widened in shock.
“How do I look?” he asked, reaching up to touch his now scar-free face.
I swallowed hard. “You look… different.”
Actually, different wasn’t really accurate. He looked the same as the pictures I’d seen of him. Hair almost as dark as Thierry’s, a disconcertingly warm intelligence behind piercing green eyes, a movie-star-perfect face. He still wore the simple clothes he had on before, of course—black, loose-fitting pants and a baggy blue T-shirt—but now the scars on his muscled left bicep and forearm had smoothed out completely.
He flashed a grin at me. “Different is good.”
I felt stunned. “So what does this mean? You’re cured, just like that?”
His grin faded. “No. This is only a glamour. It changes nothing. In three nights the ritual will go on as scheduled.”