Dead-tective Box Set (Vampire Mystery-Romance) Page 5

  "Existing with Tim's ring," he added. "That ring grants immortality to any mortal, and they prefer to keep their mortals mortal. It makes humans easier to handle."

  "Who is they, anyway? I feel like we're talking about Voldemort here."

  "The Syndicate," Bat replied.

  "The Syndicate?" I'd entered a really bad horror novel.

  "A Sanguine Syndicate, to be exact, for there are many in the world, though none as dangerous as the one in this city. We often shorten it to ASS in conversations." I choked on my spittle and he smiled. "It's a pleasure to hear you laugh at my jokes. I was afraid Tim had been replaced with a person who held the same sense of humor as Vincent."

  I scowled at him. "I'm nothing like that-that-"

  "-vampire?" he finished for me.

  "Among other things," I agreed.

  "From what little I have learned of your temperament I would say you two are of opposite dispositions."

  "Huh?"

  "Your personalities don't get along."

  "Um, thanks. I think." I swung my legs over the side of the couch and sighed. "So what do I do now that my apartment's been redecorated with red paint and couch stuffing?"

  "You continue living, but as a different person."

  "After being the same person for-well, for a lot of years that's not easy to do," I pointed out.

  "Nonsense. No one remains the same person they were when they were born, or even who they were a year ago. Everyone changes, but how many people can say they have the opportunity to completely change their lives?"

  "Serial killers with alternate lives and people suffering from a split-personality disorder," I quipped.

  "Those people, and you," he replied. "You have an incredibly unique chance to change who you are, and possibly find the person you were always meant to be."

  "I'm pretty sure I was meant to be a secretary. It isn't what my degree in art history prepared me for, but I'm not complaining," I returned.

  "And you've never wanted to be someone else?"

  "Does that someone else happen to have a dangerous job that involves working with a deadly vampire and running from even deadlier werewolves and guys with guns?"

  "Yes."

  "Then no, I haven't wanted to be someone else." I glanced around the room occupied only by the two of us. "Speaking of someone else, where's tall, dark and gruesome?"

  "He's currently hiding your tracks and confusing other pets of the Syndicate with false trails," Bat told me.

  "Helpful of him," I commented.

  "He prefers to stay alive. So would I," Bat replied.

  "I'll third that wish, but 'my enemies' don't seem to want that to happen."

  "You would be much safer with Vincent," he hinted.

  "Uh-huh, living the life that was meant for me?" I quipped.

  "Yes, actually. That is, unless you wish to return to your apartment," he slyly commented.

  "You know you're evil, right?"

  "I have been called many things, but I prefer the term eccentric."

  "I prefer to have my life back, but I don't think either of us are getting what we want.".

  "Perhaps you don't know what you want, and a breath of fresh life would be just the trick."

  "You're not going to give up 'helping' me find my new life, are you?" I asked him.

  Bat smiled and shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

  I sighed and my shoulders slumped. "Since I'm kind of tired of running around and almost getting killed, how about we make a deal? I'll try out this life like I would a used pair of pants. If I find it doesn't fit then I'm returning the life and hopefully this ring to you just as soon as I figure out how Tim got it off."

  "Your life was never mine to begin with," he corrected me.

  "Well, I'll give them to you, anyway. Deal?" I held out my hand, and he took it in a strong handshake. I would never have guessed he had that much energy.

  "Deal, but how long will you try this experiment?" he asked me.

  "If I survive long enough I'll try it out for a few weeks," I suggested.

  Bat grinned and rubbed his hands together. "Excellent. Now all we need do is wait for that undead fool to return and we will make plans for the near future."

  "You know, I get the feeling you two don't like each other. Mind telling me the back-story so I'm not totally lost?" I requested.

  He chuckled. "A woman and gossip are never far apart, but I'm afraid the tale would be too long."

  I gestured around the room and crossed my arms over my chest. "I have time."

  Bat opened his mouth, then paused and glanced over his shoulder at the closed door. "It seems you don't have time. Vincent has returned." A few moments later the door opened and Vincent slipped inside. I hadn't heard a thing.

  "How'd you do that?" I asked Bat.

  "Practice, and the stench of his clothing. He bathes once every century." I'd been so panicked every time I'd been in Vincent's arms, and the wind had blown by us so fast, that I hadn't noticed the stench. Now that it was pointed out I took in the full glory of the smell. It was a mixture of skunk and sulfur with a dash of cow fart to add some flavor.

  I gagged and slapped my hand over my nose. "If we're going to be stuck together you're going to have to bath," I honked through my hand. Vincent took my suggestion and filed it under his I-don't-give-a-shit expression.

  "It's nearly sunrise," Bat informed us. "You'll have to hurry if you're going to show the lovely Miss Stokes her new home."

  Vincent raised an eyebrow and glanced over to me. I shrugged. "I don't have anything better to do," I pointed out.

  "Then it's agreed. You two shall begin your new life together tonight," Bat spoke up. He turned to Vincent. "Which location will you choose?"

  "Park Place," he replied.

  I thought it sounded good enough, it was one of the high-end Monopoly places, but Bat frowned. "Isn't there a better location?" he wondered.

  "Yes."

  Bat waited for an explanation, but decided eternity was too long. He gave Vincent one last scowl before he turned to me with a smile. "I'm sure you will make yourself comfortable there once you have had time to settle in." Something in his voice didn't bring me comfort, but I had a few other things on my mind.

  "Before I dive headfirst into the deep end of the Weirds-ville pool is there anything else I need to know about this ring thing? You two said I'd be getting some of Vincent's powers, but do I need to sleep in a coffin all day?" I asked the pair.

  "No, but your diet has changed," Bat replied.

  I narrowed my eyes. "How?"

  "Let me put it this way: your sole sustenance is now hemoglobin."

  "Huh?"

  "Blood, Miss Stokes. You now survive on blood."

  The blood drained from my face. "What?"

  "It's just a minor side effect to the ring. You can still eat human food, but it won't satisfy your hunger," Bat explained to me.

  I threw up my arms and my voice bounced off the walls of the white room. "Just a minor side effect?" I yelled. "You just told me I have to kill people to survive!"

  "I said no such thing. I merely said you needed blood to survive," he corrected me.

  "Same thing!"

  "Not at all. You can take blood from a human without killing them, or you can take a donation from the local blood bank."

  "Are you mad?" I screamed.

  "That is a matter of opinion, but I have been called that."

  "I am not going to be drinking blood to survive! That's just-" I froze when Bat whipped out a long, sharp knife from inside his shirt. The blade glistened in the weak light above us, but it reflected the gleam in his eyes. I scrambled back against the wall behind the couch. "W-what are you doing with that?" I stuttered.

  "Proving a point." He pulled back his sleeve and drew the blade across skin on the underside of his arm. A thin line of blood rose up and poured over the sides of his limb. I cringed when he held his arm out to me. "Doesn't that look yummy?" he teased.

  "You'r
e really sick, you know that?" I asked him.

  "Yes, but aren't you a little hungry?" My stomach answered for us both when it broke out in a loud roar. Bat chuckled. "That proves that point. Wouldn't you want a sip? Just a tiny bit to satisfy that gnawing inside of you?"

  The scent of the blood hit my nose and my nostrils flared. The liquid did smell good, but this wasn't a raspberry-strawberry smoothy. He offered me blood. I wanted to close my eyes, but my stomach growled again and my gaze was drawn to the clear, thick liquid. Just one little sip wouldn't hurt anybody. He'd already cut himself so it'd be a waste to let-what the hell was I thinking?

  "Take it. It's not often you find a willing victim," Vincent spoke up.

  I cast a quick glare at him, but my gaze invariably returned to the blood. Bat scooted closer and held out his arm. "It's getting cold," he commented.

  I hated to admit it to myself, but that stuff looked really tempting. That shining blood glistened and called to me. My tongue flicked out and licked my lips, but it caught on my canines. My incredibly long canines. I clapped a hand over my mouth and my eyes widened when I felt the length of those sharp teeth. That wasn't right, but they were useful.

  Vincent sneered at me. "Don't waste any more blood on her," he told Bat. "She's too stupid to-" I surprised him, and myself, by lunging forward and clamping my new teeth down on Bat's wound. He didn't even flinch when my fangs sank deep into his skin, and I drained a few quarts before he gently but firmly pulled me away.

  I coughed on the last sip of blood and raised a shaking hand to my lips. My teeth slipped back to their normal length, and all the remained of my feasting was a smudge of blood on one side of my lips. The hunger inside of me disappeared and my body slid into the lethargy of food satisfaction.

  Bat's face was almost as pale as Vincent's own and his breathing was a little ragged, but he had a kind smile on his lips. "I think that might be enough for now," he told me. I stared at him dumbly, unsure what just happened. Bat took a handkerchief out from his pocket and offered it to me. "You have relatively clean dinner manners," he teased.

  I took the handkerchief in my shaking hand and quickly wiped the evidence off me. I felt both sick and satisfied. Vincent stepped forward. "If this pathetic display is done then we need to leave," he reminded us.

  I was too shaken to move, and Bat glared at him. "It's a useful lesson, one you should have given yourself if you were useful," he shot back.

  Vincent didn't reply, but strode over and lifted me into his arms. I yelped in surprise and clung to him. "Don't you ever ask?" I yelled at him.

  "No."

  "Now you two children behave living in an apartment all by yourself," Bat playfully scolded.

  I was mid-gag when Vincent sped us out of there and off to my new home.

  Chapter 9

  Park Place wasn't the expensive Monopoly real estate I was expecting. Instead it was a neighborhood slightly more upscale than slums, and with the same broken windows and broken down buildings I'd seen on my escape from the factories. You know, the lovely place where I'd almost been raped. Vincent stopped our land-speed record in front of a particularly dilapidated apartment building. He set me down and strode up the stoop, leaving me to follow after him.

  The foyer was an artistic representation of wreck and ruin. The wood floor boards were broken and scattered everywhere, there were cobwebs in places I didn't know cobwebs could hang, and the rats looked like they'd formed a biker's gang to poop and pee on every inch of walk space. It was just lovely.

  I was still numb from my recent blood transfusion, but not numb enough to be blind nor lacking in sarcasm. "Um, not to be ungrateful or anything, but isn't there a-I don't know, a less diseased place to live?" I asked him.

  He didn't reply as he strode up the flight of stairs that looked made of splinters rather than boards. I carefully hurried after him, afraid my foot would fall through a step and he'd abandon me to fend off the rats alone and unarmed. We climbed the Stairs of Doom until we hit the fifth floor out of seven. I didn't think this place was very lucky as Vincent led me down the hall past broken and missing doors. He stopped at the single sturdy-looking door, opened it, and stepped into the apartment. I peeked my head in.

  It was a hell of a lot better than the rest of the apartment building, but that was like comparing a trailer park before and after a tornado went through. The floors were new vinyl that hadn't been cleaned since installation, the walls were painted to hide the water stains, and the filthy windows would have looked out on an alley if you could see out of them. Even in the middle of the day this place wouldn't get much sunlight. "Cozy," I quipped as I slipped inside.

  The bare pieces of furniture consisted of a couch that saw better days a few decades ago, a long, rectangular box in front of it with cup stains on the lid, and a few broken wooden chairs. The kitchen on the right was bare of everything except cobwebs and the two rooms to the left were the bedroom and bath. The bath was the epitome of bachelor pad filth with stains of questionable age and origin, and the bedroom had a bed covered with dusty sheets.

  Vincent strode across the room to the windows opposite the entrance and brushed aside what I guessed was a curtain and not torn cloths. He piqued my curiosity when he glanced outside, and I sidled up next to him. "Any werewolves out there?" I half joked.

  "We weren't followed," he assured me. He let down the rags-formerly-known-as-curtains and turned his attention to the box. He brushed past me and over to the stained wood. "I will rest for the day. Don't leave the apartment."

  I followed him and watched as he pushed aside the lid to reveal the inside. No padding, no pillow, not even a teddy bear with fangs. "What if the place catches fire?" I asked him.

  "Haul me to the basement. It's fireproof," he replied as he slid into the box.

  "But I don't know where the basement is, and you told me not to leave the apartment," I pointed out.

  Vincent paused in an upright position and his lips pursed tightly together. "Don't leave the apartment building," he appended. Then he lay down and shut the lid over himself.

  That gave me more roaming room, but I had a problem in the apartment. Actually, the problem was with the apartment itself. I wasn't the cleanest person on earth, or even in my old apartment, but this place wasn't habitable to anyone except a bachelor and the undead. It looked like I would be cleaning my apartment this weekend after all, it just happened to be in a different neighborhood with a different roommate.

  I rummaged through the bedroom closet and one out in the living room, and managed to scrounge up a vacuum that was a few years old and looked like it'd never been used. I also commandeered the rags-formerly-known-as-curtain and turned them into dust rags. The tap had clean-looking water, and there was some dish soap beneath the sink. Armed with all the weapons of war, I waged battle on the messiness.

  Everything went fine until I turned on the vacuum. I jumped and my head tapped the ceiling when the lid to the coffin flung open and Vincent sat up.

  "What the hell are you doing?" he growled at me.

  I hugged the vacuum neck against my chest in the hopes it would keep the dirty vampire at bay. "I thought vampires were supposed to sleep like the dead during the day," I replied.

  "If that were true my species would have been vanquished long ago," he pointed out.

  "Good point, but I'm not going to stop vacuuming just because you're a light sleeper," I argued. "Besides, it's not like it's going to kill you to lose some sleep."

  "Decreased energy helps our enemies," he countered.

  "If you and Tim hadn't built up so many enemies then you wouldn't need all that energy," I argued.

  "It was unavoidable."

  "It was bad diplomacy."

  Vincent growled through gritted teeth, lay down, and slammed the box lid back down. I resumed my vacuuming, but was again rudely interrupted when he tossed aside the lid and stood. "Do you mean to vex me the entire day?" he wondered.

  "It'll take that long to get this place c
leaned up," I quipped.

  Vincent stepped out of his bed and tried to grab the vacuum from my hands. He ended up dragging me along with it. "Give that to me," he ordered.

  "Over your dead body," I returned. Vincent raised the vacuum over his head, but I clung onto the neck and went up with it. I dangled in the air and my face was even with his. "How about we call a truce?" I suggested.

  "No."

  "There's that bad diplomacy habit again. You need to learn to give a little."

  "I gave you my energy."

  "That was unwilling. I'm talking about a deal."

  "My demand is the vacuum."

  "No deal."

  "Then we are at an impasse."

  "No, we are at a dingy apartment building in a slightly less dingy apartment. I'm trying to remedy that, but you're not helping."

  "It doesn't need remedying."

  "I thought you'd say something like that."

  "Let go of the vacuum."

  "How about I not vacuum until sunset? Deal?"

  Vincent's eyes narrowed and he perused my face with a careful glance. "On what do you swear?"

  "An American flag?" I offered. The thin lines of his lips grew thinner, and I rolled my eyes. "Fine, fine, I swear on-um, on my life?" I paused and furrowed my face. "Which I guess is kind of your life since we're bonded. This is kind of like marriage, but without the fun honeymoon. Or maybe this is the fun honeymoon-"

  "I will accept that." He set the vacuum down on the floor and me with it.

  "All right, I guess I'll just set this back in the closet and you can get back to sleep," I replied. I expected him to climb back into his box, but after I put the vacuum in the closet and turned around I found he still stood there. "Need a bedtime story?" I wondered.

  "Have you felt different?" he asked me.

  "Sure, every time I walk into a black or Asian neighborhood," I replied.

  If he could have killed me he would have done it right then. "Within the last hour," he amended his statement.

  "Nope. Kind of tired, but nothing weird." I expected him to ask some more questions. That was my first mistake. Vincent slipped over to his bed and sat back in the box. "Wait a sec, why were you wanting to know?" I asked him. My second mistake was again thinking he was going to reply. He lay down and shut the lid over himself. I scowled and stomped over to the coffee table bed. I tried to dramatically tear off the lid, but all I got for my trouble were some dramatically deep cuts from the unfinished, splinter-filled wood. The throbbing in my fingers wouldn't deter me, so I knocked on the lid. "Why were you asking me that question?" I called to him. No answer. I knocked again and still nothing happened, but I noticed the box had a nice ring to it.