Drawn to the Vampire (Blood and Absinthe, Book 4) (13 page)

Karma, he thought wryly, and went to the phone to order a delivery from the butcher shop.

He wasn’t sorry he’d invoked Demeter, he thought later, waiting out the long hours for Kit to return or the sun to go down. He’d once again failed to get what he wanted, but his heart was lighter. Maybe Kit despised him because he was a vampire, but Demeter had reminded him of one thing: she needed him, too.

He felt better as the afternoon waned into evening. He drank long and deep after the butcher’s boy came with his delivery, and the taste of blood reminded him that his existence had its pleasures as well as its pains.

It wasn’t like he was in love with Kit. Even to Demeter he’d only said he was attached. Attachment wasn’t love. It was just more than he usually felt for a woman, that was all. Hell, maybe his feelings only seemed stronger because she kept resisting him.

And whatever else happened, once this was all over, he would taste her blood. Maybe that would get her out of his system. Until then, he’d just have to—

The door opened, and Kit was there.

Luke had been relaxing in an armchair with a book open in his lap. Now he sprang to his feet before he could stop himself, his relief so great it left him weak in the knees.

“You’re back,” he said, trying to sound matter-of-fact.

Kit closed the door behind her and advanced into the room. She was carrying a brown bag that she thrust towards him abruptly.

“I brought you some dinner,” she said, and disappeared into the bathroom.

It was blood. She’d brought him blood from a butcher shop.

Luke put the bag in the mini fridge, right next to the twenty euro bottle of Perrier.

“Thanks,” he said casually, when Kit emerged again. “I’ve already eaten, but this will be a nice snack for later.”

“We’re going to the cemetery later, aren’t we?”

“Yes. The sun’s almost down. We can leave as soon as it sets.”

“Right.” She chewed on her lip, frowning.

Luke put his hands into his pockets to keep himself from touching those lips. “Where were you all day?”

She glanced up at him. “I didn’t go to Daro’s, if that’s what you’re wondering. I was just…walking. This is my first time in Paris, you know. It’s a beautiful city.” She hesitated a moment. “I also made a phone call. It turns out you were right.”

“Well, get used to it. What, specifically, was I right about?”

“About what happened to me before. It didn’t have anything to do with Peter. I called my cousin Celia to ask about it, and to fill her in on what we’re trying to do. She said that a person with Fae blood may have latent abilities, but if they choose to live as a human—like I have—those abilities remain dormant unless something triggers them. So…I might be a warrior, after all. Like Peter. But because I chose not to follow that path, I never felt the call.”

 Luke thought about that. Once he came to the obvious conclusion, he worried it like a tongue worrying a sore tooth.

“It makes sense that I would trigger you,” he said. “After all, I’m the thing you were born to fight. Hating me is practically in your DNA. Even last night, a part of you recognized me as an enemy.”

That had to be it. He and Kit were born to hate each other. To hurt each other.

The only problem was, he didn’t think of Kit as an enemy. He thought of her as…

Hell.

“Something on your mind?” he asked finally, after the silence had stretched several minutes.

Kit was looking at him with a worried expression. “It’s just…I…”

Her skin was almost translucent, he thought. That’s why it showed the rush of blood so easily.

“Spit it out, Kit.”

Still she hesitated. She came a step or two closer. Then, without warning, she reached out a hand and touched his cheek.

Immediately he stepped back.

“Don’t do that,” he said coldly. “You’re not under a spell now, and you made it very clear this morning what our boundaries are. You can’t change the rules whenever you feel like it. Maybe I didn’t take advantage of you last night, but that doesn’t mean I’m tame. Don’t touch me again unless you mean it.”

Kit took a deep breath. “Got it,” she said quickly. “You’re not tame, and don’t touch you unless I mean it.” She caught her lower lip in her teeth again.

“And quit biting your lip like that.”

“Huh?”

“I said don’t bite your lip like that. If you don’t want to tease the vampire, that would be a good thing to avoid.”

Kit relaxed a little bit. “I see,” she said. “Anything else I should avoid?”

He looked at her appraisingly, the mood between them perceptibly lighter. “You play with your hair sometimes, when you’re deep in thought. Curling one strand around your finger. I could do without that.”

She smiled at him. “I’ll do my best.”

 “And I’d also appreciate it if you’d stop smiling.”

Kit put her hands to her cheeks. “Now I can’t stop,” she protested. She backed up a few steps and sank down into the arm chair he’d vacated. “Will you at least let me apologize?”

“For what?”

“You know for what. Last night, you…protected me. When you had every excuse not to. I don’t care what my DNA says. I don’t hate you and you’re not my enemy. We made a bargain to work together, and you’ve honored it. You’ve done more than that. I should have thanked you this morning, and instead I—”

“Snapped my head off?”

“Well, yes.”

He waved it off. “Already forgotten. I’ve been around for four centuries, Kit. However obnoxious you are, our time together won’t be more than a blip on my radar screen.”

She nodded slowly, her expression still worried, and Luke had never wanted to kiss anyone as much as he wanted to kiss Kit Bantry at that moment.

She didn’t hate him. Not exactly a poem by Wordsworth, but it was something.

And what about him? Whatever he was feeling, it was more than attachment. It was—no. He was damned if he’d say it, even to himself.

Luke closed his eyes. If he wanted to save his sanity, the only thing to do was get Kit’s brother out of the underworld and get her the hell out of his life.

After giving her a little something to remember him by, of course.

“The sun’s down,” he said, opening his eyes. “Are you ready to go?”

She stood up. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, and hesitated. “Luke, what if we can’t—”

“Stop right there,” he said. “Decide right now that we’re going to succeed. Peter needs you to be strong. Answer me again: are you ready to go?”

She paused only briefly before lifting her chin. “Yes,” she said firmly.

“That’s my girl.”

“I’m not your girl any more than you’re my tame vampire.”

“Right. What I meant to say was, that’s my temporary business partner. Doesn’t have quite the same zing, but—”

“Shut up and let’s get to work.”

He smiled at her. “Whatever you say.”

Chapter Eight

They took a taxi to the Père-Lachaise in eastern Paris. The neighborhood was quiet, and the sidewalks around the cemetery were deserted.

The air was cool when they stepped out of the cab, and the moon, nearly full, cast its silvery light over them as Luke led Kit away from the main entrance to a smaller gate in the wall. He picked the lock with practiced ease and Kit followed him through the narrow doorway.

She gasped.

The cemetery stretched as far as the eye could see, a network of stone tombs like tiny houses crowded together, interspersed with fantastic statuary. There were mourning figures carved from stone and marble, hovering angels, crosses; every symbol of religious faith as well as more modernistic images.

“It’s like a miniature city,” she said to Luke as she hurried to keep up with him. He was striding purposely along one of the many paths, looking neither left nor right at the tombs they were passing.

She wished she could take a closer look at the elaborate carving, the stained glass windows, the inscriptions. She felt the pull of the place, its power.

“It’s nothing like American cemeteries. It’s incredible.”

“It’s a monument to death,” Luke said sharply. “No better than the Egyptians with their pyramids.”

Kit looked at him in surprise. “I would have expected you to be, I don’t know, sort of drawn to cemeteries. Aren’t they your natural habitat?”

“I hate them,” he said without looking at her. “You can honor someone’s life without honoring his bones. Take it from someone who knows, Kit. Death is nothing to celebrate.”

She was surprised at his vehemence. “I don’t think this is exactly—”

“We’re here,” he interrupted her, coming to a sudden stop.

They stood in front of a stone mausoleum whose door stood ajar, leading into utter blackness. The air that came out of it was cold enough to make her shiver.

The carving around the doorway was elaborate, but there were no crosses or angels here. The figures were all of gods and monsters.

She found after a moment or two that she didn’t want to look directly at them.

“You can’t—do you mean we have to go in there?”

She heard the note of panic in her voice, but she didn’t think she’d ever disliked the look and feel of a place as much as she disliked that open tomb.

“What did you expect?” Luke asked dryly. “An elevator going down a few floors?”

Kit hardly registered his words. She was looking at the blackness beyond the doorway, and realizing something about herself.

She wasn’t a hero.

Maybe she’d charged off to save Peter without a thought. Maybe she’d confronted a vampire in his lair. But that was kid stuff compared to this.

This wasn’t the threat of death. This, somehow, was death itself.

She wanted to turn and run, to take a taxi to the airport and get on a plane for the hottest, brightest place she could find, a desert or a beach somewhere near the equator. She wanted to stretch out naked on the hot sand and feel the sun burning down on her, burning away the stench of death.

“I can’t go down there,” she said to Luke. She knew she was letting him see her fear, but she didn’t care.

Luke took her by the shoulders and made her turn away from the tomb to look at him.

“Listen to me, Kit. It’s good that you don’t want to go down there. That just means you’re alive. I’ve never met anyone as alive as you are. If you
wanted
to go into that blackness, I wouldn’t let you.”

He gripped her harder. “There are people who could stand here and not feel the horror you’re feeling. People who would feel pulled, called, seduced. People who want to die. They’re the ones who should fear that doorway, Kit. Not you. The light in your heart will protect you.
I’ll
protect you.”

His words were like a flame, vibrant and full of warmth. How strange that a vampire, himself a creature of death, should seem like a candle in the darkness at the entrance to this black place.

Kit took a deep breath. Luke let go of her shoulders but he was still looking at her, and she knew he was waiting for her to speak.

“All right,” she said with all the conviction she could muster. “Let’s go.”

 “Right, then,” Luke said, his voice calm and business-like. “We’ll be going down a very steep stairway, almost like a ladder. It will seem endless. I’ll go first and you’ll follow. That way if you slip—which you won’t—I’ll be there to catch you.”

She nodded and followed close behind him as he went through the doorway into the tomb itself.

The darkness was palpable, pressing against her as if it had weight. Kit felt oppressed, almost suffocated, and she reached out blindly to grab at Luke.

“I can’t breathe,” she gasped, and Luke found her hand. “Yes, you can,” he said, his voice still calm. “Just breathe in…out…in…out…”

“Okay,” she said after a moment, ashamed of her momentary panic. “I’m all right now. Where’s the stairway?”

“Here. Wait for me while I start down.”

He dropped her hand, and she waited.

“Now you,” he said, his voice coming from below her. “Turn around and reach back with one foot.”

She did as he said, and Luke’s hands caught and guided her until she felt the smooth stone stair. She put her weight on it, and just like that, she’d taken her first step into the underworld.

The next step was easier, and the next. Luke descended as she did, keeping his head about level with her knees.

After a while it began to feel like a dream. “What is it like coming back up?” she asked at one point, and Luke chuckled.

“Don’t worry. You can’t exit where you entered, and vice versa. This portal only leads you in. A different portal will lead us out.”

“Does it have steps?”

“Not the one I used.”

“Thank goodness for that.”

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Luke put his hands on her waist to swing her to the ground. Her leg muscles ached and trembled, but other than that she didn’t feel any different.

The first thing Kit noticed was a faint glow in the distance. Far from being a cheerful contrast to the darkness, this light seemed extraordinarily dreary.

Only the presence of the vampire beside her was comforting.

“How are you holding up, sweetheart?”

The darkness made her more aware of the rich timbre of Luke’s voice, which reminded her somehow of the sunlit world above.

She started to ask if she could hold his hand, and then stopped herself. What was wrong with her? Hadn’t she humiliated herself enough tonight? Maybe if she acted like she had some courage, she’d start to believe it.

“I’m doing all right. Is that where we’re going? That weird light up ahead?”

“That’s the river Styx. We’ll need your coin when we get there, for the ferryman.”

“I’ve got it in my pocket.”

“Right.” He hesitated. “You might not like this suggestion, but I have been here before, and you haven’t. I’d prefer it if…would you mind if we held hands?”

A wave of relief passed through her. “I suppose that makes sense,” was all she said, and then Luke’s strong hand was wrapped around hers. Kit managed not to grip him too desperately, and they started walking towards the sickly glow.

“Why a river?” Kit asked suddenly. Her voice echoed, and she realized they were walking through a tunnel.