To Catch a Vampire (15 page)

“Thank you. It’s all him,” I say.

“I hate to cut this love-fest short,” JR says, “but I’m bored of this place.”

“Me too,” Rick says.

JR stands. “Just got a line on a party. We’re going. You guys want to come?”

“Do you, my darling?” Oliver asks.

“I was ready to leave an hour ago.”

“Fantastic.”

We all stand and walk upstairs out of the club. Oliver keeps his hand on my shoulder the whole time. Rick leads Julie, and the make-out duo keep their hands in each other’s pockets. When we reach the parking lot, JR stops.

“Gerry, give Rick the keys to the van. You’re going with me,” JR says.

Gerry tosses Rick the keys, which he catches one handed. “Thanks buddy. Good luck,” Rick says. He, the twosome, and the pixie all stroll away.

JR smiles at us. “So, you’ll follow us. Where are you parked?”

“Two lanes over,” I say.

“Us too. Easy to follow, then.” JR leads with the rest of us behind. A few college kids pass us, giggling or talking. It isn’t until Gerry glances back at me that the creeps roll down my spine. When JR does it as well, a red light flashes in my head. Exhaustion has dulled the logical section of my brain.

“What kind of car do you guys have?” I ask.

“Why?” Gerry asks gruffly.

“So we can follow you?”

“Red Firebird,” JR answers.

Oliver’s grip on my shoulder tightens. He read my notes. They don’t have a Firebird, and there isn’t one in the row. My stomach drops to my knees. We’re in trouble. Crud. We keep walking as I glance to Oliver. Him and his darn poker face. When we reach our car, the vamps stop. How the hell do they know it’s our car?

“Who phoned earlier?” Oliver asks.

“I think you know,” JR replies.

What the Sam Hill is going on?

“I shall not go willingly,” Oliver says.

“We didn’t think you would.”

I don’t see the men move until they’ve reached their destinations. When vamps move, they move fast. Faster than the human eye can process. I feel the breeze of quick movement, but nothing else until the moment someone grabs me. I don’t have the time to react. A preternaturally strong arm wraps around my chest. Oliver reappears a few feet from me, punching JR square in the jaw, the crack curling my toes. JR smashes to the ground. That’s when it registers that someone’s got me in a bear hug. If that’s not bad enough, cold steel presses against my temple. Oh, I really hope that’s not what I think it is.

“Hey!” Gerry says.

Before Oliver manages another punch, his eyes dart toward us. His cocked fist lowers. He snarls, pointed fangs in full view. “Lower your weapon.”

Crud. It is what I think it is. I’ve only had a gun pointed at me once, and it wasn’t a pleasant experience. It ended with me having to kill the man holding the gun. I had nightmares for weeks.

“Leave him alone, or I splatter your skank’s brains out,” Gerry says.

Oh, no. I think the last few days’ events have finally caught up with me. My body begins shaking like a jonesing heroin addict, and my knees just about give out. A whimper escapes my mouth, then another.

Oliver’s gaze moves from the giant holding me to my eyes. He looks damn near as scared as I am. “Trixie, darling, calm yourself. Everything will be alright, my dear. I promise. I
swear
it to you. I will never let them harm you. We can handle this.
You
can handle this. Do you trust me?”

I nod. And darned if the shaking doesn’t stop. How does he do that to me?

“Release her, and I shall do whatever you ask.”

JR picks himself up, setting his jaw back with another crack. I whimper. I hate that sound. “She comes with us,” JR says. “To keep you in line. Gerry, if either of them makes a move, pull the trigger. Get her in the car. You, passenger side.” Gerry all but carries me to the back of the car. I don’t struggle. “Oh, and asshole …” JR says when Oliver reaches the front. JR cocks his fist back, and with all this strength, punches Oliver in the face, then again in the stomach. Oliver drops to his knees.

“Stop it!” I cry, trying to wiggle out of Gerry’s arms.

Ignoring me, JR picks Oliver off the ground by the hair, tossing him into the car, and slams the door. Still holding the gun on me, Gerry climbs into the car, dragging me behind him. “Close the door,” he orders.

I slam it with all my might, scowling at the meathead. JR takes the wheel in front of me. “Keys, please.” Gerry roots around in my purse until he finds the keys. Sadly, he also finds the silver/garlic Mace and cell phone, both of which he tosses out the window.

My already pounding heart joins a percussion band when the car starts. I’ve been taught since I was a girl to never get into a car with a stranger, that it’s better to be shot in the parking lot. And I know what these guys are capable of. I glance at Oliver, who has turned halfway toward me. A trickle of blood runs down his chin where JR split his lip. He wipes it off, and spits out more blood on the dashboard of the Dauphine’s car. If we survive the night, Marianna’s going to be even more peeved at us.

“Oliver?” I ask with a trembling voice.

He looks back at me. “Beatrice …” He never uses my real name. Oh, God. We’re going to die. “I need you to listen to me. Everything will be all right. You trust me, correct?”

“I do.”

“Just do not do
anything
until I instruct you to, do you understand me?
Do nothing
. Tell me you understand what I am saying.”

Gerry and JR look at Oliver, then at me. “I understand,” I say.

“Then I
promise
you, you will survive this night.

Yeah, we have no weapons, no backup, two pissed off vampires, one with a gun, and now I’m not allowed to use my power? The odds are not in our favor.

And why didn’t he say
we
?

Ten

Lords and Masters

The good news is
they don’t kill us on the ride over. The bad news is that our destination turns out to be an S&M club called Poison Ivy. Clothing optional.

After JR parks in the lot behind the red brick building, we all get out. JR keeps hold of Oliver’s shirt, dragging him toward the front of the building. Gerry pushes me after them with the barrel of the gun. The bouncer, a stocky Mediterranean vamp in a tailored designer suit, takes one look at JR and opens the door, revealing a neon green sign with
Poison Ivy
against a black backdrop. To the right are stairs, which I stumble down in near darkness. Luckily Gerry grabs me by the coat, all but choking me to hold me up. The stairs end at a black curtain with the club name written on it. That’s when a topless vamp in black vinyl chaps and nipple clamps saunters out.

Okay. That’s all I can take. Breaking point. I lose it. A hysterical laugh escapes before I can stop myself. “Holy crap!”

All four vamps look at me, and only Oliver isn’t offended. I don’t care. I just can’t stop laughing! My entire body rocks with each guffaw as tears well up in my eyes. Chaps rolls her eyes then walks up the stairs. Her bare butt wiggles with each step, and I laugh even harder. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

“Shut up.” JR pushes Oliver through the curtain, and Gerry does the same to me.

That’s when I really bust my gut. Horrible techno-pop only popular in Germany plays on the stereos above, but that’s not what gets me. A porn where a woman in a black vinyl bustier bull whips a man with a nice heinie fills the entire far wall, but that’s not it, either. No, it’s the people—or, judging by their beautiful bodies (which I can see every inch of), I suppose they’re vamps. Males, females, and everything in between move around wearing little or no clothing. A few are in robes, but the motif seems to be leather or vinyl, with a few harnesses thrown in for good measure. Some even have piercings in places no metal should go. I’ve never seen so many penises, breasts, or chains on display. On a leather couch three feet from me, a man and woman go at it like rabbits.

I’ve never seen anyone have sex in front of me before. Heck, I’ve barely done the deed myself. I’m not exactly queen of the sex bombs so this is … I just can’t help myself. I have a gun pointed at me, I’m probably being led to my death, and what do I do? I stop walking, point, and laugh. I laugh until I’m about to pee my pants.

The sex must not be very good because the couple stops mid-thrust to gaze over at me in disgust. “The hell is your problem?” the woman asks with an Irish accent.

“I—I—” is all I can say through the cackles.

Someone grabs my upper arm, spinning me around. Oliver glares at me, mouth set in a straight line. He jerks me away from the peeved couple, this time taking the lead to the back of the club. My laughter dissipates a little from the hard squeezing. JR and Gerry flank us with the gun still trained on me. We move past three men chained to a wall with handcuffs wearing nothing but zipped leather hoods, as their partners either whip or cut them, or in one instance does something that is still illegal in some states. Oliver grips my arm to make sure I don’t start freaking out again. I try not to look at their unmentionables, but how can I not? They’re at full salute, red, and uncircumcised, which I find odd. I’ve seen only a handful, in either pornos or on my two boyfriends, but they’ve all been circumcised. Then it hits me. I’ll bet Oliver isn’t circumcised. My eyes fly to his crotch as if I can tell through his pants. He doesn’t notice, thank goodness.

We move away from the main showroom and stop at the bar, where a bald man in leather pants and spiked dog collar cleans blood off some glasses. My laughs finally subside.

“What’s she on?” the bartender asks JR.

“My wife has never been to such a club before,” Oliver answers.

“And you’re still with her?” the bartender asks.

“She is an apt pupil,” Oliver responds.

I so don’t care if they’re talking about me. Visions of uncircumcised penises dance in my head.

“We’re here to see Freddy,” JR says impatiently.

The bartender picks up the phone under the bar. “Sir? JR’s here with some people. Should I send them up?” He waits for a reply. “Yes, sir.” He hangs up the phone. “You know the way.”

JR walks past the bar to a black door marked
Private
. Beyond that door is another stairwell with low lighting and dark green carpet. Oliver keeps hold of my hand, and Gerry doesn’t move the gun from my back as we walk up single file. Any giddiness or lustful thoughts fade from my mind. Oliver keeps that damn poker face, so I have no idea how afraid I should be. Have we been found out? I’ve only seen a few movies where undercover officers are discovered, and they’re either shot or given concrete shoes. Neither option holds much appeal.

We reach the top, which dead ends at a door. JR knocks.

“Enter,” a man commands with a British accent.

JR walks through the door, and we follow like good hostages. Okay, wasn’t expecting this. If downstairs is Sodom and Gomorrah, upstairs is where tweedy scholars study Sodom and Gomorrah. It’s downright tasteful, with polished wood walls spruced up with pretty paintings of ballet dancers, cityscapes, and the odd portrait of a staunch man or woman from the Romantic era. An entire wall consists of books, hard and soft cover, from pop art to murder mysteries. A fellow reader; maybe he won’t be so bad. The hardwood floor is covered with a deep red Persian rug that matches the color of the huge desk. On the wall behind the desk are two long swords crisscrossing each other, both with elaborate gold handles.

Two men wait in the study. The closer one lounges on the burgundy leather sofa, arm draped around the back. He wears a severe business suit, dark blue pinstripe with crisp white shirt, matching vest, and light blue tie.
Tr
è
s
CEO. His wavy blonde hair is moussed to perfection. His aqua blue eyes appraise us, but no emotion surfaces.

The other man sits behind the desk and from across the room it seems as if the desk overwhelms him. He’s attractive, but not beautiful like his friend, with wild curly brown hair, dull brown eyes, a pinched nose too small for his face, and a pointed chin. Still, the features suit him, especially with the goatee. He folds his arms on the desk, fingers lacing. A huge grin brightens his face.

“So glad you could join us, old friend,” Deskman says with that clipped British accent.

Friend
? Great. “You just make friends everywhere, don’t you?” I mutter to Oliver, but he ignores me.

“As if we were given a choice,” Oliver says.

Gerry finally removes the gun, stepping toward JR as Deskman rises. I judge him to be a little taller than me, but not by much. “Not happy to see me, I gather.”

“Having your pathetic henchmen abduct me and my companion at gunpoint does not endear you to me,
friend
.”

“I did not think you would have come otherwise,” Deskman, who must be Lord Freddy, says as he steps out from behind the desk. He wears a conservative white shirt and gray pants. He looks like an architect, not the owner of an S&M club.

“I would not,” Oliver replies.

Another grin from Freddy. “JR, Geraldo, please escort Oliver’s pretty companion downstairs and make sure she has a good time.”

Oliver steps in front of JR before he even moves. “You touch her and I will rip off your testicles and eat them in front of you, do you understand me?” He says it with such utter conviction,
I
get chills.

JR’s eyes narrow, but Freddy smiles. “Now, now. Play nice, Ollie,” Freddy says.

“She remains with me, that is all I will request from you,” Oliver says. “Please.”

Freddy is taken aback. He chuckles. “My, my Ollie. Has a heart actually grown where there was once an empty hole?”

“No. I may simply require her to save my life at some point during this meeting. She cannot do that from downstairs.”

Freddy and the other suit eye me. “You believe
she
can protect you from us?” Freddy asks.

“I know she can.”

Freddy mulls this over, pursing his lips and folding his arms across his chest. “I am intrigued. She may remain. Gentlemen, please wait downstairs, but do keep yourselves handy. Apparently I may need assistance in subduing this angelic creature later on.”

JR and Gerry nod, then walk past us, glaring at Oliver, who glares right back. When the door shuts, Freddy hops up on the desk like it’s his daddy’s, legs dangling. “The years have been kind to you, Ollie. Modernity suits you.”

“You as well.” He looks to the suit on the couch. “Hello, Anton.”

“Oliver,” Anton says with an Eastern European accent.

“Oh, I am sorry. How rude of me,” Freddy says mock serious. “I have neglected my hosting duties. I have not introduced everyone to your fetching bodyguard. Where are my manners?” He jumps off the desk and walks over to me. “I am Lord Frederick St. Clair and this is Anton Evanesky, my right hand. And you are?”

“Beatrice.”

“Beatrice. Beautiful name. Were your parents fans of the Bard or Dante?”

“Neither. I was named after my mother’s favorite soap opera character.”

Freddy grins again. “Honest. I do hope that virtue has infected my old friend here.” He eyes Oliver up and down, a little mirth leaving his eyes. “You did not think you could come to
my
town without me finding out about it, did you?”

“We did not intend to remain long,” Oliver says. “How
did
you find out, Freddy? Was it your two child whores?”

“If you are referring to Denise and Pamela, they merely put the thought into my head and called when they found you. No, I am afraid Marianna alerted me to your presence this evening. She knows of our … history.”

That b-word!

“Of course,” Oliver says.

“What are you doing here, Ollie?” Freddy asks.

“Just passing through. We were leaving tomorrow, but if you desire, we can depart tonight. You need not do something you shall regret.”

I can feel it in the air as the worm turns. Freddy’s smile drops as he stalks toward Oliver, fangs bared. “You do not tell me what to do, Oliver. You are in
my
territory, governed by
my
laws. Off the top of my head I can list five you have broken, all punishable by death.”

“I have broken no true laws, and you know it. You cannot scare me with idle threats, and you are no fool. Killing me without cause would endear you to no one. Remember who my friends are.”

“
Friends
is not a word I would use to describe them,” Freddy says. “They would not lift a pen to save you.”

“Do you wish to take that chance?”

“More than you know.”

“Frederick,” Anton says reproachfully.

Freddy’s head whips toward Anton. “I have heard all your objections, Anton. They grow tiresome.”

“He is correct about the possible political ramifications. We do not need to give anyone more ammunition, especially after the trouble your friends downstairs have caused in the last few months.” Anton glares at me, mouth set straight.

“That is another topic I grow tired of. We will not speak of it in mixed company.”

“Have you become lax in your duties, Frederick?” Oliver asks with grin Number Three.

“Stop it,” I mutter. That is one of the things I don’t get about men, their need to antagonize. That and the whole Chuck Norris thing.

All three men look my way. Oliver glares, Anton sizes me up, and Freddy smiles. “Ollie, you should listen to your consort. I believe she is as wise as she is beautiful.” His smile widens. “Would you care to sit down? You appear exhausted, fair Beatrice.”

I glance at Oliver, who nods. I don’t know what the heck is going on, what their deal is, but me sitting down won’t hurt things. I rest next to Anton, who remains emotionless. Freddy takes the seat next to me, so I’m wedged between two hostile vamps. Freddy leans back in the couch, draping his arm over the back on my side. He crosses his legs and smiles again. Oliver takes a few steps, but Freddy’s head whips back. “I did not give you permission to move, Oliver,” Freddy hisses.

“It’s okay,” I say to Oliver.

“I just wish to get to know your pretty friend, Ollie. Surely you do not object to a civilized conversation?”

I shoot him the “keep your mouth shut” look. A scowl forms, but he says nothing.

“Good,” Freddy continues. “How did the angel meet the devil?”

“In a library. He hit on me, and I told him to buzz off. He didn’t, and he just grew on me. End of story.”

“Yes. He is quite like flesh-eating bacteria, is he not? He causes nothing but pain, and leaves his victim scarred for life. And how long has he been growing on you?”

“Two months,” Oliver answers. “And we are not lovers to answer your next question.”

“And yet you have been introducing her as your wife, Ollie. She is registered as your consort. And it looks as if you have marked her otherwise pristine neck. That is your handiwork, no?”

Oliver’s scowl deepens. I’ve never seen him look at someone with such utter contempt, not even Will. Freddy revels in it, his face lighting up. Whatever happened between these two was bad, and I have the distinct feeling I’m about to be drawn into the middle of it.

“It was an accident,” I say.

Freddy’s attention returns to me. “Was it? And you forgave him?”

“I think forgiving past wrongs is the only way for us to move on. Otherwise they cripple us,” I say.

“Some wrongs can never be forgiven,” Freddy counters, all joy ripped from his face. He looks back at Oliver. “And on occasion the only avenue to cope with said wrongs is to destroy the source of them.”

“It was over two hundred years ago,” Oliver says.

“And I have missed Jules every hour of that two hundred years,” Freddy snarls.

Oh, I knew it.
I knew it
! This is about a woman! Stupid Oliver couldn’t keep it in his pants, and now I’m going to die because of it. Why am I not surprised?