Vampire Dragon (13 page)
Lightning. Killian. “We have to get you to a hospital,”
Darkwyn said, scared out of his mind for Bronte’s safety.
Darkwyn said, scared out of his mind for Bronte’s safety.
He barely got his jeans up and a blanket over Bronte before Zachary ran in. “Bronte?” He shook her with no luck.
“She’s unconscious,” Darkwyn said, wanting to heal her, but afraid of revealing his ability to the boy.
“No hospital,” Zachary said.
“He’s right,” Bronte echoed, groaning as she raised a hand to the gash on her temple. “No hospital.”
“Bronte, did you get hit by lightning, too?” Zachary asked.
“Did you?” Darkwyn asked the boy, slipping his shirt over his head, confused, because Zachary looked fine. “Who else got hit?”
“Ogden got struck on his balcony,” Zachary said. “I called 911. But on my way to tell Bronte, I heard the crash in here.”
“As long as help is coming,” Darkwyn said, “let’s have the medics look you over, too, Bronte.”
“Listen,” Zachary said. “As long as you work for us, neither of us goes to a hospital or gets examined by a medic.
Ever.
Under any condition. Got that?”
Ever.
Under any condition. Got that?”
Bronte rolled to her back and pulled a pillow beneath her head, blood dripping from the gash on her temple. “Zachary’s right, Darkwyn.”
“That makes no sense. Why not?”
Zachary huffed. “Dental records, X-rays. You name it.”
Scorch jumped to the window from the balcony and curled up on the sill, her black tail wagging, as if the kitten was happy or proud of herself, or . . . her work was done. Darkwyn didn’t like that notion. He might say Scorch gave him a Cheshire cat grin.
Meanwhile, Lila, the lilac point kitten, jumped on the bed, raised a paw that glowed brighter than she did, and held it so her light touched Bronte’s wound.
Zachary tried to shoo her away but Lila hissed and snapped at the boy. Weird, when Scorch usually hissed and Lila did not. Meanwhile, Darkwyn was glad Zachary couldn’t see how Lila’s paw glowed.
“I hear sirens,” Darkwyn said. “They must be for Ogden.”
“Zachary,” Bronte said, petting the sweet ministering kitten. “Let them in downstairs and show them to Ogden’s apartment. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“I’ll take care of her,” Darkwyn told the boy.
Zachary gave him a hostile look. “Yeah, right.” Zachary turned and left.
“Lightning with a forked bolt,” Darkwyn said, sitting beside Bronte to look at her cut.
One of Killian’s finest
, he thought. “Two for the price of one. Half came through our open window, hit that shelf above your head, and gave you that gash when it and everything on it rained down on us.”
One of Killian’s finest
, he thought. “Two for the price of one. Half came through our open window, hit that shelf above your head, and gave you that gash when it and everything on it rained down on us.”
He moved Lila aside, surprised to note that Bronte’s wound looked better—smaller?
Because of the cat?
Nobody healed better than him, except maybe Andra. He cupped the cut on Bronte’s temple. “Relax and let me help. I will never hurt you.”
Because of the cat?
Nobody healed better than him, except maybe Andra. He cupped the cut on Bronte’s temple. “Relax and let me help. I will never hurt you.”
“Ouch. Every man I know has uttered those words, and every one broke his promise.”
“I am so far removed from ‘every man’ as to be laughable,” Darkwyn said, “and I am not talking about my super cock, here. Not that I think I am better, but I am different. You will see.”
“Sure I will, but, oh, I feel better already. You’re taking away my headache. How do you do that? Did you get hit? You were on top of me.”
Sated like never before, Darkwyn very nearly glowed, himself, from the inside out. “Pardon me for acting cocky when you’re in pain. But sex with a human is not underrated.”
“I hate to think of the alternatives.”
“Deprivation is the alternative. Now shut your wild imagination, she who plays with vampires, and heal.”
“Sex is not what we experienced,” she said. “Nirvana is, and I have a terrible feeling we can only get it with each other. I’m psychic that way.”
“Sex only with each other is bad?” he asked. “Speaking for myself, my tired man part has never been happier.” Sure, it was dormant on the island for centuries, if you didn’t count spontaneous combustion, but payback was orgasmic. Speaking of which, he should not be turned on just because the blanket over Bronte’s breasts slipped.
Change of mind-set. “What’s with not going to the hospital?” he asked, finding a subject to take his mind from sex. As if he could forget.
She sat up, taking the blanket with her.
Well damn.
He gave her a “what’s this?” look and a wave of the hand, after all they’d seen and done together.
He gave her a “what’s this?” look and a wave of the hand, after all they’d seen and done together.
“I have to dress and meet the paramedics,” she said.
“Do you need help?” he hoped.
“Stand with Zachary to deal with the medics?” she asked, no longer in the sex zone. The weather, or Killian, had intruded.
He looked out the window. “The ambulance is here. See you at Ogden’s.”
“Across the hall, back-facing apartment,” she said. “Thank you.”
Darkwyn closed her bedroom door behind him, aware that he’d found home in her. His heart mate, indeed. Now to make her life quest his, whatever that might be. Her secrets included knowing why neither she nor Zachary would go to a hospital. What did “X-rays” and “dental records” mean? And who was Sanguedolce?
Darkwyn met the boy and the paramedics on the landing.
They treated Ogden on his sofa, barely conscious, but coming around. They “got his vitals” and said he would be okay, as Bronte arrived, a fresh Vampiress, all campy vampy in a red mask and corset over a short black and white striped skirt and slick, bloodred boots.
Zachary gave the spot where her gash should be a double take, then checked the other side of her temple. “Great makeup,” the boy said.
Dragon’s blood, he’d healed Bronte without thought to what anyone else would think, though he’d confessed his magick to her, but, of course, Zachary would be surprised. The boy knew nothing about him.
Not that Zachary and Bronte didn’t have a few secrets of their own to impart. Their aura of mystery was obvious.
Her mask, her shiny red boots, the way she dressed to attract attention—
Always in hiding, yet always on display. Who are you, Bronte McBride?
Always in hiding, yet always on display. Who are you, Bronte McBride?
SEVENTEEN
“What the Puck?” His missing bird landed on the
round red and blue light of what Darkwyn now knew to be an ambulance. As the medics slid Ogden, flat on a wheeled plank, inside, legs and wheels disappeared, and the bird squawked, “Murder. Murder!”
round red and blue light of what Darkwyn now knew to be an ambulance. As the medics slid Ogden, flat on a wheeled plank, inside, legs and wheels disappeared, and the bird squawked, “Murder. Murder!”
Weird world.
“Misfortune,” Puck said. “The kind of fortune that never misses.”
Misfortune, also known as Killian
, Darkwyn thought.
, Darkwyn thought.
Puck flew over and landed on his shoulder, bird-blessing a paramedic on the way.
Darkwyn growled low and lowered the cock to his shoulder. “Naughty bird!”
“Cursers!” Puck clicked his beak. “I didn’t poop on the
girl
.”
girl
.”
Darkwyn apologized to the paramedic and watched the ambulance leave. “What did I tell you?”
“What? Don’t poop on
anybody
? That’s part of a bird’s alien rights.”
anybody
? That’s part of a bird’s alien rights.”
“ ‘Inalienable,’ ” Bronte said, her lips quirked up on one side, a sight Darkwyn would like to see more often.
“I’m beginning to understand that bartender snapping his towel,” Darkwyn said. Yet he liked the honest, funloving, no-words-barred, bird.
“Ride in a coffin, drink some blood. That means you’re dead, peckerhead.”
Squawk.
“Run for your life. Die in your bed.”
Squawk.
“Run for your life. Die in your bed.”
“Change your tune or you’re a quick-roast. We served bigger birds than you as appetizers where I come from.”
“You know you like me.” Puck ran his beak through Darkwyn’s hair, a sign of affection. “Darkwyn’s got a giirl. Kiss, kiss, kiss.”
“Shut it, bird.”
“Miss,” Puck squawked. “A title with which we brand unmarried women to indicate that they are in the market.”
Bronte crossed her arms. “I am
not
looking for a husband.”
not
looking for a husband.”
“He’s got what you want. You’re what he wants. Sounds like a deal to me.”
Bronte bristled. “Darkwyn, can’t you teach this bird manners?”
“I’m trying. No sunflower seeds until you apologize. I’m sending for your cage.”
“Scumduggers and whatthepucks, you can’t cage an American bird.”
Zachary rubbed his chin as if he knew what a
beard
felt like. “Shouldn’t Ogden have somebody with him at the hospital?”
beard
felt like. “Shouldn’t Ogden have somebody with him at the hospital?”
Bronte nodded. “I’m calling his brother, at Ogden’s request.” She slipped her cell phone from her pocket and made the call.
Darkwyn turned to go inside. Zachary caught up with him. “What happened to Bronte’s temple?”
“You saw the scorch mark on the wall and the shelf hanging by a hinge. I believe the precise weapon was a bronzed cat bookend.”
“It was deep, bloody, and purple around the edges when I left the room.”
“Correct.” Darkwyn now understood the query.
Zachary got in front of him and walked backward so he could see Darkwyn’s face. “You
know
she’s healed?”
know
she’s healed?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Dental records, X-rays, that kind of thing.”
“I don’t understand,” Zachary said, smacking the heels of his shoes against the porch steps, so he tripped and landed sitting.
“Neither did I, but since that worked as an excuse for you and your aunt, regarding hospitals and doctors, I’m using it, too. My way, she doesn’t
need
to go to a hospital.”
need
to go to a hospital.”
The boy narrowed his eyes, as if behind them hid a brain overflowing with wisdom. “A smart guy, hey?” the boy said, speaking like one of Vivica’s old black-and-white movies.
Bronte caught up near the living quarters and checked her watch. “The Salem Trolley will bring the first tourists in a few hours. Between our shared nightmare, the lightning, and losing Ogden, if only temporarily, I need a Master Vampire and fast.”
Darkwyn cupped the back of his head. “Tell me again what a Master Vampire does.”
“He’s my bodyguard, hosts Drak’s, and keeps the peace, so he’s also sometimes a bouncer.”
Darkwyn hoped “bouncer” had to do with mattresses and nakedness. “Define ‘bouncer.’ ”
Zachary chuckled. “A bouncer picks up troublemakers by the seats of their pants and throws them out so they bounce on the sidewalk.”
Not sex as he hoped. “Can I throw them over the balcony? More fun.”
“No!” Bronte snapped. “Not the balcony, not even throw. You would just show them the door.”
“The doors are plainly visible, Bronte. That would be a wasted effort.”
Zachary chuckled.
“The Master Vampire is the host and generally keeps the peace,” Bronte said. “Does that give you any ideas, Darkwyn?”
“Yes, it does. I will replace Ogden as handyman.”
“No, you’ll be my new Master Vampire. That’s your apartment, by the way.” She pointed to the door opposite hers at the end of the hall. “It faces front like ours.”
“Hey,” Zachary said. “To hit both apartments, front and back, that bolt of lightning had to be coming straight down from above the Phoenix, almost like a claw with us in its grip.”
“How old
are
you?” Darkwyn asked.
are
you?” Darkwyn asked.
“Ninety-nine, my next birthday.”
“Always a confusing answer.”
“You should talk. What happened to the gash on Bronte’s—”
“I don’t know enough about vampires to be one, thanks.”
“Zachary,” Bronte said, herding them toward her apartment. “Break out the Dracula DVDs and let’s have a bloody brunch while Darkwyn gets a crash course.”
“Which ones?” Zachary asked, sorting DVDs.
“All of them. Darkwyn, I’m Vampiress and I need a Master Vampire today. It’s the only way to protect me from the male vamps who’d try to make a play for me, otherwise.”
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