Vampire Most Wanted (9 page)

“Divine?”

“Hmm?” she murmured, her attention already split between driving and trying to decide where best to go to find him the blood he needed. It was Saturday night. Well, Sunday morning really, she acknowledged, glancing at the dashboard clock that read 12:30. A big city was always her preference. She could go to bars there and easily lure a man or three outside for a little bite, one at a time, of course. But big cities weren’t always easily accessible from carnival locations that sometimes set up in mid-sized or even the occasional small town. No one, mortal and immortal alike, wanted to drive for hours for a meal, and she was sometimes forced to feed in more rural areas. In those cases, she tended to pick homes well away from the general population—farms that were mostly self-sufficient and where the inhabitants didn’t have to go into town every single day. It made getting caught less likely.

That had been her trick with Marcus while he was healing. Leaving him in a bar parking lot while she went in to fetch out donors for him hadn’t seemed practical. His screaming wouldn’t allow for that. She’d had to find a nice healthy family out in the boonies. Actually, she’d ended up having to find two healthy families in the boonies. That was her fault. She obviously hadn’t thought ahead when she’d brought the first donors to him. Marcus had been so desperate for blood he’d attacked with a speed and need that was disconcerting. Divine had controlled the girl’s mind so she wouldn’t feel the pain of the assault or even be aware of it, which was much easier than trying to erase the memory of it afterward.

However, when she’d judged that he’d taken enough from that first donor and tried to get Marcus to stop, he hadn’t been able or willing to. Caught up in his bloodlust, Divine hadn’t been able to pull him off. She’d ended up having to bash him over the head with a tire iron she’d found in the back of the vehicle to make him stop. That had happened three times before Divine had wised up. Fortunately that last time he’d managed to hurt himself while trying to hurt her and had knocked himself out. It had been Saturday morning by then and she’d driven into town to a huge hardware outlet to buy the thickest chain they had. Marcus had still been unconscious when she’d returned to the SUV. Fortunately, the parking lot had been mostly empty, so she’d risked being seen and had chained him up to the refrigerator then before driving back out to the country to fetch another donor.

Marcus being chained had made it all much easier. Divine hadn’t had to hit him with the tire iron again after that, which was definitely a good thing. Every time she’d hit him, she’d given the nanos in his body more damage to repair, which meant more blood needed. She’d been creating something of a vicious circle that way.

“I’m having some unpleasant memories,” Marcus said tentatively.

Divine glanced to him at that comment, and then turned forward again. “I’m not surprised. Being broiled in an RV can’t be pleasant.”

“No, not about that,” he said quietly. “These memories are kind of fuzzy, but I—did I attack people?”

Divine grimaced. If he had switched to bagged blood when it first came out, it meant he hadn’t hunted much since the advent of blood banks. She doubted he was used to it anymore. What was more, though, was that his feedings had been rather horrific. He really had been mindless. If he’d been aware of his donors as living beings, it had been hard to tell by the way he’d ripped into their flesh. She could hardly say that to him though, so said instead, “I brought you donors, and yes, you were a bit enthusiastic, but that was to be expected after what you’d gone through.”

“So I didn’t hurt anyone?” he asked with a frown.

“I controlled your donors for you. They won’t remember anything,” she assured him quietly.

“So I did hurt them,” he said unhappily.

Divine hesitated. “They will all be fine. You took a little more blood than I was comfortable with from the first donor, but that was my fault. I should have expected that reaction. You were in serious need and a great deal of pain. Besides, when I couldn’t get you to release her, I . . . er . . .” She sighed and admitted, “I bashed you over the head with a tire iron.”

She sense rather than saw the sharp glance he turned on her.

“It worked,” she said unapologetically. “You released her and it was in time. She is probably a little weak and anemic this morning, but otherwise fine.”

Marcus cursed and sank unhappily back in his seat. When she glanced to him in question, he grimaced. “I remember it now. I acted like an animal.” He stared out the window with dissatisfaction for a moment and then shifted uncomfortably and said, “It’s disturbing to realize just how thin the veneer of civilization is. We’re really just animals under the polite face we offer society.”

“It isn’t just us. Starve a mortal for a week or two and then give him a chicken leg and he’ll eat like an animal too, tearing at the flesh, fluids running down his cheeks, hands soaked in grease,” she said quietly. “Survival is a strong instinct . . . You didn’t do anything to be ashamed of.”

Marcus was silent for a moment and then sighed out the words, “Thank you.”

Divine glanced at him with surprise. “For what now?”

“For . . . everything,” he said with a weary smile.

“Even mopping you in the groin?” she asked with amusement.

“Well, that I could have done without,” Marcus said with a crooked smile. “But I did deserve it.” He turned to peer at her through the dark interior of the car. “Where were you when the fire started?”

“In town,” she admitted, and her mouth tightened. “I came back to find the RV fully engulfed by flames and carnies running around trying to beat the fire back from the door far enough to get in and search for me.”

“They would have done that?” Marcus asked with amazement.

“Carnies are like family,” Divine said quietly, and then her lips tipped with a crooked smile and she added, “A totally dysfunctional one maybe, but—”

“So, your average family then,” he teased, but she could hear the pain in his voice. The man was suffering. She really needed to figure out where to find him blood. Divine could do with some herself. Marcus hadn’t just attacked the donors she’d brought. When she’d tried to stop him feeding, and then gone about the business of chaining him up, he’d gotten rather aggressive with her. Divine hadn’t taken it personally. She’d known he didn’t know what he was doing. Still, she’d taken a couple of deep wounds in the process. They’d healed quickly enough, but it meant she was down a couple pints or four, and now she was in need of blood again too.

The problem was, now that Divine knew that feeding on mortals was against the rules, she was reluctant to do it, even in an emergency like this.

“So who is trying to kill you, Madame Divine?”

Nine

D
ivine stiffened.

He’d caught her by surprise with that question, so much so that she glanced at him sharply, turning the steering wheel as she did and sending the SUV swerving. Once she had the vehicle back under control, Divine forced herself to relax and asked, “What are you talking about?”

“You were attacked that first night after we returned from looking for Hal and Carl. Judging by the amount of blood and other matter in the RV and on your clothes, you were injured pretty badly too,” he said quietly. “And now someone has set your RV on fire.”

“The fire was set?” she asked quietly, a frown curving her lips.

“You thought it was an accident?” he asked dryly.

Divine blew out a long breath, and then admitted, “I haven’t had much time to worry about it.” She was now though. Frowning, she asked, “What happened?”

“I woke up, heard a noise, someone opened the door. I could smell it wasn’t you.” Marcus smiled faintly when she glanced to him with surprise. “You smell like roses and vanilla. They were more musky, male.”

“Did you see them?” she asked worriedly.

“No,” Marcus admitted. “By the time I realized it wasn’t you and opened my eyes, they had already closed the door. I got up and started through the RV and I was in the lounge when there were suddenly flames outside the windows. He must have poured gas around it before coming inside. That or there was more than one and once culprit number one had assured him that you were inside, culprit number two lit it up.”

“But I wasn’t inside. You were,” Divine pointed out.

“I was covered by the comforter, my head turned to the side. All they probably saw was fair hair sticking out of the top of the comforter. If he even saw that. All he could probably make out was that someone was in the bed. There were no lights on in the RV,” he pointed out.

Divine nodded, but couldn’t help thinking that if the he or they in question was an immortal, they would have seen more than Marcus thought.

“Do you think it could have been the husband?”

She glanced to him with surprise. “You mean Mr. Planned-to-Kill-His-Wife?”

Marcus nodded.

Divine thought about it. She hadn’t considered that the little weasel might have the courage to do something like this. She still wasn’t sure he had. It was possible though.

Spotting the lights of a gas station on the roadside ahead, Divine slowed.

“They have a vacuum station,” Marcus pointed out.

“And a public washroom.” Divine pulled in and slid to a halt next to the station entrance. “You can clean up and grab a snack while I vacuum out the back.”

Marcus had reached into the back for the duffel bag on the bench seat, but paused at her comment.

“You need to feed,” she said quietly. “Better that you do it while you still have it under control.”

He let out a slow breath, and nodded solemnly as he finished grabbing his bag. “Leave the vacuuming. I’ll do it when I come out.”

“Sure,” Divine said easily as he got out. He closed the door and went into the store, coming back out a moment later with the washroom key in hand. Divine watched until he slid into the bathroom, and then drove over to the vacuum station. There was change and small bills in the cup holder in the center of the SUV between the front seats, and Divine grabbed a handful of it and slid out. A moment later she had the back door open, the vacuum going, and was cleaning up the mess in the back of the SUV. There was a lot of mess. Divine was only halfway through the task when Marcus appeared beside her.

“I said I’d do this,” Marcus said with exasperation, taking the vacuum hose from her.

“You can finish it while I use the restroom,” she said with a shrug, and then turned to head for the gas station entrance to get the key he’d just returned. One look at the lone gas station attendant and Divine knew Marcus hadn’t fed. She supposed she could have fed on him herself, but found she just couldn’t do it. If bagged blood was as good as getting it off the hoof . . . and if Marcus, who needed it more than she did, hadn’t fed on the man . . .

It looked like they were going to have to find some bagged blood, she thought grimly as she headed around to the washroom door on the side of the building. Divine didn’t have to go to the bathroom, but she did want to splash some water on her face and maybe wake herself up a bit. She was exhausted, but had a bit of a drive ahead. She had no idea where the nearest blood bank was, but suspected she’d have to drive into San Bernardino to find one.

Marcus was done with the vacuuming and on the pay phone outside the station when Divine came back around the building. She stiffened at the sight, but continued past him to return the key. He was hanging up when she came back out.

“We’re in luck,” he said, stepping away from the phone as she approached.

“Are we?” Divine asked mildly.

“Yeah. We aren’t far from Los Angeles. There’s a family friend who lives outside the city. His place is only about half an hour from here. He can give us some bagged blood to tide us over until Bastien can get more out to us.”

“Us?” she queried carefully.

“I explained that the fire no doubt destroyed everything you had on hand too and you would need a fresh supply as well,” Marcus said solemnly.

Divine merely nodded and turned to walk toward the RV. She hadn’t had any blood in her RV, and he knew that. He had to know that from her reaction to just the sight of the bagged blood, but he’d covered for her. She wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“I’ll drive,” Marcus said when she automatically headed for the driver’s side. “You probably didn’t get much sleep while watching over me, and I’m definitely not going to sleep. You may as well get some rest on the way. Besides, I know the way and you don’t.”

Divine merely nodded and shifted direction, heading for the passenger side instead. She was aware that Marcus was following her, and was confused by it until he opened the passenger door for her.

“Thank you,” she murmured self-consciously, stepping up into the vehicle.

“My pleasure,” Marcus murmured and closed the door.

Divine shook her head, and simply strapped on her seat belt. She wasn’t used to being treated like . . . well, like a lady. She had been independent for so long, really living more like a man than a woman for most of her life. From the time she’d been able to lead her own life she’d . . . well, she’d been on her own. Carrying her own weight and sometimes the weight of others. She’d opened her own doors, found her own meals, paid her own way. She wasn’t used to someone else arranging for her meals, and opening doors. She wasn’t sure how to handle it.

“The seat adjusts,” Marcus announced as he slid into the driver’s seat. “It reclines, the lumbar support adjusts, and the head raises and lowers. Here I’ll show you,” he added when Divine glanced at him blankly.

She sucked in her breath and plastered herself backward into the seat when Marcus suddenly reached across her and down to the buttons on the outside of the passenger seat. Her seat slowly reclined, far too slowly in her opinion, since he remained draped across her the whole while. Once she was nearly flat on her back, he took her hand and led it down to the buttons.

“This one lifts and lowers the bottom part of your seat. This one raises and lowers your headrest. This one moves you back and forth if you shift it back and forth, but raises and lowers you if you turn it this—”

“I’ve got it,” Divine gasped out, desperate to get him off her. The man must have done some serious cleaning up in the restroom at the gas station. He’d changed his clothes, but must also have performed a standing wash in the sink. That was her guess. Marcus smelled clean and masculine without even a whiff of the scorched skin smell of earlier and she found it a bit distressing for some reason.

Marcus raised an eyebrow at her breathy words, but straightened and did up his own seat belt. As he started the engine, he said, “Just relax. We’ll be there in a jiffy and then both of us can feed and get some proper sleep.”

Divine murmured in the affirmative, and then leaned back and closed her eyes. Despite that, she was positive she wouldn’t sleep a wink. Despite the stress and exhaustion she’d been suffering for the last twenty-four hours, she was too wound up to sleep. The problem was, she couldn’t figure out the reason for being wound up, except that it seemed to increase every time he got close to her. Weird, was Divine’s last thought before that sleep she was sure she couldn’t achieve overtook her.

M
arcus found his gaze repeatedly shifting from the road to Divine as he drove. She’d fallen asleep quickly after heading out of the gas station, but then she’d looked exhausted when he’d woken up. He’d guess she hadn’t slept at all since coming back to find her RV on fire. She’d been taking care of him instead and that was something Marcus wasn’t used to. He’d spent most of his life looking out for others. As a boy, his grandfather had taken him aside and charged him with the task of looking out for his uncle Julius. Despite being his uncle, Julius was actually two years younger than he. The pair had grown up together and had already been as close as brothers when his grandfather had made the request, but Marcus had taken it seriously. His grandfather had never said why he should look out for Julius, or who might be a threat to him, but that hadn’t mattered, Marcus had taken his charge to heart and acted as friend and bodyguard for centuries after that.

At least, he had until Julius’s son, Christian, was born. There had been some nasty business when the boy was young, and Julius had asked Marcus to look out for his son. He hadn’t had to ask twice. Marcus had then become Christian’s confidant and guardian, accompanying him everywhere and helping to guide him through life, keeping him safe as he did. The necessity for that had ended when Julius had connected with his life mate, Marguerite. The dangers their grandfather had worried about for Julius, and that Julius had later worried about for his own son, had been revealed and taken care of. Neither Julius nor Christian needed protecting any longer. Marcus had suddenly found himself without a charge to look after . . . which had been incredibly strange for him. Marcus had felt a little lost and useless after that.

It was Marguerite Argeneau who had noticed his change in behavior and sudden lack of energy and had told him he was suffering what the mortals called “empty nest” syndrome. He was like a stay-at-home mother whose offspring have all grown up and left the nest, leaving him feeling unneeded. She’d then told him that Lucian had a personal issue he needed help with, a relative who might or might not be rogue that he was trying to find. Perhaps he could help Lucian find this individual, she’d said. At least it would give Marcus something to occupy his mind and time with while he adjusted to the change in situation.

Marcus had balked at the very suggestion that he was acting like a mortal housewife, but the idea of helping Lucian find this family member had held some appeal. Being useful to anyone at that point had seemed appealing. Not that he hadn’t had a job. He always had a job when he wanted it. The family business, Notte Enterprises, had many arms and he could have worked in any one of them if he chose. In fact, he had filled in for Julius quite a bit the last few years as Julius had adjusted to life with his life mate, but Julius had adjusted quite well now, and Marcus wasn’t really needed there.

Lucian, on the other hand, needed him, though he suspected the man would never say as much. This Basha Argeneau was someone he obviously very dearly wanted to find. He knew that because Lucian had been so cold in explaining things to him, and he’d found that with Lucian, the colder he was, the more important something was to him. It was like he had to divorce himself from all emotion to be able to deal with issues that touched closest to him. At least with issues where he feared the outcome wouldn’t be a happy one. Lucian simply could not divorce himself from emotion when it came to his life mate, Leigh, but Marcus knew he’d done that with his brother Jeanne Claude, when he’d learned that the man was feeding off mortals . . . and he was doing it again with Basha. He was also keeping his cards close to the vest in this situation. All Marcus knew about Basha was that she was his niece by a deceased brother. That she’d gone missing a very long time ago, and that her name had popped up in relation to Leonius Livius II, a rogue no-fanger who liked to feed on living mortals rather than make do with bagged blood. Those mortals often didn’t end up living when he was done with them.

As far as Marcus could tell, Lucian wasn’t even sure if the Basha in question was the niece who had gone missing so long ago. But he feared she was from the information he’d been given by one of Leonius’s sons, Ernie, and from Dee, a half-crazed mortal who had been traveling with Ernie.

Ernie had claimed she was Lucian’s niece, but Lucian couldn’t seem to believe the girl he knew would be tangled up with the likes of Leonius Livius II. Either way, he wanted the woman found and brought to him.

Marcus glanced to Divine again and wondered if she was the woman in question. It was hard to tell. There were no pictures of this Basha. They hadn’t existed back in the days when she’d gone missing, and by the time someone had suggested getting a sketch artist to draw a rendition, Dee and Ernie were not available to help with it. The Council had had Dee’s mind wiped, which had been the kindest thing to do for the girl, and Ernie . . . Well, the Council had already passed judgment and executed him.

In the end, it was Lucian who had worked with the sketch artist, but his memories of her were from more than two millennia ago. She’d been a young girl then, somewhere in her early teens by Marcus’s guess. They’d found someone to age the image, made up copies of the new picture, and had sent them out with every delivery of blood Argeneau Enterprises had sent out. Attached to the picture had been a letter requesting that anyone spotting this woman should please contact Argeneau Enterprises. There had apparently been countless calls, and Lucian had several people checking out the information gathered. Marcus was one of them. The call he was following up on had come from an immortal in Nevada who had visited the carnival some years ago and had spotted a fortune-teller named “Madame something or other” there, who he thought looked “kind of like the image.”