Vamps And The City (13 page)

“They’ll be watching the whole thing on the servants’ floor. We rigged up a direct feed to the television in the parlor. They’ll see and hear everything.”

“And when it’s over, we decide which men to eliminate?”

“Yes, two men.” Darcy led Lady Pamela to the stairwell. The cameramen followed. “You’re the judge tonight. The other ladies will most likely follow your suggestions on who should leave.”

Lady Pamela nodded thoughtfully. “I shall do my best to discover which ones are mortal, so we can rid ourselves of their horrid presence.”

Darcy led her down one flight of stairs. “Your actual goal is to test them on good manners and speech.”

“I understand. But obviously, it will be the mortals who possess bad manners and speech.”

Darcy sighed. “Right.” She exited onto the top floor of the penthouse. “Gregori brought the men upstairs to the billiards room. They’re right here.” She motioned to the room next door.

Bart and Bernie rushed in with their cameras.

Lady Pamela glided in and curtsied to the ten contestants. “How do you do?”

Darcy hovered by the door, watching. Some of the men bowed in return. She scanned the room ’til she spotted Adam. He stood quietly in a corner, next to Garth, regarding the other men with an intense look in his eyes. Anger? Had something upset him?

“Good evening,” Gregori began. “Tonight, each of you will take a stroll through the greenhouse with Lady Pamela. You each drew a number from a hat. That number will determine the order for tonight’s proceedings. Who has number one?”

One of the male Vamps stepped forward. “I do.”

Gregori checked the Vamp’s number. “Lady Pamela, your first escort is Roberto from Buenos Aires.”

Lady Pamela curtsied. “Charmed.”

Roberto escorted her toward the stairwell and opened the door for her. Bernie ran ahead to record the couple from the front. Darcy followed with the cameraman Bart. As they ascended the stairs, Lady Pamela dropped her handkerchief. Roberto picked it up and presented it to her with a bow. He made it through all the obstacles in the greenhouse without incident.

They returned to the billiards room for contestant number two. Otto of Düsseldorf was huge with the neck and shoulders of a professional linebacker. Darcy secretly thought of him as the Vamp on steroids. Obviously, he planned to spend eternity exercising his muscles. He successfully returned Lady Pamela’s hanky when she dropped it. They proceeded into the greenhouse.

“Oh, my!” Lady Pamela stopped in front of the manmade mud puddle. “Whatever will we do?”

“Ya, dat is one big mud puddle.” Otto had apparently forgotten to exercise the muscle in his head.

“Oh, dear. I would hate to soil my slippers.” Lady Pamela looked helpless, which in her case didn’t require any acting.

“Do not fret, fraulein. De Otto is here.” He hefted her high into the air so suddenly that she squealed. “Ya, you like my big, bulging muscles, don’t you?”

Darcy rolled her eyes.

Lady Pamela giggled.

Otto strode through the mud and continued down the path.

“Begging your pardon.” Lady Pamela smiled coyly at him. “You can put me down now.”

“Oh, you are light like de feather. De Otto forgot he was carrying you.” He set her down. “De Otto is very strong.” He flexed his biceps.

“Oh, my.” Lady Pamela touched the tip of her finger on his bulging muscle. “That is impressive.”

“All de ladies like de bulges.” He winked at her. “Just vait till I get you into de Otto Zone.”

Darcy covered her mouth to muffle any gagging noises. Otto successfully maneuvered all his bulges through the rest of the obstacle course and returned Lady Pamela to the billiards room.

Contestants four and five were Ahmed from Cairo and Pierre from Brussels. They both made it successfully through the course. Number six was Nicholas from Chicago, one of the mortals. He picked up Lady Pamela’s hanky on cue. Then they approached the mud puddle. Nicholas whipped off his jacket and laid it over the puddle.

“Oh, how chivalrous.” Lady Pamela watched approvingly.

“May I?” He lifted her in his arms, stepped onto his jacket, and skidded forward in the mud. His arms flailed. Lady Pamela flew into the air, screeching, then landed in the mud puddle with a great splat.

“Aagh!” She scrambled to her feet. “Look at me!” Her face and arms were speckled with mud. Globs of mud drooled down her gown. “You clumsy oaf! This is horrid, simply horrid!”

Inwardly wincing, Darcy let Lady Pamela vent her rage for a good five minutes. After all, a little drama was good for the ratings. “Okay.” She finally stepped in. “Pamela, why don’t you go downstairs and change gowns so we can continue with the show?”

She sniffed. “That’s Lady Pamela to you.” She stalked off toward the stairwell.

“Nicholas, you might as well get changed, too.” She handed him his muddy jacket.

His shoulders slumped. Mud dripped off his slacks and white dress shirt. “I’m not gonna win the million dollars, am I?”

“That will be decided by the judges.” Darcy watched him trudge toward the stairs. As she waited for Lady Pamela to return, Darcy realized this would be the ideal time during the editing stage to insert Pamela’s bio.

After thirty minutes, Lady Pamela returned to the billiards room, wearing a new gown. Contestant number seven was asked to step forward.

It was Adam.

Austin had a good idea what was expected of him. Whether or not he wanted to do it was another question. He was tempted to act like a complete ass and get booted off the show. That would certainly alleviate the agony of being near Darcy. He could see her standing next to the cameraman. He could hear her sweet voice. But he could never have her. She was dead.

He bowed his head to Lady Pamela. “Good evening.”

She motioned toward the stairwell. “Will you take a turn with me?”

“Delighted,” he grumbled. He lifted his arm so she could hook her cold, dead hand around his elbow.

They climbed the stairs. One cameraman stayed in front of them, while Darcy and the second cameraman trailed behind.

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Lady Pamela said in her snooty voice. “I simply adore a warm summer evening.”

“Yes.” Frustration swelled inside him. He was sick of this pretense. “But in the summer, the nights are too short.”

“True. Winter nights do give us more time.”

They had reached the landing on the stairs. Austin glanced back. Darcy was giving him a puzzled look. Too bad.

“Maybe you should travel to the southern hemisphere for the summer.” He continued up the stairs. “They’re having their winter season now.”

“Really?” Lady Pamela looked intrigued as she followed him. “You mean they’re having longer nights down there?”

“Sure. Or you could go to Antarctica. The nights there are six months long. They say the penguins are very well dressed.”

Lady Pamela giggled. “You silly man! No one lives in Antarctica.” She dropped her hankie on the top landing. “Oh, dear.”

Austin handed it to her and opened the stairwell door.

“Why, thank you.” She glided out onto the roof. “Have you ever been to the southern hemisphere?”

“No, I’ve spent most of my time in America and Eastern Europe.” He escorted her into the greenhouse.

“Ah. Were you born in Europe?”

“No. I was working there.”

“Indeed. In what capacity, may I ask?”

What the heck. He smiled at the lady vampire. “I was an international spy.”

She burst into giggles and slapped his arm. “My word, you say the silliest things.”

He glanced back. Darcy was giving him a skeptical look.

“Oh, dear.” Lady Pamela stopped in front of a mud puddle. “Whatever will we do?”

“Allow me.” Austin stepped onto the wooden bench between two potted plants. Lady Pamela remained where she was, looking helpless. He gritted his teeth. He’d had to touch her old dead carcass. “Excuse me.” He grabbed her around the waist, lifted her over the puddle, and then set her down on dry cement.

“Why, thank you. That was very clever of you.”

He stifled a groan. It sure wasn’t rocket science. Obviously, the purpose of this test was to see which man could best take care of a bunch of ditzy, dead females.

The next problem arose when they arrived at a stone bench under a dwarf palm tree. Lady Pamela announced she wanted to sit for a spell. While she hesitated, Austin noticed the bench was covered with dead leaves. He scooped off the leaves and covered the bench with his jacket. Lady Pamela smiled at him as she sat.

Austin sat beside her. Darcy and her damned cameraman moved closer. The whole situation irked him. Here he was, forced to flirt with a lady vampire while his beautiful, dead Darcy eavesdropped. “I must confess, Lady Pamela, that your gowns are the most exquisite I have ever seen.”

“Oh, my!” She beamed at him. “How wonderfully kind of you.”

“My pleasure. I think it’s so pathetic when women try to dress like men.” Darcy stood there in her khaki slacks and T-shirt. She crossed her arms and glared at him.

“Oh, I couldn’t agree more.” Lady Pamela stood. “Shall we continue? The roses smell heavenly.”

Austin grabbed his jacket off the bench. He shook it out as he followed the lady vampire to the rose garden.

“I would dearly love a rose,” she murmured.

Of course she would. “Which color would you like?”

She smiled at him. “A pink one, if you would be so kind.”

“No problem.” He eased around the big clay pots until he located a budding pink rose. He snapped the stem and carried the rose back to Lady Pamela.

She sighed. “I do hope it doesn’t have too many thorns.”

He took the hint and started pinching off the thorns. The last one proved a tough one. He managed to rip it off but ended up with a tiny hole in his index finger.

“Oh, my.” Lady Pamela’s eyes grew wide. “Is that… blood?”

“It’s nothing. Just a flesh wound,” he said dryly as he handed her the rose.

She dropped the rose on the ground and moved closer to him. “Let me see your bleeding finger.” She licked her lips.

Austin stepped back. “I’m okay. It was just a little nick.”

Her eyes gleamed. “Let me kiss it and make it better.” She reached for his hand.

He jumped back.

She bared her teeth. “Just a little taste.”

“Cut!” Darcy leaped between them. “Pamela, go to the servants’ parlor and have a… snack. You’ll feel much better.”

She glared at Darcy a moment, then sniffed. “That’s Lady Pamela to you.” She turned on her heel and marched off.

Darcy heaved a sigh of relief. “Adam, why don’t you come with me? I have a first-aid kit in the pool house.”

He glowered at her. “I don’t need first aid.”

She glanced at the cameramen. “Guys, go back to the billiard room. Lady Pamela will be ready to continue after her snack.”

The cameramen strode toward the stairwell.

“Come on.” Darcy reached for Austin’s arm.

He stepped back.

She frowned at him. “Will you come with me, please?”

He looked away. The sight of her was so painful. How could he mourn her death when she kept appearing in front of him? “It’s nothing. You’re not liable for puncture wounds, remember?”

She snorted. “True, but I’d rather you didn’t get hurt.”

Too late. He was already nursing the worst heartache he’d ever had the misery of encountering.

“This way.” She motioned toward the pool house.

Reluctantly, he followed her. They passed the swimming pool. He glanced at the hot tub. Dammit.

She gave him a worried look. “You were having an odd conversation with Lady Pamela.”

About the length of nights? Was Darcy concerned that he knew about vampires? Or that he knew about her? Well, wasn’t that too bad. She’d let him kiss her several times. Just when in the course of their relationship had she planned on telling him that she was dead? “I was bull-shitting her.”

Darcy’s eyebrows rose. “Why? Are you suddenly interested in winning the contest and the money?”

“I don’t give a damn about the money. In fact, I’m beginning to wonder why I’m here at all.”

She opened the door to the pool house. “I thought…” She closed her eyes briefly. “Maybe I was mistaken.”

She’d thought he was interested in her? He had been, dammit, until he’d found out the truth. He wandered into the pool house. The main room was a combination den and kitchen. White wicker furniture was strewn about, covered with cushions in a tropical print. Darcy’s papers were on the kitchen table. The night before, on the way to the swimming pool, he had snuck into the pool house and hidden a camera over the front door. He hadn’t used it yet. The last thing he wanted was to watch Darcy drinking blood or falling into her death sleep.

“Over here.” She wandered into the tiny kitchen. The only appliances consisted of a small refrigerator and microwave. She turned on the water over the single sink. “Come and rinse off your finger.”

He stuck his hand in the cold water.

She handed him a towel. “Something’s wrong. I can tell. You won’t even look at me.”

He shrugged and dried his hand.

“Do you really not approve of women wearing pants?”

“No. I just told Lady Pamela what she wanted to hear.”

Darcy stiffened and frowned at him. “Is that what you do? Tell women what they want to hear?”

He dropped the towel on the counter. “I need to go.”

“You need a Band-Aid.” She opened the first-aid box.

“I don’t need anything! It’s just a little prick.”

Anger flared in her eyes. “Your finger or you?” She ripped open a Band-Aid package.

He seethed with frustration. Dammit, he hadn’t known she was dead when he pursued her. But she had known. She should have stopped him.

“Give me your finger.” She reached for his hand.

He stepped back. “Give me the Band-Aid.”

She tossed it on the counter. “Fine. Bandage yourself.”

“I will.” He struggled to put it on with his left hand.

She glared at him. “I don’t understand you. You keep asking me questions and saying things like you know too much… stuff.”

“You’re imagining that.”

“Am I? All I ever hear from you is how I should trust you and confide in you, and when I finally feel like I can trust you, you turn away.”

He gritted his teeth. “I haven’t gone away. I’m still here.”

“You won’t even look at me or touch me. What happened?”

He finished attaching the bandage. “Nothing. I… decided this wasn’t going to work.”

“You decided? I don’t have any say in the matter?”

No, you’re dead. “Good-bye.” He strode toward the door.

“Adam! Why did you do this to me?”

He paused at the door and looked back. His heart squeezed in his chest. Holy crap. Her eyes were full of tears. He was making her cry. Dead women don’t cry.

She stalked toward him. “Since you’re so sensitive and empathic, tell me what I’m feeling now.” A tear ran down her cheek, and it struck him like an ice pick ripping at his heart.

He looked away. “I can’t.”

“You can’t feel it? Or you can’t admit that you’re the one causing me so much pain?”

He flinched. “I’m sorry.” He ran toward the stairwell, but realized he couldn’t face those other vampires yet. He slipped into the greenhouse so he could be alone. He sat on the bench and dropped his head into his hands. How could he admit he was causing Darcy pain? Dead people didn’t feel pain. They didn’t cry. They didn’t look at you like you were breaking their heart.

Holy shit. How could he deal with this? If he admitted she was in pain, he would have to admit she was still alive. He’d have to deal with the fact that she was a vampire. And his job at the CIA was to terminate vampires.

What an unholy mess. If only he had known ahead of time. He could have hardened his heart, avoided seeing her. Ah, Sheesh. What a load of crap. Everyone had warned him she was a vampire. She’d even tried to push him away, but he had refused to listen. This wasn’t her fault. He had stubbornly ignored all the clues because his heart was already lost. Now, he had no choice but to face reality.

He was in love with a vampire.

Darcy closed the door to the pool house and leaned against it, trembling. She struggled to breathe. Her knees wobbled, and she slid down the door to sit on the green all-weather carpet.

He’d hurt her. She must have actually fallen for him and his fast talk. Telling women what they wanted to hear. The bastard.

She’d been so pathetically easy. She’d been so cold, so lonesome, so miserable for the last four years that she’d latched on to the first man who had offered her warmth and love. Tears spilled over, and she brushed them away with growing anger. How dare he turn a one-eighty on her? Wasn’t it just last night he had said any man would be stupid to let her go? Well, by his own standards, Adam was stupid. Good riddance.

She stood on shaky legs. She needed to get back to the show. It was her job, and she couldn’t afford to lose it. But damn, her heart was under attack by a double-edged sword. How could she see him again, and how could she stand not to see him? He’d made her so-called life bearable again. For the last four years, she’d been forced to dwell in darkness. Only three slender rays of light—Gregori, Maggie, and Vanda—had kept her sane. Then, Adam had burst into her dark existence like a brilliant sun. He’d been the sun god, promising her warmth and life.

But it had only been a false echo that taunted her. She could never experience life again. She could never be with Adam. She’d known it all along. But still, she’d fallen for him. She’d wanted to believe that love could conquer all, that love was as sacred as Vanda claimed. Tears rolled down Darcy’s face. She couldn’t handle seeing him again so soon, so she went down the west end stairwell to the servants’ floor.

The ladies were in the parlor, chatting. Lady Pamela was sipping hot Chocolood from a tea cup. On the TV, Darcy could see Gregori and the contestants in the billiard room. The cameramen were there, recording the men as they talked about the show.

“Are you all right?” Vanda watched Darcy with narrowed eyes.

“I’m fine,” she lied, hoping it wasn’t noticeable that she’d been crying. There was no way to check her appearance in a mirror, one of the minor drawbacks to being a vampire. Major drawbacks included losing her family, her savings, and her career in journalism. Hell, she’d lost her entire life because of this stupid, secret world. If Connor hadn’t been so concerned about keeping their damned secret, he could have teleported her to a hospital instead of Roman Draganesti’s house. She might have lived. But now, she would never know. It was too late.

“Are you ready to finish the obstacle course?” she asked Lady Pamela. “There are still three men who need to be tested.”

“Must I?” Lady Pamela made a face. “I’m so dreadfully tired. And besides, I already know which men must be eliminated.”

“So do we,” Cora Lee piped in. “We have to get rid of that buffoon that dropped Lady Pamela in the mud.”

The ladies all murmured in agreement.

“And we must be rid of the Moor,” Maria Consuela announced.

“You mean Ahmed?” Lady Pamela asked. “He was perfectly well-mannered. And his speech was flawless.”

“Not to mention he’s very handsome,” Vanda added.

“Indeed.” Lady Pamela set down her tea cup. “The second man to go must be Antonio of Madrid. He had the most dreadful lisp.”

“Of course he does!” Maria Consuela exclaimed. “He speaks perfect Castilian Spanish.”

“Well, it sounds rather silly in English,” Lady Pamela insisted. “The man told me I thmelled like a thweet red rothe.”