Wicked Fantasy (17 page)

Something dark and powerful moved in Sparkle's amber eyes. And for the first time, Gerry realized that this was a being she wouldn't want to tick off.

“Got it.” Gerry thought the powers that be in Texas should change all those signs along the highways to: Don't Mess with Texas or Sparkle Stardust.

Sparkle's expression cleared. “Now let's chat about some sensual techniques you can use on Conall. I know ways to drive him wild by just touching—”

“Yoo-hoo! Gerry, wait up.” Gerry turned. Fulvia, Tullia, and Varinia were hurrying to catch up. They all wore identical white shorts, white tops, and white shoes. There was something creepy about that.

Sparkle made a rude noise. “Just what we need, the three virgins from hell.”

“You know they're virgins?” What was with the “from hell” comment? They'd seemed friendly the last time she met them. Okay, so they were a little fixated on male bashing.

“Oh, we go back a long way.” Sparkle smiled as the women caught up. The smile didn't reach her eyes.

“What a coincidence. We're all walking in the same direction.” Tullia giggled at her observation. “How do you like my new sandals, Sparkle? My Italian shoemaker's a genius.”

Sparkle glanced at the shoes. Gerry had never before seen that much open lust for an inanimate object in a person's eyes. She studied the shoes. Beautiful but impractical. Guess she could describe her lust for Conall with the same words.

“We can all walk together. What fun.” Fulvia waved her hands.

Sparkle followed the motion with her eyes. “You do know I'll eventually chop off your hand and take it to the cosmetics department at Dillard's to match that nail color?”

Gerry got the feeling she wasn't kidding.

“Silly. I have someone who mixes the color especially for me.” But Fulvia did put her hands behind her back.

Varinia didn't waste time on small talk. “Have you thought over what we said about men, Gerry? Virginity's the way to go. I hear that Conall drinks milk from the carton. Ick.”

“Uh, well . . .”

Sparkle grabbed Gerry's arm and pulled her away from Varinia. “Don't listen to her. Think about Conall smoothing his fingers over your bare breasts.”

“Yeah, that's a good—”

Tullia edged closer. “He'll never love any woman as much as he loves his sword. There'll always be three in your bed: you, him, and Mr. Sword.”

Sparkle's eyes were doing the glowing thing again. “He'll slip his hand between your thighs and then—”

Fulvia jumped into the fray. “He'll ignore you to watch football. He only tunes in to words like ‘kill,' ‘maim,' ‘touchdown,' and ‘dinner.' ”

Hands on hips, Sparkle stalked the sisters. Gerry backed away from the impending brawl.

“Talk about demonic ditzes. Why would Gerry listen to you when she has me as her guide to sexual ecstasy?”

Demonic? Gerry hadn't a clue what Sparkle was talking about, but this might be her chance to sneak away.

Varinia poked her finger into the middle of Sparkle's chest. “Why would she want advice from a slut?”

Sparkle grabbed the wrist attached to the finger and propelled Varinia over her head. The virgin landed with a splash in a small pond.

Then things got out of control. Gerry sneaked away while Sparkle was screaming, “Hell hags,” and trying to rip Tullia's shoes off.

She scuttled around the corner of a building and then sighed when silence settled over her. Free, free, free. The shadow of the building protected her as she decided what to do next. Maybe hunt down Jinx.

“Wow, do you see that catfight out there?” The male voice was familiar.

She turned around to find Dell behind her. His hair was just as red, his smile just as wide, and his eyes just as strange. “Oh, hi. Yeah, they've collected a big crowd. Security should be showing up any minute.”

Suddenly, the hunger struck. Bloodlust. Its intensity backed her against the wall. What the . . . ? She shouldn't be feeling it now. But the hunger didn't react to logic. It wanted Dell as fast as she could sink her fangs in him.

No.
She wasn't a newbie vamp anymore. She'd control the hunger.

Dell's smile was open and oblivious. “Hey, want to check out a new fantasy? I hear it's powerful stuff.”

Gerry took a deep breath. Weird. The hunger was gone. It was like someone had flipped an off switch in her brain. She really needed to talk to Eric or Donna about her feelings. Too bad she didn't have any vampire friends, but vampires weren't a social bunch.

“Yeah, why not?” She needed a few uncomplicated minutes.

She followed Dell around to the back of the building and along a quiet path that went on and on. Was the park this big? She hadn't noticed before.

When the path ended, she stopped and stood blinking. “A French Revolution fantasy? Somehow I don't see that as a big draw. I read
A Tale of Two Cities
in high school. I mean, who'd fantasize about Madame Defarge and her crew?”

She studied the scene. Someone had built a pretty authentic-looking replica of the Bastille. She could see the faces of people inside with their mouths open in silent screams. Creepy. And then there was the guillotine. Now
that
would give a vampire chills.

“Someone who's into horror movies? People have lots of crazy fantasies.” He sounded a little excited.

“Different strokes and all that.” She followed him into the line for a shot at the guillotine. Personally, this wasn't her fantasy, but yeah, she was a little curious.

“This is so cool.” Dell glowed with happiness. “The executioner speaks to each customer while the old biddy over there knits. Then the fake blade falls. How realistic is that?”

Cool if you fantasized about someone cutting your head off. Not for her. She'd rather imagine Conall . . .

“Your turn, Gerry.” She looked up to realize Dell had already taken his turn and waited for her on the other side of the platform. Gee, that was quick.

She stepped up and looked at the executioner. He was tall, cadaverous, and his eyes were pale like Dell's. Funny that she'd met so many people with the same unusual eye color. Something about the thought niggled at her, but then she was drawn into what the executioner was saying.

“You've consorted with a man who has the blood of thousands on his hands. For this you will die.” He smiled a ghastly smile. “And enjoy it.” His voice was deep, hollow, and totally scary. He nodded to the man next to him.

The man said nothing as he pushed Gerry to her knees in front of the guillotine and placed a wooden board over her neck so she couldn't move. Fear arced through her. Wow, this was a little too realistic.

But that's what Live the Fantasy was all about, a fantasy for every taste. Some people liked being scared. Okay, no more fear. She'd seen the people in front of her do this, and they'd left the platform with their heads still attached to their bodies.

She prepared to close her eyes. Even though she'd scoped out the blade—made of thin, flexible rubber with a cutout where a person's neck would be—the whole ritual bothered her. Fine, so she had a vivid imagination. She could picture her head bouncing merrily off the platform to the cheers of the bystanders.

At the last minute, she couldn't close her eyes. She twisted her head to look up at the blade.

She widened her eyes. Holy shit! The blade was the real deal. No cutout, and she could see light reflecting off the metal as the blade started its deadly descent.

Her preternatural speed and strength kicked in. She flung herself backward, taking out the wooden board. The swish of the blade was so close she could feel the breeze it generated. She rolled away from the guillotine and scrambled from the platform.

Once again, someone had almost ended her short vampire existence. She felt the slide of her fangs as she pushed to her feet. First she'd rip out the executioner's throat, and then . . .

She looked around.
Nothing.
Just an empty field. No Bastille, no guillotine, no people. Where had Dell gone? He was the one who'd brought her . . .

The sound of pounding footsteps came nearer and nearer. Someone was in a big hurry to reach her. Hissing, she prepared to protect herself.

For just a moment, when Conall barreled into view still wearing his robe and hood, Gerry thought a mad monk was on the loose. As soon as she recognized him, though, she felt an intense spurt of happiness. She'd dissect that emotion later.

“What happened? Are you okay?” No, not okay. Conall could see the shock in her eyes.

Gerry drew a shaking hand across her forehead. “Tell me that Live the Fantasy has a French Revolution fantasy.”

He shook his head. “Wouldn't be a moneymaker.”

Her laughter was a little quivery. “Well, a few minutes ago the Bastille and a guillotine were here. Someone tried to chop my head off.”

Conall took a calming breath. He glanced around the empty field. “There's never been a fantasy here.”

“Someone's messing with my head in more ways than one.” She started back toward the castle.

He fell into step beside her. “Tell me what led up to the guillotine.”

“Sparkle got into it with the three harem sisters and I sneaked off. I met the guy I told you about on the Pirate Ship fantasy. He told me about this French Revolution thing. I followed him.” She shrugged. “And almost lost my head.”

“What's this guy's name? What's he look like?” For once, Conall was glad he moved in paranormal circles. Anyone else would've thought Gerry was crazy. Conall knew what possibilities lurked in the dark.

“Dell. No last name. Average height, red hair, light eyes.” They used the great hall entrance to the castle instead of walking around to the hotel lobby side. Gerry headed for the stairs to the dungeon. But suddenly she stopped to take a good look at his robe and hood. “Wait. I just realized. How did you turn up at just the right time?”

Okay, this was going to sound dumb. “I was in the middle of a fantasy when I felt you.”

“
Felt
me?”

“It was like a psychic scream. Not your
voice
, but something more primal.” He glanced away to where Holgarth stood. The wizard glared at him.

“Holgarth's costume is the same as yours.” She tried to smile, but there was no humor behind it. “He looks ticked.”

“Yeah. He probably took over my fantasy when I ran out. I didn't exactly explain where I was going. He hates it when someone messes with his schedule.” She'd side-stepped any comment about his “psychic scream.” He didn't blame her.

“Guess I'll go down and see how Jinx is doing.” She glanced toward the stairs.

“Tell him I want the bracelet back.”

“The bracelet?” Her expression gave nothing away.

“He's the only tarantula I know who's into stealing diamond bracelets.”

“I'll get it back for you.” Before he could say anything else, she started to walk away.

“Gerry?”

She glanced over her shoulder.

“You look so hot I want to drag you down to the dungeon and lick every inch of your body.”

She gave him the first real smile he'd seen since the guillotine incident. “That's Sparkle's outfit calling to you. I think she washed it in pheromones.” Then she was gone.

Conall didn't waste any time. He strode over to Holgarth, stripping the robe off as he walked.

“Oh, I'm too excited to express my humble thanks. How wonderful of you to give a few of your precious minutes to your job.” Holgarth was at his sarcastic best.

“Hey, you don't need me, wizard. You look like you were made for the part, all scary and creepy.”

“Perhaps you'll share why you felt the need to abandon the fantasy right at a crucial moment. I almost had to return the customer's money.” He shuddered at the possibility.

“Gerry needed me. From now on, she always comes first. And I won't be doing any more fantasies tonight. Someone tried to kill her again.”

Holgarth nodded. Thank God, no more sarcasm. “We'll have to call a meeting of all the entities in the park. This can't go on.”

“Right.” Conall searched the crowd. “Where's Brynn?”

“In the costume room. He's getting ready for the next fantasy.”

Conall was gone before Holgarth even finished. He didn't want to leave Gerry alone too long. No matter how much she bitched at him, he had to do a better job of protecting her. Even though she'd saved herself tonight, next time she might not be so lucky.

His sudden empty feeling when he considered life in the castle without her surprised him. This was all about the curse. He was bound to her by Morrigan's order.

Somehow, though, the old bitter mantra didn't seem to work with Gerry. Yeah, he'd admit he liked her. Okay, okay, so he wanted to have sex with her. But he refused to think beyond that.
Couldn't
think beyond that. For both their sakes.

Once inside the costume room, he didn't waste words with Brynn. “I need Fo right now.”

“I crave goat's milk and anchovies, Gabriel. I feel like crying to express my hormonal imbalance, but it's no fun without real tears. Maybe you could work on a real-tears program for the computer.” Fo's big purple eyes peeked from one of the twin pouches—one purple and one red—attached to Conall's belt. “Pregnancy is the pits. I'm so glad it's almost over. If I swell any more, I won't fit in my case. How do women suffer through this for nine months?”

Conall grew wary. “Uh, how close to ‘almost over'?”