5,99 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Next Chapter
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Sprache: Englisch
The first four books in Lorelei Bell's 'Sabrina Strong Series' of urban fantasy novels, now available in one volume!
Ascension: Left penniless after the death of her father, Sabrina Strong isn’t thrilled about working for the North American Vampire Association. Driven by her desire to discover the identity of the mysterious in her dreams, Sabrina is attacked on her way to the interview. Her life is narrowly saved by a passing vampire - but could he be the one that turned her mother and marked Sabrina as his own so long ago?
Trill: New friends and shocking revelations await Sabrina. After she learns what her role as a sibyl means, her partner Dante puts himself at great risk to discover more of Ilona Tremayne's schemes. A newcomer, Bill Gannon, is very interested in Sabrina, and while dealing with him she has to help Bjorn Tremayne maintain control of his realm. Soon, Sabrina's past catches up with her, and she discovers that not everyone is what she thought.
Nocturne: When Sabrina's cousin Lindee goes missing, she fears that vampires are at the root of things. Beyond the Black Veil, vampires outnumber humans ten to one, and people are merely blood donors and objects of the vampires' sexual desires. With the Dagger of Delphi, Sabrina will face the Dreadfuls - merciless stalkers and killers. With her is also the stone containing the spirit of Dante Badheart, and more mysteries surround this magical artifact as well.
Caprice: Dark World has set a bounty on Sabrina's head, and he needs to get her away from the only vampire who protects her: Vasyl. Sabrina's agenda was to enjoy Thanksgiving with her family without any interruptions. Unfortunately, a demon in the guise of her Grandmother Rose attacks her at the family gathering. After Bill Gannon saves her, Sabrina is whisked off by Bjorn Tremayne and his accomplice. Knowing that Tremayne's ultimate goal is to mate with Sabrina, Bill begins his chase. With the future of the whole Nephilim race at stake, will he make it in time?
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
Ähnliche
Sabrina Strong Series Collection
BOOKS 1-4
LORELEI BELL
Contents
Ascension
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Trill
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Nocturne
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Caprice
Acknowledgments
Author's Note
1. Angels, Demons & Vampires
2. Running
3. Good Intentions
4. Bill
5. Priscus
6. The Undead
7. Paris & Celeste
8. The Outlaw
9. Vasyl
10. Au Revoir
11. The Knowing
12. Vasyl's Awakening
13. Addictions
14. By Design
15. The Other Man
16. Sabrina
17. Snakes
18. Tracking
19. Pennyweather's Perch
20. Cooper
21. Secret Lover
22. Rick
23. Rude Awakening
24. Vasyl
25. Transgressions
26. Reality Check
27. Dhampires & Undeads
28. Stop-over
29. Old Wounds
30. Secrets
31. The Springs
32. Eddie
33. The Ride
34. A Truce
35. One Pint or Two?
36. Old Fashioned Girl
37. Hunted
38. Rescued
39. The Dagger
40. Marriage Bed
41. Celia
42. Reconnoitering
43. Enemies
44. The Cave
45. Field Trip
46. Old Friend
47. Discovery
48. The Scenario
49. The Admission
50. Bleeding Hearts
51. When All Else Fails
52. Angel's Wings
53. Five Days Later
54. Closure
About the Author
Copyright (C) 2023 Lorelei Bell
Layout design and Copyright (C) 2023 by Next Chapter
Published 2023 by Next Chapter
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.
Ascension
SABRINA STRONG BOOK 1
In Memory of Barbara A. Bell,
My Mentor, Friend,
And Mother All In One.
Chapter1
The full moon poured silvery light down around me as I arrived about eight minutes late for my job interview with a vampire. Mr. Paduraru had kindly agreed to meet me in my little town of Moonlight, instead of giving me confusing directions to some place in the city, that I'd never before driven to by myself. I chose a bar that was easy to direct him to from the tollway. The Saloon resided on the corner of Sunbank and Route 30.
Normally, it would only take me ten minutes to drive from my house to this bar, except that a huge John Deere tractor, hauling just-picked corn, took up the whole damn road, and I had to follow it the one mile from my house to turn onto Sunbank.
This was not your ordinary nine-to-five office job for which I was applying. The ad had read, “Clairvoyant needed. Only serious applicants need apply.” Disbelief had filled me as I read the ad, and I read it five or six times before I dialed the number. It was long distance—a Chicago area code—and I made mistakes before I'd gotten it right.
Yes, I was nervous about the interview. I didn't know he was a vampire until I spoke to him over the phone, of course. How I knew this was second nature. Sometimes all I had to do was walk up to a house I'd never been inside before, and I knew the layout of the place; or, the emotions of the people inside a room would sometimes flood me, and every once in a while, merely by speaking to someone on the phone I would get a “read”.
This was how I knew that Mr. Paduraru was equipped with fangs, and drank blood.
Mostly, though, I only needed to touch something to get a read, sometimes they came as visions. I didn't do that often. Not at all, if I could help it. Being a clairvoyant sometimes sucked, especially on a social level. Early on, I'd had to learn to shield my mind against this ability, or hide in a closet—literally—or go insane. The gloves I always wore were my only other protection. I'm a Touch Clairvoyant, which is very rare.
Climbing down out of my Jeep, I took in the other vehicles in the lot. There were seven cars—well, three were cars; the rest were pickups. Not many people here, but it was Monday.
Black and sharp, my shadow advanced ahead of me on the gravel lot as I walked toward The Saloon. I'd turned twenty-one four weeks ago, and had only been here once. I spotted a sleek, black Jaguar parked near the building. This could not belong to any of the regulars inside. It had to have been Mr. Paduraru's.
Curious, I angled for it and stopped next to it, pulled in a little breath to steady myself, and closed my eyes. Suddenly, my mind sent me a flash of an image: Twin white spires cutting skyward over a Chicago skyline.
Whoa. I had a little bit of a head-spin as I opened my eyes.
As the spinning stopped, a wave of energy hit me, totally and inconceivably savage, and possibly carnivorous. A tangled emotion that, as a human, I couldn't fully appreciate. In fact, I didn't know where it came from.
That's when I saw a low shadow ease from a dense copse of trees, around the far side of the building. When it emerged from shadow into the light recognition threw me; I could hardly believe what I was looking at. Large and gray with four legs, and big yellow eyes staring right at me, the creature growled low and menacing.
Keys still in my hand, I froze and surveyed my surroundings. I was alone. The wolf stood between the tavern and me. Behind me, and about fifty yards beyond my Jeep, the two roads that converged at the corner didn't have a lot of traffic. The closest house was simply too far away.
Without warning, the wolf lunged at me.
I screamed. For one frozen moment, I thought I was dead. All of my twenty-one years flashed before my eyes.
Big, sharp teeth grasped my free arm—the one I held up to protect myself. I batted at the animal with my purse, smacking it pretty hard, and it let go of me. I kicked him, connecting a blow to the rib cage, but this did little to deter him. By the loping, little jump he made to stay clear of my swipe, I sensed this was play to him.
The wolf snatched my purse and ripped it out of my hands, then shook it as though it were a living thing. Tossing it aside, he snarled and lunged at me again, snapping at my left hand—the one that still gripped the keys. Automatically I had made sure that I had a few keys sticking up between my fingers, like a weapon, when his mouth clamped shut around my hand, sharp teeth scraping my fingers and knuckles through my gloves.
My first reaction had been to run like hell, but then, I'd decided to fight for all I was worth.
My hand was now trapped inside the animal's mouth, but he didn't crunch down, but held it there firmly while making a terrible growling deep in his throat, and then pulled, as though he was going to take me somewhere. I planted my feet, and skidded about five feet as he pulled. Fear seized me temporarily, leaving me unable to comprehend why this animal had attacked me, or what it wanted.
Although perhaps a minute had elapsed while dealing with this beast, I wondered if anyone had heard my screams inside. Well, no. For one thing, they were all into the football game on the big screen TV—I could hear their boisterous cheers from inside all the way out here.
The keys rattled around in the huge wolf's mouth as he renewed his grip. Then the creature made a sudden whine, as though he might have bit down on one of the keys wrong, and they had stabbed him, and he let go. My hand came away from the grip the animal had on me, and with the momentum, I fell on my butt. Sharp gravel bit and scraped my backside and legs through my nylons and cotton skirt. Rolling over to my knees, I scrambled to gain my feet, but he knocked me down from behind. In the next moment, the horrible beast was on top of me, big paws on my back, pushing me back down to my knees, sharp gravel knifing into me, making me screech again. He had hold of my dress and I heard it rip.
Why couldn't anyone in the bar hear me screaming?
Something dark lurched from the edge of my periphery, pulling my gaze about ten feet away. Renewed fear reverberated through me.
Another damned wolf.
Screaming, my heart reeled as though it would jump out of my chest. Utter terror gave me strength to push nearly to my feet, but it was no use. The second wolf leaped and tackled the other one with a vicious growl. A yelp of pain resounded through me as my knees and hands took the brunt of the combined weight of two huge beasts. They tumbled off me in a flurry of fur, teeth and claws. A sharp yip from the first wolf told me that its attacker had hurt him. One fled, the other chased; I could hear the garbling growl of the pursuer. Then, there was no more sound.
The hole in my nylons spread up my thigh, and that was so out of context it wasn't funny.
Panting, and simply too relieved to worry about what happened to either wolf (or my nylons), I tossed my long, dark brown hair out of my face and tried to brush myself off.
Searching for my keys, I shuffled toward my Jeep. A sound made my head turn toward the building. A handsome guy with black hair, wearing an un-tucked, button-down green shirt and jeans, dashed down the steps toward me. Here I was tousled, my clothes ripped, wearing holey nylons, and one of the cutest guys I'd seen in a long while was rushing toward me, a sort of pity glowing in his eyes. I was hoping he was an off-duty paramedic. He'd tend to me, surely.
“Nicolas!” he called out loudly, as he darted toward me where I struggled to stand upright. My feet felt as though I had roller blades strapped to them, my legs had turned to rubber hoses and I sagged against the Jag.
“Ms. Strong, are you hurt?” the handsome guy asked as he darted swiftly to me—I thought I'd blacked out for a few seconds. Suddenly one hand was clutching my arm, and the other one went around me, holding me up.
“Who are you? How do you know who I am?” I said numbly, trying not to lean against him too much. He was only a few inches taller than my five foot four stature that was, at this moment, compromised by my slumping. His black hair and dark eyes contrasted harshly against a complexion that looked like pewter in the moonlight.
Oh, damn. Vampire!
“Ms. Strong, are you—” He stopped, and eyed my arm. He looked worriedly up at me. “You're bleeding.” His face went through an alarming metamorphosis of emotions. Concern had vanished, now something like a wicked smile drew his lips back off his teeth, and his fangs slid out. I could see this situation was above and beyond his ability to handle, what with me bleeding and him being a vampire and all.
The glove of my left hand was ripped. My eyes zeroed in on the sticky wetness. Blood. My blood. It glistened darkly in the overhead lights of the lot. Raising my gaze, my heart wrenched as I saw a wolf pad toward us from the shadows. “Look out!” I cried, and braced myself against the younger vampire, who had hold of me and wouldn't let me go even if I could get my legs to move right.
This wolf stopped and made an odd whine as it looked curiously up at us. A wisp of smoke obliterated the wolf, and in a moment, a man emerged from the smoke. He looked to be about thirty, in human years. Wearing a dark brown suit expertly matched with a lighter brown silk shirt and gold-green silk tie, he surged toward us, looking as though he had merely been out for a stroll. He straightened his tie, and then ran his fingers through his slightly tousled, iron black hair, smoothing it away from his heart-shaped face. I questioned my own sanity at that point. Clearly, if I told a policeman that a wolf had just attacked me, and then I saw another wolf change into a man, at that point, he'd take my keys away from me and call a paramedic. Probably this would have been the best scenario, but no policeman was available. Unfortunately.
“Ms. Strong?” This new man's voice charged the air around us—a magnificently smooth-as-whipped-chocolate voice, and I wanted to hear it again.
“Mr. Paduraru?” I presume. Still shaken I had to pull in a breath and simply stare. He had deep-set eyes—the kind that held mystery behind them. Dark brows arched distinctively from a narrow, slightly hooked nose. His unblinking stare was a little haunting. Hypnotic. His pale skin was almost opaque, but I noticed his cheeks had a little blush to them.
He inclined his head. “At your service. What a horrible ordeal! I beg you forgive us for not having come to your rescue much sooner!” he said in an apologetic tone as he neared me. His glittering gaze engaged the other vampire beside me. As though something telepathic happened between them, the younger vampire stepped away from me, lowering his head, as though giving way to a monarch. “Seeing that you were late, we worried. We came out, heard you screaming, and saw that you were in trouble. Do forgive us.”
“And so you turned into a wolf to chase it off?” I wanted to make sure he could easily explain the inexplicable.
“I did.” He smiled knowingly. “You seem to be taking the shock of all this quite well. I mean, you understand what we are—Steve and I?”
I nodded. “Vampires,” I said simply. Yes, I certainly did know that vampires existed. My mother was one, after all.
“We have not come out into the open, and have retained our anonymity down through the centuries for our own security,” he explained. “But we employ many humans to do many tasks. The job I was to interview you for pays handsomely, by the way.”
I nodded, barely able to yank my mind out of the terror-induced few moments of before to the idea of taking a job for vampires in the city.
He moved closer in a liquid way that seemed to defy gravity, and the use of his feet. I think he merely floated over to me. I felt the power from his eyes—a sort of hypnotic bondage. A weakness, or a deep lassitude overwhelmed me, and I sagged. As though anticipating this, he caught me by the arms, his minion caught me from behind, and they held me upright between them.
“One important thing, Ms. Strong. Did the wolf bite you?”
Making a befuddled effort to remain on my feet, I groaned weakly, “yes,” and shakily held up my injured arm. My black glove was tattered and pulled halfway off my hand, and dark blood covered it.
“Hold her still,” Paduraru said, and I heard the scuff of shoes in gravel as Steve pulled me up against himself, his arms around me from behind. If anyone had come along at this point, they would have thought two men were accosting me.
The efforts of the two vampires, however, went on without interruption. Only an occasional shushing of a vehicle going by on Route 30, or stopping at the stop sign at the juncture of the two main roads, let me know that I was still conscious. Barely.
Very gently, and with care, Paduraru peeled off my glove, one finger at a time. “Steve is here merely to assist me tonight.” Well, I had news for Mr. Paduraru. From such close contact with his younger assistant, I was getting that what he really wanted to do was yank me into the bushes and ravage me. The only force that kept him from doing so was Mr. Paduraru's power over him. I was still of the old school of belief that as soon as a vampire comes into physical contact with a human, they became irreversibly locked into the hunter-prey relationship. Had Mr. Paduraru's thrall not paralyzed me, I'd be screaming at the top of my lungs again, trying to escape this mayhem.
Unveiling my hand, my fingers looked as though dipped in blood. A wound at my wrist was bleeding freely. Suddenly Steve snatched my hand and began licking my fingers as though they were the best buffalo wings he'd ever had.
His fangs out, he said, “Oh, fuck, she's delicious!”
I gasped, startled by his fangs, and words. A terrifying sinking feeling came over me. It looked as though I was about to become his snack. Right when I wondered how I would get out of this, Paduraru's voice shocked my senses.
“Stop tasting her!” Paduraru hissed vehemently.
Abruptly, Steve let go of my hand, then let go of me, bowed, and backed off. I could tell that Mr. Paduraru had a definite power over Steve.
“Sorry. She's your human,” Steve muttered apologetically, his tone a tad jealous. Tongue slipping out, licking his own hands of my blood, his teeth and lips had become blood stained. “You have to do something, or she'll become one of them at the next full moon!” he all but begged him.
I didn't know what Steve meant, or what Paduraru was going to do until he swiftly brought my arm up and covered the bleeding wound with his mouth. Alarm went through me like a bolt of lightning when he sucked—not a little bit, but he attached himself to my arm like a Hoover on a throw rug. The feel of it—of him—sucking my blood from the wound, made my head spin suddenly. A cold sweat washed over me. Little sparks lit across my eyes, and everything went black.
At some point, I woke up. Understanding emerged slow as molasses that I was on my back, my head was in someone's lap. Lights flashed by the windows of the car.
This had been my vision, I realized as I groggily came to with my head in the lap of the driver, his one hand on the wheel, the other soothingly touching me on the temple. I gazed up to see Paduraru's face looking down at me.
With a quickness that shocked me, I righted myself and sat in the front seat of his Jag. We now eyed one another warily in the semi-darkness of the interior of his car, and headlights of nearby traffic—we were on a four lane.
“How do you feel, Ms. Strong?” Paduraru's voice was gentle. Only now did I realize he had a slight, eastern European accent. Possibly, it had been all the excitement of those moments back there that this one detail had escaped me.
“Alright—” A movement from behind and to my left made me shriek, and I jumped, flopping against the car's door, hitting my head as the flight mode took over. Fists at the ready, back to the door, I saw Steve leaning between the front seats, a black bottle in his hand, eyes gleaming at me, a sneer on his lips.
I let out a relieved gasp, although I really didn't know why I felt relief. It seemed two vampires had abducted me. It would be a while before I'd quit being so jumpy. Steve took a pull on the bottle, brought it away and smiled at me. Dipped in red, his fangs were out. I had to look away quickly.
“Steve, see if there's a juice box in my cooler, will you, please?” Paduraru requested.
Steve disappeared from his spot between our seats, but quickly reappeared with a juice box. He handed it to me.
“Drink it,” Paduraru said to me. “It will help you recover.”
Finding his concern with my physical state a great relief, I took it, found the little straw and struggled to tear it away. I finally had the straw jammed into the little hole and sucked on somewhat cool grape juice. My left arm ached all the way to my fingernails. Although I couldn't really examine my hand or arm, since it was mostly dark inside the car, I did notice its neatly wrapped bandage.
Sucking the drink gratefully down, I looked out the windows trying to get my bearings. “Where are we?”
“Aurora, I think.” Paduraru squinted, eyes darting to look into his rear view mirror.
“Yes. We just went through the Aurora Toll Plaza,” Steve supplied, between sips from that black bottle. I eyed it. Red lettering across it identified it as Real Red. That was all. It didn't take my clairvoyant abilities to tell me that the content was blood. No wonder he looked like a contented puppy at his mother's teat.
“Aurora?” I said, feeling anxiety hit me.
“Tell me, Ms. Strong, how is it that you knew that vampires existed?” Paduraru asked quickly before I could make a comment about the direction we were going.
I hadn't talked about this in a long while, and I had to go slowly. “I happen to know that my mother is a vampire.”
He squinted questioningly at me. “How is it that you know that your mother is a vampire?” he asked gently. “Tell me what makes you think this.”
I made a deep sigh, and plunged into the story. “I was ten when my mother disappeared. It was summer. Everyone looked for her, thinking she'd gone into the field behind our house, looking for me, or maybe our dog, and had got lost—you can really get lost in a tall cornfield. Anyway, they never found her, dead or alive, but one night, maybe the third or fourth night she had been gone, I woke up, thinking about her. I got out of my bed, looked out the window, and I saw her down in the backyard. She wasn't a ghost, either. She was solid. I waved to her. She waved back. Because it was summer, and we had the windows open, I heard her say she loved me. And then she was gone.” My hand went up and wiped the tears from my eyes automatically.
“I see. I'm very sorry,” he said quietly. “How long ago did you say this was?”
“Eleven years ago.”
“What was her name?”
“Julia.”
“You say she disappeared?”
“Yes.”
“And, you are certain that when you last saw her it was night, and she spoke to you?”
“Yes. It wasn't a dream or anything like that. She was there. She was real and solid. Not a ghost.” In my mind, I could see her standing out in the yard, under the light. This memory sparked another, more sinister memory. Squeezing my eyes shut, I chased it away before it took anchor in my mind, too frightened to let it take purchase.
“She wasn't one of our turns,” Paduraru said, abruptly interrupting my thoughts. I nearly said “thank you” out loud to him for bursting in like that.
“Beg your pardon?” I finally blurted, a little disoriented.
“What I mean to say is The North American Vampire Association did not create any new vampires in that year, and I know for certain none have come across my desk from this quadrant of my ward. I will take this information back with me; see if I can't bring her up on our computer system. If she's in there, we will find her.”
“She might be listed under the European Vampire Association?” Steve suggested.
“Yes, thank you. She might be,” Paduraru said distractedly.
I sat there trying to make sense of what the both of them had said. I was a little confused. “North American Vampire Association? European Vampire Association?”
“Yes—uh—we have an extensive listing of all vampires in the world in our data bases. We have listings of every vampire, whether they are rogue or not,” he assured.
“Okay,” I said slowly. This really sounded complicated. “Well, thanks.” I tingled slightly with the thought that my mother might finally be located, and my one sighting of her verified. I'd told only a few about seeing my mother. My brother had told me I was sleepwalking—I never sleep walk. The only other person I had ever told about this was my best friend, Jeanie Woodbine. If my mother was a vampire (I was certain she was), who but vampires would know her whereabouts? “T-that sounds really wonderful. I-I mean if you can do that.” I stuttered, then paused and took in a shaky breath, pressed my fingers against my eyes and let it out. I needed to push all this talk of my mother out. I had to somehow make him take me home. “Now if you'll just turn your car around somewhere and take me back to my Jeep, where I'd left it, I'd really appreciate it.”
Paduraru's head turned to me and he said, “No, Ms. Strong. I don't believe that is possible.” Before I could protest he said, “Go to sleep, now, Sabrina.”
My lids drooped. I fought against his thrall, but he was too strong. The last thing I heard was Steve saying, “Her blood is sweet.”
“I noticed that,” Nicolas said, his voice echoing in my head somehow.
“You're not strong enough to keep her safe. She needs a—”
“—Master. Yes.”
Chapter2
As I came to, I heard voices. One of the voices I knew who it belonged to.
“She is resting, now. She will be ready to travel when she wakes,” that deep, smooth-as-velvet voice spoke in a calm, reassuring tone. I remembered, now. His name was Nicolas Padauru. Somehow, the whole situation felt like déjà vu. Like some half-forgotten dream, or a vision.
“You have arranged for someone to take her home?” the other male voice asked. A deeper voice than Nicolas', more authoritative, resonated pleasantly. Soothing, but at the same time commanding. Formidable. I liked its sound.
Pulling myself from the groggy spell I'd been under, I found myself prone, looking up into a mulberry-colored ceiling. I knew this was not my ceiling, of course, but at the same time, I found it visually relaxing.
Taking stock, I knew I was in a bedroom—Nicolas Paduraru's bedroom. My left arm felt tingly-numb, almost like someone had injected it with Novocain. At least it didn't hurt like hell anymore. Then I remembered a wolf had bitten me, and Nicolas had sucked on my arm—sucked my blood.
He took my arm into his large mouth and bit … warm blood … the two funny red marks, later.
I was sedate and calm and that struck me as odd. I should have wanted to jump up and dash out of there. I reasoned I was experiencing the vampire thrall, still.
Gradually, I took in my surroundings. The walls, were cranberry, and tastefully contrasted with dark furniture and the mulberry ceiling. There were no windows.
Mr. Paduraru, or Nicolas—I figured since I was in his bedroom, I had a right to first name basis now—was standing in front of a bureau mirror, only it wasn't a mirror. I didn't see his reflection, but there was someone in it, talking. I concluded it was one of those flat-screened TVs. But the oddest thing struck me; Nicolas was speaking to the person there, and that person was answering back. Was I hallucinating everything?
Draped in a luxurious dark blue, velvet robe Nicolas looked like he was ready for bed, or had risen for the night. A part of me wondered what time it was, and that I needed to get the hell out of here. Suddenly I remembered I hadn't driven. Nicolas had driven me. Great. Now what?
I took stock. I was on top of the made bed. My clothes were still on me, my dress was smoothed down over my thighs in as modest a way as possible—but that meant nothing. As far as I could tell, my underwear and pantyhose (shot through with holes), were still in place. Reassuring, but still, I was in his bedroom. Lots of room to go to the gutter on this (my mind was already there).
My arm began to ache. It ached at the bite site, or maybe somewhere above that. I was too out of it to really tell.
Dazed, as though someone had hit me with a hundred pound pillow, I moved to sit up. Unable to hold my head up, I fell back. Nicolas glanced over his shoulder at me, but quickly turned back around.
“She is awake,” Nicolas announced to the image in the screen.
“Give me an up-date on her recovery. I regret I could not meet her today. Tomorrow night would be better,” the man on the screen said. I noticed he had long, blond hair and dark eyebrows over incredible blue eyes. I thought he looked like a rock star, or maybe a god.
“Yes, my Lord,” Nicolas said with a bow. He held a TV remote in his hand and pointed it at the screen. The man's image on the TV suddenly vanished, and in its place, there appeared a mirror. The mirror now reflected Nicolas' image. I made note of this. Why did everyone think vampires didn't have a reflection? That was stupid. They were solid, weren't they?
Smiling, Nicolas turned around to take me in. He'd taken a shower. His hair was still damp and slicked back. I could smell the soap's perfume, warm and spicy; a somewhat rich scent that I found intoxicating.
He stepped toward the bed. “How are you?” His voice was soft, bedroom soft.
“Fine. I should go home.” I wanted him to understand that I didn't want to be here any longer than necessary, but I also needed to take care of a whole lot of personal things immediately as well.
Once more, I tried to get up, but a dizzy spell returned me flat on my back.
“Rest a moment, Miss Strong; you have lost a generous amount of blood.”
Tell me about it.
I noticed he still had a nice rosy glow, thanks to the blood I'd supplied him. My deepest fear was that the want ad I'd answered had been a hoax, and I was to be his blood host from now on, too buzzed on his vampire thrall to care one way or the other.
“Let me see the arm,” he said, reaching out to me. Reluctantly, I let him take my hand and arm in cool fingers and he removed the bandaging carefully. We both examined the bite, now. It looked red and ugly, but the skin was no longer torn. It almost looked somewhat healed. I found where the wolf's teeth had done their damage on my forearm, but it didn't look as bad as I'd expected. In fact, it looked as though two days had passed since the bite, mostly scabbed over, only a few spots still healing with a bit of scar tissue. I couldn't have been out that long, could I?
“How long have I been here?” I asked suspiciously. My stomach roiled at the thought I had become his victim, kept here for whenever he needed to satiate his blood lust.
“Several hours,” he said.
“It looks—” he cut me off.
“It will take time to heal, Sabrina. If you wish, I would happily supply you with a little of my own blood, and it will heal completely, in a matter of moments,” he offered. The offer threw me off-stride.
“Thanks. Think I'll pass,” I said. “Am I going home at some point? Or not?”
“Yes, of course. You've been through quite an ordeal tonight,” he said. “You understand that I couldn't allow you to go home in your condition. I had to make sure the wound would heal with my ministrations.” Still holding my arm, and sounding like a doctor who was about to give me his devastating prognosis, he went on. “You need to know—that is, I'm afraid that you have been bitten by a werewolf.”
“A what?”
“A werewolf. I sucked out as much of the venom as I could,” he went on clinically, “I took the venom for you.”
I frowned. “Venom?”
“Yes. It will not affect me, as my blood will counteract it. But had I not, it would have definitely turned you into a were-person at the next full moon.”
“Were-person?” We were being politically correct, I guessed. “But, because you took the venom, I won't turn?”
“I am not at all positive what will happen during the next full moon. Perhaps you will only feel slightly different; possibly you will have better hearing, your senses heightened.”
“And if you didn't act quickly enough?” I swallowed dryly. The whole idea of my turning into a were-person didn't settle well. I'd gotten through some rough times already, damn it, what with my father dying and all. I deserved to have a smooth road for a while. I wanted to date. How can I date if I have to worry about turning into an uncontrollable beast every month? Along with the other monthly visitor, I'd become a were-bitch.
“As I have said, I do not know if I have gotten it all. The only way to banish it totally would be for you to drink some of my blood.” Yish.
“Didn't you just offer your blood to me a moment ago?”
“Yes.”
“And I refused it, right?”
“Yes.”
“So, I don't think I'll go that route,” I said, as he released my hand.
“Very well,” he gasped lightly, relenting. “I merely wanted to offer you everything that I could.”
“Well, you have, so—”
“I need to ask you something else,” he said, brows still knitted as he stared intently at me.
“What?”
“Where did you get that other mark on the inside of your arm?” He pointed at my inner elbow of the same arm.
I knew what he meant, and didn't have to look. I gnawed on my lower lip. There were segments of my life that were a big question mark. For example, the scar on my inner elbow was one of them. I didn't really know for sure what it was from. I had concluded a long time ago it had to be a dream—or a nightmare. It was too far-fetched, and scary to accept as real. I remember finding the two marks—about the size of pencil erasers—there, only sometime after my mother had disappeared.
“I-I really don't know,” I answered slowly. “I think I was ten when I first noticed it.”
“May I?”
“What?”
“Try something. I won't hurt you.”
Where had I heard that before? “Okay,” I relented.
Holding my arm with one cold hand, he touched my funny scar with cool fingers of the other hand. I watched, wondering what he was up to.
“Did you feel anything?”
“Not really. Just your touch.”
“Let me try something else.” He bent down to my arm, his face going down toward it, eyes watching me. I tensed up. “Don't be frightened, Sabrina. I'm not going to bite you.”
“I can't help it. I'm—”
“Don't be frightened.” His voice was intoxicating, and I couldn't help but relax.
His breath brushing against my arm felt warm. Suddenly a hard twinge exactly there at the scar site caught me by surprise.
Startled, I yelped and jumped, yanking my arm away from him.
“Did that hurt?”
“Yes!” I scowled at him, holding my hand protectively over the old scar.
He drew back and eyed me with some measure of suspicion. “You are certain you do not know how you got that scar?”
“Yes! I'm certain!” This was a lie, at least in part. I had struggled with admitting it to myself, like I was keeping some dirty secret.
“Think, Sabrina. There must be something, something a long time ago. Even if you think it is nothing, or that it was merely a dream. Did someone ever come to you at night while you were asleep?”
I gaped at him, chills going up, and then down my spine. The memory flooded me. “I do remember something exactly like that.”
“And what was the nature of his calling upon you?”
“I don't know!” Irritated by his question as though he was accusing me of something dirty, or evil, my voice became louder. To think that someone could actually steal into my bedroom at night while either one or both of my parents were home was outrageous.
“Do you remember him biting your arm, there?”
Unable to speak, I nodded. Tears burst to my eyes. How did he know this? Was it him? Had he been in my room that night? But I knew it hadn't been him, unless his hair had been much longer, and I also remembered the accent. It had been French. Why am I remembering this now? While Nicolas' accent was eastern European.
“Sabrina,” he said softly, almost sagely. “You have been marked by a master vampire.”
Horrified, I covered my face, but couldn't hold back the gasp of despair.
Nicolas nodded. “Only another master can cancel it out by biting you.”
I gaped up at him. “You have to be kidding me, right?”
“I do not joke.” His deep-set eyes never leaving mine, the vampire thrall was working on me. I actually had to force my eyelids to fall into a blink in order to break it. “That is one of the sweet spots. That is no ordinary bite,” he went on. “You had pain when my breath touched it, signifying that no other vampire can claim you, except another master. I am not a master. Tremayne, however, is.”
“Tremayne?”
“Yes. You will meet him soon. Tomorrow night, possibly.”
“Was that who you were talking to, in that mirror thing-y?” I asked, thrusting a hand toward his mirror on the bureau.
He smiled tightly. “Yes. It was. That is our communications system. Ingenious, don't you think?”
“Yeah, whatever. Tremayne's a vampire too?” He was handsome whatever he was.
“Yes. You are still willing to take the job?”
“The clairvoyant job? I'll need to think on it,” I said. I really did need to think this through. “Right now, though, I need to use the—you know?” I announced, moving to sit up and found that if I moved slowly, I could overcome the vertigo.
“Of course.” Leaning toward me, he took my hand. Slowly, I swung my legs over the side of his bed, and planted my stocking feet on the deep plush of his carpet. I took in his bedroom, and found it ensconced in warm, dark colors; the carpet was a beautiful wine color, furnishings were walnut. The comforter was a tasteful mix of these colors in diagonal patterns and splashes to match the room's decor. Sure, I should have been able to get all that through my clairvoyant powers, but as I worked on why nothing was coming to me—his mind melding with mine kept me sedate and my inner eye wouldn't work through all that.
“This way,” he said, handing me my shoes and purse. “You have had a long night.”
That was putting it mildly. I edged out into the dimly lit hall, but I could find my way well enough.
“Down the hall to your left,” he pointed. “Take your time.”
I padded swiftly to the door on the left. His bathroom was large, done in black and white tile, with a Jacuzzi up on its own level, and a large shower on the other side of the room. Gratefully, I used the facilities, and discarded the ruined nylons into a stainless steel wastebasket with a lid and a foot lever to open it. Running the hot water, I gazed at my reflection and nearly went into shock. My dark hair was a snarly mess.
While I washed up, and combed out my hair, I thought on what Nicolas had revealed to me about my childhood boogie man. Why, after all these years, didn't I realize it? I had to acknowledge that he had been real, and whoever he was—and the feeling was vague—he'd had everything to do with my mother's disappearance. I wanted to find him. Ask questions.
And then I'd kill him.
There was nothing more I could do about my state of dress, so I emerged from the bathroom, shoes on, face washed, ready to face whoever else was in the apartment with him—there was another person there with us, I knew that without trying very hard.
Human, not vampire. Thank God.
Nicolas appeared at the end of the hallway.
“The papers you need to fill out are in the living room.”
“Papers?”
“Everything for the job, all the information on Tremayne Towers is in there as well.”
“Oh. The job. Thanks,” I said, clutching my purse in front of myself.
“I am certain you would like something to eat before you go home?” he offered.
“Oh, don't go to any bother,” I said. I wanted to go home, and I knew he must need to go into his vampire sleeping state.
“It is nearly dawn,” he said, as though reading my thoughts. “I must regenerate,” he added, as if to make sure I understood. I nodded. “But Toby will take care of you.”
“Toby?”
“My human servant.”
“Oh,” I said. Toby, his scion—someone who did his bidding during the daytime hours while he slept, someone who would guard over him.
“Come,” he said, guiding me up the hallway. “Toby?” Nicolas called as he continued up the passageway; his robe was long enough to brush the wine-colored rug under his feet.
We emerged into an open space. Ahead of me, heavy black, floor-to-ceiling drapes hung across an expanse of ten feet, interrupted by one large pillar. The rest of the apartment opened out into a living area done in warm tones with a fireplace tucked into one corner. Huddled before it were a couch and two chairs made of deep chocolate suede. Bisecting this living area, and the kitchen, ran a breakfast bar positioned at an angle to the rest of the apartment with tall black stools on this side of the room.
In the center of the kitchen area, stood a scarecrow-thin young man in a mauve button down shirt and black Dockers. By my estimation, he was at least six foot tall, possibly eighteen or nineteen, but looked older. Turning toward us, he shook his shoulder-length blond hair out of large blue eyes. I thought they gave him an androgynous cast. Honestly, if I saw him on the street, I'd have to really look to make sure if he was a man or a woman.
“Yes, Nicolas?” the young man said in a nice, medium range voice. A lithe finger brushed longish bangs out of his eyes off to the side. I noticed that his hair wasn't naturally blonde; he needed his roots done.
“Sabrina, this is Toby Hunt. Toby this is Sabrina Strong,” he introduced, hands stuffed inside the deep pockets of his robe.
Flitting glances at one another, we exchanged hi's. Then, uncomfortable at eying one another, we settled our gazes back on Nicolas. “Toby will take care of your needs, today,” Nicolas said.
“Thank you,” I said, trying to hide my slight discomfort of being cast into yet another stranger's care. Toby was younger than me by a year or two.
“Well, I'm off to bed.”
“Alright,” Toby said. “Sleep well.”
“And a good day to you.” Nicolas then turned to me. “I hope to see you tonight, Sabrina?”
“Tonight?” I don't know why that shocked me.
“Yes. After you have filled out the papers, we will need to get you into the system,” he explained. “I will come 'round to pick you up. I will call to let you know when. Oh, get her number, Toby.”
“Of course, Nicolas,” Toby said.
I hadn't signed anything, so I could still decline. I was still in two minds on this.
“Tremayne is excited about your joining us, Sabrina. He's willing to give you a generous sign-on bonus of one thousand dollars,” Nicolas informed.
My mouth fell open then. I deducted several bills hanging up on a billboard right then that I could suddenly pay.
“Well, good day.” Nicolas turned and disappeared down the hallway.
After thirty seconds of quiet, I said, “Nice place.”
“Thanks,” Toby said as he poured something into a glass. “May I offer you breakfast, Ms. Strong?” he asked, bringing over a tall glass of orange juice on a little tray. “Would you like cereal? I could whip up some oatmeal. Or some eggs?” He set the glass down before me.
Setting my purse on the nearby chair, I searched for my gloves. “Oh, don't go to any trouble,” I said slightly distracted. “And call me Sabrina.”
Smiling, he said, “No trouble at all, Sabrina. You can call me Toby.”
“Okay, eggs sounds fine,” I relented. I was hungry, and seeing that I had about an hour's travel back home, I knew I couldn't stave off my hunger much longer. Obviously, Toby was comfortable in the kitchen.
“You're to drink that, by the way.” He pointed at the glass of juice.
I complied. Tasty, cold, and no pulp, I drank it down.
“So, you work for Nicolas?” I asked while he cooked the eggs.
Spatula in hand, Toby half-turned to glance at me through a curtain of spun gold and caramel, and sent me a look that made my face flush slightly. Especially with his next words spoken in a way that left it up to me to decipher.
“Whatever he needs me to do, I do it.” That could include a whole lot of things. I was getting a slight read from him, too. Since Nicolas' thrall had left me, I was beginning to pick things up. Realization made me snap to, and I had to begin blocking him, best I could, while Toby trekked between the stove and fridge.
Protectively, I brought my hands up to my chin one clutched in the other, and took in the rest of the condo. Behind the black curtains there would be windows because of the various lush plants growing in pots stationed along the expanse. The fig tree, trailing vines, and ferns looked healthy. I wondered what floor we were on, and what the view would be like. Would I see the Chicago skyline, or Lake Michigan?
After a few moments, Toby brought two matching black, square plates to the breakfast bar. One held my eggs with a sprig of parsley off to the side, and the other with orange slices—fanned out, no less. He'd placed a maraschino cherry in the center. Nice presentation. It looked as though he'd made this all up ahead of time; slicing and arranging an orange this way took some time as there were no membranes on the orange sections. This guy was a chef.
“You must be taking culinary courses?” I said, picking up the fork with my bare hand. Silverware what went through the dishwasher didn't give me much of a read. I had a fleeting image of him in a cooking class.
“As a matter of fact, I am. University of Chicago,” he informed me happily.
“Coffee's done. You want some?”
“I'd die for some.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Sorry, that sort of slipped.”
Smirk in place, Toby poured coffee into a square black cup. “Don't worry. No one's ever died from my coffee.” I chuckled nervously as he set the cup of coffee with a matching sugar and cream on a little black serving tray before me.
“No. I'm sure,” I said, feeling like he was jerking me around. I looked for my gloves again. I was beginning to pick up things from the objects he was handling.
“You're a super-sensitive,” he said, switching subjects. I looked up at him from spooning in two spoons of sugar into the coffee.
“Yes. And you're Nick's-uh-I'm sorry, should I use the word scion?”
“Maybe I should explain our relationship to you.” Heat blossom into my cheeks once more. “Oh, a woman that still blushes! I like that.” He'd gotten the reaction he was striving for. Yeah, I still blushed. I was not a worldly woman in any sense of the word. I'd lived in the country all my life, and preferred it over any city and the jaded people who lived there. Vampires and scions included.
“It's really none of my business,” I said, pouring a little cream into the coffee, watching it swirl and come to the top. I had made this easy for him—his being able to tease me. I had to quit letting myself get backed into corners like this. Damn it all!
“No, actually, I don't mind telling you. I'd rather you understand our relationship, rather than assume it. I'm Nick's human slave. Or, if you prefer, the word is scion.” I couldn't quite decide if he was proud of this fact or slightly disgusted with himself.
Nodding, I dabbed my lips with a cloth napkin. The orange slices were juicy. “Right,” I said. “I mean, well, it's what I'd thought.” Did I sound as stupid as I felt?
“Did you?” he said, looking smug, large hands splaying onto the counter top.
“Look,” I began somewhat exasperated. “Last night I was bitten by a wolf—ah-a werewolf. That's the only reason I'm here this morning. I had no desire to be here in the first place, and would just like to go home. Okay?” Why did I have to qualify myself to this scion? I wasn't Nicolas' lover or anything.
“I know, and totally understand.” Leaning forward, he brought his forearms down on the counter and laced his fingers. I noticed his manicured fingernails. “I was here when he brought you in.” His glance slid to my arm. “How's it feel?”
I held up my injured arm to show him. “Not perfect.” I checked the wound. It covered a large section of my wrist, and was easy to identify as bites from a large dog-or in my case, a werewolf. “But, I'll live.” I wasn't about to discuss my other scar—ever again—with anyone, if I could help it.
“Nick gave you a gift,” he said, glancing away from me, and across the room toward the hallway to where Nicolas' room was. “He took the werewolf venom.” His eyes flicked back on me. “Vampire blood cancels were-venom, did you know? In fact,” —he straightened, hands resting on the counter again— “vampire blood heals nearly everything from wounds to disease.”
“He offered his blood to me, but I turned him down,” I stated flatly.
“Oh.” Quickly, he pointed toward the plate. “Done?”
I nodded, clutching the cup of coffee with both hands.
He swept up my breakfast dishes and sauntered to the dishwasher where he quickly stashed them. Before I could move from the breakfast bar, I had a vision of a different and much younger Toby. It all slammed into me in quick flashes: A teenager abused by adults; using crack, jamming a needle into his arm; someone brutalizing him from behind, his screaming. I realized too late that these visions were coming off the cup I held, and siphoning right into me.
I slammed the cup down, letting it go, castrating all those frightening visions. Crap! Where are my gloves?
Startled by the noise of the cup, Toby jerked up from the dishwasher to stare at me.
“Sorry,” I said. I'd dumped coffee all over my hand and a brown puddle was oozing its way across the counter. I only now felt it burn, the visions had so completely grabbed my focus a second ago.
“You okay?” He brought over two black towels—too nice to ruin with coffee. Oh well, what did I care? He gave me one and wiped the counter with the other. “Did you get burned?” he asked, sounding concerned. He looked at my hand. He found it red, and gave a grunt of surprise. I'd done things like this before—much worse things, in fact.
“I'm alright,” I mumbled, embarrassed. I moved my hands away, avoiding skin-to-skin contact with him when he tried to reach out to me. I didn't want another, stronger vision of anything else about him. That was plenty. I couldn't dare let him know I suddenly knew his past. That really made people frightened of me. I didn't know what Nicolas had told him. For that matter, Nicolas didn't know what kind of a clairvoyant I was, either.
Toby shrugged and snapped up the towels, then tossed them into the sink.
Damn it, where were my gloves? I looked around. “Toby, Nicolas said my things were out here, somewhere?” I asked as politely as I could, trying to sound nonchalant to cover up my nerves. In reality, I was panicking; my heart raced, my head throbbed. The gloves wouldn't banish the visions I'd had, but they would prevent more. I really wished he wasn't the one to drive me home, but if I had my gloves on, and set up my shields against his emotions, I'd be okay. It wouldn't be a comfortable ride home is all.
“Over on the couch,” he said, scraping the pan off into the garbage disposal, and then loaded it into the dishwasher as well.
While Toby banged around in the kitchen, I found my jacket draped over the couch—I missed seeing it when I'd entered the room earlier. Inside the pocket, I found my gloves with the right-hand glove badly ripped. I realized someone had washed them. I slid them on thankfully. The cloth would help shield any residual emotions coming off any surface I touched.
Long legs took him out of the kitchen. Picking up a remote, he aimed it at the drapes. Like magic, the drapes slowly slid opened. Brilliant light washed into the room like a huge spotlight. With hands at hips, he stood squinting out for a moment. “Looks like a lovely day.”
“I know this is going to sound stupid, but where are we, exactly?” I asked.
“Where?” Turning, he dipped toward a glass-topped table, picked up a large, red watering can and began to water his plants.
“I know I'm in Chicago, but where is this?”
“Tremayne Towers, of course.”
“I've heard of it.” I nodded.
Toby made his way around the plants, watering them as he went. “This is vampire central, in case he didn't tell you.” He threw me a quick glance as he watered a jade plant that was the size of a bush. “We work and live here, on the north side.”
“North side of Chicago?”
“No, North Tower. There's two, North and South Towers. The South Tower is the human side.”
“So, Tremayne Towers is where vampires live and work. Got it.” I nodded. “What sort of work do they do?”
“Oh, lots of things. We have the hotel, suites, and condos for both humans and vampires. There's Tremayne Air, his clothing line, as well as anything else that he manufactures, like Real Red.”
“Real Red?”
He stopped what he was doing to look up at me. “Bottled blood, of course.”
“Human?”
Moving around the plants, Toby tested the soil of the Boston ferns that grew so lushly before administering the water. He was tall enough not have to use a step stool to reach them. He paused to eye me. “What?”
“The Real Red. Is it human blood?”
“It's one hundred percent human. Given by donors, of course.”
I grimaced and stood up on tiptoes to catch a glimpse out the window taking in the top portions of dark gray skyscrapers, against azure blue background of sky. I edged closer to the window.
“I've never been up this high in a building before.”
“Really? Well, here,” he said, and undid the latch and slid open the glass door. “Have a look, and don't fall.”
Sensing that he was goading me to see if I was afraid of heights—I wasn't—I eased out onto the balcony. Skyscrapers filled my vision, below us ran a river. Large boats were slipping across its surface.
“Is that the Chicago River?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“The one they dye green for Saint Patrick's Day?”
“Yes. We're only a block from the Magnificent Mile. The Wrigley Building and Tribune Tower sort of flank us.” I nodded, feeling like a tourist as he pointed out various points of interest.
I was about to ask what floor we were on when my foot hit something unexpected. I looked down. Rope. Lots of it wound up in a tight coil—the kind I supposed rock climbers used. I noticed the clips they might use to hook to when they climbed. But why it was here, I hadn't a clue.
“What's this rope for?” I asked, pointing.
“Oh!” he said, sounding slightly alarmed. He recovered from whatever my observation had caused him. “They're still working on the windows, or something. Anyway, the workers left it.” He shrugged.
I'd had enough vertigo to last me, so I backpedaled into the relative safety of the room. I slipped on my coat, trying to give him the hint I wanted to leave. My coat had been ripped by vicious wolf teeth, saving my dress from being torn completely. My dress, on the other hand, had minimal damage (using the bathroom mirror, I'd learned this). I had envisioned that the whole back side had been ripped up. But that wasn't the case.
“Are you ready?” he asked, striding toward a closet. He donned a black beret, and a tan corduroy jacket. He looked a little on the beatnik side, but it suited him.
“Yeah,” I said, moving for the door.
Keys jangled as we exited. Toby locked the deadbolt, turned and looked up at something. He did an air kiss and then a finger wave.
I looked up to see a camera stationed across the hall, directed at the door.
“We're being watched?” I asked, incredulous.
“Yes, there are over a thousand cameras in Tremayne Towers.” He giggled and strode away. Following, I realized he was having a bit of fun at the expense of whoever had the tedious job of watching hallways all day long.
While we got on the elevator, Toby asked me to recite my telephone number and I considered lying. Mentally I kicked myself. Six months ago, after my dad had died, my brother and I were left with a sizable inheritance—I got the house, so his cash portion was larger. My portion was dwindling. I'd had to pay taxes on the property, after all. I would have to buy propane for the winter—and that wasn't cheap by any means. If I didn't get a good paying job soon, I'd have to consider selling the old farm house. I didn't want to do that. I gave Toby my number and he entered it into his Blackberry. All the papers dealing with the job were in a large envelope I held, and I'd look it all over when I got home.
“How tall is Tremayne Towers?” I asked as we rode down.
“Ninety-seven floors. The top one is s condo for Mr. and Mrs. Tremayne. Of course…” he paused, and did something incredibly sexy with is mouth as he considered his next words. “Mrs. Tremayne is no longer with us.”
“Oh. I'm sorry.”
“She was murdered,” he supplied in a low tone that sounded slightly gossipy. “I hear she was shot with a bolt to the heart.”
I sucked in air. “No kidding! How awful!”
“Letitia was a vampire, by the way. Just like Mr. Tremayne.”
Meeting no one the whole way, the doors hissed open and we stepped out into a huge garage. I found it dank, despite the overhead lighting. He beeped open a red Scion with a black rag top. Classy, with tan interior. As soon as we were in motion, he pressed his CD player and something with guitar and jumping beat came on.
He drove out of the garage smoothly, and stopped at a small building, barely large enough for a person to stand or sit inside. This was obviously a check point. There was a twelve-foot iron gate closing off our exit, with a four-foot barricade running between the exit and entrance. Toby's window slid down, and he greeted the guy in the little gatehouse. While the gate electronically opened, they exchanged niceties, and then we pulled into sudden traffic and noise.
An unbroken line of tall buildings towered over us, and traffic snarled before us. Rush hour. All I saw were cars all around us, and traffic lights up ahead of us as far as my eyes could see. How do people deal with this day in and day out?
