MASTERING A VAMPIRE

BeElleGee@hotmail.com

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The phone rang. I woke up and looked at the clock on my bedside table. Twelve thirty-six. Damn. I had gotten all of forty-five minutes of sleep.

The phone rang again.

My phone never rang during the day like normal people's. And when it did, it was on those rare occasions I was trying to catch up on my sleep.

I snatched up the handset and numbly brought it to my ear. Someone was talking before I even had the chance to say 'hello'.

"...down at the police station. Got a vampire we picked up at a freak party raid. He's not being real cooperative and won't even give us his name to process him. Well, I'm sure you can see our predicament, Ms. Blake. We thought you might be willing to come down and have a look at him. Maybe you can identify him for us."

"...Hello?" I said, belatedly. "Uh, who is this again?"

"Sergeant Mathers down at the jail."

"Oh."

Long pause. Then: "Will you come?"

I sighed heavily, inching away from Nathaniel, who was curled up asleep on my right. He was the only one in my bed tonight. Micah was staying with Jean-Claude temporarily and most of the leopards had gone with him. Nathaniel had wanted to stay with me. He knew I needed him and I think he liked the idea of having me all to himself for a change.

"Look, Sergeant. Any of Jean-Claude's people can identify him," I murmured. In other words, no, I did not want to climb out of my nice comfy bed and get dressed to trump on down to the police station to look at some perp vamp. Of course, I didn't say anything of the sort.

"We'd rather not call in another vampire if we can help it," Sergeant Mathers explained patiently. "You understand, don't you?"

I sighed, then sat up as something occurred to me. "Why wasn't RPIT notified?" I wondered out loud. Usually any police work that involved vampires was handed over to them.

"It's my understanding, the officers responding to the initial call were not really expecting to find any vamps on the premises. Usually when cops break up these soirées, the vamps are long gone. They must have a sixth sense about such things. But this one was just hanging around."

Frowning, I shifted the phone to my other ear. "You know, one of these days, you guys are gonna learn not to mess with the monsters if you're not prepared. Those officers should have gone in expecting to find vampires. I'd say they were damned lucky to have encountered just one."

"Yeah, yeah. Tell it to the commissioner. Now. Are ya coming, or not?"

I nodded, even though I knew he couldn't see me. "All right, all right. I'll be there. Just give me a half hour, okay?"

"We'd certainly appreciate it, Miss Blake," the sergeant said again.

"Sure." I climbed out of bed.

"As far as we can tell, he doesn't have any priors. He's not on any of the books. Anything you can tell us about him would be helpful."

I nodded again. "I may not know him, Sergeant. Don't get your hopes up. Despite popular opinion, I don't fraternize with every vampire in St. Louis." I slipped on the black thong and bra I had been wearing a few scant hours ago that had been laying on the floor. Then I stalked over to my closet and pulled out a light cotton blouse and a short denim skirt. Good enough for sticky, humid eighty-degree, middle-of-the-night forays, I thought. "What's he look like?"

There was a short pause, as if the good sergeant had to resort to a police report or was eyeing the vampire in question.

"Caucasian, approximately six feet tall, slender build, long red hair, green eyes."

I nearly dropped the phone. No. No, it couldn't be. I froze, my skirt halfway up my legs.

"Hey, are you still there?"

"Yeah. Yeah." I cleared the amphibian out of my throat. "You said he was picked up at a freak party?"

"Uh huh. We got an anonymous tip. Wasn't much of a party by the time we got there, but we did find him. He fought the arresting officers. Gave Albert a black eye. They had to stun him to finally get him under control. Nasty critter. Does he sound familiar to you?"

"Unfortunately...yes," I reluctantly admitted. But no, come on. It couldn't be, I kept telling myself, all the while my heart was sinking and my stomach was doing flip flops. I struggled to get my skirt fastened and pulled on the blouse. "I'll be right there, Sergeant. Do me a favor and don't let anyone near him until I get there." Just in case.

"Sure, Ms. Blake. No problem. Nobody wants anywhere near this one."

Fuck. I turned off the phone and threw it aside.

"Damian, when I get through with you, you're going to wish you'd just stay dead," I growled through clenched teeth.

********

I hesitated just a second before stepping into the police station. My mind was off and running in a dozen different directions, but it was only one thought that gave me pause. Namely, how do you punish a thousand-year old vampire?

Just thinking about that sort of thing made me feel like a parent with an errant child who was too big to be spanked anymore. I wasn't about to let Damian off the hook just because he was powerful. I wanted to punish him for this. I just didn't know how yet. One thing I did know, was that Damian--if my suspicions were correct and it was him after all--had done something that had not only landed him in jail, but had pissed me off to the point I wanted him to suffer for it. I had never exercised my so-called authority over him before, but I had every intention of doing so now. This sort of thing was intolerable.

One glance at the monitor was all I needed. It was my vampire all right. My anger, shock, and discomfort increased two-fold. I actually had to close my eyes and tell myself to calm down before I did anything rash.

I should just let him stay in there, I thought. I should tell the police to keep him locked up for a week. It would suit him right. But truthfully, I never liked the idea of vampires in police custody. Damian was being held in the customary windowless basement cell, but there was still a chance some rookie would move him. I'd seen a couple of vamps unintentionally fried while in the jail. It did happen. Rarely, but enough times to make me uneasy.

Having completed all the vital paperwork necessary to ensure Damian's release into my custody, I made my way down the stairs to talk to him while I was awaiting authorizing signatures.

I stepped closer to the cell door and leaned towards it, announcing my presence with a heartfelt sigh, even though I knew Damian was more than aware of me.

Of course, as usually is the case with my life, all my intentions went out the window in a matter of minutes. It happened as soon as I got a good look at Damian, huddled forlornly on a cot, in the farthest, darkest corner of his cell.

The sergeant who had called me said that Damian had resisted arrest, which explained why he looked a little "roughed up", to say the least. His handsome face was the portrait of apathy, despite the smudge of dirt above his left eyebrow, a broad scrape on his right cheek, and a small purple bruise at the corner of his mouth. Then there more bruises and cuts running up and down his arms. Even more noticeable, was a bright, sore-looking reddish streak across his throat--as if the cops had used a baton to try to restrain him in a choke hold. Pieces of grass and flakes of leaves were tangled in his long hair and the sleeve of his shirt was torn at the shoulder.

He looked utterly pathetic. That in itself warped my resolve to punish him, but it was the look in his eyes when he finally faced me, that really got to me. Those dark emerald green orbs which always reminded me of an exotic cat's, were now red-rimmed and raw-looking and glazed with unshed pinkish tears. They mirrored the anger and humiliation his expression refused to convey. It occurred to me I wouldn't have to punish him--he was doing a primo job of punishing himself.

Turning his face away from me again, Damian cleared his throat softly, and shifted his position on the cot.

"I was hoping with all my heart you wouldn't see me like this," he stated hoarsely, probably from the police baton. A smile tainted with irritation flitted across his face. "But just my rotten luck, here you are." He gestured limply in my direction with his hand, then dropped it heavily with a frustrated slap.

That wasn't exactly the gracious and contrite greeting I had anticipated, and it kind of irked me. When I get irked, I tend to get spiteful. I liked Damian, but he could be a real prick at times.

"You should have cooperated with the police then. You should have told them your name, damn it. Instead, you'd rather act like a jerk, and cause yourself even more trouble. That's just brilliant, Damian. Fucking brilliant."

I spared a glance behind me, wondering where the hell the guard was. Supposedly, he only had to get the desk sergeant's signature on one of his papers, then he was going to seek out the powers that be to authorize Damian's release forms. I didn't want to be here any longer than absolutely necessary. I wasn't in the mood to run into any of "the gang" while pulling strings to get "my vampire" released to me under my supervision. Besides, now I was anxious to get my hands on said vampire so I could beat the crap out of him.

Damian leaned his shoulder against the wall of his cell. "I thought if I told them who I was, they would find out about you, and call you for sure," he grumbled softly.

I crossed my arms over my chest, my voice rising with my temper. "Well, you didn't, and they called me anyway. That's karma for you. Besides, who else did you think would be able to get you out of a mess like this?"

Damian cringed ever so slightly at the raised tone of my voice. He swept his hair back away from his eyes with an impatient stroke of his hand. I noticed his knuckles were black and blue. He really HAD put up a fight. My anger rose another notch.

"I didn't want them calling anybody," Damian began. "I was willing to stay here and wait out the 'due process' of the law." He paused and peered up at me briefly before turning his face away from me again. He was finding it hard to look me in the eye. "I would have done anything to keep you from finding out about this."

That did it. The last vestiges of pity I felt for him earlier vanished. Where the hell was that guard?

"Yeah, well, that makes perfect sense too," I shot back sarcastically. "Now that I do know about it, I can certainly see why you didn't want me to! A fucking freak party, Damian?! That is so beneath you!" I started pacing in front of the cell door.

Damian lowered his head into his hands. "It's not what you think, Anita," he informed me. "I can explain if you will let me."

I shook my head. In a way I wanted a full explanation, then in another way, I didn't want to hear his excuses. Nothing could possibly justify what he had done.

"You resisted arrest. They had to stun you. You have to appear in court now, you idiot! You thought racking up more criminal charges was better than facing me?"

Much to my surprise, he nodded.

"Only because, I knew you'd react this way. I knew you would jump to conclusions if you found out. That's why I tried to get away from them. I didn't want to be captured. Your condemnation is harder on me than anything the police could charge me with."

I slammed my hand against the cell door in frustration. Maybe it was a good thing he was in there and I was out here. I really could have pounded on him just now.

"Damn you!" I hissed, infuriated. "Jumping to conclusions? What conclusions am I jumping to that aren't documented in official police files?" I paused and struggled to collect myself. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and counted to ten. A few times. Finally, I opened my eyes and fixed them on Damian. I pointed an accusing finger in his direction. "I have every right to condemn you. I've been to one of those parties, Damian. I know what goes on. Don't try to gloss this over. There's no way you can possibly excuse yourself."

Facing me fully, Damian climbed to his feet and stalked over to the cell door.

"Then why should I even try?" he whispered, a hint of battle-weariness tinging his raspy voice. He closed his eyes momentarily, which made me think he was counting to ten too. "Look Anita, I didn't go there for the junkies." He looked a little indignant suddenly. "Do you really believe I'm that desperate that I need to resort to freak parties?"

He had a point, I realized, but I wasn't about to let it go. Freak parties were in the same league as crack houses in my book.

"You tell me," I demanded, keeping my gaze on his face with a determined intensity. "How do I know you haven't developed a taste for a bunch of whacked-out, over-sexed miscreants?"

The first real spark of anger lit Damian's eyes. He nodded slowly. "Of course. How would you know? You know nothing about me. You don't want to know me."

Startled he would say such a thing, I opened my mouth to deny his accusation, but was cut off by the night guard coming, at last, to release Damian into my custody.

"Step away from the door," the guard duly instructed as he unlocked it. He must be new, I thought. A rookie, or a transfer. I didn't recognize him. Actually, there were a lot of cops on this shift I didn't recognize outside of RPIT. Tonight, that was a good thing. Being known as the Executioner and the Master of the City's main squeeze was notoriety enough. The last thing I wanted to be recognized for was being a Master Necromancer with a troublesome Vampire Servant.

The guard pushed aside the door to Damian's cell and moved quickly away as if not quite sure the vampire he'd imprisoned wouldn't jump out and tear into his throat.

I tried to give him a reassuring look, but Damian stepped out of the cell and stood between us, looking grim to say the least. I immediately reschooled my expression into one of disapproval. He wasn't off the hook yet. Far, far from it.

********

Neither one of us said anything else until I pulled in the driveway in front of my house. I could tell from the look on his face, Damian wasn't too happy about being escorted back home and banished to the basement for the rest of the night, but I wasn't about to turn him loose on the streets and I wasn't in the mood to put up with his sulking.

As soon as I turned the car off, Damian reached for the door handle to let himself out, but I hit the automatic lock button override. He was trapped now and he knew it. He muttered a curse under his breath and turned to face me.

"What?" he demanded.

"Out with it," I demanded back, knowing he'd have to answer me because I was his master and I had just given him a direct order. Sometimes, there were benefits to such craziness. "I want to know why you felt...compelled to attend a freak party."

Damian dropped his eyes and frowned deeply. "I was invited," he said simply.

I almost laughed. Did he think that would make it all right? He had to attend, see, because he had, after all, been invited, and therefore, couldn't insult his gracious host by not attending. How impolite was that? Yeah, give me a break.

Before I could shoot off a smart remark, Damian wisely elaborated.

"I met this girl. A couple of weeks ago. At Danse Macabre. We...hit it off rather quickly. She told me she had moved here two months ago with her father and older sister. She told me she loved it here in St. Louis and was trying to take everything in and experience what she could. Especially anything that had to do with vampires. She's very intrigued by us and was slowly but surely overcoming her reservations when it came to interacting with us. She told me I was helping her with that. She had never met a vampire like me." He paused and sighed rather wistfully, then frowned. "Seems she got wind of an upcoming freak party and told me she wanted to attend, but not unescorted. So, she invited me."

I sighed too, but impatiently. His explanation wasn't getting any better as far as I was concerned, but I concluded there had to be more to it than that.

"Go on," I urged him.

Damian looked at me, then looked away again. "She was excited, but nervous about the party," he went on cautiously. "I asked her if she'd ever been to one before and she told me she hadn't and wasn't really sure what to expect. I reminded her that they were forbidden, not only by human law, but by Jean-Claude himself. It didn't matter to her. I told her they could be dangerous and frightening for the unexperienced, but she was still determined to go. When she asked me to go with her to look after her, I felt obligated. And I knew as long as I was with her, no harm would come to her."

Damian glanced at me again, catching my dubious expression. He massaged his eyes wearily and exhaled slowly. He seemed to know he had yet to say anything that would merit my forgiveness.

"You're telling me," I began, "you were there just to play big-brother to a misguided youth, is that it? What aren't you telling me, Damian?" I undid my selt-belt and angled my shoulders to face him better. I stared at him for what seemed like a long while before something occurred to me which hadn't before. I cleared my throat. "You really like this girl, don't you?"

Damian bowed his head then, and turned his face away from me to look out the car window. I could see his reflection in the glass however and the undisguised pain it portrayed. Apparently I had jumped to conclusions. This was clearly more than just a case of a misbehaving vampire.

"Damian, please," I said, lowering my voice. "Tell me what happened tonight."

Damian slowly licked his lips before replying. When he spoke, his voice sounded flat and defeated.

"Her name is Isabelle Dalton. She's a lot like you in a way. She looks like you. She's small and dark and very pretty. Also very savy and streetwise most of the time, but underneath it all, there's this vulnerability. She reminded me a lot of you sometimes. Maybe that was the initial attraction, but I came to appreciate her for herself after awhile." He shrugged casually as if totally unaware of the way my jaw was now hanging open on its hinges. "I had never attracted anyone like her before, and I know now, it hampered my common senses." He paused and glanced over at me with a forced smile.

"You were attracted to her because she reminded you of me?"

"Whatever it was," he continued, "she was so attracted to me, I fell for her hard. That kind of attraction can be a potent aphrodisiac. It got to the point, I wanted her so badly I couldn't think around her. But she kept saying she wasn't ready. She was still a little afraid of giving herself to a vampire, even though I assured her we could make it very sensuous and pleasurable."

Damian paused and I could almost see him tensing up as his confession obviously became more difficult for him to relay. His face smoothed to an impenetrable mask of nothingness again, but his eyes darkened, and he turned his gaze away from me. His shame was evident now, but he went on, forcing out every word.

"I didn't want to go to this party and she knew it. So...she promised me, if I went with her tonight, I could have her there."

I closed my mouth with an audible snap and frowned. I still didn't understand the reason for his humiliation or the degree of his anger. I could only guess why he was frustrated.

"But the festivities were raided before you got to partake of your little groupie?" I suggested a little too sarcastically. Well, I had decided I didn't like the idea of this Isabelle having her hooks so deeply embedded in my vampire. She seemed to wield a power over him I had yet to discover. It made me feel a little under-minded.

Damian's eyes flashed. He leaned away from me as if I had physically struck him. I felt bad immediately, but I wasn't sure why.

Apparently, something had gone wrong at this party. Could he have possibly had a worse experience than I did at my first party? My stomach sunk suddenly and a look of horror crossed my face. Maybe all those bruises weren't entirely due to his resisting arrest. I licked my lips and steeled myself for the question I was about to ask him.

"Damian, I'm sorry. Did someone...do something to you at this party? Something you didn't want them to do?" I reached over and placed my hand on his forearm and gave him an encouraging squeeze.

"There was no party," Damian explained dryly. "I was supposed to meet Isabelle outside the house, but when I arrived she wasn't there. No one was there." He paused, blinked at me a few times, then swallowed thickly. "I know I had the correct address. I know she told me eleven o'clock. She even told me what the house looked like. But no one was around. No people. No vampires. Just me and then the police."

Ah. I sat back in the car cushions. Jail bait. That's what Miss Dalton was. Except in this day and age, the term extended beyond the underage Lolita-type to mean a human, male or female, who sets up a vampire for spite--gives into them, then reports the blood-letting to the authorities as an assault. I had heard of it happening before. There were plenty of people out there willing to risk their lives to harass a few vampires. Humans Against Vampires more often than not had their hands in it, and this scenario had HAV stink all over it.

"You were set up, my friend," I told Damian tonelessly, even though I was pretty sure he already knew this. No wonder he was so angry and hurt and humiliated. No man likes to be played for a fool.

In the back of my mind, I couldn't help feeling he deserved it though. He'd thrown precaution and good sense out the window for a little blood and the promise of sex. He was appropriately distressed by this, but he needed to be upset because he done something very wrong, not just because he had been betrayed by the one he was so enamored of.

I took my hand off him and crossed my arms over my chest. Damian seemed to feel the shift in my mood as well as my body and looked over at me with wide, wary eyes.

"Listen. I'm sorry your little princess turned into a toad, but the fact of the matter is, you still agreed to go with her to an illegal freak party to indulge in a little free love. So what if it wasn't a real party? So what if you got your ass hauled off to jail before you even got into the house? You still went there with all the intention of attending that party. You're still guilty, Damian."

Damian frowned and fixed his gaze forward. Long fair lashes that had clotted into wet spikes, swept over his eyes slowly in an owlish sort of way.

"I told you. I wasn't there for the junkies. I was there to be with Isabelle."

I gritted my teeth. "Granted. But you went there with the intent to participate in a real freak party. And I can assure you, Isabelle wouldn't have been the only person there offering you sex and blood. Don't tell me you wouldn't have been tempted."

"Give me a break, Anita. How many times do I have to tell you I was there for Isabelle's sake. If there had been other vampires there, she could have been seriously injured or even raped. At least with me, it would have been consentual. I wanted to keep her safe. That's why I agreed to go."

"But that doesn't excuse the fact you were there!"

"I didn't do anything wrong," he protested. "I was leaning against a tree when the police drew their guns on me. I wasn't at any freak party. I explained this to you, but you're still angry with me. Don't you believe me?"

I sighed. "You showed up. That's what you did wrong. You think just because you were going to protect Isabelle, that makes what you did all right? To make matters worse, you resisted arrest. You're damned lucky all those cops did to you was rough you up. You could have been shot."

Damian looked over at me and bowed his head. A lock of hair fell across his left eye, but he didn't bother to push it away. Now he sat like a statue beside me. I could tell from the tone in his voice he was confused and angry and hurt, but he refused to show any of it. Sometimes your life depended on your ability to look neutral, Jean-Claude had once told me.

It occurred to me then, despite his protests, Damian knew he was in deep trouble, and he might be unsure of just how to deal with me now. Let's face it, this whole Master Necromancer and Vampire Servant thing was just as new to him as it was to me. He'd never had a master like me before. The stuff of legends, Asher had said. Leave it to me to make my mark in vampire history books.

I cleared my throat to try a different approach. I leaned forward, reaching out to tuck that stray lock of hair back behind his small pale ear.

Damian glanced up at me, his expression immediately softening. I felt his hand close over mine, then he brought my fingertips to his lips and kissed them. "Please believe me, Anita," he whispered. "I couldn't lie to you even if I wanted to."

"Damian, I do believe you. But do you understand what I'm trying to get you to be sorry for?"

He lowered his eyes again. "You're angry because I went there for Isabelle?" he so obviously guessed.

I snatched my hand away from his and batted the side of his head in frustration. I turned away from him and hit the lock release on the door. "Get out. Go inside and get cleaned up. I don't want to talk about this anymore right now. It's futile. Maybe later, after you've had more time to ponder the error of your ways, you can come to me and apologize for disturbing what could have been a really good night's sleep for me."

Damian didn't move however. I spared a glance at him to see why. He looked miserable and embarrassed. His head was bowed as low as it would go. I watched his chest rise and fall once before he spoke.

"I am sorry, Anita. What more can I say? I understand what I did was wrong for a lot of reasons, but I still can't understand your anger. Maybe my excuses are shallow and selfish at best, but they are the only excuses I have." He raised his head and looked over at me finally. "If you can, try to understand that I had believed I had finally found someone who cared for me as much as I cared for her, for a change. Someone who mattered a great deal to me. I would have done anything for Isabelle. Anything she asked. I do regret that devotion now, but don't ask me to feel sorry for what I did because of it."

With that, Damian lifted the latch and got out of the car. He closed it behind him carefully and then glided towards the front door without looking back.

I sat where I was, feeling like a heel. I think I finally understood what Damian meant. He was sorry for all the trouble he caused, but he could not feel sorry for agreeing to go to a freak party with the intention of protecting his would-be lover. So, yeah, she had promised him blood and sex to tip the scales in her favor, but I believed he cared for her so deeply, he would have gone to protect her even without that added enticement.

I think I was angry because some little hottie had come along and very nearly stolen Damian out from under my nose when I wasn't looking. And I wasn't as angry at Isabelle for that as I was myself.

Damian and I shared something rare and incredible between us, but that didn't mean I really paid him much attention. He 'lived' with me, but he came and went as he pleased. Half the time, I wasn't even aware he'd left for the night, half the time I didn't bother to check to see if he'd made it home before sunrise.

I had known for a long time Damian had a thing for me, but my plate was so full of comely studs right now, I took Damian's attraction to me for granted. I had even shunned what little affection he tried to offer me. Now I was upset because he'd turned his attentions elsewhere. That was so fucking selfish of me. Fucking selfish. That's me.

********

The house was as quiet as a tomb when I finally went inside. Only the faint sound of running water hinted any activity. Damian was in the shower already.

No time like two forty-five in the morning for a hot cup of coffee, I thought, tossing the car keys on the nearest end table. I wandered into the kitchen, not bothering with the lights, and began measuring water. No sense in trying to get any sleep tonight. I had to be at work by seven to meet with a client. Even if I went to bed and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, I'd still only get three hours. In my experience, sometimes too little sleep was worse than no sleep at all.

As I stood in front of the coffee maker waiting for it to finish, I felt, more than heard Damian come into the kitchen. I didn't turn around. Cowardly, I know.

I had been thinking about the arrest. The police report said they had been tipped off about a freak party. They had showed up for a raid, but the occupants of the house had apparently already fled. All they found was one irate vampire. Sounded to me like Damian was right. He had most likely been sent to a vacant house. The owners were probably vacationing in the Bahamas, not throwing illegal parties.

I shook my head. "You were so set up," I muttered, taking a mug off my tree and setting it on the counter in anticipation. "Probably from the very beginning."

I heard Damian sigh. "I know," he said quietly. "Now that I think back on it, I should have realized it was all too good to be true. She was too good to be true. My luck just doesn't run that way. It shames me to think I risked so much for someone I barely knew. Well, I thought I knew her. I've definitely learned a hard lesson from all this."

I felt him suddenly against my back. His arms slipped around me and he leaned his head over my shoulder, pressing his warm, still slightly damp cheek against mine. He smelled wonderful. A heady clean mixture of glycerine soap, shampoo, and Lagerfeld cologne.

"Do you forgive me, Anita?" he whispered in my ear.

I leaned into him and folded my arms over his. I was suddenly glad I hadn't turned around. If he was wearing anything at all, I couldn't feel it. My heart skipped a beat and it took me a few tries to find my voice.

"...Yes, I forgive you," I told him. "I'm still not very happy about what you did, but I think I understand it a little better." I turned my head to look at him and ended up brushing my lips against his as he simultaneously turned to face me.

I think it startled both of us initially, because we jerked away as if we'd been burned by the contact. Our eyes locked on each other's however, drawing us back together again before either one of us were aware of what we were doing.

Our mouths sort of fell against each other and settled into place for a steamy, lingering kiss. Damian turned me around to face him and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. My hands slid over the expanse of smooth, soapy-smelling skin, heated from his shower and still moist as if he'd toweled off in a hurry.

He was dressed, kind of. He was wearing some skimpy little silky thing with material so thin, he might as well have gone without.

I pulled away from him just far enough to give him a once over. Good god. I swallowed thickly.

"Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?" I teased.

Naturally, he didn't get the pop culture reference to "The Graduate" and cocked his head in confusion.

"What?"

I laughed lightly and waved my hand through the air as if to erase what I had said. "Never mind. It's just that, I know it's August and all, but I do have air conditioning."

Damian peered down at himself. "Oh. Don't you like it?"

I nodded and reached out to touch the offending garment. "I like it," I admitted and then stroked the waistband just over the curve of his hip. My eyes suddenly fell upon a nasty bruise just above my fingers. I frowned and immediately began taking stock of his other injuries.

Most of what he had suffered was already beginning to heal, but some, like the bruise on his side, would probably take another day. It had to have hurt. It looked awful.

I placed my hand over it and concentrated my power on healing him. My hands skimmed over the surface of his body, pausing at different wounds just long enough to apply my power to them. I lifted his hands in mine, rubbing my cheek against his bruised knuckles. I kissed them affectionately, then slid my hands up his arms and caressed away any wound I found there with my power and my touch.

Damian watched me for awhile, then closed his eyes, slipping into a blissful, euphoric-looking state. He reveled in my power, readily absorbing it into him for strength and sustenance. His own power was considerable, but he was far from being a Master Vampire and due to some freakish circumstance, he couldn't survive without my power. It was an odd responsibility, that.

Damian groaned softly, pulling me out of my reverie. I realized my hands had strayed to much more intimate parts of his body and my healing caresses and outpouring of power were arousing him sexually.

I abruptly stopped what I was doing, and lowered my hands, which made Damian open his eyes. He gazed at me with such undisclosed desire, it took my breath away.

"Don't stop," he begged me. He reached for my hands and kissed them, then placed them back on his body. "Touch me," he encouraged again, gently.

I couldn't seem to help myself. I continued caressing him, more intent on arousing myself than him. Damian didn't seem to mind. He bent to kiss me, capturing my mouth with his in a tender, succulent embrace which made a thick, deepening heat spread through my body.

Some little nagging voice way in the back of my mind kept pointing out to me that the coffee was ready and wasn't there some late movie on t.v. that I had wanted to watch?

But then, somewhere along the way, while holding Damian and touching him, my brain had lost control. My libido had mutinied my body, and it was very hard for me to pay attention to anything other than how delicious Damian's sinewy curves felt under my hands. Just the cool touch of his velvety lips moving over mine with an impossible searing heat was enough to drive me to distraction. Yes, even the wafting scent of fresh brewed coffee couldn't compete.

We continued to kiss and paw each other until our passions became an odd sensation of need that I couldn't really pinpoint. I felt as if I had to have Damian tonight--that I had to claim what was mine and make up for 'lost time'.

My thoughts drifted back to that sultry, nearly tragic night in Tennessee. Would I have given into Damian's seduction then, if Asher hadn't been attacked? I liked to think I had more resolve than that, but I couldn't deny the temptation he posed.

"Anita," Damian breathed into my mouth. "Let me. Please...let me."

I didn't need to ask him what he was pleading from me. I knew. His hands roved my body and settled on my hips. He pulled me against him and offered me another sizzling kiss which left me all but breathless.

I tried to answer him, but couldn't find my voice. So I nodded. Yes, I wanted it, damn it. I wanted him.

He sighed then, as if more in relief than desire. I peered up at him questioningly, but he only smiled sweetly and leaned forward to kiss me. This time he skimmed my teeth with his tongue, clearly encouraged.

I grasped his head and deepened the kiss, opening my mouth for him and sinking my tongue back into his until I felt the hard points of his fangs. Damian moaned softly. His hands cupped my buttocks and he lifted me effortlessly up against him like I weighed nothing, and deposited me on the kitchen countertop.

Keeping one hand on my hip to steady me, he reached up with the other and stroked my throat: each pass of his hand descending lower until he had reached the top button of my blouse. He deftly unfastened it, paused almost as if he anticipated I'd protest, and then worked his way down the rest of the blouse until it fell open.

Alarms started ringing, distantly, in my mind, but the look of adoration and desire Damian was giving me was making the sound steadily fade away. I could still make him stop, I told myself. He would do anything I told him to, and that realization was like a safety net. Comforting, despite the fact both our motives for this sudden uninhibited passion were questionable at best. But at least I knew there was a panic snap here if I needed it.

Damian's cool fingers traced the lace edge of my now exposed bra. He glanced up at me, still unsure I actually intended to let him continue.

I nodded again and delved my fingers through his hair. I pressed a soft kiss to the base of his neck. He sighed and quivered beneath my lips which made me smile. He was so sensual it made me want to touch him all the more.

I brushed my hands over the expanse of his shoulders, my eyes roving over his naked torso with newfound appreciation of his form. I began looking at him in earnest now, drinking in the sight of him as he continued to kiss and caress me, unaware of my scrutiny.

I took in the shape of his hairline and the slightly imperfect slope of his nose. I studied the rather delicate arch of his brows and the curve of his upper lip. I watched the way the muscles of his shoulders flexed and smoothed as he moved his arms.

He didn't look real. He looked like a tinted black and white photo that had come to life--his coloring not quite ringing true. But it gave him an ethereal presence that held my gaze completely entranced.

I was enjoying my exploration and discovery of him so much in fact, I actually pushed him back a little so I could get a better look at him. I knew for a fact Damian was not using any glamor to enhance his looks. He was of the same lineage as Jean-Claude, an indirect descendent of Belle Morte, who reputedly had an affinity for extremely handsome men.

"God, Damian, you're striking," I mumbled, as if really seeing him for the first time.

"You think so?" he asked sincerely and smiled a little sheepishly. His eyes were just as transfixed on me now. His fingertips traced my cleavage and fanned out over my bare skin.

The coolness of his fingers made me tense slightly as he slipped his hands beneath my bra to cup my breasts. My nipples immediately hardened against his palms, and I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. He continued languidly kneading my flesh until I was fairly aching with arousal.

My hands brazenly toyed with the waistband of the skimpy little silky thing he was wearing that in some circles passed as underwear. "Take this off," I whispered to him, snapping the elastic against his hip. I pretty much had access to everything I wanted with them on, but I wanted to see him. All of him.

The first and only time I had seen him naked, he'd been throwing up blood all over my bathroom floor. I was anything but aroused at the time, so in my book, that hardly counted.

Damian's smile widened as he stepped back to oblige me. He stripped with one quick downsweep of his hands, then patiently stood before me, watching and waiting for my next command.

My eyes began a slow, savory descent. I could feel heat flushing my face and hear my heart banging in my ears as I unabashedly stared at him. I caught myself licking my lips as if it was all I could do to keep from drooling. Needless to say, he was nicely endowed, but then I had yet to meet a vampire who wasn't. I beckoned him closer and then tentatively reached out to touch him.

"Oh yes," he whispered encouragingly as my hand closed around him. He took a deep shuddering breath, growing harder in my grasp. Moving a little closer to me, he placed his hands on my shoulders, pushing my blouse back, and slid the straps of my bra down around my arms until my breasts were completely exposed.

Then I felt his palms on me like soft, cool pads of velvet. He squeezed my nipples gently before dragging his hands over my ribs and down to my hips. Traces of his touch lingered on my heated skin as if his hands were everywhere at once. I lost track of them momentarily, until I felt their weight resting on the top of my thighs. He kissed me passionately, as if to distract me, while he parted my legs and positioned himself between them. My skirt obligingly gathered up around my waist and I fleetingly wondered if he was going to bother removing my thong underwear. When Damian's hand went under my skirt, he stroked me teasingly at first, then slipped his fingers under the material of the thong and simply adjusted it out of his way, satiating my curiosity, and sending tingles of anticipation scurrying over my skin.

For the most part, I was still clothed, but being exposed as I was, made me more self-conscious than being completely naked. I wrapped my arms around Damian's neck and pulled him up against me.

We were really going to do this, in the kitchen, on the countertop. Not exactly romantic, but let's face it. Romance had very little to do with what we were about to engage in. Damian had told me before I didn't have to love him, he only wanted to be with me. In a way, it made things uncomplicated and liberating, but then in a way, maybe because we weren't romantically involved with each other, there was something about all this that wasn't quite right.

Damian placed his hand on my cheek, raising my face slightly. He kissed me softly with a slow, thorough tenderness that made my toes curl. He only had to move his hips a few scant inches and he would be inside me, but he merely continued kissing me like we had all the time in the world.

Maybe he was giving me another opportunity to change my mind, I thought, but I was growing a little impatient for him to take me. I was already starting to think too much, and wanted us to be past the point of no return before my morality got in the way. I slid my hands down his back and over the smooth taunt curve of his buttocks, applying just enough pressure to let him know I was ready and willing. He was mine and I wanted him and was prepared to claim him: brand him with my initial so there was never any doubt in his, or anyone else's mind, who he belonged to.

"Anita," Damian whispered, locking his eyes on mine. There was something in that gaze now. Something beyond desire, that I hadn't noticed before, and it looked a hell of a lot like love.

"Damian..." Suddenly I couldn't think of anything coherent to say to him. I didn't want his love. Did he believe my giving in to him, meant that I loved him now? After all, I was the one who supposedly didn't believe in casual sex. Damn.

Then, of all things, brilliant florescent light suddenly illuminated the kitchen, shining on us like a floodlight, making both Damian and I squint our eyes in pain.

"Oh," Nathaniel stated dumbly as he stood at the kitchen's entrance, staring at us. "Oh, I...thought I heard something...in here, but it's just you...two." He blinked finally and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

A heady mix of humiliation and indignation washed over me. I timidly peered over Damian's shoulder at the young wereleopard standing beside the refrigerator.

"It's all right, Nathaniel," I told him, struggling to keep my voice cool and my tone even. "Just go back to bed."

Damian turned his head and joined me in looking over his shoulder at Nathaniel. He clearly had no intention of turning around, but if he was embarrassed at being caught poised over the mistress of the house without a stitch of clothing on, he didn't show it. But then, Nathaniel was just as naked as he was.

"Could you please turn out the light?" Damian murmured. He glanced up at the offending fixture and frowned. "It's great if you want to read a recipe book, I suppose."

Nathaniel grinned. "Sure. Sure." He moved to turn off the light, then paused and gestured at Damian and I, adopting a thoughtful, but dreamy-eyed expression. "I'm really happy for the two of you. You should enjoy each other--being master and servant the way you are. You're naturally drawn to one another. It's a good thing." He nodded for emphasis and offered us both a genuine smile.

Having voiced his opinion, Nathaniel turned on his heel, flipping the light switch back down and plunging the kitchen into darkness once more.

Damian turned his attention back on me, but I was already shaking my head and pushing him away. It had finally occurred to me why this whole scenario felt wrong, and it had nothing to do with kitchen countertops and wasted coffee.

"No, Damian. We're not doing this now," I stated firmly.

For a split second, Damian looked both surprised and dejected, then he quickly blanked-out his expression and nodded curtly. Obediently, he stepped away from me and lowered his eyes. No questions, no protests, no trying to persuade me to reconsider. There was advantages to being his master.

I slid gracelessly off the counter, smoothing down my skirt and righting my bra. "I'm sorry," I lamely apologized. I was too, but my mind was made up now, and I knew without a doubt, this was for the best.

Damian licked his lips slowly. "Please, Anita. Don't feel as though you need to apologize to me."

I frowned. The fact that he just stood there, watching me like a statue with moveable eyes was unnerving. I felt compelled to explain, even though he did not ask for any explanation.

"It would have felt nice, great probably, but it would have been wrong," I started, trying to keep my attention focused on buttoning my blouse straight. Harder than you would think when you have a sexy, naked vampire standing in front of you. "Wrong of me," I hurriedly continued. "You're clearly on the rebound tonight, hurt and vulnerable, and needing to be reassured. And I'm feeling a little too possessive."

I finished with my blouse and leaned against the counter in an attempt to appear casual and in complete control of myself. Damian was still standing close enough for me to reach out and touch him if I felt so inclined. God, he looked good. I could have had him. I really could have....Why did I have to be so goddamned idealistic? I had to look away from him finally.

"Possessive?" Damian spoke at last. He cocked his head a little to the side in confusion. "But I'm yours. You are within your rights to have sex with me whenever you want to. Don't feel guilty about it, please." He stepped up to me, but didn't touch me, thank God. "I hope you want to 'possess' me in that way."

I looked up into his eyes and sighed. "But you're not a possession, Damian," I said thickly. "It's wrong of me to feel that way about you. I may be your master, but you're not my slave. I have no right to force you to do anything you don't want to."

Damian offered me a sad little smile. "You were hardly forcing me," he whispered.

I shook my head. "Maybe not, but I still don't like the way I was feeling about you all of a sudden. I don't own you." I paused and lowered my gaze to the floor, embarrassed. "I don't have the right to use you to suit me...or punish you when you do something I don't like. I wanted to punish you for what you did tonight. Like a master punishes a slave who pisses him off. You know, the kind of punishment that's all about anger and nothing about teaching a lesson. I don't want to be that kind of master to you, do you understand?"

Damian swallowed visibly and tensed slightly. If I hadn't been so attuned to him, I might have missed it.

"If you're that angry with me you should punish me," he told me softly. "Trust me, if you do, I'll certainly learn a lesson from it."

Cripes, he was thick-headed at times, I thought. But I really couldn't fault him for thinking the way he did. He'd been a captive--a possession--most of his vampiric existence. He probably didn't know how to think or act any other way.

"I'm not going to punish you, Damian," I explained. "I'm trying to tell you, I realized I have no right to punish you when you upset me. The only thing I should do, is let you know I'm unhappy with you. Hopefully, I've done that."

"Yes," Damian said and nodded slowly. Then: "Do you want me to leave you now?"

I exhaled forcefully and reached out to cup his jaw with my hands. "No, you don't have to stay downstairs," I stated. "But please, for the sake of my sanity, go get dressed. Or at least put on a robe. Preferably something bulky and shabby that clashes with the color of your hair."

"I don't own such a thing," Damian said and smiled at me, which pleased me to no end, sending a wave of relief washing over me. He turned his face into my hand and nuzzled my palm.

I turned his head back around and stretched up to plant a quick kiss on his lips. There was nothing sexual about it, but there was a lot of affection.

"Go on," I said, stepping away from him. "I'm going to make a fresh pot of coffee and sit here and wait for the morning paper. You can keep me company until it arrives, if you want."

"I will," he responded without hesitation. "Just answer me one thing." He folded his arms over his chest in a contemplative gesture.

"Sure. What?" I asked, firmly keeping my gaze fixed above his waistline.

"You stopped me only because this wasn't the right time?" He lowered his eyes from mine. "I know you wanted me. I'm just trying to understand. I keep thinking you wouldn't have stopped me had we not been interrupted."

I frowned. "The interruption gave me a much needed opportunity to think." Pausing, I purposefully softened my expression, as well as my voice. "I did want you, don't doubt that. It's just that I'm a little old-fashioned I guess. When we do make love, I want it to right." I wondered if he would catch the fact I said 'when' instead of 'if'. I really didn't think it was a question of 'if' anymore. Nathaniel was right. We were drawn to each other. The attraction had become too strong.

Damian sighed and nodded. "Thank you for your honesty, Anita." With that, he turned and glided out of the kitchen.

Yeah, I watched him walk away. Yeah, I was kicking myself too.

********

After the meeting with my client at Animators Inc., I slipped out of the office undetected and headed back to the police station.

I had called there earlier and requested files on any vampire who had been charged with assault in the past three months. Then I placed a call to Veronica Simms: the only person I felt might be able to help me with what I had in mind. That is, if she was willing.

We'd been friends for a long time, Ronnie and I, but lately, our relationship was wearing thin to the point of fraying. She agreed to meet with me nonetheless, so I collected the files from the police and made it back to Ronnie's office just ten minutes before our scheduled appointment. No more just dropping by unannounced. Now it was all business and that was fine with me.

I walked into her office and she waved me into the big cushy chair across from her desk, looking me over with a disapproving shake of her head.

"I'm not going to ask what you've been up to lately, but I will tell you, you look a wreck," she pointed out.

I sighed. "Just a little sleep deprivation, Ronnie," I replied evenly. "Nothing for you to be concerned about."

She gave me a rather smug smile. "I guess that's understandable since your boyfriend only walks around at night."

I took the files and slammed them on her desk, glaring over the top of them as I did.

"I didn't come here to spar with you, Ronnie. I'm well aware of what you think of my lifestyle--you don't have to keep cramming it down my throat every time you see me. So, let's just cut the bullshit. Are you going to help me, or not?"

Ronnie shrunk back into her chair and frowned deeply. "All right, Anita. Just calm down. I apologize." She leaned forward again and pushed aside the shuffle of papers presently covering her desk. "What have you got?"

I stared across the desk at her for a moment longer before handing her the top file.

"These are all cases of vampires charged with assault on a human being," I began. "I checked RPIT's case files dating back to the first of the year and there were only four cases reported. All four of those vampires were convicted. These eleven are just from the past two months and ten out of the eleven vampires arrested during that time were proven innocent. They either had witnesses or the cases were tossed for lack of evidence. They were set up, in other words."

Ronnie looked intrigued, but she shrugged. "Well, summer is the tourist season out here. More naive, unsuspecting humans are around. The vampires know it, and take advantage of them."

I shook my head. "If you care to read the police reports, you'll see none of them involved tourists, but all of them involved young women. Three of the eleven involved the same woman, an Isabelle Dalton. Two more cases involved a woman with the same last name, Mariah Dalton, who also resides at the same address as Isabelle. Turns out they're sisters."

Ronnie thumbed through the first file. "And you believe that's a little too much of a coincidence?" She was listening to me now, having pushed her personal opinions aside like the papers on her desk. I felt encouraged.

"You're damned right it is. I know this Isabelle Dalton is jail bait. She struck again last night."

Ronnie raised her brow, genuinely startled. "You mean to tell me Jean-Claude--"

"Not Jean-Claude," I corrected. Naturally she'd think of him first. "Damian. The vampire who...stays with me."

Now Ronnie looked puzzled. "I didn't know you had a vampire 'staying' with you."

I sighed. "It's a long, complicated story I don't have time to get into now," I said dismissively. "It was a set up, Ronnie. The police report proves he didn't do what he was charged with. Damian told me the Dalton sisters just moved to our fair city this past May." I paused and gestured at the stack of files. "Look at the dramatic increase in assault charges since they arrived here. All against male vampires, all with similar case scenarios."

Ronnie picked up another file and opened it. I watched her eyes skim the report. She spoke to me now without looking up.

"Seems obvious when you put it that way," she said. "Why don't you think the police picked up on the pattern before?"

I leaned back in my chair. "Because of what you said earlier. It's the tourist season. That means an expected increase in clueless people trying to interact with vampires just to have something to write about on the back of a postcard. I think the only reason I found the pattern was because I was specifically looking for one."

Ronnie closed the file and tossed it on the desk. "So, what do you want me to do, exactly?"

My shoulders relaxed and a tension I was carrying inside me eased. Maybe our friendship was salvageable after all. At least our business relationship was apparently still intact.

"I want you to find out more on the Dalton sisters and I want you to see if you can link any of this with Humans Against Vampires. And can you get back to me as soon as possible on this? I'd like to put a stop to this scam before someone gets hurt."

Ronnie's expression hardened suddenly. "Is that an implied threat to these women? You don't want anyone messing with your vampires, is that it?"

My breath left me like a blow to the abdomen. I shot to my feet and had to bite my lip to keep from saying what I really wanted to say to her. When I felt a little calmer, I looked Ms. Simms squarely in the eye, swallowing away the tightness in my throat.

"No, Ronnie. That was not a threat from me, that was a statement of a fact. If one of these women happens to target the wrong vampire, not only could they wind up in a hospital, they could wind up dead. Whether they are aware of it or not, they're playing with fire and so far, they've been lucky they haven't gotten burned. But it's only a matter of time before their luck runs out. There's some nasty, sadistic, powerful vamps out there that won't take kindly to being toyed with." I turned around and headed for the door. I heard Ronnie sigh heavily.

"Anita, I'm sorry," she called after me.

I kept walking until I reached the door.

"I'll look into it, okay?" Ronnie tried again.

I paused, nodded, but didn't turn around. I'd had enough of her self-righteousness for one day. Maybe there wasn't any friendship left. Oh well. I turned the knob and hurried out.

********

I made a point of being at home before dusk to catch Damian before he went out for the night.

I sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and rehearsing in my head exactly what I wanted to say to him when I did see him. It wasn't coming out right. No matter how I put it, I knew he'd take it the wrong way. I wanted him to stay here tonight, but the only way I could think of telling him this made it sound like I didn't trust him not to go off and do something stupid again. I realized that was exactly why I didn't want him out and about, but I couldn't just come right out and tell him that, could I?

As it was, I was so deeply absorbed in thought, I barely noticed the fading light of day until I heard Nathaniel murmuring something in the living room. He was speaking with someone, and since he and I were the only ones here at the moment, I knew it had to be Damian Nathaniel was talking to. I stood up quickly and made my way into the living room.

"I don't know what she wants to talk to you about, it's none of my business," Nathaniel lied. I had given him strict orders to stall Damian if I didn't get to him first. I noticed he stood in front of the doorway as if blocking it, kind of giving his lie away.

Damian stood a few feet from him, hands on his hips, eyes locked intensely on the young wereleopard. I called his name and he turned sharply to face me.

"Nathaniel said you wanted to see me?" he began, his tone questioning, but slightly impatient. He glanced up at the clock on the wall and frowned. "I need to leave soon. I still have to feed before I go to the club," he added. "Or I'm going to be late."

I took a deep breath. "That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about," I began, his brusque demeanor spurring my resolve.

Damian's eyes flickered from mine to Nathaniel's warily. Nathaniel turned away and pretended to study the pattern of the draperies. Damian sighed heavily and focused his attention back on me.

"You're angry about something," he concluded, his hands slipping off his hips. He adopted a more submissive posture and lowered his eyes.

"Yes, and no," I told him. "I've been thinking and I believe it would be for the best if you just stay here tonight. I don't want you to go to the club...for awhile, until things cool down. You know, just in case Isabelle Dalton happens to show up there. I don't want you confronting her. I want you to avoid any contact with her period."

"Are you punishing me after all?"

"I'm giving you the night off, Damian. How can you take that as a punishment?" I said flippantly.

Damian looked up at me then. "Jean-Claude won't like it if I don't show up."

I swore softly under my breath. "Right now, I'd say Jean-Claude is the least of your worries."

His impatience surfacing once more, Damian shifted his weight to one leg. "Why do you think Isabelle will be there? I'm sure she's moved on to bigger better things. Besides, what do you think I intend to do to her if I do see her?"

I stepped a little closer to him and jabbed him in the middle of his chest with my index finger. "Don't give me that. You think she's going to be there too. That's why you're rushing off to work. You're not late. You want to get there before your shift starts so you can look for her."

A shadow seemed to pass over Damian's face. He dragged his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes.

"All right, yes. I was hoping she'd be there. She's been there every night I've worked for the past two weeks. I...was hoping she'd come to me and tell me it was all just some terrible mistake--that she'd been tricked too...."

Damn. This was going to be harder than I first thought. I reached up and touched his cheek. "Damian, this woman is a bonafide predator. I found out she's done this kind of thing before. She and her sister. What she did to you wasn't a mistake. She wanted to hurt you and she did."

Damian pulled away from me and stalked slowly over to the sofa. He sat down, as if this bit of news was too much to bear standing up.

Nathaniel and I exchanged glances, then we both went to him and took a seat on either side of him.

"You can feed on me tonight," Nathaniel offered. "Anita gave me the night off too. I can stay here with you to keep you company if you'd like."

Damian peered at him and passed his hand over Nathaniel's hair affectionately. "I'm glad you want to stay with me," he began, tonelessly, "but it's not necessary." He turned his head in my direction. "None of this is necessary. If you don't want me to confront Isabelle, all you have to do is tell me. I won't disobey you. You must know that. If she is at the club tonight, I'll just avoid her if that's what you want."

I shook my head. "I know you wouldn't purposefully disobey me, but I'd rather not chance it, Damian." You would have thought I'd just slapped him across the face with the stunned look he gave me.

"You don't trust me," he stated, appalled. "You have no confidence in my judgment now."

"Your judgment was hampered before by your emotions," I put in. "But I understand that."

Damian took a deep, steadying breath. "Anita, I swear to you, if you had told me directly not to go to that party, I would not have gone, no matter what I felt for Isabelle."

"But you didn't give me that chance, did you?" I shot back. "Wasn't it enough to know I'd disapprove? I can't hover over your shoulder like some guardian angel who whispers to your conscience, Damian. I have to be able to know you'll consider the consequences of your actions before you act. And...right now, I don't."

"Until you trust me again, I won't truly feel forgiven for what I did." Damian lowered his head. "Give me consequences to consider if it will convince you I've learned my lesson. Punish me."

Furrowing my brow, I shook my head. "No Damian. We went through this last night. I am not going to punish you."

Damian looked up at me. "You said you wouldn't punish me in anger. For the most part, your anger has passed. I'll accept whatever you chose to do to me. I won't hold it against you. Just...give me some way to make up for what I've done."

I swore under my breath. I didn't like this. I didn't like it one bit. I wasn't any good at being someone's master. I was bossy, pushy, overbearing, and just plain domineering at times, but I didn't feel comfortable thinking of myself as the master of a powerful, thousand-year old vampire, who was also a grown man.

"If it helps, think of me as your creation--your child in some respects," Damian said as though he'd been reading my mind. "If your child had done something foolish and had inadvertantly endangered his life, would you truly hesitate to exact some sort of discipline? Then, once disciplined, wouldn't your faith in that child be restored because of the lesson you put before it? If it's the only way for you to trust me again, Anita, I want you to punish me."

I peered over at him. Maybe he was right. And put that way, I suppose I should punish him. If I made it harsh enough, it would convince me he'd think twice before acting rashly again. The only problem now was how.

Damian had asked me earlier if being forced to stay in tonight was a punishment, so impulsively, I was going to tell him it was. But it occurred to me that wasn't severe enough for what he had done. If I was going to do this, I needed to steel myself and do it right.

I glanced at Nathaniel, who was now leaning against Damian comfortably, his head resting on the vampire's chest. Damian had his arm around the young wereleopard's shoulder, holding him like he was a security blanket. Nathaniel was such an empath, he always seemed to know when someone needed comforting--and he truly liked Damian. Thankfully, because I hadn't even given any thought as to what Damian would do for blood tonight. I wasn't about to volunteer and I hadn't asked Nathaniel to feed Damian, he had offered to do so on his own.

That gave me an idea. I considered it. Considered if I could actually do it and decided I could. I stood up and took hold of Nathaniel's hand, pulling him away from Damian. Damian's eyes widened in surprise. He seemed to know what I had in mind for him already.

"Go back downstairs, Damian and stay there for the rest of the night," I told him, hardly believing what I was about to decree. "I'm not going to let you feed tonight. That will be your punishment."

Nathaniel gaped at me. "Anita, you can't be serious," he quickly protested. "It's been at least 26 hours since he last fed. His going without blood tonight won't just make his stomach growl."

I frowned at him. "Excuse me. I am a preternatural expert. I'm more than aware of how insistent a vampire's craving for blood can be." I paused and looked over at Damian. "By morning, he won't be able to think of anything else. He won't notice anything about the people around him except for the smell of their blood. Their pulses will pound in his ears like a clock ticking away the hours. He'll be weak, and miserable...and oh so repentant." I nudged the silent vampire on my sofa with my foot. "Isn't that right, Damian?"

Carefully avoiding my eyes, Damian nodded hesitantly. "Yes," he replied in a soft, exhaled breath.

I straightened, squaring my shoulders, determined to appear confident and casual about what I was doing, but I tightened my grip on Nathaniel's hand.

"Go on then," I ordered Damian. "I'll see you tomorrow night."

Damian licked his lips slowly and looked up briefly. He rubbed his hands down the length of his thighs as if smoothing out wrinkles in his pants. I recognized the gesture for what it was. He was tense and agitated now, but when he spoke, his voice was oddly calm.

"Are you going somewhere tonight?" he asked.

"Yeah, out," I replied, not really wanting to disclose any details of what I had planned to do this evening.

Damian finally looked up at me, his eyes pleading. "Do you have to leave me?"

I frowned. "Yes, I'm afraid so." I released Nathaniel's hand and stepped back over to the sofa. I knelt down on the floor in front of Damian and sighed. "You'll be all right. It's just for tonight."

He offered me a somewhat dubious look, then placed his hand over mine on the arm of the sofa. "Do I have to stay here? Can't I at least go with you?"

I shook my head. "Not where I'm going," I told him. I gnawed my lower lip a moment, then stood up. I could do this. I had to do this. It'd be for the best in the long run. "Downstairs. Now."

Damian pursed his lips, then opened his mouth as if to say something, then only sighed. He rose to his feet and glided through the living room, disappearing down the hall.

I squeezed my eyes shut and swore at myself. I hated this shit. I really hated it.

It wasn't until I felt the weight of Nathaniel's hand on my shoulder that I opened my eyes. I looked over at him.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

I laughed lightly in surprise. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yeah."

I turned to face him fully and launched into an explanation, more for myself than Nathaniel's benefit.

"He wanted a way to redeem himself. I got him out of jail, I healed him, I told him I forgave him--so much in fact I nearly fucked him last night....I took away all the consequences. I needed to give him back some."

"Anita, I understand."

I swore again. "But you think I'm being cruel."

Nathaniel shook his head. "It doesn't matter what I think. You're doing what you feel you need to do."

God, I was getting a headache. Too much stress. Too little sleep. I massaged my temples roughly.

"Go get dressed. You might as well come with me to Danse Macabre now."

Nathaniel immediately perked up. "I am?"

"Yes, you can be my date."

The young wereleopard flashed a smile that was quickly followed by a frown. "Why me? Why don't you just have Jean-Claude meet you there?" He glanced down the hall Damian had disappeared through, then looked back at me and frowned deeper. Maybe he thought I was dragging him with me because I didn't trust him not to go to Damian once I left. He didn't say that of course, but I knew that was why he had asked.

I put my hands on my hips with mock indignation. "What's the matter? Don't you want to be seen with me?" I teased, hoping to lighten his mood.

Wrapping his arms around me in an impromptu hug, Nathaniel kissed my cheek and smiled. "I promise I'm not going to feed Damian if you leave me here," he proclaimed. "It's all right. You can go with Jean-Claude. I know you'd rather be with him than me."

I hugged him back tightly. I needed hugging right now. So did he.

"I want you to come with me for two reasons," I began. "And it's not that I don't trust you, Nathaniel. I trust you probably more than anyone. It's just that, if the house is empty, it will be easier on Damian. He doesn't need to be smelling your blood all night. And as far as Jean-Claude goes, you know as well as I do, he tries to lay low during the tourist season. Going out with him, even in the off-season, is like going out with a rock star. I don't want to attract any undue attention tonight. I need to do a little discreet investigating and I need to be able to move around and ask a few questions."

"Ah, so we're going incognito then?"

I could almost feel Nathaniel's enthusiasm growing. Nodding, I reached up and pinched his cheek affectionately. "You got it. Is it a date, or not?"

He smiled brilliantly then, cheering me up. "Definitely. Give me fifteen minutes. I'll pick you up by the front door." He turned to go, then paused, and looked me over somewhat critically. "You're not wearing that are you?"

Apparently, my black jeans and polo shirt didn't meet his night clubbing standards. I wasn't going to change, but then, on second thought maybe I had better. I was supposed to be looking like I was there to have a good time like the rest of the crowd. The key to good sleuthing was being invisible, so to speak.

I nodded. "Of course," I replied matter-of-factly. "Give me fifteen minutes...and I'll meet you by the front door."

Satisfied, Nathaniel grinned and continued on his way. With a sigh of resignation, I followed him into the bedroom.

********

Nathaniel and I arrived at Danse Macabre a little after ten. The place was already buzzing with activity. Every table was full and the patrons were wall to wall thick. There were so many dancers, they were spilling out beyond the dance floor, with many couples forced to lay claim to floorspace between the tables. The waiters and waitresses were probably having a heck of a time negotiating the floor tonight.

The atmosphere had a wild, hedonistic, party-like feel to it, complete with flashing lights and pulsatingly loud music. Jean-Claude definitely had another hit on his hands.

What surprised me, was the club had become as popular a hang out with the city's vampires as it was with the humans. I couldn't remember the last time, if ever, I'd seen so many vampires in a public place. It made me wonder if the humans here were aware there was a one in five chance their dance partner was a vamp. Of course, maybe word had gotten around that if you wanted to rub shoulders with vampires, this was the place to be. If Isabelle Dalton knew this, no wonder she came here to "hunt".

I fished out the printed copies of the Ohio driver's licenses I had obtained from the police files and studied them the best I could in the flashing lights. I'd bet good money either Isabelle or her sister, Mariah were here tonight. Somewhere.

I nudged Nathaniel and handed him the photocopies. His lycanthropic eyes were undoubtedly keener than mine and besides, he was taller than me and could see over people's heads better.

"Do you see either one of these women here?" I half-yelled, trying to be heard above the music.

Nathaniel looked carefully at both pictures, then scanned the room.

I was looking around too, thinking how futile it was in this thickening mass of gyrating shadows. I couldn't get a good look at anyone. I was just about to tell Nathaniel to forget it, when his gaze locked straight ahead, in the general direction of the bar.

"There," he announced. "The dark-haired one. She's sitting at the bar, talking to a vampire."

I squinted and strained to follow his gaze, but it still took me a few minutes to spy her. Sure enough, there was the lovely Isabelle.

"Come on," I told Nathaniel, grabbing hold of his arm. "Let's go have a drink at the bar."

Actually, I should have let him lead, I concluded. Even after sharpening my elbows, we still weren't getting to the bar anytime soon. This was like wading through quagmire. And the smell was just as bad. You could tell it was mid-August all right.

When Nathaniel and I finally did reach the bar, I didn't have to pretend to want a drink. So what if it was a diet coke? Who'd know? Nathaniel followed my lead and ordered a club soda. Smart wereleopard.

The bartender was a young vampire named Poulo. He was the swarthiest vampire I'd ever known and if it weren't for his preternatural grace and statue-like immobility, the average person probably wouldn't suspect what he was.

Poulo was ungregarious as far as bartenders went, and fairly agreeable as far as vampires went. After he served Nathaniel and I, I snagged his arm before he could get away to ask him a few questions.

"Listen, Poulo. How much do you know about the dark-haired woman at the end of the bar?"

Poulo fixed his gaze on me momentarily, then glanced sideways at Isabelle Dalton without turning his head.

"Not much," he replied quietly. "She comes here alot. She seems to be sort of a vampire groupie, if you know what I mean."

I did, which made me frown. I spared a quick look in her direction. "Have you noticed something the vampires she goes after have in common?" I finished my coke and motioned for another.

As Poulo refilled my glass, he shook his head. "They're vampires. Seems to be a flavor-of-the-week thing with her."

"Yeah," I muttered. I was hearing this, but I didn't like it. All my suspicions about Ms. Dalton seemed to be true.

"You know, come to think of it," Poulo continued, pulling me away from my thoughts. "There is one thing her quarry has in common."

I grinned. Funny how he'd used the word 'quarry'. "What's that?" I encouraged.

"The lady's not impressed with power. Goes after the newer vamps. Even hit on me once. I told her I wasn't interested. I'd seen her around too much."

"She went after Damian. He's pretty powerful," I pointed out.

"Yeah, but he saved her. Maybe she felt obligated to give him a try after that."

I sat up a little straighter and Nathaniel and I exchanged glances. "Saved her?" This was the first I'd heard about that. "What are you talking about?"

Nodding, Poulo elaborated. "A guy started roughing her up and tried to drag her out of here. Damian just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time, I guess you could say. Calmed the guy down."

"Was this guy a vampire?"

Poulo shook his head. "No. He was human. A real, clean-cut, all-American type. He was mad though. From the way they argued, I got the impression they had a history together."

I blinked back my surprise. This was getting more confusing by the minute. "Hmm. Has this guy been in here before?"

Poulo shrugged and passed his rag thoughtfully over the bar. "I don't think so."

I nodded. "Thanks Poulo. You've been very helpful."

With a quick toothy smile, Poulo inclined his head respectfully. "Anything for the boss's lady," he said and drifted off to serve his other customers.

I turned towards Nathaniel. "Follow my lead, okay?"

He nodded readily.

"And if you see anyone coming over to greet me, head 'em off, okay?" I looked around, making sure there was no one in the immediate vicinity I was aquainted with.

"No problem," Nathaniel agreed. "I'll be a lookout for you."

"All right. Here goes nothing," I announced and took a deep breath, then started edging my way down the bar towards Isabelle Dalton.

Now that I got a good look at her, I decided her driver's license photo didn't do her any justice. But then whose did? Isabelle was a looker, that much was obvious. She was a little taller than me, but thin and fragile-looking. Maybe that was part of her appeal. I could easily see why Damian had been attracted to her, and now, knew why he felt so protective of her.

The sun-dress she was wearing was a periwinkle blue which exposed most of her décolletage and all of her neck. Enticing. She sported a late summer tan, that made me think she spent a lot of times outdoors during the day. She clearly wasn't trying to pass for a typical vampire groupie. Most of them tried to emulate their idols and slept all day and partied all night. But Isabelle partied all night too. When did the woman sleep? Maybe I'd come right out and ask her.

I cleared my throat and prepared to introduce myself. I used that classic line. "Excuse me. Don't I know you from somewhere?"

Isabelle Dalton paused in mid-conversation and turned to face me. I couldn't help notice the comely male vampire she was talking to took advantage of the distraction and slipped away into the crowd. Not his type, I guessed. Lucky for him.

Isabelle noticed him leave too, swore, and shot me a scathing look. "No. I don't think so," she said loudly, clearly perturbed. "I'm not from here."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I apologized, trying my best to look sincere. "From the side, I could have sworn you were my old college dorm mate." I took the barstool the vampire had recently vacated and made myself comfortable. "I didn't mean to chase your friend away."

Isabelle went back to her drink, eyeing Nathaniel somewhat appreciatively. "He wasn't my friend," she grumbled. "Just a guy I met here."

I leaned closer to her. "That was a vampire, you know."

"Yeah, so?" She wasn't looking at me however. She raised her glass and used it to gesture at Nathaniel. "Is he a vampire?"

"Oh. No," I told her and left it at that.

"He's got a supernatural look about him. I like that, but don't worry. I'm only interested in vampires."

Nathaniel must have been feeling self-conscious under her scrutiny. Funny, for a stripper. He moved to stand behind me and placed his hand on my shoulder. Isabelle followed his movement with her eyes.

"Well, to each his own," I said with a shrug. "I prefer something a little warmer between the sheets myself."

That brought her attention back on me. She studied me now, a sparkle of newfound interest brightening her blue eyes.

"To be honest," she began, leaning closer to me. "So do I. But the vamps here are...fun to play with."

I forced a smile. "Sounds interesting."

Isabelle shook her head. "Well, they're so gullible. It's easy to lead them on."

I tried to look surprised now. "Why do you say that?"

Isabelle smiled, but it was anything but pretty. "Trust me, you let them think there's even a remote chance you'll feed them, and they'll follow you right down into hell."

I had to turn away from her, certain my congenial expression was slipping. She was mean, this one. Mean and stupid. A dangerous combination. I pretended to look around and took a quick sip of my coke.

"That does sound fun," I replied finally and tried to laugh light-heartedly. "But I'm not interested in becoming a blood donor, if you know what I mean."

Isabelle bent towards me so close now I could have kissed her had I been so inclined. "You don't have to be. There's an easy way to get rid of them if they start pressuring you."

I was starting to get a little testy and I know it leaked through in my voice. "Why even get involved with them if you're not really into what they are? Why lead them on? It's dangerous."

"It's fun," Isabelle said coldly.

"You must hate them," Nathaniel spoke up.

Isabelle and I turned as one to look at him. Nathaniel was frowning deeply, the disgust on his face clearly evident. I discreetly reached behind me and jabbed him sharply in the thigh with my thumb. I don't think he even felt it, but he looked at me apologetically, then turned around and faced the crowd.

"Ah, my boyfriend's best friend's brother is a vamp," I explained. "So he's a lot more tolerant of them than me. He's the one who brought me here tonight. I wouldn't have come if I'd have known there'd be so many vampires here."

"Yeah, this town is infested," Isabelle muttered, turning her gaze back on me. "Reminds me of cancer. You know, everyone knows someone who knows someone who has cancer." She set her drink down carefully on the bar, fished through her purse for a few moments, then brought out a twenty dollar bill.

"Cancer," I repeated and took a deep breath. I decided there was nothing about Isabelle Dalton I liked. She must have given an academy award performance to have captivated Damian the way she had. And she was nothing like me! I resented the fact he had said so.

Isabelle got up to leave. I snapped out of my repulsion just long enough to make a bid for the academy's recognition myself.

"Maybe I'll see you around. It's nice to meet a kindred spirit for a change. They're few and far between in this town."

Isabelle tossed the money on the bar beside her empty glass. "No, my dear. We're alot closer than you think," she stated with a sly smile. With that, she turned and pushed her way into the crowd.

I noticed a vampire approached her almost immediately. Isabelle beamed up at him, and they seemed to exchange pleasantries. The next thing I knew, they were arm in arm and walking out of the club together. I wouldn't be surprised to find a police file on him soon. I shook my head and turned to look at Nathaniel.

"How could she do something like that?" Nathaniel asked, placing his hands on his hips. "What's she got against vampires?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, but I intend to find out." I glanced around. "You wouldn't happen to see her sister here would you?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "No. I was keeping an eye out for her, but she's not here."

"Let's get out of here, then," I suggested. I tossed money onto the bar next to Isabelle's, tipping Poulo generously, and stood up. "It's early still. Let's check out some of the other clubs before we call it a night."

I didn't wait for Nathaniel's consent. I grabbed his hand and made a beeline for the exit.

********

Unlike her sister, Mariah Dalton was nowhere to be found. Nathaniel and I hit all the tourist clubs we could, including Guilty Pleasures and The Laughing Corpse.

We finally gave up. Even if we had found her, I was certain the results would be the same. I knew for a fact, she had the same warped idea of fun her sister did.

'We're closer than you think,' Isabelle had said. That told me there was definitely some kind of jail bait organization she was affiliated with that went out of their way to set up vampires. Maybe the women in the other police files worked alongside Isabelle and Mariah. My only hope now was that Ronnie would come up with something concrete I could sink my teeth into. These women needed to be stopped.

Nathaniel and I made it home a little before four. At least I didn't have to be up by seven this morning. I could sleep in until nine or ten. Woo hoo!

Nathaniel went straight to bed, but I was too keyed up. I poked around the kitchen for awhile, washing a few dishes, cleaning up, trying to wind down.

My thoughts were on Damian however. It was hard to believe he had come to care for Isabelle as deeply as he had. She had to be good at what she did, that much was evident. But then, maybe Isabelle was right. Maybe all her 'boyfriends' wanted to believe she was real so badly, they tended to ignore their sensibility. Damian obviously had. Even after he knew he'd been set up, he still wanted to believe it was just a misunderstanding. My heart went out to him for that. Was he really that lonely?

I stretched out my power and touched him. The power that answered mine was feeble and transparent. Sad and disturbing.

I quickly dried my hands on a dishtowel, my resolve torn between duty and friendship. In the end, my friendship for Damian won out. Besides, I was not like Isabelle.

Tossing the towel aside, I made my way out of the kitchen and headed downstairs.

********

My basement was finished and set up like an efficiency apartment that just happened to have a coffin in one of the back rooms. There was a half-bathroom with a shower and a small guest bedroom, as well as a modest, but comfortable living room which was bordered in bookcases and lamps.

The furniture consisted of a dark blue leather loveseat and two matching chairs. Very heavy and masculine-looking, but cozy too. Perfect for curling up with a favorite book on a cold rainy night. The tiled floor was covered in plush area rugs. My stockinged feet sunk into them as I made my way across the living room.

I was ashamed to admit it had been months since I had last ventured down here. Aside from adding to his collection of books, little had changed about the place however. I knew Damian actually spent very little time here. Even on the rare occasions I was home for the night, Damian went out. I think he had given up trying to get me to pay attention to him.

A single lamp had been turned on in the living room, but Damian wasn't in here. I called his name, more or less to announce my presence and started towards the guest bedroom. It was the only bedroom in fact, but since Damian didn't really use it, we called it his guest room.

The room was pitch black and having mostly black decor didn't help illuminate the place any. I could just make out Damian's form lying on his side on the bed, facing the wall. The stark whiteness of his complexion gave him away.

"Damian?" I whispered, then felt silly. It wasn't as if he were sleeping or anything. He was probably just slightly catatonic by now. I climbed on the bed beside him and placed my hand on his arm. He was so cold to the touch, I almost shivered. Damn. I moved my hand to his face and gently stroked his cheek.

"I'm glad you're home," he murmured in a voice so soft it was barely audible.

"I'm glad to be home," I whispered back, passing my hand over his long, silky hair. "Turn around."

He did, but it wasn't without effort. His usually normal fluidity and grace had been replaced by movements that seemed stiff and choppy. He looked up at me and offered me a small smile.

It was meant to be reassuring, I'm sure, but instead it had the opposite affect on me, making me feel more guilty and miserable than I already did. I stretched out my arm towards him and waved my wrist under his nose. I was not like Isabelle.

"Here," I nearly squeaked. My throat was so tight, it was painful. "Feed on me."

Damian needed no further persuasion. He sat up with a sharp contraction of muscles and seized my arm in his hands. His mouth closed over my wrist and he looked up at me with wide, glossy eyes.

I suddenly felt the stab of his fangs and jumped a little at the intensity of pain. I was his master so he couldn't roll my mind to make the bite a tad more comfortable, but in a way I wanted to feel the pain. A small price really, for making him suffer all night long.

Damian's eyes gradually closed and the tension in his body eased. Still feeding at my wrist, he slumped back down on the bed, taking me down with him. I shifted around until I was comfortable and laid my head on the pillow beside his. I watched his throat work rhythmically and felt his power rising and swirling around us. I let him feed until I started feeling light-headed, then tried to pull my arm away from him.

"Stop," I said finally. "Stop now or I'm going to pass out."

Damian released me as quickly as he'd seized me, then took a deep, shuddering breath as if he hadn't breathed in awhile. He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, then licked his hand clean.

"Thank you," he sighed, gazing at me with undisclosed adoration. He also had a very satiated, euphoric look on his face.

I turned away from him and looked around futily for something to put on my wounds to stave off the bleeding, but couldn't see anything handy in the darkened room.

Damian seemed to sense what I wanted however and took my hand and pressed the hem of his shirt firmly against my wrist.

I was about to protest his getting his clothes bloody on my account, but he wrapped his arm around my waist and snuggled up to me with a contented sigh. He was warm now and his long, sinewy body felt sweetly soothing lying next to mine, easing away the protests I had been about to make. I put my head on his shoulder and curled myself around him. I'd worry about the dry-cleaning bills later.

I wasn't sure when I fell asleep exactly, but the last thing I remember was the touch of Damian's lips on my forehead.

********

I woke, still in Damian's bed, but alone now. It must have been late morning, but I really couldn't tell how late in the dark bedroom.

I noticed my wrist now sported matching purple Band-aids, one over each puncture wound, and sometime before he had retired for the day, Damian had covered me up with a blanket.

Reluctantly, I tossed it aside and crawled off the bed, making my way back into the basement living room. My eyes immediately zeroed in on a pristinely folded sheet of white paper, propped up on the bookcase closest to the stairs. My name was written on it with thinly scrawled, but calligraphic-looking penmanship. The note within was written with the same classical flourish that was a little hard for my modern-trained eyes to decipher at first, but it brought a smile to my face, nonetheless. I realized Damian had probably been taught to write centuries before my grandmother was even born.

It began:

My dearest Anita, Good morning.

My heart is filled once more, not only with the power that

resides in your veins, but the sweetness of your forgiveness.

I go to my rest feeling renewed and strengthened by your

faith and love, and the conviction to never again jeopardize

the possession of either. I am compelled to thank you again

for your gift. It means more to me than you could know.

Then he signed it simply: Damian.

Warmed by his note, I carefully refolded it, wanting to keep it. If any good had come out of what Isabelle Dalton had done to Damian, it was that he and I were becoming closer. Sad that it took something like this to get me to regard him as something beyond a mere roommate though. At the moment, I wished we could just put Isabelle Dalton and this whole sordid affair behind us, but now, more than ever, I wanted that woman stopped.

I also wanted to know why she hated vampires enough to risk her life night after night the way she did. She was so casual about it too; it was just a game to her. In my experience, something had to have happened to someone personally, or someone close to them, to turn them so vehemently against vampires. I had even met people like that who had been attacked, or had lost someone they loved to a vampire attack. But Isabelle didn't fit that general description. Those people had zero tolerance for vampires. They wouldn't be caught in the same room with a vampire, let alone socialize with them--even if it was for the sake of vengence. Her level of hatred was more in line with a prejudice and just as irrational.

That angry young man didn't seem to fit in either. Was he a boyfriend Isabelle had shunned in her pursuit of vampires? I made a mental note to ask Damian about him tonight. For now, I had to make an appearance at work, and then meet with Ronnie to see if she'd come up with anything.

Clutching my note to my chest, I jogged up the stairs to take a shower and start my day.

********

When I arrived at work, I was almost relieved to find I had no pending appointments, and told Bert he could beeper me if he needed me and I'd be happy to come in again. He didn't give me any grief about it. He was learning, finally.

Mary, our daytime secretary hailed me just as I was about to get in the elevator, however.

"Anita, I have a message for you," she began. "A Mrs. Lucille Storr called. She wants you to call her back at your earliest convenience and set up a time to meet with her." The phone rang while Mary was handing me the memo. She answered it and motioned for me to wait. Then she put the call on hold. "It's for you. Veronica Simms. Shall I put it through to your office?"

I nodded and started back to my time-share of an office. Once there, I closed the door behind me and snatched up the phone.

"Anita, I think I've got something for you," Ronnie began. "Can you come by sometime today?"

I nodded automatically. "I was just on my way, when you called."

"I'm not sure if it's relevant or not, but I think it's something you should know." She sounded a little sympathetic.

My curiosity was piqued now. "Is it something you can tell me over the phone?" I urged.

There was a slight pause, or hesitation, however you want to look at it. Then: "I checked out Mariah and Isabelle Dalton to see if they were members of Humans Against Vampires or some other vampire hate group. It turns out, their father is a member. But not for reasons you'd think."

I wondered what that implied. I waited, but Ronnie didn't elaborate.

"Let me guess," I said, a little impatiently. "A vampire co-worker got the promotion Mr. Dalton was assuming was his." Facetious, I know.

This time when Ronnie spoke, her voice was tinged with irritation. "That's a little shallow, don't you think?"

I wasn't sure if she meant shallow on my part or Mr. Dalton's. I let it go.

"Sorry," I apologized tonelessly. "Go on."

Ronnie took a deep breath. "Actually you weren't very far off the mark. Apparently, a vampire took Mrs. Dalton. Isabelle and Mariah's mother."

My heart sunk and I winced. Now I really was sorry. "A vamp killed their mother?"

"No. I didn't say that. The former Mrs. Dalton, now divorced, left her husband for a vampire. She had an affair with it and ruined her marriage. Mr. Dalton divorced her and moved his daughters to St. Louis nearly three months ago. His ex-wife still lives in Cincinnati with her vampire boyfriend."

"Now that is interesting," I told Ronnie, grasping the receiver with both hands. "That explains Isabelle and Mariah's perception of vampires. Their father probably has filled their heads with so much hate, it has driven them to seek out revenge. That also explains why they don't really see vampires as a threat, but a nuisance. I've got to tell you, I met up wi