“I'll let you know in a minute if it's fatal this time.” I pulled a card out of the envelope and recognized the bold handwriting immediately. “Success. Blade.”
Blade had sent flowers? I read the card again. Apparently. All he'd sent me before was the occasional case of Bloody Merry, because he didn't trust me to keep a sufficient supply. Now red roses? Had Mara put him up to this?
“Red roses are so romantic.” Lacy sighed and sniffed. “I'd like to meet this guy. Blade. Cool name.”
I smiled. At times like this, Lacy made me feel every one of my four hundred plus years. She was like a teenager, crushing on every good looking guy she saw, but, as far as I knew, never hooking up with one.
“Blade likes knives, swords, daggers. And knows how to use them.”
“Even cooler. Where are you keeping him?”
“Lake Charles. He has a casino there.”
“Oooh. Rich
and
romantic.”
“Usually not romantic.” I read the card one more time. Not exactly a love note, but I'd take it. Success. Wow. This felt like a breakthrough.
Lacy wiggled her nose. “Smells like love to me, Glory. Probably
is
a breakthrough.”
I'd told Lacy to stay out of my mind too many times to count in the last month. Even though she was a hard worker, I'd have to fire her if she didn't lay off. Her eyes widened and she flushed.
“Sorry, Boss. It's a habit.”
I gave her a look.
“Okay, okay, a
bad
habit. If they made a patch for it, I'd be first in line.”
“I don't want to waste my energy blocking you, Lacy. So just tune out. I do it all the time.”
“Maybe you shouldn'tâ”
“And maybe
you
should.” Blocking also gave me a migraine because I'd never gotten the hang of it. And if Lacy was reading this thought, she was fired. I gave her a searching look. She was smelling the roses again.
Nada.
Finally.
Tapping on the glass door. “Are you open yet?” Two women stood outside.
“Ready?”
Lacy nodded, obviously relieved to be off the hot seat.
“Okay, here goes.” I took a deep breath and walked to the door. I'd think about Blade and the warm fuzzies I was feeling toward him later. Hmm. Red roses.
And Lacy? I had to admit it felt good having her here and I
had
to have a day person. She just needed time to adjust to my demands. Which were
not
unreasonable. I pasted a smile on my face. I was scared spitless.
This was big. I'd always worked for other people. Dancer, waitress, bartenderâany night gig I could get. No profit, no sweat. For me anyway. Now I was totally responsible for rent, Lacy's salary and my own livelihood. This shop
had
to make it. I'd sunk all my savings into stock, fixtures and ads that I'd paid the shape-shifter in 3C to pass around in shopping center parking lots.
I flipped open the two dead bolts and threw open the door. “Welcome to Vintage Vamp's Emporium.”
“The purple cocktail dress in the window. What size is it?” A blonde about my size grabbed the skirt and wouldn't let go. “Taffeta, Mel, don't you just love it?”
“Mel” was loading her arms with vintage beaded sweaters. “I want one of these in every color. They're in perfect condition. Where did you get them?”
“Here and there.” I unzipped the cocktail dress. “I'm pretty sure this will fit you. The tag says size sixteen, but back in the fifties they sized things differently. Marilyn Monroe wore a twelve, but today that would be about a six. This one is about a ten to twelve in today's sizes.” The truth, I swear it. And didn't I love that? I know it's just a number and retailing genius, but I
feel
smaller in a twelve.
The woman hugged the dress and followed Lacy to the dressing rooms we'd created with curtains and screens. There were no mirrors anywhere except inside those cubicles. I avoid mirrors. Nobody home, if you know what I mean.
More women pushed through the door, a man and then a couple.
“Look, honey, here's a sideboard that would be perfect in our dining room.”
By the time Lacy dragged herself off to bed, we'd made enough sales to pay the rent and Lacy's salary for at least two months. I couldn't believe that at two in the morning I still had a customer hip deep in Victorian night rails, including those sexless sacks Flo had insisted I sell. The bells on the front door tinkled. Another customer?
This one was a man, his hair in spikes. He wore a long black coat and, what a cliché, black lipstick. A Goth and potential groupie. I'd had groupies before and they can be a pain, begging you to bite them, turning every night into Halloween with their silly costumes. Sure, I'd had mortal friends in Vegas, but they'd thought I was one of them. I hadn't let a mortal in on my vamp self in
years.
“Where are the vamps?”
“What kind of vamps are you looking for?” I gestured toward the mannequin in the window. The first flapper dress, my favorite black, had sold in an hour. This one was blue and had cool beaded fringe. I kind of hated to see it go. I'd had a lot of fun dancing in that dress.
Chicago in the twenties. Al Capone and I had been on and Blade and I had been off. Then I found out what old Al did for a living. Time for the vamp vanishing act. I'd headed to New York, a great place to get lost, if you know what I mean.
“Not that kind of vamp.” The man looked pale and swayed, obviously about to faint. I hustled him into a chair.
“Are you all right?”
“I don't know. I had an . . . encounter a while ago.” He looked toward the woman holding up a lace-trimmed corset, waiting until she headed into a dressing room. He leaned toward me. “A vampire.” He drew out the word like the narrator in a bad horror movie.
“You're kidding. What are you on, dude?”
“Nothing. Well, maybe a little weed. But look!” He stroked his neck where I could see two bright red marks. “He bit me right here. And sucked my blood. It was amazing.”
“Looks like mosquito bites to me. Where'd you score that weed?” Yeah, play the diminished capacity card. Make him wonder if he'd dreamed the whole thing. I grabbed a bottle of water from a bucket full of ice Lacy had set on the counter for our grand opening and twisted off the top.
“Drink.” I looked deep into his eyes. It had been a while since I'd used the vamp whammy, but I still had him under in less time than you could say “Holy crap.” What kind of irresponsible vamp was out there doing the bite and run? Left marks, didn't bother to erase memory.
And this vamp groupie wannabe was just the type to brag about his “encounter.” He was already looking for his next one here. All it took was a hint to the wrong person and we'd have what amounted to a vampire witch hunt.
The man's eyes were glazed. “Keep drinking.” He gulped the cold water. I pressed my fingers against his fang marks until his skin was unblemished again.
“Stop. Rest. You'll feel better in a moment.”
Damn it. Some vamp was either suicidal or really, really stupid.
Six
I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. I couldn't call Freddy, his birthday and all, so I hit the speed dial for Damian. He'd put the number in himself when he'd stopped by last night to check out the store. And insisted I call him if I had any problems. I glanced at the man staring at his empty water bottle. Definitely a problem.
“
Cara,
I knew you'd weaken. You need me.” His voice was hot sex on a cold night.
Not now, Glory.
“Can you come over here? Now? I'm still at the shop.”
“What's wrong?” Now he was all business.
“Just get over here. Fast.” I hit end and slipped the phone back into my pocket. I rang up a corset and a night rail for my customer.
“What's with him?” She stowed her credit card in her wallet and nodded toward my zombie.
“Bad weed. I called someone to take him home.”
“What an idiot. Him, not you, honey.” She grabbed her bag and headed toward the door. “These Goths.” She laughed. “They actually believe in vampires and nonsense like that.”
“Go figure.” I showed her out the door and turned the locks. Nonsense. I wasn't insulted. It was just proof positive that I was blending successfully. I flipped the sign from Open to Closed then hurried back to the idiot's side. He sat motionless just like I'd left him. If I didn't snap him out of it, he would sit like that for hours. Cool, huh?
Kick the weirdo out.
Harvey wrote on my spotless counter. He'd been doing that a lot lately. Trying to protect me. Fortunately he didn't leave smudges.
“I'm taking care of it, Harvey.” I lifted the man's chin. “Look at me.” I used my low, irresistible voice and he raised his eyes to mine. “What's your name?”
“Raymond Whitelaw.”
“Raymond, tell me what the vampire looked like.”
Ray touched his throat. “Vampire. Yes. Tall.”
“Man or woman?”
“Man. Strong.”
A tall man. Swell, that only fit about twenty vamps in the Austin area that I knew of.
“Hair color?”
“Light. Pretty hair. Like snow.”
Now we were getting somewhere. A white haired vamp. I'd known a few and they were certainly easy to spot. But I hadn't met one here in Austin.
“You remember anything else about him, Raymond?” I kept my voice steady and calm. Ray just kept holding his empty bottle. “Think hard.”
“He prayed.” Ray shook his head. “Weird. Called God and Jesus. Vampires like Satan.
I
like Satan.”
I felt rage boil up in me and it was all I could do not to rip Ray's throat out and toss him into a dumpster somewhere. Vamps do have a primitive side, I admit it. And when we're riled . . . Don't make a vamp mad, that's what I'm saying.
I paced the store until I'd cooled down enough to speak. Satan worshiper. Excuse me, but just because I live forever and can drink blood doesn't mean I'm a raving demon from hell. I was raised in a very religious household. Scary religious. And you don't just get over that. When I fell for an actor, my folks considered me a lost cause. After years of soul searching, I'm pretty sure I answer to a higher power, not a lower one.
I took Ray's water bottle and held his hand. He'd unbuttoned his coat and I could see a student ID clipped to his belt. What was he studying? Dumbass 101?
“Raymond, you're going to go home now. You're not going to remember anything about this night. But you
are
going to remember that vampires are good and kind. Vampires are God-fearing creatures, not demons from hell. Do you hear me, Raymond?”
Ray nodded.
“And, Raymond,” I couldn't resist, more my parents' child than I'd ever admitted to
them.
“You will love God, not Satan. Satan is bad. God loves you. And,” okay, I had my own agenda, “He hates black lipstick.”
Ray nodded. “God loves me. Hates black lipstick.” He rubbed his mouth on his black coat sleeve. He looked a fool with black smears on his face and I couldn't care less.
“Yes. Good man.” I pulled him to his feet and led him to the door. I looked through the glass and saw Damian standing there. I threw the dead bolts and opened the door.
“Who's this?” My suave sophisticated seducer looked ready to tear the man's head off. So Damian had his own primitive streak. Good to know.
“Tell you in a minute.” I led Raymond to the curb. “Where's your car, Raymond?”
“Don't have one. Rode the bus.”
I glanced at my watch. “Oh, hell, the buses aren't going to be running this time of night. Will you take him home, Damian?” The vamp-mobile was sitting at the curb, the motor still running.
“I'll take him home if you'll come with us.”
I looked up and down the street. No potential customers on the sidewalk, though the coffee bar next door had a few customers taking advantage of the Wi-Fi connections.
My first night and I had to close. Well, maybe I didn't
have
to. But I was tired, my feet ached and Damian had ridden to my rescue without question. If he wanted my company, I wasn't going to argue. Damian loaded Ray into the backseat. I locked up, stuck my keys in my pocket and settled in while Ray told Damian his address.
“He's still in a daze. I had to put him under.”
“I can see that. What happened?”
I told him as he drove through the nearly deserted streets. Ten minutes later, we pulled up in front of a ratty looking rooming house for students. Damian dragged Ray out of the car, looked into his eyes, ordered him to go to bed and sleep until morning, then let him go.
“A white haired vampire. I have known a few, but none of them would have pulled a stunt like this. And none of them are in Austin that I know of.” Damian looked at me, his admiration right there for me to see. “You handled this very well.”
“Thank you.” I basked in his approval but didn't
need
it. I was feeling pretty good about myself. Successful shop, calm in a crisis and with a handsome vamp at my beck and call. I wouldn't have had to call him at all if I'd thought about it.
Damned wimpy female mind-set. I'd worked really hard to cure myself, but slipped occasionally. Like tonight. I started to apologize for bothering him, when Damian put a finger over my lips.
“Don't say it. I'm happy to help you. And we're sticking together, remember? The man was in no shape to drive even if he'd had a car.”
True. So maybe I wasn't such a wimp. Damian wore a black shirt tonight. Silky again. Not that I planned to touch it.