“Shut up,” he said, sharply but not unkindly.
“He was a…a vampire!” she said. She blinked in disbelief at her own words.
“Yes.”
“You killed him!” she gasped. “But…he was real.” She shook her head. “That’s…impossible.”
“I’m afraid not.
She swayed, still reeling, shaking as if she were suffering from a severe chill.
“He—he really was a vampire?”
Mark could hear sirens approaching. Someone must have heard her scream. “Yes, he was.” But not the one I was looking for, he added silently.
“I don’t…I can’t…believe this,” she said.
“We need to get out of here. The police are coming.”
“Shouldn’t we stay and report…um…this?”
He arched a brow at her. “You’re going to report what happened here?” he asked.
She stared at him, still shaking. “Yes, but…no, it isn’t real, can’t be real, but…”
“It is real.” He was trying very hard to be patient, but time was running out. He sighed. “They won’t believe you, though. We have to get out of here.”
Her jaw worked hard as she tried to form words. At last, still shivering, she said, “Get me over the wall, please?”
“Of course. Head that way.”
He could move like the wind himself—college football—but she was still so stunned that he felt as if he was dragging dead weight. He had to urge her to help herself as he pushed her up the wall, then jumped to safety behind her and brought her back down on the sidewalk.
Back on solid pavement, she stared at him, shaking her head. “He was really a vampire?”
“Yes.”
“No,” she argued, then, “Yes,” she said.
She was going to need some major therapy, he thought.
“You…you saved my life. I—I—oh, God, I owe you…you…”
“You and I both have to get out of here. They’ll think we’re junkies or thieves or something,” he said flatly.
“Yes, but…I need to…to thank you somehow.” Her eyes were wide, frightened; she wasn’t being sexual, just grateful and unsure what to do about it.
She straightened her spine, still unable to believe what had happened, but trying for proper dignity.
“My life. You saved my life. I owe you something.”
The patrol cars were nearly at the gates.
“You want to do something for me?” he demanded “Be careful. Don’t go off into cemeteries with assholes you meet in a bar, okay?” He grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”
He ran, pulling her along after him, and stayed with her down Canal Street and all the way to Harrah’s.
“I don’t even know your name,” she told him.
“And you shouldn’t,” he said gently. “Go in there. Call a friend. Go home.”
He turned and left her, suddenly exhausted, and more disappointed than he cared to admit.
He’d thought he’d been chasing…someone. But he hadn’t been. It was that simple.
He swore softly.
Damn, but there were a hell of a lot of foul beasts preying upon the world.
It occurred to him as he walked wearily back to his hotel that man himself could be considered one of them—even before the taint of pure evil touched upon him.
He stopped and looked at the roiling sky. He’d killed a murdering bloodsucker tonight. And it was all just beginning.
“I’m coming to get you. You’re going to be mine, in a world of blood and death and darkness,” Deanna Marin whispered darkly.
“Oh, for the love of God, cut it out,” Lauren Crow pleaded.
“Seriously. Perhaps we’ll open a door to another world, and demons will spring out and bring darkness and evil into this world,” Heidi Weiss said, laughing, unable to maintain a low, threatening tone with the same success Deanna had managed.
Both Deanna and Heidi were staring across the outdoor table at Lauren with ridiculous grins on their faces. Of course, they were both holding drinks obtained from one of the bars here in Jackson Square, though she couldn’t remember which one. Deanna’s glass was in the shape of some kind of nuclear material container and Heidi’s looked like a naked man, buns, pecs and all. Perhaps due to a combination of alcohol and the atmosphere of New Orleans itself, they were suddenly eager to visit one of the numerous fortune-tellers who worked the area around Jackson Square with their tarot cards and crystal balls at the ready.
Lauren was delighted to be there—New Orleans was one of her favorite places in the world. Few locations offered such an artistic setting, with not just the visual stimuli but the with the history of the area and liveliness of people filling the very air as New Orleans did.
Tonight, however…
Maybe it was due to the one Cosmo she’d imbibed, but instead of feeling light and giddy, she felt as if a strange sense of dread and darkness had settled over her.
“Lauren, what on earth is the matter with you?” Heidi demanded. “It’s just for fun.”
Lauren just didn’t like the idea. She didn’t know why—she wasn’t particularly superstitious—but she had never wanted to have her cards read, let someone see her future in her palm, or receive any other kind of astral or otherworldly advice. Time, in her opinion, brought enough hardship without having to worry ahead of time about the bad things that could happen.
But she hated to be a wet blanket when they were here in New Orleans for a much anticipated pre-bridal shower for Heidi. Since they worked together at the artistic concepts company they had created after college, it had taken a lot of planning to get all their projects completed so they were free to take off together.
It was Heidi’s party, and Lauren had promised herself that she was going to make sure everything went exactly the way Heidi wanted it to. But this desire to play with the occult was somerthing new, and it was making her very uncomfortable.
“You said you would do anything at all this weekend to make me happy. Remember, you’re my bridesmaid, so you’re supposed to be my slave,” Heidi teased.
“Why are you so bugged about it?” Deanna asked.
Lauren didn’t know why, and she knew it was silly, but she really didn’t want to look into the future.
“You can pick whoever we go to. How’s that?” Heidi asked.
“Guys, I just think—”
“You need to do this just so you won’t be frightened of a few dramatic effects and some spooky patter,” Deanna said.
“I’m not afraid,” Lauren protested quickly, but even as she spoke, she realized that in fact that was exactly it. She was afraid.
“Really, think about it,” Deanna said, “Most of the psychics here are just college kids, trying to make a few bucks. Think of all the times we came here to draw, and how badly we needed the money people paid us for our sketches.”
“I think you’re forgetting the important point here. I told you. You’re supposed to be my slave, remember?” Heidi said.
”Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Lauren muttered. “All right. In that case, I think we should see