Dead Sexy (14 page)

He drew back, his eyes hot. "Isn't that what you were thinking about?" he asked, his voice husky with desire.

She nodded, her cheeks burning under his probing gaze. She only hoped he didn't know that she had been thinking of something far more intimate than kisses. She took a deep breath. It was time to end this now, before things got entirely out of hand.

Taking another deep breath, she said, "How soon can we go look for the shaman in the Hills?"

His look said he understood her tactics all too well. "We will go to your house tomorrow night so you can pack whatever you need. We will leave the night after that."

"But how… I mean, it's a long way to the Black Hills. What will you do during the day?"

"Sleep, I should imagine."

"But… Are we going to fly?"

"No, drive." He could cover short distances at remarkable speeds, but South Dakota was beyond even his ability. Planes made him claustrophobic. AirTrains and AutoBuses were overcrowded and offered no protection from the sun. Behind the wheel of his own car, he was in control. "There will be motels along the way." He looked at her, his expression sober. "I am trusting that you will watch over me while I rest."

"Watch over you? You don't mean you want me to watch you… sleep?"

"No. Only to stay inside and make sure no one disturbs my resting place."

She didn't like the idea. A blind man could have seen that. But she didn't argue, and he hadn't expected her to. She had a great deal at stake.

They left at dusk two nights later. Regan felt a rush of excitement as Santiago handed her into his car, a sleek black convertible Speedster equipped with every possible luxury one could imagine, and then some.

She sank back in the remarkably soft leather seat as he pulled away from the curb. They were going to look for a shaman who reportedly had a cure for lycanthropy. If they didn't find him, or if they found him and he had no cure, what then? She had asked Santiago to take her life if she turned fanged and furry, but she didn't want to die. She tried to imagine herself as a werewolf, her life revolving around the phases of the moon. She couldn't conceive of such a thing, couldn't picture herself as a wolf, couldn't imagine what it would be like to hunt for prey or to rend human flesh. Who would have thought that her whole life could turn upside down in such a short time? It seemed too bizarre to be real. If only she would wake up and find it had all been a bad dream.

She looked over at Santiago as he pulled onto the highway. "Do you like being a vampire?"

He glanced at her, one brow raised. "Are you thinking of embracing the Dark Trick?"

"No, of course not! I was just wondering…"

"What it is like to be different from the rest of the world? To prey on mankind?"

"Yes." It sounded much worse when it was put into words.

"I have been a vampire far longer than I was a mortal man," he said. "I scarcely remember my other life."

"If you could choose, would you rather be a vampire or a werewolf?"

"A vampire, to be sure."

Glancing out the window, Regan considered the similarities and differences between the two. Werewolves were ruled by the pull of the moon; vampires were repelled by the sun. Both killed indiscriminately. Both had remarkable powers of regeneration and healing. Both were, for all intents and purposes, immortal. But werewolves were living creatures. Vampires were not.

She looked at Santiago again. "Doesn't it bother you, that you're… you know? Dead."

"Do I look dead?" he asked, a note of amusement in his voice.

"No, but…"

"Do I act dead?"

"No, but…"

"Did you think I was dead when I kissed you?"

She swallowed hard at the memory, which was all too vivid in her mind. "No." She didn't care for the direction their conversation was going at all. "So, how will we find this shaman?"

"He is said to live in a cave at the top of the Black Hills."

"A cave?"

Santiago shrugged. "Some say he is a werewolf himself, and that he lives in the cave as a penance for the lives he has taken."

"But if he has as cure… why wouldn't he use it?"

"Perhaps he likes being a werewolf."

"No," she said vehemently. "I'm sorry, I can't believe that. I can't believe anyone would want to be a werewolf, or a…"

"Or a vampire?"

"Or a vampire."

"And if you had to choose between the two, Regan Delaney, which would you be?" he asked quietly.

"Have you killed a lot of people?"

"Define a lot."

"One is a lot," she said, her voice sharp.

"Then I have definitely killed a lot."

"How many?"

"I have not kept a record." The only kills he remembered were the first ones, when the hunger had been excruciating, the pain overpowering, and the hunt exhilarating.

"Ten?" she prodded. "Twenty? Fifty? A hundred?"

Telling himself to be patient, Santiago took a deep breath. He couldn't blame her, he supposed, for being worried and afraid, or for trying to find out all she could about him. He was, after all, a stranger, and a vampire.

"As I said, I haven't kept a record, but I would guess the number to be rather high. I have regrets, of course," he remarked. "Do I wish those I killed were alive? Yes. Would I wish to be dead in their place? No." He stilled her next question with an upraised hand. "Not all the people I have killed have been prey. Some were killed in self-defense. And some…" He met her gaze. "Some were vampire hunters."

Her face paled a little at that admission. "What about Vasile? Do you know how many… ?"

"I have no idea."

She fell silent, her thoughts turned inward as she watched the moonlit countryside rush by. After a time, Santiago turned on the radio. Regan closed her eyes, lulled to sleep by the car's movement and the music.

Santiago felt himself relax. Not that he minded answering her questions. He couldn't blame her for being curious, couldn't fault her for wondering about his past or how many people he had killed. She had known him less than a month and her life was, after all, in his hands.

It was a beautiful night for a drive. The sky was clear, shimmering with a multitude of stars. There were only a few other cars on the highway. On the radio, Brooks and Dunn were singing an old song about a neon moon. That was how the moon had looked when he had first seen it as a new vampire, he recalled with a wry grin, like a fiery ball of silver neon.

He had awakened after sunset that first night, wondering if the mysterious woman and everything that had happened after she had wandered into his camp had been some kind of fever dream.

Rising, he had emerged from the small cave where he had spent the day in oblivion. After the pain of the night before, he was surprised to find that he felt better and stronger than he had ever felt in his life. Though it was full dark, he could see everything clearly. His nostrils filled with a myriad of smells and odors—the feral odor of animals, the fecund scent of plants and grass and dirt, the stink of a decaying animal in the distance.

His puzzlement at his increased senses was soon swallowed up in a sharp slash of pain that engulfed his whole body. It took him a moment to realize that what he was feeling was hunger, but a hunger unlike any he had ever known before. He felt as if his insides were being shredded with hot knives, shrinking, shriveling.

Frantic to alleviate the pain, he had pulled a piece of dried venison from his war bag. He ate it quickly, then doubled over in pain, retching violently as his body rebelled. Blood, he thought dully. She had told him he would need blood.

When his nausea passed, he wiped his mouth, then walked the short distance to where he had left his horse. At his approach, the mare's nostrils flared, her ears went flat, and she turned and bolted across the prairie.

He had known, in that instant, that his life had been forever changed.

Santiago looked over at the woman sleeping in the seat beside him and knew his entire existence was about to change again.

The ringing of her cell phone woke Regan. Grabbing her handbag, she fished the phone out. "Hello?"

Michael Flynn's voice came over the line, loud and clear. "Hey, Reggie, where the devil are you?"

"What?" She sat up, momentarily disoriented until she glanced out the car window. She remembered where she was then, who she was with, and where they were going.

"I stopped by your place," Michael said. "Your car was there but you didn't answer the door or the phone." He paused and she visualized him running a hand through his hair. "I was worried."

"I'm fine, Mike. I just decided to take a short vacation."

"Kind of sudden, isn't it?"

"I guess so. I'm sorry, I should have let you know."

"Where are you going?"

"South Dakota."

"South Dakota!" he exclaimed, disdain evident in his voice. "Why on earth would you want to go there?"

She glanced at Santiago. He was watching the road but she was sure he was listening to every word, not only hers, but Flynn's, as well. Vampires were known to have a remarkably acute sense of hearing. "I… it's just a place I've always wanted to see and…"

"Go on." It was obvious from Flynn's tone that he didn't believe a word she was saying.

"I've been a little on edge lately, that's all. I just wanted to get away for a while. I thought a change of scene might do me good, you know?"

"Uh-huh."

"I'll call you when I get back."

"There's been another killing."

She glanced at Santiago again. "Same M.O. as the others?"

"Yeah. This one was a woman." He cleared his throat. "At first… at first I thought it might be you."

When she looked over at Santiago this time, he was watching her.

"Why did you think that?" she asked.

"I heard the report at the station. The victim's general description matched yours—same height, same hair color."

"Where was she found?"

"In the park. Funny thing is, she was wearing a blue jacket just like the one I gave you last Christmas. If I didn't known better, I'd swear it was the same one. Hang on a minute." She heard him speak to someone, though she couldn't make out the words. "I'm back. Listen, I've got to go. Call me when you get home."

"Yes, I will." She broke the connection and dropped the phone back in her bag, then turned in her seat to face Santiago. "Flynn said they found another body."

"I heard."

So he had been listening.

"The body," Santiago said. "It was a warning."

"What do you mean?"

"I would be willing to bet that the blue jacket is yours. It is Vasile's way of telling me that he has not given up."

"He means to kill me to get even for Marishka, doesn't he?"

Santiago nodded. "I will not let that happen."

She wanted to believe him, but how could she? He had loved Marishka but he hadn't been able to protect her from Vasile.

Regan dozed again, waking when the car's motion stopped. Opening her eyes, she saw that the sky was growing light and the Speedster was parked in front of a nice motel. She noticed there was a restaurant across the street, an ice cream parlor, a strip mall, and a gas station.