Last Vampire Standing (13 page)

Saber disconnected and reached for me, his warm hands bracketing my hips. A little tug and I stood between his legs.

“Sleep well?” he asked as I leaned in for a kiss.

“Mmmm. How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough to get some intel. First, Kevin Miller is exactly who and what he says he is.”

“Obsessively annoying but harmless?”

“Yes. As for Vlad’s nest, none of Jo-Jo’s nestmates have left Atlanta, but we have other irregularities.”

“Like what?”

He swept his hand along my upper right arm, over the spot where my GPS tracker lay implanted under the skin. “How much do you know about your tracker?”

I shrugged. “It sends signals so the VPA always knows where I am and when.”

“True, but it only registers location changes when you travel more than about three thousand square feet.”

I frowned. “You mean my tracker doesn’t register anything when I’m going from room to room in my house?”

“If you walked straight from your bedroom to the front yard, the readout might show a blip, but no substantial movement. You go farther than that, and the readout will stamp your movements every three minutes.”

“I follow. So what’s the irregularity with Vlad’s nest?”

“Two Atlanta vamps who should be moving around aren’t. Their trackers are giving stationary signals.”

“Maybe they’re being homebodies.”

He took my hand and squeezed. “When we see this with nest vampires, it usually means the vamps wearing those trackers are being punished.”

“Oh.” I pushed away grim memories of my own punishment, the one that was supposed to have lasted a few uncomfortable days and turned into a few bleak centuries.

“I hope,” I said lightly as I sat on Saber’s lap, “that Vlad’s modern enough not to lock his vamps in a coffin.”

“I hope he’s not withholding blood too long. A hungry vamp is a dangerous vamp. But,” he added, his hand wandering into one of my erogenous zones, “the VPA gal in Atlanta is arranging an in-person visit in the next few days to check on the nest.”

“VPA gal? Tsk, tsk. That’s sexist, Saber.”

“No, it’s not. That’s how Candy refers to herself to make the vamps think she’s just a little Southern belle.”

“When she’s really a steel magnolia?”

“Honey, Candy Crushman on a rampage makes a vamp attack look like a tea party.”

“So visiting the nest won’t be dangerous for her?”

“Hardly, especially since her husband Jim will go with her. Crusher is an ex-slayer buddy of mine, and no, he’s not a special investigator. More of a mercenary, but he works overseas most of the time.”

“Did Candy know about the vamp with silver immunity?”

“No one seems to know about it, but Candy’s making it a high priority to nose around during the on-site visit. She’ll check in with me as soon as she knows anything.”

“What about the Daytona case? What happened to the man who was bitten?”

“The hospital confirmed he was released early this afternoon, and I had a message from Captain Jackson on the cell. The victim shows up on Ike’s surveillance cameras as sitting at the bar for about an hour and leaving in one piece.”

“He didn’t cuddle up to any vamps while he was there?”

“No, and there aren’t any vamps living in Daytona outside Ike’s nest. One of his vamps got the victim late Sunday or early Monday morning.”

“Makes you wonder just how well Ike has Laurel restrained. Maybe she can fly the nest.”

“Doubtful. Besides, I won’t get a judge to let me search Ike’s residence. I don’t have probable cause.” He paused. “Are you certain you didn’t smell blood in the club or outside?”

“Not even a hint. I smelled something else, but it wasn’t blood.”

“What kind of something else?” he asked sharply.

“A citrus scent, like oranges or lemons.” I shrugged. “That’s why I didn’t mention it. It was odd, not important.”

“I suppose not, but give me the high sign if you sense anything unusual again.”

“Again? I’m never going back there.”

He smiled. “Not even if Jo-Jo performs at the club?”

“Okay, maybe then.” I tapped my chin, considering something else. “Saber, what about Cici?”

“You mean telling Laurel about Jo-Jo?”

“Not even Ike’s vamps bought that faerie tale. I think we ought to check it out.”

“Let me guess. You want to drag me to Wal-Mart.”

I grinned. “You can call it a beer run.”

“Fine. We’ll wait until the storm moves on.”

“Any word on when that’ll be?”

“It’s picked up speed moving north. You work tonight?”

I gave him a peck on the nose. “Nope, I’m off tonight and tomorrow.”

“What about bridge club?”

I’m a fiend for bridge, and Wednesday was our regular night, but most of the ladies were on vacation.

“We’re on hold until after Labor Day.”

“You mean I have you to myself for two nights running?” he said, nibbling my neck.

“You do—ooh, yes, that spot makes me crazy.”

“Good thing I just popped an extra vitamin.”

The timer dinged before he carried me out of the kitchen, but I remembered to stow my Starbloods in the fridge for later. Much later.

After a delightful candlelit romp in my jetted bathtub, Saber wanted to talk real estate, a romantic subject only because he wanted to share the seventeen property listings he’d copied from the Internet. We pored over the printouts and the Sunday real estate section from the
St. Augustine Record
that he’d saved. As we compared features, locations, and prices, a special warmth permeated my heart and soaked into my soul. It was almost as if we were house hunting as a couple, planning a life together. We’d narrowed his list of first-see choices to twelve when he got the munchies. Since he’d learned to stock my cabinets so there would be food in the house, he helped himself. He’d just set his humongous ham sandwich, a beer, and a glass of sweet tea for me on the coffee table when my doorbell rang.

“Eat,” I said, springing up from the couch.

I swung the door open, expecting it to be Maggie checking on us. Jo-Jo stood there instead, quivering with excitement.

“Highness, consort of Highness,” he said as I stepped aside to let him in. “Are you two free tomorrow night?”

I glanced at Saber, his mouth full of sandwich. He shrugged. “What’s up tomorrow night?” I asked.

“Open mike night at the Riot,” he said, referring to a new comedy club just across the bridge on the island. “It’s from nine to ten, and sunset is at eight fourteen. I’ll go on last so I have plenty of time to get ready, but I’ve decided to do it, and, well, I’d like it if you could be there—and Miss Maggie and her gentleman, too. You know, for moral support.”

Anxiety twisted my stomach, unfamiliar and unexpected. “What about polishing your act? Didn’t you want to practice? Try out your material on us before you go public?”

Whoa, was I worried for him? Darn it, I was. Concerned he’d fall on his face and be crushed. Had Maggie felt like this when I started ghost tour guiding?

“I’m good, Highness,” he said with a smile. “Well, maybe not
good
, but I’ve been practicing in front of the mirror. I think I’m ready to take on an audience again.”

That’s right. He’d been a performer centuries before I’d been born. He had to know more about it than I did.

“I think we ought to go,” Saber said. “You can check out his act for the other gig you lined up for him.”

Jo-Jo’s eyes went wide. “Highness? You got a job for me?”

“Maybe,” I hedged. “It’s at a vampire bar in Daytona.”

“Wow, really? You said vampires might like my act, but I didn’t expect—Wait. Is the owner a vampire?”

“Yes. His name is Ike.”

“Ike?” Jo-Jo frowned.

“You know him?” Saber’s eyes narrowed, his sandwich abandoned for the moment.

Jo-Jo shook his head. “No, it’s just that the name sounds familiar. Like I’ve heard it somewhere. Are you sure he wants to hire me?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” I said, “but his mortal manager girlfriend talked him into it. Providing, well—”

“That I’m funny?” Jo-Jo bounded for the door. “Don’t worry, Princess. I won’t let you down.”

When the door shut, I plopped beside Saber.

“Did that have a ‘famous last words’ ring to it?”

“He’s grown on you, hasn’t he?”

“He’s kind of goofy, but yeah. He’s the first vampire I’ve ever liked. What about you?”

“He’s the second vampire I’ve liked.” Saber dropped a kiss on my forehead. “I trusted him to teach you to fly.”

“You know, if he’s a hit, the flying lessons may be over.”

We stared at each other a long beat.

“Nah.”

011

I called Maggie to invite her to Jo-Jo’s debut act. As soon as she repeated the invitation to Neil, I heard his “Hell, no, I don’t want to watch a vampire comic.”

Maggie prevailed simply by reminding him that if Jo-Jo were working the nightclub circuit, he wouldn’t be hanging around my place. That changed Neil’s tune.

“We’ll meet you and Saber there,” she assured me.

“And applaud like mad no matter what?”

“You got it.”

Except for a drizzle here and there, the storm had passed. Saber and I headed for Wal-Mart to track down Cici. The task didn’t prove difficult. We found her straightening up in the women’s clothing section. She did a double take when I called her name, but she smiled.

“Oh, hey, Prinsceth Thethca, Thaber,” she lisped. “You need help finding anything?”

“Actually, Cici, we have a question for you.”

“Okay,” she said, cautiously.

“Were you at Hot Blooded last Saturday night?”

She blushed. “Yeth, but not for long. I went by to thay hello to the girlth.”

“Did you,” Saber said gently, “talk to Laurel while you were there?”

“You’re joking, right? Laurel wouldn’t be caught, well, dead talking to me. Why? Did she accuth me of thomething?”

“No, no,” I reassured her. “But it would probably be a good idea to steer clear of the club.”

“Why? Ith there trouble?”

“Looks that way,” Saber said, and gave me a shoulder bump. “You want to pick up that, ah, thing you wanted while I go get the beer?”

I took the hint. Buy something from the nice girl to distract her from our questions. I left with another bra top camisole, a pair of shorts, and a little peek into Cici’s mind. She had no idea Jo-Jo was in town, so how had Laurel found out about him? Was she spying on me, or did Ike have someone else doing it? Like Jo-Jo himself?

Nope, I’d been in Jo-Jo’s head. He might be a dupe, but he wasn’t a spy.

On Wednesday afternoon, Saber and I met with his Realtor, Amanda Hogan. The young, blonde, and ultratanned Amanda was skittish with me at first, but was taking me in stride by the time we toured the third property. And she’d stopped eyeing Saber’s butt when she thought I wasn’t looking. Points for her.

Back at my place, Saber ate while I changed for the comedy club. In deference to Jo-Jo’s debut, I wore a turquoise silk jersey dress that crisscrossed under my breasts, paired with silver stiletto sandals. I didn’t wear high heels as a rule, because, hey, life is way casual in St. Augustine. But these shoes were Maddie Springer originals, on sale direct from her website and designed to seduce.

My hair is the bane of my afterlife. Long and wavy, and in the humidity I look like Janis Joplin on a bad hair day. Post electric shock. After attacking it with the flatiron, I arranged a French twist and secured the updo with a fancy claw clamp. A bit of eye shadow, powder, and a few sweeps with the mascara wand, and I was ready.

Saber gave a long whistle and look that invited me to take off everything but the sexy heels and stay home. Tempting, but we made it to the comedy club by eight fifty. And, okay, I was glad it was dark enough that the women couldn’t ogle Saber, because he was scrumptious in gray slacks and a white shirt.

We snagged a table one row back from the front as Neil and Maggie joined us, and our waitress arrived. I had my usual sweet tea, heavy on the ice, Saber ordered a beer, and Maggie opted for a frozen margarita, no salt. Neil ordered a gin and tonic with lime.

“You don’t want a double?” Maggie asked.

Neil scowled. “You think he’ll be that bad?”

Maggie just patted his arm and turned to me. “Did we miss any acts?”

I shrugged. “We just beat you here, but the open mike part is supposed to start in five minutes.”

“Nervous for Jo-Jo?” she asked.

“Terrified.”

She grinned as the emcee took the stage. “Good.”

I have to admit it. I didn’t expect much from the open mike performers, but I underestimated them. My favorites were the mother of five who called her children The Horde, and the thirty-something doing a Beer Bowl sportscast. Saber and Neil were on their second drinks when the emcee stepped to the microphone to announce the final act and remind the audience to tell their friends about the club.

“And now, let me hear you put your hands together for Jo-Jo!”

Jo-Jo took the stage like he owned it, not dressed in the leather pants and poet shirt, but in black jeans and tan button-up shirt. He looked casual, he looked confident, he looked in complete control. And I was a wreck waiting for him to open his mouth.