The Merzetti Effect (A Vampire Romance) (6 page)

He turned on his heel and strode toward the door.

“Wait!”

He’d moved outside the circle of light cast by the lamp, but the room was already beginning to lighten with the approaching dawn. A new day on the way. A day she would live to see because of his intervention. He’d stopped just short of the door. Though he didn’t turn, he did angle his head as though to listen.

“I’m sorry. You saved my life. I know that. And I know I must sound ungrateful. It was just such a shock, hearing you talk so … knowledgeably about my employment situation and my finances. I just‌—”

“Do you still want the job?”

She’d sensed him angle his body toward her a little more, but she could tell by the way his voice bounced off the wall that he hadn’t completely turned around.

Did she want the job? Oh, man, crunch time. Could she take the leap of faith? Did she have any choice? She wet her lips. “What are your terms?”

He turned fully around to face her and named a figure that surpassed her annual income last year by a good margin, even with the crazy extra shifts she’d logged.

What on earth was he expecting for that princely sum?

“I won’t have to do anything … illegal?”

“Not even close.”

His answer came without hesitation, but just like before when she’d intuited his plan to hunt down and destroy the vampire who’d attacked her, she detected the space between what he said and what he thought. What he actually thought was he’d take care of any shady stuff himself.

That knowledge should have sent her running for the hills, but she found it oddly reassuring. He clearly didn’t know‌—‌or maybe he just didn’t care‌—‌how transparent his thoughts were to her. Certainly it would make a refreshing change from the minefield of politics, ego and subterfuge she’d had to navigate every day at the hospital.

“You said there’d be a phlebotomy element?”

“Yes.”

“These subjects I’d be drawing blood from … would they be human or vampire?”

A sigh. “I thought we’d agreed vampires
are
human.”

Whoops.
“Sorry.” She chewed the inside of her cheek a moment. “So they’re vampires, then? Infected, mutated, however you want to describe them.”

“Yes, they’re vampires. But they pose no threat. They’re nothing like the rogue that attacked you. These people are civilized. They come voluntarily, and they have a vested interest in the continuation of my research.”

“They want to be turned back, you mean?”

The room had lightened sufficiently for her to see him shrug. “Some hope for that outcome. Others are quite happy with their lot, and just come for the free lunch.”

Free lunch? She laughed, a short, startled sound. “You supply them with
blood
?”

“Think of it like a Methadone clinic. If opiate addicts can get their regular dose of Methadone at a clinic, they stay off the streets and out of trouble. They lead productive lives instead of engaging in round-the-clock criminal activity to support their addictions. Vampires are no different. If these people can get human blood through a legal, or at least not out-and-out illegal source, then everyone wins.”

She felt her forehead crease into a frown and immediately lifted her hand to smooth it. God, she had to stop doing that or her forehead would look like a roadmap. Or rather, more like a roadmap than it already did.

“Aren’t they worried about what you’ll use this research for?”

“Oh, I make full disclosure. I’m working on a vaccine to protect the very high-risk populations‌—‌the homeless, the drug-addicted, the mentally ill who roam our streets. The prime targets for the predators like the one who attacked you. Still, I’ve had to work hard to gain their trust, particularly those who don’t embrace a so-called cure. They have to trust that the vaccine won’t be turned against them, or used to deprive these peaceable citizens of viable sustenance.”

Her mind whirled and spun. In a world where pharmaceutical policy decisions were dictated by the bottom line, how could he hope to control the fruits of his labor?

“In all conscience, can you offer them that assurance?”

“I
have
offered it, so let us hope I can deliver it.” He cleared his throat. “Now, shall we discuss the hours of work? As I suggested when we talked by telephone, we’re a dusk to dawn operation here. Now you understand why.”

As she’d told him on the phone, day or night made no difference. She was quite accustomed to shift work. What she wanted to pursue was the sunlight thing. “It’s true, then? The mythology about vampires and daylight?”

He laughed, a low, amused sound. “Yes and no.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“No, vampires don’t explode into columns of fire, nor are they instantly reduced to a pile of ash. But they do have a severe photosensitivity.”

“Like a sun allergy?”

“Precisely. But more profound than anything you’ve ever seen in one of your ERs.”

She called on her memory to dredge up what details she’d retained. Somehow the immune system started treating the sun-exposed skin as “foreign,” triggering an allergic reaction. She’d even seen a few cases in the emergency department over the years.

“How profound are we talking?”

“Acute solar uticaria.”

Hives… “How acute?”

“Very. If it were a hand or a forearm that got exposed, and if the exposure were brief, it would probably be manageable. Anything more is deadly. Full-on anaphylactic reaction.”

Her stomach clenched. What a way to go. Lips swelling, airway closing… She shook the mind-picture away. “Why don’t they just carry an EpiPen?”

His face had gone flat, expressionless. “Usually the poor bastards are caught out in the open, without shelter. A single-dose injection of epinephrine isn’t going to save them in that instance, even supposing it operates the same on a vampire, given their genetic mutations. Which we don’t know for sure. Understandably, no one wants to volunteer for that particular trial.”

She let her breath escape. “That really sucks.”

“Yes, it does.”

“I’m not much of typist or a filing clerk.”

He laughed. “That’s okay. I’m not very good with dogs.”

She laughed, too. A dizzy, giddy, flirting-with-hysteria kind of laugh. Man, she must be tired. “You know what I mean. For the job. The clerical component. I’m a great charter, but I’ve never had much to do with that other stuff.”

“Ah, of course. I think it’s safe to say you’ll be better than me. You certainly couldn’t be any slower.”

“Okay, then.”

“Okay you’ll take the job?”

She ordered her twanging nerves to settle down. “Yes, I’d like the job.”

“Excellent. I think we’ll deal very well together.”

Deal very well together?
Sometimes he used the strangest turn of phrase. “When do I start?”

“I think we’d better put you on the payroll immediately,” came his wry reply. “After all, you wouldn’t be lying there if you hadn’t come for the interview.”

Immediately.
Thank goodness. An infusion for her desperately dwindling bank balance. “It could be a day or two before I’m up to scratch,” she cautioned.

“There’s no hurry,” he said. “You need to recuperate. And remember, we’ll have to do frequent blood work to monitor your situation. In fact, I’d like you to stay here for the immediate future so we can keep a close eye on things. Would that be agreeable?”

A shiver went through her at the reminder of her exposure, which she’d almost managed to forget for a few minutes. And once again, he was right. It made sense to stay here while she needed close monitoring.

Whoa, Ainsley!
Ten minutes ago, she’d been ready to fight her way out of here. What had changed?

Well, number one, despite his slayer routine, he seemed genuinely devoted to helping the vampire community co-exist peaceably with the broader community.

God, had she just framed the thought
vampire community
?

She forced her thoughts back to why she felt better disposed to staying here.

Well, he’d actually
asked
this time, more of an invitation than a decree. She didn’t feel so much like a prisoner.

Plus her future didn’t look quite as gloomy as she’d assumed. Worst case scenario, if she were infected and Delano … er, Dr. Bowen were unable to halt the progression, it didn’t mean she’d automatically turn into a ravening predator like her attacker. Clearly, there were kinder, gentler vampires.

“Ms. Crawford?”

“Ainsley,” she said. “If we’re going to work together, I guess you’d better call me Ainsley.”

“And you can call me Delano.”

“Delano.” She said his name experimentally, surprised at how easily it rolled off her tongue. “Okay, Delano, if I’m going to stay here, I’m going to need some things from my apartment. Can we make a trip over there tomorrow?”

“I’ll have Eli do it. Just make a list of what you’d like to have and he’ll see to it.”

“Thank you.”

“And now, I really must snatch some sleep. Vampire hours and all that.” With that, he left as quietly as he’d come.

Vampire hours.

Suddenly, the fundamental, frightening paradigm shifts she’d been forced to make in the last hours caught up with her. Finding the lever, she lowered the head of the bed so she could lie prone again, adjusted her pillow and closed her eyes. She’d think about it all tomorrow.

No, not tomorrow.
Tonight.

Vampire hours…

C
RAZY
. F
OUR DAYS
, and he was going quietly crazy.

Currently, she was in a completely different room, and still she tortured him. She saturated his senses, aroused every lustful hunger he possessed. He hadn’t counted on that when he’d hatched this plan.

That damnable scented soap she used. Oh, it was very subtle; most people probably wouldn’t even notice it. But it had wormed its way into his olfactory system, right into his permanent memory. His scientist’s brain had catalogued the component parts insofar as he could distinguish them: sandalwood, vanilla, soft musk and some spice or other‌—‌nutmeg? Saffron, maybe? God help him, he could tell how far or how near she was from her scent alone. For pity’s sake, he could all but hear the blood in her veins.
Surge and whisper, surge and whisper…

Four short days and the frustration was a living thing under his skin. Last night, for the first time in decades, he’d been tempted to take to the darkest, most desperate streets of St. Cloud’s underbelly in search of a rogue. As restless and raw and as he felt, it would have been hugely therapeutic to pull a rogue off a victim and dispatch him straight to hell.

Except that’s what he paid professional hunters to do. He couldn’t afford to indulge himself by engaging the rogues at that level. If a hunt went south, the research would die with him. Like it or not, his place was here in the lab.

Besides, he knew from experience the therapeutic effect would be short lived. Hunting was better left to those with a genuine appetite for it, like Aiden Afflack. Handsome, smiling, easy Aiden. The man could dispatch a rogue without ruffling his evening wear, then head out to seduce his newest conquest with an equally unruffled conscience. Or maybe RJ. One part laconic, one part cryptic and two parts pissed-off. The man had been on the payroll forty years, and Delano still didn’t know what “RJ” stood for. Those men were natural hunters.

You could visit those dark streets in search of something else…

For a moment, Delano actually let himself consider the idea. Maybe with a stranger, a prostitute… Perfunctory, impersonal, detached. Maybe it would be safe.

No! Not safe.

He pushed the subversive voice back into his subconscious.

Not. Safe.

He lifted his head, nostrils flaring. She approached!

Quickly, he bent to press his eyes once again to the viewer of the electron microscope. Not that there was anything especially fascinating to see yet; after all, it had only been a few days. But he needed some time to collect himself.

“Dr. Bowen?”

“A moment.” He made several superfluous adjustments, completely destroying the focus. When he’d taken a grip on himself again, he lifted his head, brushed his hair back from his face and replaced his eyeglasses. Glasses he wore not to correct his vision, but because it helped him fit the mold people expected. They civilized him, masking the intensity of his eyes.

“Sorry,” he said. “How went the clinic?”

She slid a hand under her hair to lift it from her collar and gave it one of those very female flips, causing a resultant wave of fragrant warmth to billow toward him.

“Great,” she said. “Although it was kind of creepy, going back to your building after having been attacked outside it.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. But you understand, I can’t have the clinic in my house. The traffic coming and going…”

She grinned. “Of course. Your neighbors would have the police investigating you for suspicion of trafficking in something else entirely.”

“I trust Eli’s presence helped allay your concerns?”

Another flash of white teeth, which drew his attention to her lips.

“I’ll say! People literally cross the street to avoid us when he puts his game face on.”

Focus, Bowen
. He lifted his gaze back to her eyes. “The blood samples?”

“All squared away. The paperwork, too.”

Efficient. Of course, he’d known she would be. Pity he didn’t have more real work for her. At this rate, he’d have to drum something up just to keep her busy enough to make a full-time position plausible.

“And what about your clients? They were all well-behaved? You didn’t feel threatened or frightened?”

She smiled. “You know I didn’t. I heard you checking in with Eli. I figure that’s why he hovered over me the whole time.”

He shrugged. “After what happened on your first visit, I wanted to make certain your first clinic was as anxiety-free as we could make it.”

“Well, thank you. I appreciated it. I think I fully relaxed when I recognized the fifth donor.”

“Someone you know?”

“Yeah. Well, sort of. I don’t
know
know him, but I recognized him from the all-night video rental spot on Arcadia Boulevard.” She shook her head as though she still couldn’t get over the wonder of it. “That’s when it hit me. They’re everywhere, aren’t they? Doing all kinds of night work. Running gas pumps, re-stocking shelves…”