The Vampire's Protector (5 page)

“I like drummers,” the other woman said as she licked Nicolo's ear.

“Timpani?” He bristled and gave Summer a wink. “I am a violinist, ladies.”

“Sounds dirty,” the licker said. “You want to violin me?”

Summer rolled her eyes. Enough. She didn't need this kind of torture.

“I'm parked outside,” she said to Nicolo. “I'll walk slowly. But I am leaving. Which leaves you to either bone them and walk to Paris on your own—where you'll find the violin—or hop in and ride shotgun.”

She'd let him figure out what that meant on his own.

Giggles followed in her wake. Summer did not turn around. A guy like him would probably choose the greater of the two evils. Heck, if she were newly risen from the grave she'd probably want to party it up, too. Who could know how much time the man had before he actually did begin to drop body parts and prove her zombie theory correct?

She wouldn't mind the drive back to Paris alone. Yet she did have an order to keep an eye on the man. And she would. In her manner.

It was misting when she stepped outside. She slid into the driver's seat, fired up the engine and flicked the windshield wipers on to the delay option. A few minutes to struggle with her ultimatum was all the man should need. She really should be nicer to him. Nicolo was like a newborn in this modern age. Everything must be new to him. Women in pants! Who'da thought? Of course, lust never changed. Sluts in bars!

And was she feeling jealous that he'd chosen such low-class choices for his first act of debauchery as a living man?

A man? What
was
he, anyway?

“There's got to be someone who can take a look at him and know. Read his essence. Maybe a witch.” She grabbed her cell phone and scrolled through the contacts. “Verity.”

Verity Van Velde was a powerful witch who had a thing about knowing other people's souls. Maybe she could touch Nicolo and know what he was? Because if he really was evil incarnate then Summer would have to suck it up and take him out. She would not be responsible for unleashing Beneath on the world.

The passenger door opened and Nicolo, smelling of wine and salty fries, slid inside. His velvet pants were sprinkled with rain droplets. He tested the seat by bouncing up and down, then slid a hand over the dashboard. It must have met his standards because he settled in. “You waited for me? I knew you would.”

“How's that?” she said as she shifted into gear. She should have started rolling down the street, just to give him the illusion that she didn't care.

“You like me,” he offered.

“Yes, well, I am your only friend. And please don't call anyone who drags her tongue down your face a friend.”

“That was pleasant. The women in this age are much more open than I've been accustomed to. Yet still very much the same when it comes to lust. And the clothing! You women wear trousers and leave your shirts unbuttoned to reveal so much bosom. Marvelous.”

“I suppose petticoats and corsets were your thing, eh?”

“Those damned corsets did cause some extra effort for a man on a mission.”

“I bet.” She smiled despite herself. “I imagine bras will fascinate you and lead you on a quest of discovery.”

“What is a bra?”

“It's a modern-day corset.” She wasn't wearing one, so she wasn't about to lift her shirt for an example. “Holds up the girls.”

“The girls? Ah, your breasts? Can I take a look?”

“You're not as smooth as you think you are.”

“I would beg to differ. After I told the one woman that I understood her pain she melted into my arms for a nice snuggle.”

“Her pain?”

He turned on the seat to face her, gesturing casually as he spoke. “When I touched her I got a flash of her life. I did not understand the images of her pouting over a mystery device such as you showed me and crying for days on end, but I knew it was painful for her. So, I worked with it.”

“You got a flash of her life?”

He nodded. “Same as when I touched you.”

“Huh. You never had that ability before? In your previous life?”

“No. Do you think it's a condition of my new existence?”

“I'm sure it is. But whether or not it's good, bad or ugly remains to be learned. How about we head west for the French border? If I drive all night we should gain Paris by morning. You can take a nap.”

“I don't feel tired. But I do wish I'd have brought along that last bottle of wine. Might we stop by another tavern along the way?”

“Depends on how nice you are to me.”

He tilted a genuinely concerned look at her. “I have no reason not to be nice to you, Summer the vampire.”

“True. And I did give you a second chance at life.”

“Yes, well, at what price?”

She glanced at him. The guy tilted his head as if to say “You did this to me.”

And she could undo it. Maybe. No matter, he'd better be nice to her.

“You said you resisted the offer from the Big Guy?” she asked.

“The Big Guy—oh, er, the Dark One?”

Good. He was on board about not speaking Himself's name too much.

“Of course I resisted. Wouldn't you?”

“Yes. But power is not an easy thing to resist. And playing such an exquisite violin.”

“The not playing was the hardest part. But you know, the black violin that raised me from the grave was not mine?”

“That's the part where I get confused. I thought your prized violin was on display in a museum.”

“Il Cannone?”
Summer knew that was the nickname he'd given his prized violin. It referred to the explosive sound he had been able to produce with the instrument. “It is still around?” he asked.

“As far as I know, it's still in a museum in Genoa. The Guarnerius?”

“Yes, made by Guiseppe Guarneri. I played that instrument for decades. It was my beloved. But after I fell ill I couldn't make my fingers move as quickly or hit the right notes. I donated it to the city of Genoa as a means to put that torture out of my life.”

“So how does this other violin come into play? The black one I found?”

“It is the one the devil Him—er, the Dark One offered me. He told me I would be restored to health and could play again. Would have all the powers he possessed. Would become a god walking this mortal realm. He made me that offer many times over my lifetime.”

“Really? And you always refused? That takes a lot of courage and bravery.”

Nicolo shrugged. “I was talented by my own right. I did not need the dark evil. Nor would I ever accept. I did not want my son to see his father become a monster. But the Big Guy—as you call him—did not relent in his temptations.”

“I give you credit for resisting. I had a run-in with him once.”

“Is that so? What great temptations did he offer you?”

“None. I was just a baby. He kidnapped me and used me as bait to get my brother, Johnny, to come to him. He was trying to steal Kambriel's soul, and Johnny was in love with her. It's a long story. Suffice it to say, Johnny got me out of there safely. But ever since I've had an allergy to demons.”

“How does that affect you?”

“Whenever one is around I start sneezing. It's weird, but kind of handy when you want to avoid the bastards.”

“I hate demons.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Really?”

“Uh, no.” She smiled at him. “That's just an expression of agreement. So, I'm sorry. For the bringing-you-back-to-life thing. Because we don't have any clue now if you're going to go evil or—” Best not to make assumptions and make him feel worse than he must already. “I gave a witch friend of mine a call. She lives in Paris. I think if she touches you she might be able to tell us what you are. Would you be okay with that?”

“Yes, I suppose. I don't feel evil. But I do feel as though I have so much to explore and learn now. I want to do it all, Summer. I have been given a new life, and I mustn't waste any time in diving in.”

“Such as with the sluts back at the bar?”

“Sluts?”

“Women of ill repute. They were looking for a good time. And I had to pay for their wine.”

“I thank you for paying the bill. I ate fish-and-chips.”

“I guessed at the chips. What did you think of that?”

“Exquisite. They were crisp and savory. I have never seen a fish cooked in such a manner, but it was delicious. I want to taste all the food. I want to drink all the wine. And I want to hear music again. How I have missed it.”

“I can help you with that.” Summer tapped her cell phone, which sat in the dashboard holder. She scrolled to the music app. “This might blow your mind.”

“Is that similar to freaking out?”

She chuckled. The guy was sweetly innocent. Something that felt so refreshing in her life right now. “Same idea. This is what music has evolved into since your time.”

She flicked through the various playlists and decided to take the first song that came up. Thanks to her dad's obsession, she'd grown up listening to a few of the country-music classics. Johnny Cash's “Ring of Fire” blasted through the car speakers.

Nicolo gaped and eyed her, then touched his ear as he tried to comprehend.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“That's—” He turned his head, checking around the inside of the car. “Where is that coming from? What sort of music is that? Is it magic?”

“Better. It's technology. Let me find some rock and roll. With your background in music I think you might appreciate the head-banging stuff.”

“It comes from your tiny box? Surely that is witchcraft. And that thing is a witchbox.”

“Whatever works for you.” Black Veil Brides blasted through the speakers. “This is called heavy metal. The band actually incorporates a violin in some of their songs.”

Nicolo, while touching his ears intermittently and then touching the dashboard in seek of the source, gradually allowed a huge smile to trace his face. And when his eyes met hers, dancing with delight, Summer felt her heart drop.

The guy was a job. And before said job was over, she may need to kill him.

Chapter 5

T
he sound—where was it coming from? Nicolo rapped the dashboard of the carriage, then sensed the sound was also coming from somewhere in the door. And the song had changed from one sung by a male vocalist to a female.

“So loud,” he remarked. “Yet her voice, it is tortured. What
is
this violent yet delicious music?”

“It's called hard rock or heavy metal,” Summer said. “You like it?”

He met her daring gaze with an unsure nod, which then changed to a more positive shake of his head. “I think I do. What is she singing?”

“Song's called ‘Welcome to the Gun Show.' The band is In This Moment. I love her voice. So raw and raunchy. But I know something that will be even more interesting to you.” She turned down the volume using the radio dial.

“Don't do that! I want to hear this.”

“I'm going to switch songs.”

“But you are moving too fast for me. I like this song. I want to put this into my brain.”

His enjoyment must have given her a kick, for she chuckled at him again. Such a bold woman. He attributed that to her being vampire. Or perhaps the twenty-first-century woman had evolved to a sort of exotically aggressive powerhouse. He liked it.

He liked Summer.

“A little David Garrett might surprise you,” she said. Tapping the witchbox, she said to it, “Play David Garrett's ‘Paganini Caprice No. 24.'”

“Did you just ask me to—” Nicolo paused when the surprising first notes of the violin caprice carried over the speakers. “
Mio Dio!
This is
my
composition! But it is...”

“Given a hard rock edge. It's awesome, isn't it?”

Despite the fact he'd never appreciated when someone had attempted to play his compositions—because they could never achieve the perfection he had mastered—Nicolo found himself shaking his head to the dashing allegretto scale. “It's different, but I do like it. The violinist even manages the harmonics. How were you able to command it to play a specific song? Does this vehicle know every song ever composed?”

Summer laughed. “No, it's in my, uh...witchbox.” She tapped the tiny device. “More stuff you'll have to learn about if you want to survive in the twenty-first century.”

“The twenty-first century.” He leaned an elbow on the vehicle door and caught his forehead in hand. “Who would have thought? And I am being conveyed in a horseless vehicle with no fear of running off the road. It is a marvel. And such a smooth ride.”

“Shock absorbers.”

“We had the like in my time. Just those springs were not so smooth as whatever is under your carriage.”

“It's a car. Ah, I love this part.” She turned up the radio.

And Nicolo closed his eyes to take in the composition. It was well played and even more rapidly than he had once managed. The violinist was an expert. But he could not get beyond the marvel that the music was right there, at the literal touch of the vampire's fingertip. She could call up any song she wished with her witchbox. A song that summoned many wonderful memories. Life had been beautiful when standing on stage. To be adored and respected had mattered to him. He'd had a lovely son and many lovers.

Could he have that again?

“We're driving through a town,” Summer informed him.

“Ah.” He opened his eyes. “Keep your eyes open for a tavern.”

“They are usually referred to as bars nowadays. I see a liquor store. With luck, they might still be open.”

After Summer had bought a bottle of wine for Nicolo and explained how money was kept on small plastic cards, he decided he wanted one of those cards. They stood outside the car, and she handed him the wine. He bit the cork out with some difficulty.

He asked after swallowing a good draft, “They issue those plastic cards to everyone?”

“Yes, but you have to pay back the money. It's not free money. And I'm pretty sure you are penniless.”

“You said my violin was on display in Genoa? If I sold that I would have thousands.”

“More like millions,” she said. “The Guarnerius Paganini is worth a fortune.”

“Just so?” She nodded at him and took a quaff from the bottle. “Then we should drive right to Genoa and demand they hand it over. It is mine, after all.”

“And how are you going to explain who you are? The whole rising-from-the-dead part?”

“I will leave that to you. It seems zombies are common in your modern world. You carry pictures of them in your witchbox.”

“I didn't take that picture. It was from
The Walking Dead
. A TV show.”

“I know what a tee-vee is!”

“Good for you. I'll have to find a music station for you to watch. Until then, I can do this.” She stepped alongside him and held up the device before them. “Smile.”

Nicolo could not figure what she was doing, but he smiled on command. Of course, he was distracted by the sweep of her hair across his neck. She took liberties with their proximity. He liked that, as well. The device clicked and after adjusting it, she turned it to him for inspection. Their images had been captured. Just now. The two of them standing together. It was...

“More than witchcraft,” he said on a tense whisper. “Is this the devil's magic? Is it you who has come to tempt me this time around and see me play the black violin?”

He backed away from her. Tried to recall the way to hold his fingers to ward off the damned, but making a cross with two fingers was not it, he was sure of that.

“Nicolo, don't worry. And we vamps are not repelled by the holy unless we've been baptized. Which I am not. Anyway, the last thing I want you to do is play that violin. A few accidental notes may have raised you from the dead, but I don't think it was enough to make you evil. I suspect you actually have to play it to get the power promised to you by Himself. You uh...don't want that power, do you?”

“The brimstone bargain.” He shook his head. “Never. I swear to it. It is vile. Monstrous. I would become like him. That is the last thing I want. I will not play the black violin, I promise you. But I must know how did you get it to Paris so quickly? If you found it back in Parma?”

“It was in Cella Monte, actually.” She shrugged, and Nicolo sensed a lie would follow. She looked away from him when speaking a mistruth. “We have our ways of making things happen.”

“We? That's right, you said you worked for some organization that retrieves things.” Apparently they could transport items rather quickly. It surprised him, yet it should not, seeing that the world had changed so drastically. “Why was it decided you needed to locate the violin now?”

“I'm assigned my missions. I fulfill them. I'm always off after some kind of magical device or haunted item. Your violin was just another mission.”

“Not
my
violin,” he reiterated.

“Right. The devil's violin. Yikes. I touched it. Do you think it will have some kind of residual effect on me?”

“You are the furthest from a zombie, my lovely blonde cherub.”

“I'm a vampire who sucks blood from people's necks to survive. Cherub will never be me.”

“Perhaps not. But a vampire named Summer?” He let his eyes stroll across her soft skin and up to those brightly inquisitive blue eyes. There lived a tease in her look that he wanted to entertain. Might his first love affair in this new age be with a vampire? “Just seems a bit too cheery for a creature of the night. You, with blood drooling out the corner of your mouth, and a pair of white cherub wings stuck on your back.”

“Ha! Quite the image. You've got a bit of goth to you, I suspect.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we'll get along just fine.”

“Thanks, Brightness. You like that better than cherub? I do. You are bright as summer.” He tapped her witchbox with the neck of the wine bottle. “Now command it to play some of that hard metal. I like the tones and wild scales those guitars produce. How is it that they sound so different than the guitar I once played?”

“They are electric. The sound is amplified. Electricity came about after your time, and it's a long explanation. Get in the car and I'll crank the tunes.”

They did so, and the car filled with the raucous tones of the female singer and some strange instruments that he guessed might be guitars, but he'd never heard one so...amplified, as Summer had explained. Amazing. It would serve to distract him from the sudden distrust that had risen when she'd paused after he'd asked about the violin.

She had it still. She must. But where had she put it? And how to find it?

* * *

About two hours east of the Italian/French border Summer stopped the car at a roadside rest stop and got out. She'd had the music on the whole way and not the GPS. Bad idea. She announced, “I'm lost. I don't recognize this road. I wonder if I took a wrong turn?”

“Why don't you ask your witchbox?” the violinist said with weighted sarcasm as he got out of the car. “It seems to have everything you need in it.”

“Good idea.” She tugged out her cell phone and asked Siri for directions.

“That is utter madness,” an astonished Nicolo said as he joined her in a stroll along the curbed rest area. “Tell me, is it a tiny witch who lives within that box?”

“No. Not even this day and age could invent something so strange.
Are
there tiny witches?”

He shrugged. “You're the one with the fangs.”

“Doesn't mean I know everything about witches. I'm going to go with no on the tiny witches. But this?” She waggled the phone between them. “It's just bits and bytes. Of which, I also know little. I only know that all the information I need is contained in here, and it's also great for finding a good vintage car supply store in a pinch.”

“Vintage. So you do have an interest in the carriages that once conveyed me from city to city?”

“Vintage is like 1950s and '60s. I own a 1960s Bimmer R65 that I've been tinkering on for years.”

“I see. So I must be absolutely ancient to you, eh?”

Summer chuckled. “You are not the oldest of my friends. Trust me on that one.”

“Right. Vampires live very long, as I recall. How old are you again?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“I remember twenty-eight. I was traveling across Europe with
il Cannone
and Antonia. Such a lovely voice she had.”

“Was she your son's mother?”

“Indeed. I had no desire to marry, but I was thrilled to become a father. My son, Achille, traveled with me on the concert route, as well.”

“Did you ever play in Paris?”

“A few times. Took me two weeks to travel the same path we now journey. I must have stayed for months following. Couldn't force myself to get back into that stuffy, wobbly box on wheels. If they would have had that remarkable cold air forced through tiny vents back then. Whew!”

“Right? It's called air-conditioning. Wait until you learn about the shower and toilets. And computers!”

“Is a shower what I think it is? Because I could use some freshening. I feel as though I've gone for almost two centuries without washing.”

“Ha. The dead guy made a joke.”

“No, the dead guy is merely speaking the truth.” He flapped the lapels of his velvet jacket open. “This thing is hot. And...a hundred and seventy-five years old. I need new clothing. But how to obtain clothing and food without money? I require a violin, as well. Then I can play for a living again.”

“I've got cash. Don't worry about it.”

He walked around in front of her to stop her in her tracks. “Summer, a man does not accept money from a woman. Not unless she wishes him in her bed every night after a concert,” he added with the roguish grin.

“Have you ever been a woman's gigolo?”

“There were a few times when the money did not come in quickly and in such amounts as I had needed. Must needs for hard times. You understand.”

“Yeah, sure. You were a man whore.”

He caught on to her tease and could play along. “I never stood on the streets offering my wares. Yet before my name became known I had to sacrifice for my art. Now where is that violin? You have to have it with you.” He peered over her shoulder at the parked car. “Where did you hide it?” He strode off toward the car.

“I said I sent it to Paris!” But she didn't believe that lie any more than he obviously did.

Summer spun around and went after him. He pounded on the trunk and ran his fingers along the seam opening.

“It is inside this car,” he said. “I can hear it. There, within this receptacle. It looks like a back boot on a carriage. Open it!”

“You can hear it, too?” For a moment their eyes met, and she saw his wince before it even happened. “I don't think it's a good idea that you touch that violin. We can't know what it will do to you.”

He rapped his chest with both fists and gave her the most incredulous stare. Okay, so they did know what it would do to him. Because it had already done it. It had brought him back from the dead.

“Let me rephrase that,” Summer said, trying for the stall.

“Open it,” he insisted. “Or I'll—”

“You'll what? Toss me across the field? Shove me so hard I'll fly into the next town?”

“I apologize for my quick aggression earlier. I had no idea I was so strong. It is a new strength to me. But I like it. It makes me feel powerful.” He flexed his fingers into a fist. “But I won't allow you to redirect this conversation. You have the violin.” He rapped the metal trunk hood. “In there. I'm sure of it. I can hear it. It whispers,” he said, feeling it in his veins. The darkness that curdled up his spine whenever he considered his origins and the wicked bargain he'd continually refused in his previous life.

And now he was alive again. Due to the evil contained inside this car. Destroying it seemed the smartest option.