I did remember blood, a lot of blood. Not my blood, but vampire blood and pieces of … other things. I remembered flashes of silver light from my blades, the feel of steel slicing through flesh. And there was fire.
At some point the fight was lit with the orange glow of a bonfire. In the vague part of my brain that was still me, I found that a little odd. Vamps weren’t terribly thrilled with fire so I couldn’t imagine they had anything to do with it. Who exactly had started a bonfire in my backyard?
Sometime after the fire, I realized Inigo was there with me, fighting alongside me. The Darkness must have known he was a friend or I’d have probably tried to kill him. I wasn’t exactly myself.
Instead, the Darkness welcomed him like an old friend. A very old friend. For the first time, I felt the same buzzing tingle I felt when I was around vampires, especially really, really old vampires. In that split second, Inigo felt older than Kaldan. Older than anything I’d ever felt before.
He flashed me a fierce grin, his eyes gleaming gold in the firelight, and the feeling was gone. He was Inigo again. Just Inigo. The Darkness in me grinned back and laughed with joy.
I didn’t dare open my eyes. I was pretty sure if I did I would puke everywhere. Headache didn’t even begin to describe the way my head felt. This was more like the mother of all migraines.
I rubbed the surface underneath me with my forefinger. Even that little movement hurt, but I realized I was lying on my own bed. The satin throw underneath me was one I’d brought with me from England. I could smell the faint lingering scent of roses from my Champney’s body wash. Another habit left over from England, girlie as it was.
“How are you feeling?” Inigo’s voice reverberated though my head, making my skull pound and my stomach roil in rebellion. I let out a groan that sounded more like a whimper.
“Like shit. Without the warmed over part.”
“Nice imagery,” his voice was softer this time, and there was laughter in it. I felt him press something damp and cool to my forehead. I risked opening one eye, then wished I hadn’t as the dim light started my head pounding again. When it finally subsided, something occurred to me.
“Why are you wearing my robe?”
“My clothes are in the wash. They were kind of … gory. Your clothes are in the wash, too. I didn’t want to waste water. All about living green, me.”
My over sensitized skin told me I was wearing a T-shirt and not much else. I didn’t even want to know how I got out of my clothes and into that shirt. I risked another peek at Inigo. “But why that one?”
He looked down at himself and fingered the silky material of that robe I kept around “just in case.” “It was the only decent one you had. There’s no way I’d be caught dead in that grandma thing you own.”
I figured he meant my regular terry cloth robe. Inigo refused to wear anything even remotely comfortable. “It’s from Victoria’s Secret.” I tried to sound haughty but came out more pained than I meant.
“Sure. From their granny line.”
I rolled my eyes which set my head to pounding and my stomach to roiling again. I must have looked as bad as I felt because Inigo pressed a glass of water and a couple of tablets in my hand with a sympathetic look. I swallowed them and lay my head gingerly back on the pillow. “Why is it that every time you stop by, we end up in my bedroom?”
He gave me a wolfish grin. I would have rolled my eyes again but thought better of it. “What happened?” I asked, instead.
Inigo shrugged and brushed his hair back from his face and then adjusted his glasses. “I don’t know. One minute you were fighting like you were possessed and the next minute you just … dropped. Right after you staked the last vampire.”
I frowned at him. The geek-chic, bespectacled Inigo sitting on the edge of my bed was a far cry from the fierce warrior from earlier tonight or the smoldering seducer from a few days ago. Granted, my memory of that night was hazy, but not that hazy.
“Not the last vampire. I didn’t get Kaldan.” I knew that much. The Darkness knew that much. It still wanted him.
“We’ll get him later. For now you need some rest. You thumped your head pretty good when you fell.”
I struggled to recall just exactly what had happened. I didn’t remember much except the fighting and the smoke. “There was fire … “
He frowned. “I think you hit your head harder than you thought. Get some rest, OK? I’ll be in the kitchen. Just in case.” Then he leaned over and pressed his mouth to mine. His lips were soft, and warm, and a little dry and tasted faintly of autumn leaves, wood fires and toasted marshmallows. Weird.