The Last True Vampire(52)

“Aw, crap!” Claire shot up to a sitting position, immediately regretting it. Her head pounded and the room swam. Wow. She really did feel hungover. She’d missed her shift at the diner and Lance was going to kill her. She couldn’t afford to get fired, death threats from secret societies or not. And if her new babysitter thought he could just keep her locked up in his spiffy mansion like some sort of stray cat at the pound, well, he had another think coming.

From the center of the bed she crawled toward the nightstand. Holy crap, the mattress was enormous. An entire family could sleep on the damned thing. A sigh of relief escaped her chest at the sight of the telephone, and she eased it from the cradle, dialing the diner’s number as she held her breath and said a silent prayer that she still had a job.

“Pancake Palace,” Lance answered with way too much cheer for someone who stood at a hot stove for sixteen-plus hours a day.

“Hey, Lance. It’s Claire. I’m so sorry I missed my shift—”

“Holy shit, Claire! Where are you? Are you okay? I’ve been worried sick!” The panic that infused Lance’s words put her on high alert. Way too much concern for someone who’d just barely missed a shift. “I was getting ready to file a missing-persons report.”

“I missed you, too.” Claire cleared her throat, her voice thick and lazy with sleep. What was going on with her? “Look at us. One shift apart and we’re pining for each other like an old married couple.”

A pregnant pause followed and her stomach twisted into an anxious knot. “Claire … it’s been three days.”

What?! “Um, yeah. Right.” A good hustler was always quick on her feet. “That’s what I meant. I’ve been pretty much out of it. I think it might be mono.”

“Shit.” Lance groaned. “You washed your hands religiously on your last shift, didn’t you?”

The last thing he’d want was a potential health scare at the diner. “Oh yeah. I always overdo it in the hand-washing department. But I think I’d better keep my distance until I can get into an urgent-care clinic for tests. If you have to hire someone to replace me, I’ll understand.” Claire swallowed down the lump in her throat. She needed that job, damn it. Please, please don’t fire me.

“You should have called me sooner, Claire. But I had mono in high school so I know it can lay you low. I might have to hire someone temporarily, but don’t worry. Your job is yours as soon as you’re certified germ-free. But until then, I don’t want to see your face. Understand?”

She let out an audible sigh of relief. “Gotcha.”

“Feel better, Claire.”

“Thanks, Lance. I’ll see you later.”

“Let me know if you need anything,” he said.

“I will. Bye.”

For a long moment Claire sat on the edge of bed, the phone clutched in her grip. Three days? How? On wobbly legs she stumbled across the vast bedroom, her vision failing as night slowly swallowed the last remaining gray of twilight. “Damn it!” She sucked in a sharp breath as her knee smacked against the polished wood of an antique couch, and she skirted the sitting area, her bare feet sinking into the thick pile of the expensive carpeting. When had she taken off her shoes? What in the hell was going on?

Fiery indignation swelled up inside of her, burning through the oxygen in her lungs until all that was left was a raging inferno. Mikhail had done something to her. She recalled the glint of silver flash in his eyes moments before he spoke the command “sleep.” He’d worked some sort of freaky vampire mojo on her! “Bastard,” Claire said from between clenched teeth. “I’m going to kick his ass!”#p#分页标题#e#

She tripped in her rush for the door, throwing it open too quickly, only to bang up her opposite knee. “Shit. Mikhail!” His name burst from her lips in an angry shout as she limped down the hallway toward the third-story landing. “Mikhail!” She was going to kill him. Kill. Him. No one hustled a hustler, and Claire’s pride had taken a serious hit. He’d stacked the deck in his favor, using whatever supernatural power he had to keep her in an unconscious state. It was one way to keep a houseguest, she supposed. What. A. Jerk.

Good lord, this place was a freaking museum. Down one flight of stairs, onto the second-floor landing, Claire felt if she took a wrong turn she might end up in Narnia or some shit. Both of her knees were throbbing and she was still so groggy that putting one foot in front of the other seemed like too great a feat to surmount. Fueled by anger, she continued on her track. She might well pass out by the time she made it to the bottom floor, but damn it, she was going to give that high-handed bloodsucker a piece of her mind before she did.