"I was bored." Lonely was more accurate, though Ian didn't want to admit it. "How's everything been?"
"Fairly quiet." Dougal retrieved a bottle of synthetic blood from the refrigerator, then popped it into the microwave. "Are ye coming back to work then?"
"No. I still have a week of vacation." A week when he could concentrate on his search for the perfect mate.
Dougal tilted his head as he studied Ian. "I'd heard ye'd gotten older, but 'tis amazing how different ye look."
"Aye, I can hardly recognize myself." Ian had gazed for five minutes at the photos Vanda had taken. And it wasn't just his face that was different. His body had grown so quickly, he'd barely had time to adjust. He occasionally knocked his hand against things when he overreached with his longer arms, and sometimes he tripped over his bigger, size thirteen feet.
The microwave beeped, and Dougal removed his bedtime snack. "We just had a martial arts practice downstairs." He guzzled down some blood. "Ye should have seen it. Our new guard knocked Phineas off his arse."
"Really?" Ian was impressed. It wasn't often that a mortal could defeat a Vamp in hand-to-hand combat.
Dougal headed out the door. "I'd better get to my shower before the sun rises."
The sun was nearing the horizon. Ian could already feel his metabolism dropping. He followed Dougal down the back stairs to the guardroom in the basement. The pool table had been shoved to the far wall by the sofa to create a large open space for their practice sessions.
Ian picked up a chair that had been knocked over and noticed one of the legs was broken. "That must have been one hell of a fight."
"Aye. A bit embarrassing for Phineas, though." Dougal finished his bottle as he strolled into the dormitory next door. A bathroom door banged shut.
Ian wandered into the dormitory, expecting to see Phineas McKinney, but the young black Vamp wasn't there. The sound of rushing water emanated from both bathrooms, so he was probably taking a shower like Dougal. A lot of Vamps liked to be clean before succumbing to death-sleep. It helped them feel less like a dead, rotting corpse.
The dormitory was nearly empty now. Ian remembered a time when there'd been ten coffins in the room, one for each Vamp guard to sleep in. Most of the Vamps were gone now, transferred to Eastern Europe to hunt for Casimir.
The floors upstairs were just as vacant. At one time, there'd been Roman, ten harem ladies, and numerous visiting Vamps. It had been an exciting place. But now everyone had moved on.
Roman lived with his mortal wife and child in White Plains, with Connor serving as their bodyguard. The Vamp guards who lived here at Roman's townhouse worked security at Romatech Industries, where synthetic blood and Vampire Fusion Cuisine were manufactured. Connor was head of security there, but he planned to pass the title to Ian so he could concentrate solely on Roman and his family's safety.
Ian was delighted with his upcoming promotion, but annoyed that it hadn't happened until now when he looked older. He'd started working for MacKay Security and Investigation in 1955, and he'd never made it past second-in-command. Even his best friends had found it difficult to treat him as an adult when he had looked fifteen.
He pulled his knitted jumper over his head and tossed it into the laundry hamper. He sauntered over to the coffin he'd slept in for more than fifty years. The pillow and blanket boasted the red and green MacPhie tartan, the same as his kilt. He removed his sporran and the knife from his sock, then deposited them in the small dresser by his coffin. He kicked off his shoes, then halted with a sudden thought. He'd grown five inches.
Bugger. He'd outgrown his coffin.
He climbed inside, and sure enough, his feet hung over the end. There was only one other coffin in the dorm, and it belonged to Dougal. The twin bed was for Phineas. All the other beds were upstairs.
Well, why not? In a few weeks Ian would be in charge here as well as Romatech. He could sleep anywhere he wanted. He strode from the dormitory and up the stairs.
Usually he had a snack before bed, but tonight he was full of Bleer. Vanda had joined him at the bar around four A.M. to announce his profile was complete, and he was officially posted on the Single in the City dating service.
A third glass of Bleer had boosted his confidence. He'd talked to a few ladies, and they'd agreed to meet him at the club tomorrow night.
When he reached the ground floor, the alarm went off. He froze a second, then realized what was happening. An intruder! And dammit, his reaction was too slow. He shouldn't have had that fourth glass of Bleer.
He ran into the parlor. Empty. He swiveled, tripped over his feet, and stumbled to the keypad by the front door. He turned off the alarm, so he could hear. He caught a slight noise, emanating from the library. He eased toward the entrance.