The Undead Next Door(30)

Phil and Pierre would be in the cellar now, sleeping in the dormitory-style bedroom for the guards. As mortals, they were expected to sleep at night, so they could guard during the day. Vamps were totally vulnerable during their death-sleep, so the responsibility of guarding them was huge. Even so, the daytime guards rarely ran into danger. Vampire enemies were also dead during the day, and most of the mortal world was ignorant of their existence.

Alberto was a mortal who knew about vampires. Jean-Luc had confided in his young protege after Alberto had served faithfully for five years. It was a good arrangement.

Alberto kept their secrets, and in return, he was given opportunities that were rare in the fashion industry. He arranged shows and hobnobbed with powerful, influential people. He was allowed to present his own designs with the advantage of Echarpe distribution and marketing. He'd become Jean-Luc's representative during the day. He was a hardworking perfectionist with only one flaw.

He was obsessed with Simone and Inga. Learning that they were lady Vamps had only increased his desire.

They enjoyed toying with him, but tonight they'd gone too far. Jean-Luc wasn't concerned about Alberto spilling vampire secrets to the media. He and Robby could use mind control to wipe out Alberto's memory if they needed to. But it would be hard to replace Alberto. Simone and Inga didn't realize it, as vain as they were, but they would be easy to replace.

The memory of Alberto's bloody fingers shot a surge of anger through Jean-Luc. He'd warned Alberto to stay away from Simone and Inga, but obviously the man could not resist the lure of the forbidden. The irony of the situation hit home. Jean-Luc couldn't resist the forbidden, either. It would be so much more convenient if he could fall for a Vamp woman, but no, he wanted Heather.

He teleported back to his office and tried to do some work. Pierre had left an invoice on his desk. The harpsichord he'd ordered had arrived during the day. Good. Jean-Luc didn't consider himself a great musician, but after four hundred years of practice, he was certainly adequate.

Pierre had left a note that he'd instructed the workmen to set up the harpsichord next to the baby grand piano in the music room. Jean-Luc winced at the thought of mortals down in the cellar during the day, but Pierre would have made sure they saw only the main corridor and music room.

No mortal would suspect some of the rooms hid vampires in their death-sleep. Still, Jean-Luc was uncomfortable with any mortals knowing about the cellar. He'd have Robby visit these workmen and erase their memories.

And what about Heather? She knew there was a cellar now. How long could he hide his secrets from her? How could he court an honest woman with lies? He'd refused to let her go hunting with Robby and him because he figured the boarded-up buildings were locked. Robby and he could easily teleport inside, but not if Heather was with them.

When they found Lui and killed him, Heather would be free to go on with her life. Would he have to let her go and erase her memory, too?

The thought of spending eternity without her was difficult to bear. Merde, the thought of spending a week without her was painful.

Jean-Luc paced to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of Blissky. The mixture of whisky and synthetic blood burned his throat, but it didn't dull the pain.

He was losing his heart to Heather, and he didn't know how to stop it.

Heather winced as Bethany kicked her again. Between sleeping with a live tornado and her worries about the house and Jean-Luc, Heather had hardly slept a wink.

Fidelia moaned suddenly, jerking Heather more fully awake. She glanced at the bedside table where the clock numbers glowed red in the dark. Five-thirty A.M. The sun would be up soon.

Fidelia moaned again, thrashing her arms and legs. Heather considered waking her, but she really wanted whatever information Fidelia's dream had to offer.

The older woman sat up so suddenly, Heather gasped.

"Fidelia," she whispered. "Are you all right?"

"Eyes, red glowing eyes in the dark. Danger."

That was creepy, but it didn't tell them very much. "Anything else?"

With a sigh, Fidelia rested against the headboard. "I couldn't see much. It was dark. Nighttime. I heard growling. A white flash of long gnashing teeth."

Heather shuddered. The room grew silent except for Bethany's slow and even breathing.

Finally she stood and stretched. She couldn't let a bad dream stop her from living. And since she couldn't sleep, she might as well get to work. The first thing she needed to do was buy some groceries. "Do you want anything from the kitchen?" She snorted. "Some champagne?" Fidelia chuckled. "I'm fine. I'm going back to sleep. I'll get up when the little one wakes up."

"Okay. Sleep well." Heather stumbled into the bathroom. After a quick shower, she dressed in the new underwear, jeans, and green T-shirt they'd bought the night before. She slipped on her old athletic shoes and exited quietly into the hallway. A window at the end of the hall provided some dim light. The moon was half full, and stars sparkled in a clear sky.

She paused outside Jean-Luc's office. Would he be inside? They'd never discussed the specifics of her job. A red blinking light overhead drew her attention. The surveillance camera was on. Was someone watching her?

She slipped down the backstairs and peeked into the main corridor. Empty. There was a faint sound. Music.

She glanced at the cellar door. After a quick look around, she tiptoed to the door. The sound of music grew louder.

She pressed an ear against the door. Classical music. A piano and something with a tinkling sound. A harpsichord? She curled her fingers around the doorknob and gave it a twist. It turned slightly, then stuck fast. Locked.

"May I help you?" a deep voice spoke behind her.

She whirled to find Robby MacKay standing in the hall. "I…good morning. I was looking for the kitchen."

"Over here." He turned to indicate the door on the other side of the staircase.

"Oh, that's right. I'm still learning my way around." She strode toward the kitchen. "I thought I'd make a list of things we need from the grocery store. The pantry's bare, you know."

"'Tis full now. We bought ye some food."

"Oh." She paused outside the kitchen door. "Well, thank you. That was very efficient of you."

He crossed his arms, giving her a thoughtful look. "I found yer handbag in yer truck last night.

'Tis in the security office. I'll bring it to you."

"Great. I might need to run some errands."

He frowned. "If there's anything ye need, tell one of the guards. For yer own safety, ye must stay here."

"Oh." Was she a prisoner? "I see." She let herself into the kitchen, then leaned against the door, taking deep breaths. She wasn't a prisoner, she reminded herself. They were just trying to keep her, Fidelia, and Bethany safe.

And they were keeping their secrets safe, too. Curiosity killed the cat, the old saying warned her. But she was no cat. She was woman, hear her roar.

She would uncover all their secrets, one by one.





CHAPTER 15




Jean-Luc had always loved playing duets. The music swelled back and forth from the piano to the harpsichord. At times he took the lead, and the melody flowed beneath his fingertips. Other times he retreated to the background, pounding the keys to set the rhythm for the other player.

It was a bit like swordplay, he mused. With a good partner, the action swept back and forth—lunge, retreat, thrust, parry. Or like a good night of sex. Taking the lead, then easing back. Setting the rhythm, pounding over and over, sometimes gently, sometimes hard. Using his fingers to make Heather sing.

He smiled to himself. He'd win her over somehow, and it would be glorious. As the closing strain faded away, he kept his fingers on the keys to enjoy the last hint of vibration. Mon Dieu, how he wanted her. He'd thought music would help take his mind off her, but it had only made him ache for her.

"Shall we play another, Jean-Luc?" Inga asked from her seat behind the piano.

"Oh yes, please do." Simone had amused herself by dancing a minuet. "Let's call Robby to come dance with me. It'll be a party, just like old times."

Jean-Luc folded his sheet music. "Actually I have something serious to discuss."

Inga slumped on the piano bench. "You're always serious these days."

"With good reason," Jean-Luc countered. "Lui is back, and he's threatening to kill anyone I care about."

Simone gasped. "That would be us."

Jean-Luc refrained from pointing out that in the two hundred years he'd known Simone and Inga, Lui had never threatened them. He only seemed interested in killing mortals. "You both talked to him Friday night. He was disguised as an old man with white hair and a cane."

"That was Lui?" Inga looked aghast as she pressed a hand to her chest. "He seemed so charming and harmless."

"And rich." Simone flipped her long black hair behind her shoulders. "He offered me twenty thousand dollars for my company."

Inga snorted. "Does he think you're a whore?"

"Actually, I've been considering it." Simone assumed an injured look. "Jean-Luc ignores us terribly."

He'd been hearing that complaint for more than fifty years. "Didn't either of you notice that he wasn't mortal?"

Inga shrugged. "The room was full of smelly mortals."

"And now you've invited some to live under our roof." Simone shuddered. "Quelle horreur."