Guilty Pleasures (Vampire Hunter 1)

There was a yellow Post-it note on the door. It read, "Your weapons are behind the bar. The master brought those, too. Robert."

I put both guns in place and the knives. The one I had used on Winter and Aubrey was missing. Was Winter dead? Maybe. Was Aubrey dead? Hopefully. Usually it took a master vampire to survive a blow to the heart, but I'd never tried it on a five-hundred-year-old walking corpse. If they took the knife out, he might be tough enough to survive it. I had to call Catherine. And tell her what? Get out of town, a vampire is after you. Didn't sound like something she'd buy. Shit.

I walked out into the soft white light of dawn. The street was empty and awash in that gentle morning air. The heat hadn't had time to creep in. It was almost cool. Where was my car? I heard footsteps a second before the voice said, "Don't move. I have a gun pointed at your back."

I clasped my hands atop my head without being asked. "Good morning, Edward," I said.

"Good morning, Anita," he said. "Stand very still, please." He stood just behind me, gun pressing against my spine. He frisked me completely, top to bottom. Nothing haphazard about Edward; that's one of the reasons he's still alive. He stepped back from me, and said, "You may turn around now."

He had my Firestar tucked into his belt, the Browning loose in his left hand. I don't know what he did with the knives.

He smiled, boyish and charming, gun very steadily pointed at my chest. "No more hiding. Where is this Nikolaos?" he asked.

I took a deep breath and let it out. I thought about accusing him of being the vampire murderer, but now didn't seem to be a good time. Maybe later, when he wasn't pointing a gun at me. "May I lower my arms?" I asked.

He gave a slight nod.

I lowered my arms slowly. "I want one thing clear between us, Edward. I'll give you the information, but not because I'm afraid of you. I want her dead. And I want a piece of it."

His smile widened, eyes glittering with pleasure. "What happened last night?"

I glanced down at the sidewalk, then up. I stared into his blue eyes and said, "She had Phillip killed."

He was watching my face very closely. "Go on."

"She bit me. I think she plans on making me a personal servant."

He put his gun back in his shoulder holster and came to stand next to me. He turned my head to one side to see the bite mark better. "You need to clean this bite. It's going to hurt like hell."

"I know. Will you help me?"

"Sure." His smile softened. "Here I was going to cause you pain to get information. Now you ask me to help you pour acid on a wound."

"Holy Water," I said.

"It's going to feel the same," he said.

Unfortunately, he was right.

Chapter 41

I sat with my back pressed against the cool porcelain of the bathtub. The front and side of my shirt was clinging to me, water-soaked. Edward knelt beside me, a half-empty bottle of Holy Water in one hand. We were on the third bottle. I had thrown up only once. Bully for me.

We had started with me sitting on the edge of the sink. I had not stayed there long. I had jumped, yelled, and whimpered. I had also called Edward a son of a bitch. He didn't hold it against me.

"How do you feel?" he asked. His face was utterly blank. I couldn't tell if he was enjoying himself or hating it.

I glared up at him. "Like someone's been shoving a red-hot knife against my throat."

"I mean, do you want to stop and rest awhile?"

I took a deep breath. "No. I want it clean, Edward. All the way.'

He shook his head, almost smiled. "It is customary to do this over a matter of days, you know."

"Yes," I said.

"But you want it all in one marathon session?" His gaze was very steady, as if the question were more important than it seemed.

I looked away from the intensity of his eyes. I didn't want to be stared at right now. "I don't have a few days. I need this wound clean before nightfall."

"Because Nikolaos will come visit you again," he said.

"Yes," I said.

"And unless this first wound is purified, she'll have a hold on you."

I took a deep breath and it trembled. "Yes."

"Even if we clean the bite, she may still be able to call you. If she's as powerful as you say she is."

"She's that powerful and more." I rubbed my hands along my jeans. "You think Nikolaos can turn me against you, even if we clean the bite?" I looked up at him then, hoping to be able to read his face.

He stared down at me. "We vampire slayers take our chances."

"That wasn't a no," I said.

He gave a flash of smile. "It wasn't a yes, either."

Oh, goody, Edward didn't know either. "Pour some more on, before I lose my nerve."

He did smile then, eyes gleaming. "You will never lose your nerve. Your life, probably, but never your nerve."

It was a compliment and meant as one. "Thank you."

He put a hand on my shoulder, and I turned my face away. My heart was thudding in my throat until all I could hear was my blood pulsing inside my head. I wanted to run, to lash out, to scream, but I had to sit there and let him hurt me. I hate that. It had always taken at least two people to give me injections when I was a child. One person to man the needle and one to hold me down.

Now I held myself down. If Nikolaos bit me twice, I would probably do anything she wanted me to. Even kill. I had seen it happen before, and that vampire had been child's play compared to the master.

The water trickled down my skin and hit the bite mark like molten gold, scalding through my body. It was eating through my skin and bone. Destroying me. Killing me.

I shrieked. I couldn't hold it. Too much pain. Couldn't run away. Had to scream.

I was lying on the floor, my cheek pressed against the coolness of it, breathing in short, hungry gasps.

"Slow your breathing, Anita. You're hyperventilating. Breathe, slow and easy, or you're going to pass out."

I opened my mouth and took in a deep breath; it wheezed and screamed down my throat. I was choking on air. I coughed and fought to breathe. I was light-headed and a little sick by the time I could take a deep breath, but I hadn't passed out. A zillion brownie points for me.

Edward almost had to lie on the floor to put his face near mine. "Can you hear me?"

I managed, "Yes."

"Good. I want to try to put the cross against the bite. Do you agree or do you think it's too soon?"

If we hadn't cleansed the wound with enough Holy Water, the cross would burn me, and I'd have a fresh scar. I had been brave above and beyond the call of duty. I didn't want to play anymore. I opened my mouth to say, "No," but it wasn't what came out. "Do it," I said. Shit. I was going to be brave.

He brushed my hair away from my neck. I lay on the floor and pressed my hands into fists, trying to prepare myself. There is no real way to prepare yourself for somebody shoving a branding iron into your neck.

The chain rustled and slithered through Edward's hands. "Are you ready?"

No. "Just do it, dammit."

He did. The cross pressed against my skin, cool metal, no burning, no smoke, no seared flesh, no pain. I was pure, or as pure as I started out.

He dangled the crucifix in front of my face. I grabbed it with one hand and squeezed until my hand shook. It didn't take long. Tears seeped from the corners of my eyes. I wasn't crying, not really. I was exhausted.

"Can you sit up?" he asked.

I nodded and forced myself to sit, leaning against the bathtub.

"Can you stand up?" he asked.

I thought about it, and decided no, I didn't think I could. My whole body was weak, shaky, nauseous. "Not without help."

Edward knelt beside me, put an arm behind my shoulders and one under my knees, and lifted me in his arms. He stood in one smooth motion, no strain.

"Put me down," I said.

He looked at me. "What?"

"I am not a child. I don't want to be carried."

He drew a loud breath, then said, "All right." He lowered me to my feet and let go. I staggered against the wall and slid to the floor. The tears were back, dammit. I sat in the floor, crying, too weak to walk from my bathroom to my bed. God!

Edward just stood there, looking down at me, face neutral and unreadable as a cat.

My voice came out almost normal, no hint of crying. "I hate being helpless. I hate it!"