Mind Over Monsters Page 5

  “I would not know. I do not dine with the rest of the F.R.E.A.K.S. Apparently it makes them lose their appetites.” He steps toward me. “That is clue number two. Need another?”

  “I—”

  Before I can finish, Oliver bridges the gap between us so fast my brain barely registers it. Within a millisecond he’s within inches of me, and something that feels like an ice cube covers my lips. His long finger. I’m too shocked to even gasp.

  “Here is clue number three: I do not eat, and I do not drink … wine.”

  Oh God.

  Instantly I leap back, away from his touch. Oh God. Oh God. He smiles again. “I believe the lady has figured it out.”

  “You’re a vampire,” I say so softly I can barely hear it. He’s a friggin’ vampire. He drinks people’s blood. Blood! Eww. I’m alone with a … thing that can break me in half without even flexing a muscle! A corpse has been flirting with me. Okay, officially freaking out. A werewolf is bad, but at least he’s only evil one day a month. This guy’s a monster 24/7.

  I am more than sure the surprise and horror register all over my face, if not all over my whole body. What do I do? The bloodsucking fiend is actually grinning from ear to ear. Okay, get a grip Beatrice. He obviously doesn’t want to hurt you; he’s on the team for God’s sake. You didn’t spaz when you found out about Will, don’t do it now. He wants you to flip out. Don’t let him. I look at the smiling dead man square in the eyes. “So, you’re a vampire,” I declare. “That’s … nice.”

  “You can meet my eyes as well. That has not happened in fifteen years,” he says as if his mind is a thousand miles away. “How extraordinary.”

  “Um, why?”

  “I cannot capture your mind,” he says as if it’s a bad thing. “What kind of fun can we have now?” That grin returns. “I will just have to be creative.” He takes a step toward me, and instinctively I take a step back.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, trying and failing to hide my fear.

  He takes another step, and so do I. “I am trying to kiss you.”

  “Why?” Another step.

  “Because I think you are beautiful.”

  “Um … ”

  What on earth can I possibly say to that?

  We each step again, but I have to stop. My back hits the bookcase. Unknowingly, he’s backed me into a corner. Oliver uses this fact to bridge the gap between us again. His face moves mere inches from mine, his eyes studying my face again. Don’t know what he’s going to find besides fear and annoyance. I can smell his aftershave; it’s strong with a small hint of flowers. Wow, there isn’t a blemish or wrinkle anywhere. His long hand comes up to cradle my chin, gently pushing my face up to meet his eyes. I don’t know if it’s his hand or the fear, but I shiver.

  “Do I frighten you?” he asks in a low whisper. I can see the two white, pointed fangs as he speaks.

  “Yes,” I admit.

  He cocks his head to the right. “And yet you find me desirable.”

  “I guess.”

  His hand drops my chin, and all semblance of playfulness vanishes. “You guess?” he asks harshly.

  “You’re cute, but … ”

  He steps away from me, and I can breathe again. “Cute?” he spits. “For centuries women have wanted me, desired me. Royalty requested me by name, and you think I am cute?”

  “I—I’m sorry! You’re just not my type.”

  “Not your type?” he almost shouts.

  Okay, I’ve made the scary vampire mad. So not good. I quickly glance at the door. It’s about fifteen feet away.

  I think I can make it.

  Oliver must have seen the glance because just as I’m about to make my dash, he jumps in front of me. “Where do you think you are going?” He sounds amused again.

  Not scared, not scared, not scared. “I’m going to my room.”

  “I do not think so.”

  Okay, that’s it. I’m done. I really didn’t want it to come to this, but we just passed ridiculous. I’m about to push his smirking face into a wall using my power but a voice stops me. “Oliver!” a man barks from the door. We both turn. Will stands in the doorway, the scowl he sports making his handsome face look dangerous. I can feel his anger from here. He steps into the room, never taking his stone-cold eyes off Oliver. “What’s going on here?”

  “I was just getting to know the newest member of our happy family,” Oliver replies, not losing his smile.

  “By harassing her?”

  Oliver scoffs. “I was not harassing her,” he insists. He turns back to me. “Was I harassing you?”

  “I—”

  Oliver turns back to Will. “See, I was not harassing her. We were simply having a civilized conversation before you so rudely interrupted us. Do they not teach manners at the Metro police?”

  Will passes Oliver with a glare. “I am not in the mood.” Will stops a few feet from me. “Did you get something to eat?”

  “Not yet,” I answer.

  “Then you must be hungry,” he says, eyeing the door.

  “Yeah, I’m gonna … ” I start toward the door. Oliver doesn’t stop me this time; he just smiles as I pass. I grab my plates.

  “If you get scared in the night, Trixie, my bed is always open,” Oliver calls to me.

  “I’d feel safer with an alligator,” I say under my breath.

  “But you would not have nearly as much fun.”

  I mentally slap my forehead. I forgot vampires have heightened senses, especially hearing. Ignoring this last statement, I walk out of the library with my head held high. Will comes out a second later, jogging to catch up to me on the steps.

  “I am so sorry about him,” Will says.

  “I can still hear you!” Oliver shouts.

  Will sighs in exasperation.

  “I heard that too, William!”

  We reach the top of the stairs without a word and start down the hall. “It should be safe now. I can’t hear him, so he can’t hear us.”

  That’s a relief. “Jeez, is he always like that?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “I’m sorry, but what the heck is he doing here? I mean, I can’t see him hunting fellow vamps out of the kindness of his heart.”

  “He isn’t. They gave him a choice: join or die.”

  “What’d they catch him doing?”

  I don’t get an answer.

  My already pulsating heart rate goes up another ten notches. I was just cornered by a killer, someone who willingly took lives. And if that little display shows anything, it’s that he probably enjoyed it. A cold-blooded murderer lives in the same house and apparently has the hots for me. Just great.

  “Is he dangerous? I mean, should I hang crosses on my door or something?”

  “He knows better than to try anything. He’s just … an asshole. Pardon my language.”

  “That’s okay. I was thinking the same thing.”

  That gets a quick smile. And he’s got a yummy smile. “My best advice is to avoid him as much as possible. Don’t wander downstairs alone, he loves to skulk.” A skulking vampire, almost makes me miss skulking cockroaches in my old apartment.

  “I’m so glad you showed up when you did. I really didn’t want to assault one of my new team members on the first day.”

  “Trust me, no one would have blamed you.”

  Will takes the lead up the narrow staircase, giving me the perfect vantage point of his butt. I shouldn’t ogle my teammate’s heinie on the first day either. But I was right, it’s perfect. “So,” I say, trying to keep my mind off the beautiful sight in front of me, “you were a cop? For how long?”

  “Twenty-six years. I joined when I was nineteen.”

  “But wait, that makes you … ”

  “Fifty-one.”

  “No way. You don’t look it.”

  “It’s one of the effects of … my condition.”

  “Mine’s headaches. Trade you.”

  He chuckles softly. Good, I got a laugh. Sex can
’t be too far behind. “My ex-boyfriend is a patrolman. Chula Vista PD. We broke up almost a year ago.” Which means I’m single, just so you know. “So, any other tips you can give me? About being a good agent?”

  “Trust your instincts.” He glances at me again, still looking uncomfortable. “Always.”

  Irie was right, he doesn’t say much. Ah, the strong, silent type. A tough nut to crack. I have the feeling I’m going to have oodles of fun trying though. Like most well-read people, I can’t resist a good puzzle.

  We reach our rooms, separating to our respective sides. As I’m about to step into my room, Will says, “Alexander.” I spin around. I notice his thumb is rubbing up against his ring finger as if a ring was on it. “Um, if you need anything—you know, a chaperone around the house or … ” he runs his hand through his hair, “anything—I’m just across the hall.”

  “I may take you up on that. Thank you. For everything. You really made me feel …”—beautiful, important, giddy—“…welcome.”

  A flash of a smile crosses his face but disappears as quickly. “My pleasure. Good night.”

  “‘Night.” I step into my bedroom and quietly shut the door, resting my head against it with a sigh. I do feel safer having him across the hall. I’d feel even safer with him here, but it’s too soon for that, unfortunately. Tomorrow is another day. I deadbolt my door, though as the latch catches, I chuckle. A tank couldn’t stop the things I want to keep out; what’s one little piece of metal in wood?

  I put the plates down and fall on the bed. My white cloud seems to have gotten more comfortable in the last fifteen minutes. For someone who just slept five hours, I sure am tired. And hungry. I grab my neglected sandwich and start chomping on it. I finish in four bites, a new record. I devour the cake just as quickly.

  Without really realizing it, I’ve finished my food. Unfortunately, my hunger hasn’t been sated. It never is. Give a moose a muffin … it wants the whole basket and a Reuben sandwich on the side. But I don’t dare go downstairs for seconds. Heck, I wouldn’t go downstairs if my room were on fire.

  A prisoner in my own room, scared of one of the people I’m supposed to trust with my life. So much for the brave monster killer I’ve been psyching myself up to be for the past two months.

  Since I can’t do my first favorite thing (eat), I’ll do my second: a bubble bath. My bathroom is as lovely as the rest of the house. Pale blue tiles line the floor and walls, and two fluffy towels hang on a gold rack. I run my fingers through the soft material and they all but disappear in the thick pile. Pictures of cherubs and naked virgins hang on the walls in frames. Whoever decorated this house really had a thing for naked maidens. And to top it all off, there is a cream-colored porcelain tub big enough to fit three people and deep enough to bathe a horse. I turn on the gold faucet placed smartly in the middle of the tub. When the vanilla-scented bubbles reach the top, I drop my tired body into the heavenly water, instantly feeling better. There is nothing in the world that can’t be cured with some chocolate or a bubble bath.

  I breathe in the vanilla scent. It does nothing to assuage my ever-growing hunger but smells so freaking good I almost forget my growling stomach. I wring out the washcloth under me and put it over my eyes. Peace. At this moment, all is right in the world.

  But of course, being me, I don’t allow the peace to last long. Reality swims back. I’ve been so busy with training and studying, I realize I haven’t had time to process everything. Really I’ve just been avoiding it, pushing and pushing it away. The deepest thinking I’ve done in the past two months involved what size Band-Aid to put on my cuts. Now … oh heck. Let the thoughts flow.

  I’m stuck in Kansas. I’m living in a house with two men who can rip me apart with their bare hands before they eat me—which is scary no matter how cute they are—a woman who can make me spontaneously combust at will, another who spent the first half of her life robbing banks, a man who will know all my dirty secrets if he touches me, and another one who sees dead people. Nobody knows where I am. I’m expected to fight creatures that kill without hesitation. Three months ago, I was grading spelling tests and the most exciting thing in my life was going to the movies with April. All the fear, all the apprehension I’ve been denying the last months hits me like a brick wall. If I wasn’t sitting, I’d fall. I snap my head under the water, clutching my knees to my chest and I scream. I scream and scream until my throat aches and my lungs all but explode.

  What the heck have I gotten myself into?

  FOUR

  BELLS AND WHISTLES

  I’ve been in the tub long enough for my fingers to prune, return to normal, and then prune all over again. I’m positive I’ve used all the hot water in the state. Miraculously, there’s still some left, because I top off the tub again with steaming hot water and sigh for the twentieth time this hour. I had my freakout. It’s over and done with. All is well now. The washcloth goes back under the water and then onto my eyes so all I can see is white. I don’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed without medical intervention. It—

  Suddenly a noise as loud as a foghorn cuts through the calm room, like a fire truck’s siren, only twice as loud. I scream and jump when it starts, sending soapy water splashing onto the tile floor. I sit in the tub for a second, unsure of what to do. Is it the house alarm? Has something gotten in? Is there a fire? Sirens are never a good thing.

  Finally getting my wits about me, I climb out of the tub, grabbing a terrycloth robe off the toilet next to me. The screeching is even louder in my bedroom, so loud I have to cover my ears. God, shut up! I look above the bathroom door and notice a square piece of plastic vibrating lightly. Then the alarm stops just as suddenly as it started. The silence lasts for all of a microsecond before the pounding begins. I turn to the door.

  Once again, Will stands in the hallway about to knock again. I quickly close the gap in my robe. “What was that?” I ask breathlessly. All the tension I managed to soak away has returned with its entire extended family.

  “It’s the alarm. We need to get to the conference room.” With that, he runs down the hall.

  “Why? Is something wrong?” I call.

  “Five minutes!” he shouts before disappearing out of sight.

  “Great,” I mutter under my breath. I shut the door and prop up my still semi-full suitcases. Of course, I open the one filled solely with underwear and shoes. Seeing as I only have five minutes to do my hair, get dressed, and somehow find the conference room, I just grab the clothes I had on before. I’m still wet so the silk sticks to my arms and torso like snakeskin. Great, I look like a wet T-shirt contest. Shoes? Where are my shoes? I check under the bed, the bathroom. Crud. Oh, there they are. Under the suitcase. My hair goes into a ponytail and I’m ready.

  The house is deserted as I walk through it. Everyone must already be in the conference room, which poses a problem. I cannot, for the life of me, remember where George said the conference room was. I run through the entire first floor from the kitchen to the library, shouting for someone to help me like an idiot. I’m late for my first meeting, and I can’t find the fudging conference room. If I were them, I’d fire my butt. Can’t even find a simple room. Monsters of the world, beware.

  As I come out of the billiard room for the second time, I stop dead in my tracks, my heart catching in my chest. Oliver leans against the wall of the stairs, arms folded across his chest with an amused grin on his face. My body tenses the last bit it can. I am officially a plank of wood.

  “We were worried about you,” he says in that silk voice.

  “I—” I can’t get anything out. It’s from either the fear or the embarrassment, but either way I’m tongue-tied. His grin widens enough for me to see the tips of his fangs; my guess is this not an accident.

  For some reason, as his grin grows, all the fear—okay, almost all the fear—leaves my body. Anger floats in like a raging river. I look into his eyes, square my jaw, and fold my arms across my chest just like him. His grin fades. I always told
my kids to stand up to a bully, and that’s what this creep is. This is his version of pulling my hair or throwing a ball at me. I’d be a total hypocrite if I didn’t take my own advice. We look into each other’s eyes for a good thirty seconds. The vein in his temple bulges more and more as he goes deeper into thought. Vampires are the ultimate control freaks, and it must be killing him that he can’t capture my mind. I don’t know why he can’t, and I don’t care. He looks away first. Yeah! I won! In your face, fang boy!

  “This is ridiculous,” he mutters. “They are waiting for us.”

  Oliver turns and pushes one of the roses on the wallpaper. Immediately part of the wall slides, revealing a large metallic room with a door on the other side. An elevator. When we’re in, the door slides shut. We ride in silence as far from each other as possible, though I see him peek over at me. His eyes move away when I glance back at him. That’s right, grin boy, look away. Right now, I have no problems kicking your alabaster booty.

  Mercifully, the doors open and we step into a dimly lit hallway furnished with a burgundy carpet and wood paneling along the walls. There are three doors pretty far apart along the long hallway, one to the right of us and two to the left. Oliver walks to the first door on the left, and with a bow opens the door for me. This gets an eye roll.

  Everyone except the FBI agents and the doctor have assembled in black leather chairs on either side of a long table that takes up half the room. A theater-size screen fills the entire north wall and a felt board takes up the east wall. Opposite the screen, where George stands, is a computer hooked up to cables in the table. I seriously doubt we’ve been called down to watch vacation slides. “There you are,” he says. With my eyes averted to the ground like a scolded child, I scuttle to an empty chair next to Irie and across from Andrew.

  “I couldn’t find the elevator,” I mumble.

  Oliver sits down across the table diagonal from me. “She was wandering up there like a lost kitten. It was rather cute.”