Blood Doll (4 page)

Christian appeared by his side, taking the lunatic by the arm and leading him away. “No, Harlan… she isn’t your dinner. Lana is a guest.”

“Lana? I like that name.”

“I do too. She’s Sarah’s sister.”

“Ooh,” Harlan said, madness sparkling all over his features as he grinned at her. “Sarah was a tasty one too.”

“Oh shut it, creep,” Christian said with a snort. “You never bit Sarah. Now go downstairs and get in your coffin.”

“Why can’t I play with her, Christian?” the old creature whined. He stamped his foot like a child, and if the thought of him eating her hadn’t terrified her so much, it would have made Lana giggle. As it stood, she wanted away from whatever he was, as soon as possible.

“Harlan…go downstairs, or I’ll put you outside.”

“You wouldn’t,” Harlan snapped. “You wouldn’t dare disrespect your elders, boy.”

“I would do it in a second if I thought you were going to hurt Lana. Now get downstairs. It’s almost dawn.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Harlan muttered, stomping down the hall like an impertinent child.

“Sorry about that,” Christian said as they heard a door open and then slam. He took Lana by the hands and pulled her to her feet. “Harlan is old. He’s a bit nuts, but mostly harmless.”

“Harmless?” Lana said with a squeak. “He wanted to eat me!”

“He wouldn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he knows I would put him outside.” He reached behind her and drew the curtains, tying them together by small strings on their edges. “It’s almost sunrise,” he explained as if she hadn’t heard him only a moment before. “Sunlight hurts. And you have to be exhausted.”

At the mention of it, Lana realized that she was ready to fall over. In answer to his statement, she yawned, rushing to put her hand over her mouth. He chuckled and curled a cold arm around her shoulders.

“Come on,” he said. “There’s a bedroom with a really comfortable bed in the back. The door locks, but I should probably warn you that the lock won’t really hold up against one of us.”

Lana paused and glared up at him. “Is that supposed to make me feel safe?”

“Not really,” he replied, “but I swear I won’t let Harlan hurt you. He won’t come out of his coffin for at least ten hours.”

“I thought you said you didn’t sleep.”

“We don’t, but Harlan doesn’t understand that. He’s technically an elder, so he falls into a torporlike state during the day. If left down there long enough, he would eventually stop moving altogether.” Christian opened the door at the end of the hall, then reached into turn on the light. He dropped his arm from her shoulder and crossed the room to bind the curtains. “If it makes you feel any better, I will keep watch, just in case the old kook decides to start day walking on us.”

“At least let me get to sleep before you leave,” Lana said. She wasn’t quite sure she trusted him not to bite her while she was out cold, but so far he hadn’t broken a promise. She climbed into the king-size bed, sinking into the down mattress with a contented sigh. Christian sat on the edge of the bed, his hands folded in his lap as she squirmed down under the covers and fluffed the pillows. “So,” she continued after she was comfortable, “why does Harlan have fangs and you don’t?”

“I do,” he replied.

“I don’t see them.”

“Our fangs only distend under two circumstances.”

“And those are?”

“Hunger and arousal.”

Lana pulled the blankets up to shield the smirk on her face. “That’s good to know,” she said. Christian pinned her with a hard look as he rose and reached to turn off the light. A moment later, she felt the bed shift as he returned to its edge. In the darkness, it was much easier to believe that things were normal and would be okay.

“One way or another, Lana, you will see Sarah again,” he said. “I promise. She was a good friend to me, and she’s strong. She will come through this.”

Lana reached out across the span of the bed, and found his hand. Christian turned his palm up, and he laced his cold fingers through hers. She felt him move—a shiver, maybe?—and he drew her hand up to his lips.

“Thank you for everything, Christian,” she said, then yawned. Her free hand rested across her mouth, and for a moment she tensed as he turned her hand and pressed his nose to her wrist. He inhaled deeply, and a low hum escaped him.

“You smell a lot like her,” he said. “Without the fear, you’re very sweet.” He kissed her wrist, sending a shiver running up her arm and down her back. Vampire or no, he was very thoughtful, and very kind. It might have been the vampire thing, but she could easily see him seducing her. With moves like that, it wouldn’t be hard. He turned her hand over again, kissed her knuckles, then brought it back down to the bed. He didn’t let go. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up, and we’ll figure something out.”

Chapter Four

Lana slept until well after sunset, and Christian was content to sit and watch her. At one point during the day, he had attempted to dislodge his hand from hers, but she had tightened her grip and whimpered something in her sleep, so he stopped trying and sat back down. Even with the snowy blanket melting into the ground and the purple gray skies, he wasn’t stupid enough to venture outside.

While she slept, Christian went over in his mind all the ways this could end, and with each new attempt he always came up with the same inevitable answer. As he looked down at Lana’s peaceful face, his lips turned down into a frown. She wanted to save her sister, but there was no way she would agree to the only plan he could foresee working.

When she finally stirred, it was well after dusk and the room was pitch-dark. Her breathing changed, and she made a soft, snuffling sound as she turned her head and started to sit up. She let go a small gasp, and gingerly tugged her fingers free of his.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Christian said, and listened to her flex her fingers, the cramped bones popping, then tug the covers up around her body.

“It was morning when I went to sleep,” Lana replied, and yawned. Christian smiled.

“Figure of speech, sweetheart. Your clothes should be dry, so go have a shower and I’ll make you more tea. There isn’t much to eat, so I’ll run you back to Boston afterward.”

“I want to know what we’re going to do to help Sarah first.”

“You probably don’t,” he said, and rose to turn on the light. Lana flinched as the bulb zinged to life, then made quick work of tucking her flyaway hair down behind her ears. Christian found he enjoyed the sight of a real woman first waking up. It had been a long time since he’d associated with a human for more than just a meal. “Shower first, then I’ll tell you what I’ve come up with.”

She seemed reluctant to do so, but Lana crawled from the bed and scurried into the bathroom. He smirked as he heard the door lock. Mortals really were trusting of their weak technology. Shaking his head, he padded down the hallway toward the kitchen, stopping long enough to throw on a pair of jeans and a dark green T-shirt. He stood in the hallway for a few moments as she moved around the room, searching out towels and the various things she would need. She probably wouldn’t appreciate the eavesdropping, so he continued on to the kitchen. As he settled the kettle on the stove, Christian heard the water come on in the bathroom, and his mind immediately went to dark places.

He felt the telltale burn of his fangs descending as he thought about her under the warm spray. Christian clutched at the counter, his fingers digging into the butcher-block top with enough force to leave dents. Yes, he was hungry and she was tempting, but he feared there was a bit more to this than just wanting to eat her. It didn’t help that he’d spent the last six hours thinking about all the ways he could convince her to let him drink from her.

He almost wished he didn’t know the things about her that he did. Sarah talked about her sister a lot, and the more she talked, the more appealing Lana had become, and not just on a meal-ticket level. He had yet to see the qualities Sarah touted, but already he felt a strange kinship with her. He liked her.

Probably more than he should.

The whistle of the kettle brought him back to the present, endings his musings on whatever it was he could think of that involved Lana. As he poured the steaming water over the tea bag, the shower went off, and his mind went wild a second time.

Oh to be that towel,
he thought, and immediately wanted to smack himself for it. She was here because she needed help with her sister, not for his sick amusement. He’d promised to keep his hands clear of her, and it was a promise he intended to keep, regardless of the fact that he’d developed an unhealthy fascination with her.

A few moments later, he heard her soft footfalls in the hallway, and the smell of soap and clean skin assaulted him. He attempted to hold his breath, but it did no good. The warmth of her mortal body spanned the room, growing stronger as she neared him, and when she laid her hand on his shoulder and reached to pull the cup out of his hands, it took every shred of self-control Christian possessed not to back her up against the wall and kiss her.

“How did you know I liked tea?” she asked as she turned and padded barefoot back across the room to sit at the table. It took a moment for his brain to catch up with her statement, and he quickly shook his head to clear the cobwebs.

“Uh…Sarah,” he said, feeling like a fool. “She told me that you two used to have tea parties when you were little. I started keeping tea in the house after she started spending time out here.”

“Oh…” Lana said, and for a moment his stupid, hopeful heart thought he heard a note of disappointment.

“She has been a great friend. When I became a scab, Sarah sort of became a mother figure to me. She took care of me, and tried to find a way to break the chain… but then she turned as well and we were both a bit lost. All either of us could think about was the blood.” Lana watched him with wide, slightly frightened eyes. Her bottom lip trembled behind the cup. “Xanthe brought me over about three weeks ago, but her little minions were still having too much fun playing with Sarah.” He raised one shoulder in a shrug. “Besides, the bitch hates Sarah…she doesn’t like anyone prettier than her.”

“Who is Xanthe?”

“The monster that runs the club.”

“Is she an elder?”

“No,” Christian said. “She’s not that old, but she’s stubborn and impetuous. The elders don’t know what sort of operation she runs. Harlan tried to tell them, but he’s quite a bit nuttier than the rest of them. They don’t believe him.”

Lana sighed and laid her head on the table. Her scent changed, and the smell of salt wafted toward him. When Christian looked back at her, he noticed her shoulders shaking; she was crying.

“The vampire world isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he continued, crossing the room to sit beside her. “The politics of the higher-ups suck—no pun intended—and those of us on the bottom are nearly helpless.” He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. It hung limply on the side of his face, and when Lana looked up at him through teary eyes, his heart twisted in his chest. “There is a way to get to Sarah, but it will not be easy, and you would be insane to agree to it.”

“What do we have to do?” she asked. The tears had already dried into pale streaks on her face, and she reached out to take his hand again. “At this point, I would do anything to save my sister. Even if it means that she has to become a vampire to survive, I’ll do it.”

“What if I told you that in order to get to her, you had to be like her?”

She went still and completely silent. Several minutes passed as Lana stared over his shoulder into space. Her bottom lip continued to tremble, and a glazed expression settled on her face. Finally, she closed her eyes and hung her head.

“Don’t answer that right now,” Christian said, and took her by the wrist. “Come on…let’s go get you something to eat.” He lifted her from the chair and set off out the door.

The snow had stopped falling for the moment, though the ground was buried beneath roughly three feet of the powdery fluff. Lana tightened her arms around him and tucked her face into his neck, just as she had the previous evening. Christian ran, fast and steady back through the woods and into the first smattering of suburbia. He paused just at the tree line.

“Do you have a hotel room anywhere? I can imagine you’d like to have fresh clothes that fit.”

“I hadn’t found one yet,” she said through chattery teeth. The wind had obviously gotten to her—her cheeks were pink from the cold. At least here, the afternoon’s warmth had melted the majority of the snow. Most of it had been reduced to salted slush piled up in the gutters. “My car is at the Alewife T-station. My stuff is there.”

“We can go get it and find you a place to change,” he replied, and started to run again. It wasn’t hard to adjust the course, and in a matter of minutes, he was placing her on her feet and taking her by the hand. “Lead the way.”

Still shivering, Lana led him toward her car. Not at all surprising to him, she stopped in front of a red Volkswagen Beetle—the old model. The car, despite her severe nature, seemed a good fit for her. Opening the hood of the car—it always messed with him that the engines were in the back on these things—she lifted a small duffel bag and started for the restroom at the end of the deck.

Again he resisted the urge to follow her and convince her to do wicked things, but only just. When she reappeared in heavy clothing with her hair pulled up into a high ponytail, he sighed.

Christian opted to let her drive into town—this late in the evening would leave her plenty of parking options, plus it would make for an easier and more scentless getaway should they have to make one. Instead of taking the driver’s seat, she handed her keys to him.

“You know the city better than I do,” she explained as she settled into the passenger seat. Once they were on the road, she turned to face him. “To get to Sarah, you said I have to become like her… you mean I have to become addicted to vampire blood and be willing to become one, don’t you?” With his lips pressed into a grim line, Christian nodded. “How long does Sarah have left?”