Cloak of Deceit: An Alex Moore Novel (3 page)

“You’re okay?” Cody sounded genuinely relieved. Wonders never cease.

“No.” I was tired, and sick, and hurt all over. And if it hadn’t been for those three things, I would have been pissed as hell. Of course, to top it all off, I was grudgingly aware of a disturbing pattern of self-destruction emerging in my life of late. And most of it centered around my choice in boyfriends.

“Are you there?”

“Barely.”

“Look.” He paused long enough for me to wonder if I had dozed off with the phone against my ear. I jolted when he spoke again, which made my muscles cramp up. I hadn’t been so stiff since my last soccer tournament. And I was pretty sure my brain was imploding.

“I didn’t mean for things to go so far last night,” Cody said. “I’m in trouble, Lex. I have to leave town. I don’t know for how long, but I just…wanted to make sure you were okay and say goodbye.”

“I’ll be fine.” My eyes started watering over. That was it? Just goodbye. Not I’m sorry, or I’ll miss you, or even, it’s been fun? I should not have been surprised.

I heard him swallow. “Okay, well…I gotta go. Take care of yourself, Lex.”

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” I barely kept the tears out of my voice.

Don’t cry. Do not cry!

But it didn’t matter. He’d already hung up. As I lay there in my disgusting hangover nest of bedding, shivering, and hurting in every possible way, I had an epiphany. I realized the only bigger asshole in the world than Cody was me, for wanting him in the first place. I kicked off the covers in a surge of fury and threw my phone across the room with a strangled scream. The blood drained away from my head like liquid sludge, making me woozy, and I toppled back down.

“You’re such an idiot.” I sniffed. And I had another I-told-you-so coming when my mother found out about this. Hot tears beaded down my face.

“But that’s enough, cry baby. Get up and move on now.” I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and grunted as I stood. Sort of. The floor whirled around my feet, a kaleidoscope of discarded clothing. I slid down the hall, bumping the wall several times along the way.

What kind of trouble could Cody be in, anyway? Hopefully the kind that would land him in jail with a cellmate named Bubba, who hated soap and liked pretty boys. It was vicious, but forgiveness had never been my strong suit. I felt like utter crap, and it was easier to blame Cody than to admit I had landed myself in this situation.

A year older, but no wiser. A night of near-death experiences, the hangover to end all hangovers, and not a single good memory to show for it.

There was a note from Theresa taped to the bathroom mirror: Told you. Be back Monday.

Nope, she couldn’t resist
. I tore it down and let it flutter to the floor, then leaned on the counter and blinked at my reflection. For once, I saw an exact interpretation of how I felt on the inside — sallow skin, smudged makeup, bloodshot eyes. I splashed some water on my face, but my looks didn’t improve.

Next, I noticed the giant bruise-slash-hickey on my neck, accented by two rows of blood-filled teeth-marks. It looked like Cody had tried to bite a chunk out of me. That was going to leave a scar for the rest of my life. Should I get Rabies shots?

“Perfect,” I said, and then threw up in the sink.

I climbed into the shower, but couldn’t stop shivering, even with the water on full hot. I couldn’t stand or wash, so I crouched there and let the stream beat down on me until the water ran cold.

Something was off. This was more than just partying too hard.

What had been in that drink? I wondered as I fumbled for a towel, my teeth chattering. Maybe I was having an allergic reaction. Or maybe…Cody drugged me? As angry as I felt, I couldn’t imagine Cody as the type of guy who would do that. But then again, I didn’t think he was the type of guy who would bite a girl until she bled and abandon her to the care of a total stranger, either.

Shows what I know
.

And why hadn’t the bite hurt last night? Or bled? I cupped my hand over my neck. It still didn’t hurt. Something was definitely wrong, I realized, as my muscles started to convulse and freeze-up. I staggered through my room like a darted lion, searching for my phone, knowing I only had seconds before I passed out again.

Seconds was too generous.

With my next step, the floor careened upward to slam into me.

You’re not supposed to be able to dream when you’re unconscious, but I did. I dreamt about the stranger from The Sweat Shop. He loomed over me, pressing his large, warm palm to my forehead and whispering something I couldn’t quite hear, his lips moving slower than his voice. His voice. That thick, honeyed rumble…so alluring. I closed my eyes, listening to it rise and fall, before drifting into the black fog of dreamless sleep.

I woke up in my bed, blissfully relieved of stiffness or pain, but thirstier than I had ever been in my life. I leaned up on my elbows, and though I felt disoriented, everything in the room stayed where it should. Thank God for small mercies.

It was dark outside, and I wondered how long I had been out. I lifted the covers to see I had been dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, and my bed had been stripped underneath me. Theresa’s comforter was draped over me, drenching me in the cloying scent of candied apples.

“Theresa?” My throat felt dry and scratchy. I looked around for something to drink.

“Miss Moore?”

Not Theresa
.

The overhead light came on. I rubbed my eyes as they adjusted, then froze.

“Alexandra Moore?” My tall, dark stranger eyed me from the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.

I let a few seconds pass by to make sure I wasn’t still dreaming.

He didn’t disappear.

I picked up the nearest solid object and pitched it at him as hard as I could. He ducked behind the doorway as my hairbrush hit the wall, but immediately poked his head back in.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I grabbed the lamp off the bedside table and brandished it like a deadly weapon. “Get out! Who do you think you are? I’m calling the cops!”

I threw off the covers and edged towards the windowsill, holding the lamp out in front of me. My breath came in unsteady gusts, but I was surprisingly calm, considering I had a psycho-maniac stalker in my bedroom.

He stared at me, his face a serene mask. “Which one of those questions do you want me to answer first?”

“Wh-What?” I swallowed hard, my throat constricting with the effort.

He held his hands out in front of him in a gesture of truce as he stepped into the room. His chocolate brown eyes never left mine.

“My name is Julian. I’m here to help you. I won’t harm you. I helped you at the club last night, do you remember? An associate of mine brought you home. I took your keys. Your phone is broken, by the way.”

“I don’t understand.” I shook my head. “What—” I paused and narrowed my eyes at his too-convincing expression of innocence. “No, wait, w
hy
are you here?”

“I told you, I’m here to help you.” He eased farther into the room.

“So you’re a doctor and you make house calls?”

He raised his eyebrows, his mouth twitching on one side. “Something like that.”

He wasn’t wearing the trench coat anymore, but even in just a turtleneck and jeans, he had an air of danger about him. That served as more of an attractant than a deterrent to my mixed-up radar, but something was definitely wrong with this picture. He’d stolen my keys and snuck in to my apartment to find me naked and drugged and he’d just dressed me and tucked me in?

I straightened up, projecting my mother’s don’t-you-dare-cross-me tone. “Look Mister, you don’t have to give me some bullshit excuse. I don’t care if you’re the patron saint of hangovers — what you did is against the law. It’s called breaking and entering, or, stealing and entering.” My hand tightened around the lamp. “You need to get out of here. Now.”

“I told you, my name is Julian.” He sounded mildly agitated. “I’m not going to hurt you, Alex. Don’t you want to know what happened to you last night?”

“Nope. Honestly, I’d rather forget the whole freaky thing.” I tossed the lamp down and backed towards the window.

“You’re not curious about the marks on your neck? Your bouts of unconsciousness?” He pressed forward.

I un-latched the window and inched it open, never taking my gaze from his. I shook my head slowly, trying to appear engaged in the conversation. “My loser boyfriend drugged me, bit me, and then left me there with you. Your buddy drove me home, and you got my name and address from my ID. You stole my keys and now you’re here for what — thanks? What do you want?”

He was clearly nuts. I shuffled my feet, wedging my fingers into the small crack and gripping the edge of the metal window frame.

“He didn’t drug you.” He sighed, looking at me like someone who just wasn’t getting it. Julian didn’t strike me as the patient type, or the sort of person I wanted to piss off. He took a step closer and paused beside my dresser to look me up and down. “You seem like a tough girl, Alex, so I’m just going to tell you the truth: you’re boyfriend is a— what you would call a vampire. He bit you. You died. And now you’re becoming one too.”

Yep, definitely nuts. With a side of Fruit Loops. Alarm bells sounded in my head. I whipped around, throwing the window open so fast, it slammed against the frame and flew off the track. I took a deep breath to scream my lungs out, but a large hand clamped over my mouth and nose. Julian wrapped his other arm around my waist and lifted me away from the window with graceful ease. I writhed and twisted as he held me with my feet off the ground, my back pressed to his chest. He didn’t budge.

“I understand this is hard to believe.” He spoke in low tones, right next to my ear. “But I’m telling you the truth. I’m not going to hurt you. You have my word.”

And suffocating me was what, foreplay? I whimpered and tried kicking him with my heel, but just grazed his shins. He held on tight, unfazed by my attempts to bruise and scratch his legs and arms.

“Just relax,” he said, “you’ll see in a few minutes. What’s the longest you’ve ever been able to hold your breath?” He shifted me so I had even less movement. His hand stayed suctioned over my face in an airtight seal.

My eyes watered over with the realization I was going to die. Murdered by a guy who I — of course — had the hots for.

The most mundane thoughts started to swirl in my mind, like how I wouldn’t have to do my Micro paper after all. I should have told my mom I loved her more often. Should have listened to her, and this never would have happened. And now I would never get the chance to see Europe, or to find my biological father, or to take belly-dancing lessons. Tears streamed from my eyes.

But as I thought those things, minutes ticked by. I went on not breathing. A new and shocking reality seeped into my cluttered thoughts and flipped my world on its axis. Nothing hurt. I felt no pressure in my lungs, no pain, no blackout no…heartbeat. I stopped straining to get away and hung there in silence, searching for it. I couldn’t feel or hear anything.

How could I be alive without oxygen? Six and a half minutes, if the heart kept beating, and then you were out. How could I not have a heartbeat and still be awake? Was I still stuck in a nightmare?

“I’m going to let you go now. Okay?” Julian whispered in my ear.

I’d almost forgotten about him. I stared around the room, wishing for everything to melt away into the world it was before. It didn’t. I nodded.

“Then we’re going to talk about this calmly, no screaming, all right?” His voice had taken on a dulcet tone. Whether I liked it or not, it put me momentarily at ease. I nodded again, and he gradually loosened his hold.

I slid to the floor in a puddle of shattered sensibilities, sucking in breath after breath of air I apparently didn’t need. And I cried. I brought my hand up and pressed two fingers to my carotid artery as Julian hovered over me like the Grim Reaper. Nothing. I tried my wrist, pressed my hand to my chest: stillness.

“That’s not possible!” I sobbed, pounding on my breastplate
. This can’t be real. I can’t be…dead
. I wrapped my arms around my knees, hiding my face.

Wake up, Alex. Wake up
.

A hand on my shoulder jerked me out of my internal chanting. Julian knelt beside me, his look intent, lips pressed tight. I wiped back my tears, studying him as he settled on the floor.

“Who the hell are you?”
What’s happening to me? Am I crazy? Dreaming? Dead? I can’t really be dead…

He studied my face. “I’m an Undead, like you.”

I can’t be Undead either
. I had my whole life ahead of me — graduation, travel, med school, a career, a family of my own — I just had no pulse. How was I supposed to explain that one to my mother, the heart surgeon? This was not something I could change, no matter how hard she pushed me. How was I going to make the team at Stanford if I couldn’t pass a physical? I shook my head. “This is impossible.”

“Your idea of what is possible is going to have to change,” Julian said. “We are what the myths and legends of vampires are based on. Less than alive, more than dead. This is real.”

I inwardly cringed at his words, but his voice seemed like the only normal, friendly thing in a world where nothing I had ever counted on or believed in was for sure.

“I don’t understand. I’ve known Cody for six months — he’s not a vampire. We’ve sunbathed naked together!”

“Your boyfriend is newly made, barely a week ago. And the sun doesn’t kill us right away, it merely weakens us.”

I chewed the inside of my lip, sizing him up. He looked completely serious. “For argument’s sake, let’s say I believe you. How do you fit in to all of this?”

“I’m…an enforcer.” He shifted as if he couldn’t get comfortable. He looked odd — all brooding darkness and powerful muscles hunched against my Hawaiian print hamper. He sighed and fixed me with a blank look.

Not a conversationalist, I guess. And him the only person who could tell me what the hell was going on.
Figures
. I had to get a grip on things quick, or I was going to check myself into the loony bin. “Okay, you’re an enforcer, and you’re here because Cody is in trouble?”