Even Vampires Get the Blues (13 page)

I'd just have to make him realize how shallow sex was without anything behind it, my inner elf decided. The human in me wanted to point out that most men were completely and utterly happy with nothing but a physical relationship, but I squelched that thought. Paen wasn't most men. He was different, in more ways than the obvious. He was so . . . needy. He needed someone to show him how much more there could be to life.

“I'm going to lick you from head to toe,” he mumbled against my neck, his voice thick with desire as he backed me the couple of steps to the bed. “Then
reverse the route until I end back at those tasty little ears of yours.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” I agreed, grabbing a foil packet from my nightstand drawer before beating back the mosquito netting and getting into the bed—without allowing his mouth to break contact with my skin—as gracefully as possible.

One eyebrow twitched at the sight of the foil packet.

“For later,” I said, pulling him down onto me.

“We don't need that,” he said, his tongue making a swipe across the top of my ear. I shivered with ecstasy and rubbed my hips against his erection. “You're immortal.”

“No, I'm half elf. That means I have approximately double a human life span, but I can still get diseases. Not to mention pregnant. And since I'd like to avoid both at this time, we'll just have to do this my way.”

“If you insist,” he said, pausing to suck his breath in when I trailed both hands down his sides to find the proof of his interest again.

“No more ears. I'm on the verge of an orgasm now, and I don't think I could stand much more,” I told him as his head dipped toward mine.

“As you like. No. No more of that right now, either,” he answered, plucking my hands from his crotch.

“Am I too rough?” I asked, worried for a moment that my (relative) inexperience was causing me to do things wrong.

“Not at all, but tonight is for you. I want to give you pleasure, and if you keep touching me that way, it'll all be over and I'll just go to sleep.”

“You're a vampire!” I said, nipping his shoulder. “You're supposed to be above that sort of mortal behavior.”

“I'm also male,” he said with a grin that made my toes curl. “Let me do it my way this once. Let me give you pleasure.”

“You can try, but no promises I'll be here to enjoy it.”

His head dipped again and he took one of my suddenly impudent nipples in his mouth. “We'll see.”

Streaks of pleasure blossomed in all sorts of interesting spots, making my body hum with interest.

Unfortunately, my brain had other ideas. The feeling of disassociation washed slowly over me, a feeling that I knew would end with me drifting off while my body enjoyed the benefits of Paen's attention.

“No!” I yelled, desperately trying to grab his head to anchor myself. My hands drifted bonelessly to the bed despite my efforts to fight the lethargy that filled me. “No, dammit, not this time! Paen, stop! It's not working . . . god damn it all!”

My being floated gently out of my body, hanging over the figures on my bed for a moment, just long enough for me to appreciate the fact that Paen might be a vampire, but he had the nicest ass I'd ever seen on a man. While I sobbed in silent, impotent rage at being taken away against my will, I drifted out of the room and into our living room.

Which was in the process of being burgled.

“Paen!” I shrieked, trying to grab the doorframe as I drifted through the room toward another. I dog-paddled wildly to get myself back into the living room, somehow managing to keep myself from being sucked into the tiny kitchen. “Clare! Burglars! Help!
Someone! Oh, this is just fine and dandy. Son of a poodle, what
are
you?”

A glimmer of light from a streetlamp that peeked in through the blinds touched on the dark figure of a man as he moved around the bookcase where we stuffed bills and assorted items of a sundry nature. At first I had thought it was someone intent on robbing us, but the light revealed that this man evidently had six arms. As I watched, he flitted from one object in the room to the next, examining everything almost soundlessly—almost, because each time he moved an item to look at it, there was a soft pattering sound.

“Look, I don't know what you are, but I don't want you here. So leave and . . . hey!”

A loud groan audible from Clare's room caused the whatever-it-was to pause for a moment before it started toward her bedroom door. I lunged toward the figure, but it passed right through me, sending me spinning toward the other side of the room in a cold eddy of air. I screamed silently in sheer frustration at my helpless state. “Stop it! You can't go in there! Clare! Something's coming in! God damn it! Paen! PAEN!”
Paen!

Samantha?

There's something out here, something cold. And it's going into Clare's room—

I didn't even have time to finish thinking at him. In the time it takes between seconds I was back in my body, naked and extremely warm.

And alone, the door to my room slamming back against the wall.

Be careful
, I yelled, grabbing Paen's shirt and yanking
it on over my head as I ran toward the door.
It's got six arms.

“It doesn't have any now—it's gone.” Paen's voice rumbled out of the darkness of the living room. I felt along the wall for the light switch, but he was right—the room was empty of all but him. He started toward me. “Are you sure you saw—”

“Yes, I'm sure I saw him. It. Whatever.”

He bent to pick something up.

“It had six arms and moved really quickly, like he was being fast-forwarded. It was really creepy, and I couldn't do a thing to stop it—what's that?”

“Stones,” he said, an odd thoughtful look on his face. I touched them. They were small and round, as if they'd been washed up on the shore, about the size of a penny.

“Stones? Where did they come from?” I looked around and noticed a couple more near the bookcase. “What the heck?”

“They're apports,” Paen said, turning as Clare's door opened. I flung myself forward to stand in front of him as Finn loomed in the doorway, a sheet wrapped around his waist, Clare peeping anxiously over his shoulder. “The being you saw was a poltergeist.”

“Is something wrong? We heard noises,” Finn asked from Clare's doorway, grinning when he noticed Paen was naked and I was wearing his shirt. “Ah. Never mind, then.”

“Sam? What are you doing?” Clare asked.

“Standing in front of Paen. He's naked,” I said, a little annoyed that she didn't have the decency to look away. “Do you mind? Stop ogling him and look at your own. No, wait, don't.”

Clare frowned. “You're not my mother, Sam. If I want to look at Finn, I will. You have your own boyfriend—you can't tell me what to do with mine.”

I waved that away. “I'm not talking about that. We have poltergeists!”

“
What?
” she shrieked, trying to push past Finn. He mumbled something over his shoulder at her. She disappeared for a moment to reappear in her silk bathrobe. I snatched a pillow off the couch and shoved it at Paen before running to my room for his kilt.

“Sorry, it must have fallen into a plant,” I apologized
as I dusted off the kilt, blocking the view of him long enough for him to put it on.

“Poltergeists? We have poltergeists? You mean like the little blond girl in the movie?” Clare asked, going straight for the bouquet on the bar that marked the division between the living room, and kitchen. She popped a couple of lilac blossoms into her mouth.

“She was an actress, not a poltergeist,” I answered, slowly walking around the room, picking up small stones. “This was a man. Or man-shaped. And he had six arms.”

“Six arms? Definitely a poltergeist,” Finn agreed. “Did he leave apports?”

Paen held out his hand. His brother took the stones and nodded.

“What's an apport?” Clare asked, munching lilac. “Six arms? Are you sure, Sam?”

“Six arms are kind of hard to miss,” I said, bringing back a handful of stones to Paen. “They look the same.”

“They are. An apport is the result of a poltergeist manifesting physical energy. I'd heard of them, but never seen one until now,” Paen answered.

“They look like normal stones,” I said.

“They are normal. It's a physical reaction to the poltergeist interacting in our world. Did you find them around the things you saw him touch?”

I nodded, rubbing my arms, cold with fear, the remaining chill of the poltergeist, and most of all, from the loss of Paen's body next to mine. “What does a poltergeist want with us? I thought they just inhabited old houses?”

“I have no idea what he wanted, but I'm going to
find out,” Paen said grimly, handing me back the stones as he strode over to the phone in a swirl of pleated blue and green plaid.

“Who are you calling?” I asked, half joking. “An exorcist?”

“No, someone better,” he answered, asking the directory assistance for a number. He wrote it down, punching in a new number as he added, “I'm going to call a Guardian.”

“Oh, no,” Clare gasped, her eyes widening, a lilac blossom halfway to her mouth.

Goose bumps marched up and down my arms as Paen held a quick one-sided conversation with someone. I slumped down onto the couch, watching him worriedly. I might not have had too much experience with dark beings, but even I had heard of Guardians. They were badass warriors, protectors of the portals to hell, the people who wrangled demons and their ilk. Guardians were good guys, but they were also seriously powerful people who were single-minded in their duties, and didn't particularly care who got in their way while they performed them. Jake told me once he'd been called in to assist a Guardian with an algul (night-feeding ghoul) who'd kidnapped a living child. The Guardian was evidently perfectly happy with using Jake as a sacrifice in order to destroy the algul, but fortunately, he had managed to escape the experience with his life intact (although he had nightmares about it for six months afterward). “Er . . . is it absolutely vital to have a Guardian? I could try scrying the location of the poltergeist—”

“No!” shouted Clare. “Gods above, Sam, the thought
of what would happen if you should try to tap into the dark powers . . .” She shuddered eloquently.

“Much as I'd like to see you scry, it won't be necessary in this instance,” Paen said, hanging up the phone before quickly entering yet another number. “An acquaintance of mine just gave me the number of a Guardian who is in the area, and might be willing to help us—assuming you don't mind a second late-night visitor?”

I glanced at the clock. It was now the third hour of deep night, and I was getting pretty tired. Still, the thought of poltergeists marching around our apartment gave me the willies. “Go ahead and invite him here. The sooner we can get this over with, the better.”

Luckily the Guardian Paen called was not put out by being called in the middle of the night. She was also not what I was expecting. Less than an hour after Paen called, she was knocking at our door, a warm, friendly smile on her face as she greeted me.

“Hullo, I'm Noelle. I understand you're having a bit of a poltergeist problem?” the petite, red-haired woman asked.

“Uh . . . yes, we are. Please come in.”

We'd used the time it took for Noelle to arrive to get dressed, search the apartment for more apports, and do a little research into poltergeists. Unfortunately, there wasn't a lot of information to be found online.

“Hullo,” Noelle said, giving everyone a smile as I performed introductions. “Ooh, a Dark One. And a Moravian. How interesting that a poltergeist would make an attempt with you here.”

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Paen said, shaking her hand. “We're lucky that you were available to help us.”

“My pleasure. I'm in the area researching the migratory pattern of Celtic werefolk, so this makes a nice change of pace. Might I see the apports, please? They should give me an idea of the type of poltergeist we're dealing with.”

I frowned at Paen as Finn handed the Guardian the collection of small stones.

“What?” he asked quietly.

“How does she know what you are just by looking at you? Is there some sort of a sign that I missed?”

“She's a Guardian,” he said blithely.

“Yeah, but she doesn't look so badass to me—whoa!”

Evidently Noelle's appearance was misleading. In the time it took for me to have the brief exchange with Paen, she finished looking at the apports, recited a couple of words, clapped her hands, and whammo! The poltergeist suddenly appeared in front of her. He looked even creepier in the light, his body movements fast and jerky, like he was on video-tape being run at twice the normal speed.

“This is a minor poltergeist,” Noelle told us when Clare gave a little scream and ran to hide behind Finn. “An apprentice, by the looks of him. He hasn't mastered the skills of appearing human or controlling apports yet. What's your name, poltergeist?”

Several loud raps answered her question. Noelle nodded, as if she understood the odd answer. “Very well, Reuben. How were you made?”

Two raps sounded.

“Is it talking?” I whispered to Paen, moving until I was right next to him.

“Evidently. I've never seen a poltergeist before. This is fascinating.”

“Yeah, fascinating,” I muttered, wishing for a moment that the poltergeist and Guardian were gone so we could go back to our previous activities. Maybe if I meditated first, I'd be able to ground myself enough to stay in my body?

“I see.” Noelle glanced at Clare, then over to Paen and me. “As you know, there are two breeds of poltergeists, orthodox and mundane.”

“Ah,” I said, trying to look savvy with the whole poltergeist thing.

Evidently Noelle saw right through my attempt. “Orthodox poltergeists are born, while mundanes are made poltergeists, generally by the cursing of a demon lord. It seems Reuben here was cursed by Oriens. He was, in fact, a faery before he was cursed.”

“Don't you say it!” Clare said, pointing a finger at me.

I grinned, but said nothing.

Noelle calmly examined the poltergeist. “Do you know what I am?”

He rapped out an answer.

“Then you know that I am perfectly capable of conducting an exorcism if necessary,” Noelle said calmly, sketching a couple of wards on him.

A barrage of agitated rapping met that statement. The poltergeist himself blinked in and out as if unable to contain his emotions.

“Just so,” Noelle said, nodding again. “I hope it
won't come to that. It really would be best if you would cooperate with us by answering our questions.”

The poltergeist knocked twice.

“Excellent.” Noelle turned to where I was clumped up against Paen's side. “I think we're ready to proceed.”

“Er . . . forgive me for asking, but do all poltergeists talk by making rapping noises?” I asked.

“Oh, heavens, no. Only the inexperienced ones. A truly old poltergeist could pass for human if he wanted. Reuben here is a very young one; I'd say about twelve or so.”

There were three raps.

“I stand corrected—he's fifteen. What questions would you like me to put to him?”

“Samantha?” Paen deferred to me. I flashed him a grateful smile that he hadn't tried to usurp my authority, straightened up, and gave the poltergeist a firm look.

“I'd like to know why he was here searching the flat.”

Reuben rapped out an answer. I looked at Noelle for a translation.

“He says he was sent here to find something.”

“What?” I asked the poltergeist. “Who sent you? And why were you going into Clare's room?”

More rapping. Noelle listened for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she concentrated. When Reuben's knocking came to an end she blushed a bit, answering us without meeting our eyes. “He says he was sent by Pilar to find a statue of a bird. I won't go into why he was going into Clare's room other than to say apparently Reuben has some voyeuristic tendencies.”

“Ew,” I said at the same time Clare gasped in outrage. “Who is Pilar?”

Noelle listened again to the raps. “All he's saying is Pilar is the one who hired him. I don't think he can answer the question, Sam. I doubt if he knows more than that.” She lowered her voice. “I don't think he's particularly bright.”

Reuben rapped once.

“This is the second mention of that statue,” Paen said thoughtfully, giving me a curious look. “I'd like to see it.”

“It's locked up at Mila's sex shop,” I reminded him. “We can see it tomorrow if you think it has some bearing on things, although I don't see how it's anything but a coincidence. An odd one, to be sure, but still a coincidence.”

“Possibly. It's difficult to tell,” Paen said.

“Is there anything else you can tell us about Pilar or why you were sent here?” I asked Reuben. The poltergeist shimmered a second or two before answering.

“He says no. He was summoned by Pilar, given instructions to search your flat, and sent on his way.”

“What does Pilar look like?” Paen asked.

Noelle translated the answer. “Medium height, dark hair and eyes. He had a monkey with him, a small monkey.”

“A monkey?” I gawked for a moment.

“How very odd,” Clare said, peering around Finn's shoulder to look at Reuben. “The man who shot me had a monkey. And you said you saw a monkey before, didn't you, Sam?”

“Yeah. What sort of a monkey was it?” I asked the poltergeist.

“Small monkey,” came the answer.

“Was its name Beppo, by any chance?” I asked, aware that Paen had moved away from me and was looking out the window to the street below.

“Yes.”

“Oooh,” Clare said, coming out from behind Finn. “How eerie is that?”

“Not terribly eerie,” I answered, nibbling my lip for a moment. “But I'm willing to bet my entire savings that this Pilar guy is one and the same as our two monkey men.”

Noelle looked surprised. “You were shot?” she asked Clare.

“Yes. My Versace is completely ruined,” Clare answered, her chin rising in a militant manner. “I'd like to meet this Mr. Pilar again. In a closed room. Just him and me and a garden hose.”

Noelle squinted for a moment at Clare, and then nodded. “Oh. Faery. That explains it.”

“I am not!” Clare protested.

We all ignored her. A few more questions determined that Reuben had no more information for us, so Noelle dismissed him with the warning not to come back. She warded the doors and windows as an additional line of defense.

“It won't keep out a really powerful being, but it should help keep out any statue-seeking poltergeists,” she told us as she was leaving. She paused for a minute at the door, tipping her head to the side as she considered the four of us standing in the living room. “Does this remind anyone of a movie?”