Mercy's Danger: Montgomery's Vampires Trilogy (Book #2) (Montgomery's Vampires Series) (25 page)

Joseph beheld Robert and me with calmness I found disconcerting. He said nothing and stroked his chin. Basically, there were two decisions he could make: kill us or don’t kill us. Things were not looking good for Robert and me.

Robert knew better than to shout, “If you touch her, I will kill you!” We were outnumbered and the situation hopeless, that much was obvious. But Robert was geared to battle. So was I. If we were going down, we’d do it fighting.

“There is no mistake,” Joseph said, extending his arms out at his side. “I’m still vampire, am I not?” 

“I don’t know why you didn’t change!” I cried. “Maybe . . . Maybe . . .”
Think of something fast or they are going to murder you!
“Maybe you’re like Nathaniel!” I had no clue where the idea had come from, but I was pretty proud of my quick thinking.

“How so?” asked Joseph.

“Could be that you’re immune to my blood, too.”

“Interesting theory. But it’s all too convenient, wouldn’t you say?”

“But I can prove my theory,” I said.
Please, please let that be the case.

“I say we end her!” jeered Serena. The group was riled now, and there were hoots and hollers of “Yah!” and “Let’s drink!”

“Let me give my blood to another. Please! Give me one more chance to prove myself. I’m not lying.” I was begging pathetically, and I’d continue to beg if it gave us any chance of survival. “It will work this time. I swear.”

Joseph chewed over my offer. He signaled to Bowler Hat and said, “Grab him.” Bowler Hat seized Robert and awaited his command. Robert wasn’t happy, but he acquiesced for my sake.

“What are you going to do?” I screeched. “Don’t hurt him!”

Joseph raised his hand in a soothing gesture. “I will grant you one more chance, Mercy. I give you my word that your fiancé will remain unharmed if your blood does prove itself useful.”

“Okay. Thank you.”
Thank you-thank you-thank you.

“But if it doesn’t, Kieran will have no choice but to execute Robert. On my order.” Joseph stared me down. “So, are you certain that what you are claiming about your blood is true? Because, if you are lying, the outcome will be very painful for your mate.”

“I trust you,” Robert murmured. “It will work.”

“Is there anyone here who would like to volunteer?” I asked. “Remember, you must be over a thousand.”

The Japanese woman stepped forward. “I will do it.”

I swept back my hair. And, just like that, this woman whose name I didn’t even know was at my neck, biting.

The changeover didn’t take long—about ten seconds—and it was vastly different from Robert’s encounter. It was far less dramatic, no pain or sickness involved. One instant she was vampire and then—poof—she was human: skin rosy, eyes faded from gold to sandy brown, body softened.

Legs wobbling, I was so relieved that I nearly passed out. I thanked my lucky stars that it worked.

The woman lost her fangs like Robert had. She held them out on her palm for the group to see, like two pearl earrings.

“Better be careful with those,” joked Dreadlocks. “Unless you’d like to give them to me?”

“Hah!” the new human joked. “Not on your life!”

Everyone was in a grand mood now that my blood had been established viable. It was like we were all old friends, like their murderous threats a few moments ago had never taken place. Like they hadn’t traveled the world trying to kill me.

Well, everyone was happy
excep
t Serena, who was pouting by Robert’s side, shooting me hate eyes.

“I don’t understand the significance of the fangs—why she should be careful. Are you worried that they won’t grow back when she becomes vampire again?” Robert raised his lip so that the group could see his pointy incisors. “Because they do. They grow back during the changeover. No implantation required.”

“I guess you haven’t heard the legend, since you are so young,” Joseph said to Robert.

“What legend?” Robert and I asked in unison.

“Anyone who possesses a vampire’s fangs has the power to control them,” said Dreadlocks.

Robert frowned. “But how can that be? When a vampire’s fangs fall out, it’s usually because they are dead . . . Am I wrong?”

Kieran chuckled, adjusting the brim of his hat. “No, you are right—partially. A vampire’s fangs will fall out when they die, which everyone knows. But if a vampire loses their fangs, it does not necessarily mean that they
have
died.”

“Why else would a vampire not have their fangs, then?” Robert asked, much to the VGO’s amusement. They started gathering around, like they were going to share a campfire legend.

“Have you never hear of pliers?” joked Kieran. “And you’re right about them growing back. If I were to pull my fangs out right now, they’d grow back by next sunrise.”

“I have heard of pliers,” Robert said. “Of course I have. But I have never heard of them being used on a vampire.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.” Joseph’s face was grim. “The last known fang extraction occurred centuries ago. It used to be a form of punishment for those who stepped out of the confines of vampire law. The practice of removing a vampire’s fangs with force is strictly forbidden in modern times, and is punishable by death.”

“You said that fang-pulling was punishment,” I stated. “Was it doled out by the VGO?”

“Yes. But others employed it as well. Why do you ask?” Kieran said guardedly, the implication being
don’t forget that you are not one of us, human.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to pry. I was merely curious.”

“Why?” Kieran persisted.

I didn’t want to reveal the horrible possibility gnawing at my mind—not all of it, anyway. “I was wondering because . . . If it’s vampires pulling out the fangs of other vampires . . .” I flapped a hand. “Sorry, I’m babbling. I was curious if a human could control a vampire, if he—or she—possessed their fangs.”

“They could, but they’d never get them through physical means,” Dreadlocks scoffed. “Vampires are far too strong.”

“Ah, yes, but they
could
still get them,” added Kieran. “In the olden days, it was not unheard of for royalty to buy vampire fangs on the black market from so-called fang merchants.”

“So they could have their very own vampire to control,” I said.

“Let’s call it what it was: vampire slavery,” Kieran uttered. “When one possesses a vampire’s fangs, it’s . . . hmm . . .” He thought for a moment. “It’s
all-consuming
, I suppose you could say. Some kings had harems of vampire women—dreadful stuff. So you can imagine why the practice is outlawed now.”

Robert, who I suspected was starting to share my dread, asked, “All-consuming? In what way?”

Dreadlocks answered, “The possessor controls everything about the vampire: their decisions, their behavior, their—”

“They can be like oracles in reverse, too,” added Kieran. When Robert and I raised our eyebrows at him, he clarified, “Instead of seeing a future that has
yet to happen
, they can
create
a future and then
make
events take place.”

Oh.

My.

God.

Mathew.

Robert’s expression mirrored my thoughts. I knew it! I just
knew
that the incidents Robert had suffered—the car wreck, the paparazzi, the assassin stabbing him in the heart—had to be more than mere coincidence.

We had to get Robert’s fangs back before Mathew learned what he could do with them. If he didn’t know already. Mathew was a complete tool, and moron to boot, but even
he
could get a clue if the facts were shoved right in his face. And if he’d been reading the papers, they had been.

As casually as possible, I meandered over to Robert. I took his hand and he squeezed my fingers a couple of times, a fleshy Morse code, to show that he and I were on the same wavelength.

Simpering, Serena whispered to me, “Mathew
is
a pesky little thing, isn’t he, Mercy?” A few vamps furrowed their brows at her seemingly out of the blue comment.

Well, didn’t that just suck? It appeared that Serena had been snooping around inside my head. Or had she? I couldn’t be positive that she was a mind reader, though it would explain her hostility towards me—her knowing how I felt about her (not that I’d made much of an effort to mask my outlook). But it was difficult to tell if Serena was truly aware of our unfortunate Mathew situation or if she was merely stirring up trouble in hopes of starting conflict between Robert and me.

“Mercy and I should be shoving off now,” said Robert, putting the kybosh on potential conversations on the topic. He began tugging me toward the door like a ragdoll, and I had no problem letting him.

“That’s a shame,” smiled Joseph, looking right at me. “We were only starting to get to know each other.”

“It’s best we don’t overstay our welcome,” I chirped.

Serena snorted.

“At least let me see you out,” Joseph said. “And I do look forward to seeing you again, Mercy.”

EPILOGUE

Outside the VGO, and finally on our own, Robert and I fell silent.

There were so many things we had to discuss, but the words wouldn’t come.

My life had been spared, but at what price? With one problem that had been solved, I’d gained another: a blood obligation to the VGO. And that was after Robert had been subjected to Serena’s relentless flirting . . . And what about the follow-up visit that had been threat-promised by Joseph? Of course, our biggest obstacle was getting Robert’s fangs back from Mathew.

Robert let out a long sigh. “That was a close one, wasn’t it?”

I took Robert’s hand into mine, answering him with a smile.

“Are you ready to go home?” he asked.

I nodded.

There was plenty of time for talking. Later.

But for now . . .

Now we would walk across the wet grass and through the fog, leaving the VGO headquarters far behind us. We’d go home to California and work on rebuilding our lives. We’d prepare for dark days to come.

These were plans we never spoke out loud. To do so would have been unwarranted. In our hearts we both knew this wasn’t the end.

READ ON FOR A SPECIAL PREVIEW OF

MERCY’S DESTINY,

THE GRIPPING SEQUEL TO
Mercy’s Danger.

Mercy’s Destiny

1

Robert would wear a hole right through the rug if he didn’t stop pacing.

If vampires weren’t careful, they could destroy objects simply by engaging in activities humans tend to take for granted. On days he’d been distracted, I’d seen Robert rip a handle from a car door and crush fine crystal glassware in his bare hands. One time, when we were running late for a double date with my best friend and her husband, he ripped the zipper clear off the back of my dress. I hadn’t minded the loss of the dress so much at the time, since the aftermath of that particular incident had been fun, though now I always thought twice about asking him to zip me up.

But Robert would be devastated if the rug were destroyed. A close mortal friend of his had bequeathed it to him over a century ago and it held great sentimental value. I, on the other hand, would be over the moon if the fringed abomination were wrecked beyond repair. I loathed its seizure-inducing burgundy and navy paisley pattern, which reminded me of amoebas, especially after I’d had a glass of wine or two.

Robert and I had very different ideas on what was considered “classic” home decorating. My tastes were modern and minimal; his were frilly and gilded everything. You could see why this would be a problem, with the two of us cohabitating.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Robert said for about the twentieth time during our conversation. I’d stopped counting after around ten. “There’s got to be some other way around this.”

Poor Robert. I could hardly fault my delightful boyfriend for worrying about my welfare. He wasn’t accustomed to yielding to the demands of humans, unless the requests were corporate in nature. As a CEO, Robert had a great head for business, and he could compartmentalize his emotions like you wouldn’t believe. This, I’d learned, was pretty standard for most vampires. I imagined most vamps—the ones that had been around for centuries, anyway—couldn’t be bothered with sweating the small stuff. How ridiculous would they feel getting up in arms over minor inconveniences like flight delays and rude salespeople when they’d witnessed slavery and beheadings?

Matters of the heart, conversely, tended to be a vampire’s Achilles heel. They either dismissed love as a ludicrous human emotion or felt it so deeply that they went a little mental when frustrated by their mate. Guess which side of the fence Robert fell on.

There really was no way around what I had to do, and Robert was reluctant to accept that repeating the same hopeful sentence again and again would not change this fact. Robert tended to be very old fashioned in his ways because he came from a different era—he was born in 1820, to be exact. If he wasn’t partaking in an act of chivalry, it seemed he felt as if he were letting me down as my lover and protector, which in his eyes were one and the same.

And so I was once again providing Robert with the same reminder I’d been giving him since the night we’d first met. “I can take care of myself.”

He pulled me in close for a kiss. Robert was always kissing me, which I loved because it made me
feel
loved.

“I appreciate your concern, I really do,” I continued. “Obviously, I’d rather have a man who cares too much rather than not at all. But, I swear, sometimes it’s like you think I’m made of eggshells.”

“My lovely, strong woman,” Robert murmured. I could feel him grinning against my face.

“And I know that you feel guilty, but you shouldn’t.”

“If it weren’t for
my
fangs you wouldn’t be in this situation,” he reminded me.

“Yes, but if it weren’t for
my
blood,” I countered, “your fangs wouldn’t have fallen out in the first place.”

“Humph.” Even Robert couldn’t argue with such logic.

“There’s nobody to blame in this situation, Robert—nobody but Mathew, that is.”

Ah, the deplorable, conniving, repulsive Mathew, known to some as my ex and fewer as the possessor of two tiny objects that could adversely affect Robert’s heath. Like an old MySpace profile, Mathew was a black mark on my past that I wished I could erase from existence forever, yet he kept popping up to haunt me when I least needed the aggravation.

Just when I thought Mathew couldn’t sink any lower as a human being, he made the unwise decision to hold Robert’s fangs hostage. Anyone familiar with ancient vampire folklore would appreciate why this was a very bad thing. The possessor of a vampire’s fangs has the power to control their actions. Out of all the people in the entire world who could possibly have command over Robert, my vindictive ex-boyfriend would be my last choice.

Mathew wanted me back. Unfortunately for him, the very idea of being enveloped in his seedy arms made me want to hurl. He’d been a terrible boyfriend back when I was with him—lying, cheating, and selfishness were his specialties. He was an even worse ex, which I’d discerned after having to deal with his lunacy on more than a few occasions.

Rather than being a standup guy and giving the fangs back simply because I’d asked for them (and, you know, because it was the right thing to do), he was refusing to do so unless I agreed to see him. Without Robert. I knew why Mathew insisted on this demand. He wanted to try to win me back.

Again.

Mathew and I had been down this road before. I’d spurned him in-person, via email, and on the phone. I was running out of outlets to reject him on. If he kept up the insanity, I’d soon have to start running Yellow Page searches on singing telegrams, carrier pigeons, and skywriters, though I doubted even a gigantic MATHEW, I DO NOT WANT TO BE WITH YOU written in the sky would make him get a clue.

Besides Mathew’s latest plan being utterly delusional in origin (did he
seriously
believe that I was going to leave my caring, handsome, wealthy boyfriend for
him?
), it seemed illogical. How Mathew thought that acting like his typical scheming self would show me how much he’d changed was beyond me. As my late grandmother used to say: Girl, there just is no reasoning with crazy.

“It’s not like I’m meeting Mathew in private,” I said to Robert. “And would you please stop pacing like that? It’s making me dizzy.”

Robert joined me on the sofa. “I’m sorry that I keep going on like a broken record.” This was a phrase he’d learned from me a couple weeks prior. Robert liked it so much that I was beginning to suspect that he purposely went on like a broken record just so that he could say that he was.

“I can’t fault you for being concerned. Trust me when I tell you that I’d rather eat a bowl of runny eggs than face Mathew.” I
hated
runny eggs. Agh! So slimy! “But you and I both know that he isn’t dangerous—just a pest.” I hoped this remained the case, anyway. Mathew’s behavior had become increasingly unpredictable, but now was not the time to point this out to Robert.

“Yes, well . . .”

“More importantly, what we
do
know is that he could inflict some serious damage if he finds out what he could do with your fangs. We can’t waste any time with this. We’ve been home for a month, Robert. The longer we let Mathew hang on to those fangs, the better chance he has of either changing his mind about giving them back or discovering their power.”

This was a harsh reality that Robert couldn’t dispute. While Mathew had at no time been violent in nature, he did despise Robert on such a level that he very well could have changed his ways. Also, Mathew knew Robert’s vampire secret and had made his feelings on my boyfriend’s “deadness” very clear. Mathew may not even view it as murder if he used the fangs to make Robert walk out into the sun, which would kill him in a heartbeat, since in Mathew’s opinion Robert was already deceased. And Mathew was just irrational enough to believe that killing my boyfriend would help pave the way for his return.

The sooner we got those fangs back, the better. We’d tried getting them back quicker, but it had taken us weeks to track Mathew down. The weasel had gone into hiding.

It was best not to provoke Mathew, which was why I believed the situation was especially aggravating to Robert. Normally, Robert would have had no issues toying with Mathew—if he actually cared enough to spite him, that is, which he didn’t—simply because he could. In the physical sense, Robert was laughably unafraid of my ex. Robert could have torn Mathew limb from limb as effortlessly as he’d ripped the zipper from my dress. Robert had even offered to do so, which I wouldn’t allow. Unlike Mathew, I was not a vindictive savage. Still, I wouldn’t have minded smacking Mathew around. Sometimes when I worked out to my kickboxing DVDs, I imagined that it was Mathew I was beating up.

Mathew had a scrounger way about him. I could never figure out how he managed it, but he always seemed conveniently placed in exactly the right position to get his way through nonphysical means. I wouldn’t dare say that he was clever—he wasn’t, believe me—but more like a squirrel that stashed away objects and information that he could later use to manipulate those around him.

He’d used his knowledge of my life with Robert to aid the Vampire Globalist Organization in their search for me, back when they
were
still searching for me. Now that the VGO misunderstanding was cleared up, I had Robert’s fang mess to contend with.

“If it’s not one thing, it’s another,” I grumbled with a sigh.

“Things will calm down soon, darling,” Robert promised. “And we can have that
normal life
you keep talking about.” He said this as if it were funny, which I supposed it was, since life with vampires was anything but normal.

“Yah, yah. I’ll believe it when I see it,” I said. “But I’ll tell you what, Robert. If Mathew continues being a pest, I might be tempted to reconsider your offer to murder him.”

Robert grinned at this.

“I’m joking,” I clarified with haste. “Sort of.”

Robert winked. “I’m here if you need me.”

“We also have to think about Serena,” I reminded Robert, switching topics. “Who knows what harm Bitch Face is capable of inflicting.”

I knew Robert was plenty concerned about Serena, who was a vampire and member of the VGO. I’d only wanted the opportunity to call her Bitch Face. In addition to flirting obscenely with Robert during our trip to VGO headquarters, Serena had hinted that she knew that Mathew had Robert’s fangs. Whether she’d ascertained this knowledge via Mathew or by reading my mind, I wasn’t clear. In truth, I couldn’t be positive that she
did
know. She’d sure made it
seem
like she did know, though she could have simply been putting on an act to mess with my head, nasty piece of work that she was.

Robert was formulating his next words carefully, I could tell. The subject of Serena was a sore one for me. “Yes, but we don’t know for sure that Serena actually
does
know that Mathew has my fangs.”

“I was just thinking the same thing, but . . .” I puffed out my cheeks and then released my breath noisily. “If we’ve learned anything at all about the VGO, Robert, it’s that it’s wisest to err on the side of caution. Am I right?”

Robert folded his arms across his chest, resigned. “Yes. I suppose you are.”

I did my best to look haggard for my meeting with Mathew: no makeup, stained grey sweatpants, hair in a frizzy ponytail, and an angry scowl. Since Mathew was mentally unstable, I’d suggested that we meet by the large pyramid-shaped fountain that was located in the local outdoor strip mall. Though we were meeting at nighttime, I felt it was safe. I’d never seen Lakeside Plaza when it wasn’t busy, and I’d been there plenty because that’s where I went to get my coffee when I was feeling too lazy to make it at home.

There were a couple other reasons why I’d chosen the fountain. The first was that it was located next to a high-end children’s boutique that, in addition to specializing in expensive leather teddy bears, sold mini cupcakes that kids got to design with their toppings of choice. There were few things that I could envision being less romantic than a bunch of spoiled kids squawking about wanting double sprinkles on their desserts.

The second reason was more practical. The fountain was smack-dab in the center of the mall, where all four sides of the parking lot joined together. If I parked strategically, my car would be close to the fountain. This was in case Mathew started to make a scene, which I was expecting. He’d caught me off-guard the last time I’d agreed to meet him, bursting into tears in a coffeehouse full of people. Lesson learned on that one. This time I’d be prepared.

Mathew had initially tried to con me into meeting him at his house, which had caused me to laugh so hard that I’d actually started coughing. Not in a million years would that be happening, I’d told him on the phone. Robert had backed that sentiment by shaking his head and mouthing
No way.
Uh,
no duh
, Robert. 

I could only imagine how that visit at Mathew’s would have gone down: fast food waiting for me on a scuffed coffee table, crumbles of dried pot leaves stuck to the bottom of my Styrofoam soda cup . . . Mismatched stubs of candles, which Mathew had lifted from some tacky curbside restaurant, illuminating our meal . . . Whiny rock ballads setting the mood, reverberating sadly from a nineties boom box . . . Video games offered up for dessert.