Tempted in the Night (10 page)
John didn't wait to see if he succeeded. "Run," he shouted at Jess, who was scraping the spilled contents back into her purse. He grabbed her by the hand and practically dragged her to his car. When they reached it, he pulled open the driver's-side door and unceremoniously shoved her inside.
A bellow of rage echoed in the night and John risked another look back. Brody was glaring at them with such feral anger and hunger that John was afraid they might not survive after all.
"Move over." He shoved Jess aside as he climbed in and pulled the door shut, locking it just as Brody reached them. With the vampire pounding on the window, John started the car and put it in gear. He hated leaving Brody alive, but his first priority had to be getting Jess to safety.
For the next ten minutes, John drove with one eye on the road ahead of them and the other on the
rearview
mirror, searching for signs that Brody was following them. He didn't think it was possible, but he couldn't be sure. Though he hated to admit it, even to himself, tonight had seriously spooked him.
Once he was sure they were safe, he slowed the car and let his attention turn to Jessica, sitting quietly beside him. There was blood on her neck, but he didn't think Brody had done more than scratch the surface. Still, the experience must have been horrifying. Wanting to offer her comfort and reassurance, he reached out and tried to lay his hand over hers. "I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner. Are you all right?"
At his touch, she pulled away. "All right?" she echoed, finally turning to pierce him with an icy stare. "Are you daft? No, I'm not alright. I'm absolutely furious."
John actually felt his jaw drop open and quickly closed it. "You know? I find your lack of gratitude a little shocking."
"You want gratitude? Well, thank you very much—for letting him get away,
again
."
Her reaction was not what he'd expected. "Are you telling me that you went out tonight specifically looking to find Brody?"
"Of course.
I lured him to me and in another minute, he would have been dead. It was a brilliant plan, until you ruined it with your compulsive need to play the hero."
"What was I supposed to do? Stand by and let him drink you dry?" John gripped the steering wheel so tightly it was in danger of snapping.
"That wouldn't have happened." She heaved a sigh, like
she
was the one forced to tap into her last reserves of patience. "Centuries ago," she finally began, "my family developed an herb that is toxic to vampires, but not to humans. We brew it into a tea and drink it. For twenty-four hours, the herb resides in our bloodstream and if, in that time, a vampire attacks and drinks our blood, it will kill him." She paused before going on. "I had several cups of that tea tonight with dinner. All I had to do was let Brody drink enough of my blood and he'd drop dead; problem solved."
John felt the shock of her statement run all the way through him. "Jesus Christ," he swore, tearing his eyes away from the road to stare at her. "You really are a psycho." His tone wasn't gentle and she had no way of knowing that he was as furious with himself as with her. If what she'd told him was true, it
had
been a brilliant plan, but damn, she was taking risks.
Her eyes shot fire bolts back at him. "Maybe if you'd lost your mother to a vampire, then you'd understand why I hate them so much. You'd understand why I'll do whatever it takes to hunt them down and kill them."
"Even at the risk of your own life?"
There was nothing but grim determination in her expression as she held his gaze.
"
Whatever
it takes."
Fifteen minutes later, the car pulled to a stop in front of the mansion and Jessica braced herself for the lecture she was sure to get as soon as Charles and the others discovered what she'd done. She had no doubt that the detective would love being the one to tell on her. When he shut off the engine, she made no attempt to open the door.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
She glanced at the house.
"Nothing."
She wasn't in that much of a hurry to go inside, but didn't expect him to understand.
"Look," he said. "I'm sorry I screwed up your plans this evening. Mac, Dirk, and I spent the earlier part of this evening dealing with Brody's latest victim, a young woman not much younger than you, so when I saw you being mauled by what I thought at the time
was
a drunk—well, I didn't want you to be a victim either."
"I knew what I was doing," she said again, sounding petulant. "Why won't you people trust me?"
He studied her. "By 'you people,' I'm assuming you mean me?"
She waved a hand to generally encompass the mansion. "You, Charles, Mac,
Dirk
—none of you seem to trust that I know what I'm doing."
"Maybe that's because everything you've done so far has been reckless—and seemingly psychotic," he said heatedly.
She glared at him. "That's only because you
assumed
that I was a helpless female in need of rescuing, when, in point of fact, I'm not." When would she learn that men everywhere were the same? She might not be as athletic as
Kacie
, or as good a swordswoman, but she
was
a vampire slayer, capable of taking care of herself, and she would prove it to everyone—the detective, Mac, Dirk, Cousin Charles—and, most especially, to her father.
Frustration, old and new, made her feel more tired than usual. "Tell me something. This evening, when you, Mac, and Dirk went out hunting for Brody, did you even see him?" His silence was answer enough. Her plan had been the better of the two.
"I have to ask," John said, sounding worried. "Are you going to turn into a vampire now? You know, since Brody bit you."
"No, it doesn't work that way." She held his gaze, willing him to understand. "When a
chupacabra
or a vampire feeds on a human,
a venom
—for lack of a better term—is injected into the victim's body through the fangs as blood is being sucked out. It's the venom that turns that person into a vampire, and it's no small amount. For there to be enough venom, essentially all of the blood must be drawn out of the body—and then, of course, the victim has to die. The conversion takes about forty-eight hours."
"Will you suffer any side effects from the bite itself?"
She frowned. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "I've never been bitten before, but I don't think so. Besides, the wound's not that serious."
He leaned toward her and used his hand to gently turn her head so he could get a better look at her neck. "It looks pretty bad to me."
His touch sent electric shocks sizzling through her, making her breathless. "I feel fine," she assured him, forcing
herself
not to look away.
With the light from the mansion spilling in through the windows, she noticed the golden flecks in his rich brown eyes. His nose, on another face, might have been called
beakish
, but in combination with his angular face, shadowed jaw, and rumpled hair, he was ruggedly handsome in a "real" way, not like any
brushstroked
Adonis she'd seen in magazines.
Her anger and frustration with the detective faded as her awareness of the man took over. She was entering unfamiliar waters. Her heart sped up a beat or two, and her mouth seemed to have suddenly gone dry. The space inside the car grew smaller, more intimate. She tried to look away, needing to break the sudden tension humming between them, but failed.
When the detective leaned closer, she didn't know whether to meet him halfway or run screaming from the car, not that it mattered either way. She couldn't move.
She thought she heard him whisper her name, but couldn't be sure with the sound of her pulse thundering in her head. She found herself holding her breath, certain that he was going to kiss her and she was going to let him.
At that moment, the front door of the mansion opened and Charles, followed by the others, came rushing out. John reluctantly sat back and reached for the door handle. He climbed out of the car just as Charles opened her door.
"Jessica? Are you all right?" Charles offered his hand to help her alight. Then his eyes widened. "Good Lord, your neck. What happened?" There was obvious worry in his tone.
"I'm fine, really."
"But your neck—"
"A scratch.
Nothing serious."
He studied her face and she refused to look away. Finally he nodded. "Okay, a scratch. Still, it might be
a good idea to have Julia take
a look at it."
"I will," she promised, grateful for any excuse to go inside. She'd just started to walk toward the mansion again when Mac reached out a hand and grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop.
"I don't give a rat's ass
who
you're related to or how long you've been hunting vampires. The way I see it, our current problems are largely your fault. Now, if you want to stay and help, then fine. We'll let you help, but you'll have to follow our rules, and number one is that no
human
goes hunting alone. Got it?"
"Mac, back off. She's had a hard night," John warned, surprising her by coming to her
defense
. Not that she needed it. Used to hunting vampires, she was not going to let a
half-
vampire like Mac intimidate her.
"If you had let me go with you—"
"No," Mac cut her off. "Not now, not ever. You're reckless and you don't follow orders. That puts everyone in danger."
Jessica felt her face heat up with anger and embarrassment. No one had ever accused her of being reckless before. Now, in one evening, she'd been accused of it twice. If anyone in her family was reckless, it was
Kacie
. Jess, by comparison, had always been the thinker, the planner; every action analyzed for all contingencies before execution. Granted, grabbing the sword and racing through the park the other night hadn't been either well thought out or planned, but everyone was entitled to break the rules at least once.
Lost in thought, she didn't notice immediately that Mac had let go of her arm until she was moving once again toward the front door and had to stop because Dirk stepped into her path.
"No more borrowing cars that don't belong to you," he said.
"A car which, by the way, we're going to want back, so if it's been towed, you get to pay the fine to have it released.
Understood?"
Jessica nodded and then pushed past him to get inside. She knew she should say something to the women; assure them that she was all right—apologize for what she'd done—but at the moment, all she wanted was to go upstairs.
Fortunately, she reached her room without running into anyone. Once there, she closed the bedroom door and felt a little of the night's tension ease. Despite how everything had turned out, she had succeeded in luring Brody to her. That alone was a huge success. No one could accuse her now of not
being a real vampire hunter—not even
her father. Though, to be fair, he hadn't meant to be insulting. Her father loved her. The problem was that while she could use a sword, she wasn't what one would call "accomplished." Not like
Kacie
was.
When her father had adopted
Kacie
after her parents had been killed, Jess had been thrilled that her best friend had become her sister. And though she begrudged
Kacie
nothing, she resented that
Kacie
seemed more worthy of the Winslow name than she was. It left her feeling inadequate and wanting to prove herself—if she could only figure out how. Finding the photograph of the old plantation home in
New Orleans
area.
What had piqued her interest were the gargoyle figures perched on the corners of the plantation home. Others might think they were part of the architectural design, but she recognized them for what they were—
chupacabras
. And where there were
chupacabras
, there were vampires.
With the current population of vampires at home in
England
seemingly under control, there wasn't much opportunity for Jess to hone her skills. That's why she'd volunteered to deliver the sword to Charles for her father. It was an excuse to come to the States, and if for some reason the two changelings living with Charles wouldn't let her hunt with them, then she'd fly on to New Orleans, find the house in that photo and hunt the vampires that were sure to be there. She would prove to everyone that she was just as much a vampire slayer as any other Winslow.
With the drying blood on her neck pulling the skin tight, she went into the bathroom to clean up. She carefully avoided looking into the mirror while she wet a facecloth. Then, inevitably, morbid curiosity drew her gaze to the reflection in the mirror.
It was a mistake. Her neck was covered in blood.
Just the sight of it set her heart pounding in her chest. She struggled to catch her breath as a cold sweat broke out across her forehead. Darkness crept along the edges of her vision, gradually expanding until she was looking through a long, narrow tunnel.