This Man and Woman (10 page)

“Come in,
Cherie
. I’ve been waiting for you.”

His voice floated from the bottom. Takaiya jumped out into space and dropped, bypassing the steps and landing lithely and perfectly on the wooden floor. Without one bit of sound, either. At her arrival he looked up. She nearly laughed. He had a candleholder at his podium, branching into three prongs, all with fake electric candles shining from them. He was wearing a monk’s cowl that shadowed all but his nose, mouth, and chin, he wore rimless spectacles, and he held a quill pen atop a large sheet of parchment. It dripped as she watched.

“What…are you doing?”

She had the amused note covered over after the first word. He didn’t look to appreciate it, especially when his mouth tipped down. As if he frowned.

 “Writing an epitaph.”

“Mine?”

“Of course not,
Cherie
.”

“Then whose?”

Takaiya leaned back a bit, roaming her eyes up the plethora of books, lit by little globes of light that were supposed to look like torches.

“Mine,” he replied, and bent back to his work.

“You have a fortune in here, Jean-Pierre. You ever get it appraised?”

“No need. I know the worth.”

“But…think of the history! The art. The culture. I bet academia doesn’t even know most of this exists.”

“You’re so young. You do not understand.”

“Try me,” she replied.

“If the world knows something exists, then it is attained. Using whatever methods. And at whatever cost. There isn’t enough security to keep any of this safe.”

“Oh. Good point.”

 “This room is my sanctum. Everything in here is priceless, especially to me. You are the first I’ve ever allowed down here.”

“You didn’t allow much, Jean-Pierre. I got in myself.”

He didn’t answer. Takaiya scooted a stool over to him, scraping it across the floor. She didn’t have to. She suspected she could lift it with a fingertip. She did it for effect. He didn’t look up.

He wasn’t writing. He’d been drawing. Pen and ink. Old-style. Even from upside-down, it looked like a fairly decent likeness…of her.

“You draw?”

“I’ve been known to attempt it,” he said to the paper.

“You’re very good.”

He slanted a glance over at her, probably trying for disgust at her comment. It didn’t work. He might as well send flicks of lightning at her for the catch of breath she made. And the amazing wealth of warmth that followed it. She had the strangest desire to cry.

It was as beautiful as it was unexpected. She hadn’t felt such an emotion in years. Since her father used to come home from work and lift her to him and croon to her. She was in love! Was it truly possible to fall in love in such a short span of time?

“I am an amateur. At best. Look about you. Everywhere you see an example of expertise. Talent. Supreme giftedness. You spoke on their value yourself. I am but a novice. And a fool.”

She pointed at his picture. “I think you need to make my bosom larger. And maybe my hips.”

His lips moved slightly before straightening again. She still couldn’t see his eyes because of that stupid hood.

“Ah…
non.
Those portions I have depicted perfectly.”

His voice was soft warmth, imbued with tenderness. It started a shiver all the way through her.
Whoa.
Tears pricked her eyelids, and her heart seemed to drop. She really and truly loved him. And…if he was a vampire? How much better could it get? She cleared her throat.

“Spoken like a true artist. Those who study calligraphy in my culture defend criticism of their craft, too,” she replied.

“Actually…I am a poet. I only dabble in attempts at the visual.”

“A poet? Really? Published?”

“
Non.
One-of-a-kind editions. Each bound with the finest leather, hand-tooled. I have some knowledge of leather work. It is part of my past.”

“Which part?”

“Stable hand.”

“Ah. That explains the love of horses. And…your magnificent body. I heartily approve. I suppose you act, too?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“The robe you wear now. Your French attire before. I’d guess they’re costumes for your charades. Am I wrong?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t look like he moved. Takaiya sighed.

“So, tell me…which of these books are yours?”

He dipped his head, sending shadow over the page and hiding his reaction.

“Am I going to have to guess?”

He gestured with an arm, the large drape of his sleeve grazing his drawing, smearing some of the ink. He didn’t appear to notice and she didn’t remark on it.

“You’re very smart to have electrical lighting down here. A fire would be disastrous. Are these them? The ones bound with straps?”

“Oui.”

Takaiya lifted one down, blew any dust off it, and carried it over to a table. It was very large, over two feet high, probably heavy, if she still possessed normal strength and ability. She set it down and lifted it open midway. The first thing that jumped out at her was a perfect depiction of almond-shaped eyes, and arched brows. She knew them. She saw them every time she looked in a mirror. He had elegant, beautiful hand-writing, qualifying as art in itself. But the words! The lines above the drawing sent absolute thrill all over her.

My world is empty. Endless. Bereft. Without love there is no purpose. No reason. No joy. This life is a bottomless pit of despair. Unless I find her. My love. Her eyes haunt me. Her soul beckons me. But how will I find her? And when? My perfect love. My mate.

He’d signed with scrollwork of entwined initials and dated it.
JPM. 1848.

She turned to another page toward the end. There was another depiction of her, this time to the shoulders; almost perfect, although her hair wasn’t filled in, leaving it a nondescript shade. More words of unrequited love filled the page. Her. He’d written about her. For centuries of time. And there it was.

Should fate so gift me with her love…I’d never quail. Never release her. Never leave. I’d be her willing prisoner. We’d be as one. Forever.

Forever.

Takaiya blinked any moisture away before looking up and over at him. He was studiously working at his drawing, as if uninterested in what she did. It was a lie. Everything about his taut frame demonstrated it.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“
Oui.
”

“Are you a…vampire?”

He hesitated for a moment.
“Oui.”

Her heart thudded, and then went to swift beats. “Just how old are you?”

“Ancient.”

“Come on Jean-Pierre, give me a number.”

“My birth year was 1632.”

“Hmm. Is it fun being a vampire?”

He looked up at her. “You ask more than one question.”

She tilted her head and sighed. “Answer it anyway.”

“Fun is a relative thing.”

“Say it…non-poetically. For me.”

“At times, it is a great thing to be able to fly, go right through walls…move in a blink of time. I can also project my will onto others. Make them do my bidding, without knowing they are being manipulated.”

“Like you did to me at the dinner?”

“
Non, Mon Cherie.
Like I tried to do to you at the dinner. You have an inner core of strength that made it difficult, at best.”

“So…you can do all these things, and you’re saying they’re not fun? Come on.”

“These and many more. They are all agreeable, true.”

“What about the eternal part? You’re impossible to kill, you heal almost instantly, you’re never ill. You probably don’t even have to work out to keep that body in the perfect condition it’s in. Am I right?”

“These, too, are agreeable portions of this afterlife. But you are wrong. We can be killed.”

“How?”

He lifted her hair pick.

“You’re joking. Right?”

“It’s wooden. It’s in the form of a stake. It can kill. Right through the heart. Why do you think I made you forfeit it?”

“I suspected you of cheating. And you know it. So…why do you have it now?”

He looked back down at his drawing. “It may be of use to me. Great use. Shortly.”

“Again…why?”

“Because I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ve written, drawn, and dreamt about you. Only you. Throughout all these empty years. You.”

“Oh, my.” She breathed the words and started around the table.

“After making love with you, I realized how dreadful I am. A monster. How can I even contemplate asking anything of you? So…I came to where I am the most safe, and still I am terrified. I…need to ask you something, My Sweet.”

“I’m listening.”

“Not just yet. I…am not ready. I may never be ready.”

“Does it have to do with the drawing you’re doing? The one you called an epitaph?”

He nodded, moving the cowl with it. He had his head lowered, too, keeping her from seeing anything on his face. Takaiya smiled. She couldn’t help it.

“Do you have a phone on you?” she asked.

“I do not allow such technological things into my inner sanctum. It would be a travesty of the first water. A mockery of all this knowledge and skill and talent. Disrespectful. Contemptible—.”

“Give me your phone, Jean-Pierre. Now.”

He placed his quill carefully atop the inkwell before shuffling somewhere beneath his robes. Then he pulled a little cell phone out and tossed it to her.

“Will I get service down here?”

He looked over his rimless glasses at her. The look conveyed the answer.

“Just checking.”

She winked. He jerked, sending the pen onto the parchment, making a messy blot atop her image.

“
Mon Dieu!
Look at what you’ve made me do!”

“Oh…it’s going to get a lot worse, my love,” she answered.

He straightened and shoved the hood from his head, revealing a wealth of black hair and features that didn’t belong on any monk. Takaiya had to look away to make her fingers work. Her employer answered on the first ring.

“Ambassador?”

“Takaiya, my dear. How have you been?”

“I’m well. Thank you for asking. I’m calling to tender my resignation. Effective immediately.”

“Do you know—?”

“What I am doing? Perfectly, Sir. I also need you to send notice to my landlord. I’ll release funds through the lease, but she can re-rent the apartment immediately. What? When?”

She clicked the END CALL button and looked over at Jean-Pierre. He’d taken his glasses off, shed the robe which now draped off his stool, and folded his arms. He was dressed in tight leather pants that hugged his lower half, while the top portion sported a blousy white poet shirt, gapped open, throat to chest. She could warn him about posing. Her tongue might not work. She had to look aside. He was too handsome, too stirring, and much too visual. She finished dialing with fingers that trembled.

“Honorable
Sensei
. Takaiya speaking. You called for me?”

“The
katana
has been stolen again! We harbored a traitor in our midst. We need you again.”

“Understood.”

She clicked the END CALL button again. Jean-Pierre was standing closer somehow, although he didn’t look to have moved. Everything about him brought awareness, sending waves of intensity at her. She could almost see them.

“What is it you were going to ask me?” she asked.

“Takaiya. Please? I beg of you. Do not tease.”

She smiled, cocked her head to one side, and gestured with the phone. “Did it have anything to do with eternal life, fabulous power, immense strength, instant movement? Is that part of the deal you’re offering?”

He drew to his full height, sending his shadow onto her. Nodded.

“And you? It includes you, right? I can have you…exactly as last time? Only for longer and maybe we can use that monstrosity of a bed I woke in? Forget it. The table worked fine. Just…fine.”

He grinned, revealing long, sharp canines. Takaiya felt a shiver race her spine, crawl over her skull, and settle between her breasts, where her heart starting pounding hard and heavy.

“My clan has lost the sword again. Will you help?”

“Just try getting rid of me,
Mon Cherie.”

“How soon can we get to Japan?”

“I work for the Vampire Assassin League, Takaiya. We have jets for such things as international flights. I’ll have one fueled and ready in forty-five minutes. We’ll beat it by thirty-five minutes…if we fly.”

“Fly? Really?”

“Is this a yes?”

He was within touching distance now, moving without effort, his feet hovering just above the surface of the floor.

“I’m beginning to think your last costume mirrors your naivety, Jean-Pierre. Either that or I’m a terrible communicator. Hard to believe when I spent the last five years of my life learning that skill.”

“What?”

“It’s not just yes, Jean-Pierre, it’s a hell yes! Yes! And yes! And another yes! I love you. You hear me?”

“You love me?”

“Do I have to get your quill and draw pictures for you?”

She grinned, yanked the collar of her kimono down, baring her throat. And then all she had to do was hold on.

-o0o-

Forever As One, Excerpt

7th in Vampire Assassin League series

CHAPTER ONE

They found another body.

Dane turned the page of the well-used daily paper, glanced at the grainy photo of crime tape and a couple of Key West detectives, trying to look efficient; grimaced. This kind of attention and interest was dangerous. Especially for him.

“Three Tequila Sunrises. Extra grenadine. Extra fruit. Extra orange juice. Lots of crushed ice.”

“They want any alcohol?” Dane asked.

“I think they just want to watch you move, Sweetie.”

He rolled his eyes. Spring break was always the same. Different faces, same gorgeous, almost naked bodies. None of which stirred the slightest interest from this particular bartender.

He looked over at the table where three gorgeous, nearly naked coeds stood, and got three kisses blown to him.

“Did you tell them I was gay?” he asked, putting the paper away.