Wake Me When the Sun Goes Down (27 page)

“
Absolutely.  I pulled the
swing shift, Bishop’s got night
s and Cage drew the short straw
.”

“
Bishop has you watching me?
” I gaped, wondering what reason he could have given his friends to do such a thing. 

“Yep, o
r actually no… of course not, beca
use that would sound insane
.
”
H
is smile turned uneasy. 

“Did he say why I need watching?” 

“Hey, it’s not that he doesn’t trust you.  In fact, I think it’s the opposite. He thinks you need protecting.”

“I can take care of myself,” I frowned.  Had Bishop forgotten the idea that everyone was supposed to think I’d been looking out for myself for the past four hundred years or more? 

“You can relax.  He told me all about you and how the two of you met.  I wanted you to know it’s cool
,
your secret is safe with me.”  Mason gave me what I’m sure was meant to be a reassuring wink, but all I could think of was, how many others knew I was a fraud? 

“Did he tell the rest of the Order too?  Oh God… did he get in trouble for breaking the law?  How many other people know?  Is that why he thinks I need looking after?”   

“Whoa, calm down before your head explodes
.
”
H
is hands came up
,
and I forced a deep breath.  “No, the rest of the Order is in the
dark
,
otherwise we’d be having this conversation with you in detention until we found your Sire.  I said your secret is safe, remember?” 

“Right, okay.  Sorry
.
”
I gave him a sheepish smile. 

“Bishop wouldn’t do that to you, you should know better than that.”

“I’m
sorry
,
I’m still trying to figure him out.”  Talk about an understatement.  “Have you known him for a long time?” 

“Oh yeah, Bishop and me, we go way back.” 

“Then you must have known
Carys
.”  Okay, I was fishing, but I had to learn more about her, and Bishop didn’t offer much in the way of details. 

“No, she died way before my time, but I’ve heard about her.  Bishop doesn’t talk about her much, but I know she did a real number on him.” 

“What do you mean?  What was she like?”  I leaned forward in my seat, eager to hear what he had to say.

“According to him she was
like hot fudge sundaes, sunsets over the water,
and Christmas morning all wrapped up in one.”

Just a little hard to live up to.  Cool beans.  “So what was the problem then, if she was so great?”

“The problem was, she had him wrapped around her little finger.  Bishop’s given to extremes, in case you haven’t noticed.  He lived for
Carys
.  She was his Sire, that’s a pretty intense bond, but he took it further than most.  We’re talking pretty much no independent life outside of catering to her every whim.  Vampires aren’t known for their fidelity though, and she didn’t share the same devotion to him.  Bishop spent a hundred years chasing her all over
Europe
on the off chance she’d look his way.  He told me once it felt like he hadn’t had a choice.  Something about the look in her baby blues that made him jump whenever she crooked a finger in his direction. 

“When she died, it fucked him up.   I don’t know much about what happened to him
after that, but then he joined t
he Order and traded one kind of obsession for another, it’s his entire life.  I mean yeah, the Order is supposed to be our life, but it’s really
all
there is for him.  He doesn’t do anything else.”

“So I’ve noticed.  But it’s not for you, right?  You do normal things too.”

“Me?  Hell yeah.  I buy motorcycles, fix em up and pretend I’m gonna sell them, but mostly just keep them in my garage,” he grinned.  “And I happen to love movies, any kind of movie as long as there aren’t subtitles.  Does your sister like to go to the movies?”

“Hanna? 
Y
es, I suppose she does
,
but… Mason, don’t take this the wrong way but… are you allowed to… be with women?”  My teeth bit my bottom lip as I waited for him to take my meaning.

“Am I allowed to?”

“Well, yes, I mean… when you joined the Order, they didn’t make you give up um, female companionship, did they?”  Could it be that simple?  Was that why Bishop would rather call me sister than sweetheart? 

“You mean, am I a eunuch?”  Mason burst out laughing, before I could answer. 

“No, I didn’t mean that
,
but… can you get involved with women, vampire or human?”

“There’s a lot we give up when we take our vows, but no, not to that extent.  It doesn’t leave a lot of room for steady relationships though.  The Order has a lot of control over where we go and what we do
,
it’s kind of like being in the military.  We’re either crazy busy for days on end when the shit hits the fan, or we have to travel when bigwigs hit the states for a conference and we’re turned into glorified security guards.  The Order comes first, that’s the lifestyle.  But that doesn’t mean any of us live like monks.” 

“Oh.”  I couldn’t help but feel a stab of disappointment.  There wasn’t anything to prevent Bishop from pursuing anything with me other than his own
hang-ups
, which sounded more difficult to overcome than bending a regulation.  “What kinds of things did you have to give up then?”

“Sorry, cupcake.  If I told you that I’d have to kill you.  And then Bishop would kill me… so best not to go down that road, huh?” he grinned. 

“You’re afraid of Bishop then?”  It was surprising to hear
.
Mason was easily a few inches taller and had at least ten pounds of muscle over Bishop’s lean, muscular frame.

“Ah,
yeah
, Bishop could wipe the floor with my ass without even looking.  He’s a fucking legend in our community you know.  His name is enough to strike fear in the hearts of the most powerful vampires in the country.
”

“You’re kidding me.  Bishop?  But he seems so… understanding and gentle.”  Sure I knew he had his growly side, but so far he’d been much more bark than bite.

“You’re getting to see a side of him most people don’t know exists.  Hell, I didn’t know he still remembered how to laugh until you showed up.  So whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”

“I guess maybe he always wanted a sister, huh?” I muttered sourly, taking a sip of cocoa. 

“A sister?”

“Yes, that’s what he said he wanted to be to me, a brother type.  I suppose he thinks I need looking out for, hence the protection detail,” I gestured to him.      

“Yeah, maybe.”  Mason fell silent then, lost in thought.  

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Sure, why stop now?”

I was glad to find someone to talk to who didn’t balk at my endless questions.  “Have you ever gone… hunting with someone else before?”  I wasn’t sure if that was the politically correct thing to call it.

“All the time, it’s my job, remember?”

“No, I mean, to feed.”

“Oh.  Yeah sure, lots of times in the beginning, but not so much lately, why?”

“Is it always so um…”

“So what?”

“So… sexy?”

A single brow was raised, and I had his complete attention again.  “You had a sexy time feeding with Bishop?”   

“Well… yes.”  I launched into a basic narrative of my experience in the alley with Bishop and
Josh
.  “He said it didn’t mean anything, that it was a common side effect.  So, is that normal?”

The thought
amused
him, and Mason didn’t bother to hide it.  “It can be.  It is whatever you put into
it
.  T
he blood just magnified whatever was there to begin with.  If Bishop kissed you, it’s because he wanted to, blood or no blood.  The feeding made it more… intense.”  His brows waggled playfully. 

Intense was definitely the word for it.  “Then why the song and dance about being a brother to me?”

“Sorry, that’s a question you’ll have to ask him,” he shrugged.  “But in my own humble opinion, I don’t think he would have kissed you like that if he wasn’t into you.”  I couldn’t help but smile like a big dweeb at that, impossibly buoyed by his last remark.  “Give him a little
time
,
I’m confident you’ll crack him.”

“I don’t want to crack him,” I frowned.  “I just want to know if he feels anything but bloodlust and obligation towards me.”

“There is one way to find out if he’s into you, you know.”

“What’s that?”

“He wants to be your brother?  So treat him like a brother.”

“How do you mean?”

“If I know Bishop, it’s easier for him to push you away if he feels like you’re pressing for more than he wants to give.  He won’t be able to stand it if you look somewhere else to get those needs fulfilled.”

“You mean make him jealous?” I blinked.  Mason’s answering smile was beatific.  “But isn’t that sort of… dishonest?”

“Why?  You’re doing what he wanted, right?  If he’s not willing to give you what you need, you have every right to move on and find someone who will, right?”

“I guess so…”

“So why not give him a taste of his own medicine? 
T
reat him like a brother and see if he chokes on it,” he grinned and it was hard not to smile back.

“Mason, you are a devious man.  But what if it doesn’t work?”  It might blow up in my face and I’d end up losing him altogether.  I wasn’t sure I could handle that. 

“Then you’re one step closer to moving on instead of obsessing over someone you can’t have.”

Ouch.  He had a good point there.  Nothing would be served by sitting at home pining over a lost cause
.  N
ot that I was ready to give Bishop up as a lost cause just yet.  “Alright, I’ll try it.” 

“Atta girl, teach him a lesson.”

“Thanks, Mason.  You’re a good friend.”  I gave his hand a friendly squeeze on my way to my feet, eager to get home and draft a plan of action.  I’ve always been a maker of
lists
,
it helps keep my thoughts organized.  I even have a master list of lists, and my new Bishop list was about to move to the top.

“Not a problem,
s
is,” he grinned, and I realized I could easily come to think of him as a big brother.  “
But
love games aside,
if you ever
really
hurt him, I’ll
hunt you down and
stake you myself.
”

I stopped to regard him earnestly, taking in the note of steel behind the playful tone.  “It’s a deal.”  If I ever really hurt Bishop, I wouldn’t want to spend eternity with the consequences.
  “But just so we’re clear?  The same goes for my sister.”

Chapter
Twenty-two

The problem with pretending to be something you’re not, is you start to forget who you are. 

After working hard to cultivate a passable rendition of Anja Gudrun, cultured, wealthy, powerful vampire, I almost hated to go back to being Anja Evans, confused, slightly geeky, music student.  Somehow I managed to find a balance between the two.  For the next couple of days I spent mornings at school, pretending to be a normal, human girl with no problems beyond the next pop quiz
,
thanks to Bishop’s wonder drug.  I ended up dropping my afternoon classes, it wasn’t possible to stay up the whole day
.  W
hile I wasn’t looking forward to having that conversation with my parents, it felt like a good compromise for the time being, better than dropping out altogether.  As soon as the sun went down, I woke and hustled to my rehearsals, grateful I hadn’t had to give them up yet.   

Late at night, I ventured back to The Bleeding Hart, eager to make more friends
once
I knew a little more what to expect and how to act.  I fabricated an intricate back story for myself, of how
Carys
had found me in 1650
Austria
and turned me.  Nobody in town seemed to know anything about her, so it was easy to make up anything I liked about our life together before she died.  Not that I knew a whole lot about
Austria
to begin with
, or even how to speak their language
.  B
ut it was fun to research and learn more about their history, and with a name like Anja Gudrun, I couldn’t say I was from
Spain
.  Thanks to my ne
w abilities, I was already on my way
to learning conversational German in just a few hours of study. 

It definitely helped to have a hobby, something to fill the wee hours of the night, because I didn’t hear from Bishop, except when he stopped by to give me more of the
drug
.  I tried my hardest not to be clingy or ask him to stay, following Mason’s advice, but so far he hadn’t seemed to notice.  I had to step up my game and make the bait more enticing.  That meant spending time at the Hart cultivating new friendships. 

The vamps at the Hart accepted me with open arms, despite the scene I’d caused with Bridget the first time I visited, though Serena avoided me like the plague.  Jarrod and Leander invited me back to their table the first night, eager to learn more about me.  After that, the stories grew and grew, each one feeding the next
.  Un
til I almost started to believe I was this cool, laid back, sophisticated vampire who’d spent the better part of the last three hundred years traveling the world
, n
ever setting down roots, all the better to avoid connections that could be proven false.        

At the same time I was
gleaning
all sorts of interesting tidbits about the local vampire community.  I learned that Jarrod and Leander also owned two night clubs in town that were considered premium feeding grounds due to the lack of video surveillance and the warren of private rooms on site that allowed for a quick bite if the mood struck.  I learned that Aleksandr Kursik was well respected, if a little feared
,
and most vamps hoped to catch his notice.  Conversely, most people hoped never to catch the noti
ce of Bishop or anyone else in t
he Order
,
as they were beyond feared, as Mason said. 

I tried to leave Bridget
out of it as much as possible, not wanting her to be drawn into the vampire lifestyle and risk getting hurt if I could help it.  She alone knew the double or triple life I was leading, and thanks to my compulsion, it didn’t bother her a bit.  It was actually easier to live with her now that we almost shared the same schedule, sleeping for most of the day, waking at sunset.  I knew she had another date with Rob coming up, but beyond that we didn’t share any girl talk
,
she’d had to work the past two nights. 

By the time I got Bishop’s call to come over, I’d almost forgotten about asking him to find a source for bagged blood for me.  Since I’d had so much of Stan’s blood, I hadn’t felt hungry at all over the past few days, that was something at least.  Still, I wanted to see him, plus I knew I’d have to eat sooner or later, and it was a good a time as any to put the next phase of my plan into action.   

A brief phone call and an hour of primping later, I showed up at his place, dressed to kill in my best dress, the one I saved for show openings.  I gathered my hair up into an intricate braid, held in place with tiny crystal pins that sparkled like diamonds.  My throat I left bare, maybe as an invitation considering I was on my way to visit a vampire.  Did vampires find other vampire’s throats enticing?  I hoped to find out.  

Striking what I hoped was an appealing
stance
,
I knocked on Bishop’s door and waited with bated breath (which actually can be quite a long time, since vampires don’t need to breathe).

Bishop’s eyes widened in surprise when he pulled the door open, and I held still while he looked his fill.  I
hoped
for a compliment maybe, or at least a smile, but instead his brows knit together.  “I hope you didn’t think I meant we’d go out when I said to come over for a bite to eat.  Or did you change your mind about feeding from humans?” 

So far my attempts to make him jealous were a spectacular failure.  I gave him a faint smile, sailing past him into the apartment.  “No, I still want to try the bagged blood.  I have a date later.”

“A date?” Bishop blinked and I couldn’t help but smile inwardly. 

“Yes.  So is it in the fridge or
…
?”

“The fridge
…
  Oh, the blood.  Yes, I got you a cooler, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to keep the blood here or at your place.  I don’t want you to do anything to complicate your friendship with Bridget.”

“Don’t worry about us, we’re cool.  She won’t freak out if she sees the blood in the fridge.”  At least I hoped not.  Just because I’d compelled her not to tell anyone I was a vampire didn’t mean she would feel all warm and fuzzy
about
keeping human blood in the refrigerator we shared.  Ah well, there was only one way to find out. 

“I hope that means you took care of making absolutely sure she won’t tell anyone.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at his tone.  “Of course.  I know the law,
brother
.”  He bristled at my reply, but didn’t say anything.  Instead he pulled a plastic bag of blood out and tossed it on the counter where it jiggled unappealingly. 

“Bon appétit,” he smirked, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed to watch me drink.  Determined not to let him get to me, I made myself at home in his kitchen, reaching past him to retrieve an earthenware mug, pouring about half of the bag into the cup.  Hesitantly, I lifted it to my nose.  It smelled like…
plastic and
the refrigerator, with none of the mouthwatering appeal when it came straight from the source.  Taking the smallest of sips, I tried my hardest not to gag when the taste hit my tongue.  It was l
ike drinking cold gravy
the day after Thanksgiving
-
the texture wrong, the flavor impossibly muted.  Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of saying I told you so, I popped the mug into the microwave and set it to reheat.

“What are you doing?”

Pleased to see the thought had never occurred to him, I gave him a smug smile.  “What?  You don’t drink it cold, do you?” 

“I try not to drink it at all,” he scowled.  “Replenishing my stores in an emergency doesn’t lend itself to taking the time for the niceties of a cup and microwave.”

  At the sound of the beep, I pulled the mug out, gratified to find it at least smelled better.  With a tentative blow to cool it off, I took a sip, resisting the urge to grimace again.  It was at least better warm, but nowhere near the delicious elixir pumping through the human body.  If people tasted like that
,
I’d have no trouble controlling myself whatsoever.  It was bound to get old drinking that day in and day out for eternity, but it was better than the alternative.  Still, it was palatable, and I covered my disappointment with the mug, drinking dutifully.

“So?” Bishop cocked a brow.

“It’s fine, thank you.  You should really try it heated up sometime, it makes a huge difference,” I smiled brightly.   

“Good, I’m glad you found something that works for you
.
”
H
e took me at my word.  “I suppose you have to take off now?”

“Not especially, I’m being picked up here in a little while.”

“You are?”  I’d managed to surprise him for a second time.

“Of course.  I’m supposed to live here, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Bishop nodded, leaving me in the kitchen to go to the window.  I followed, mug in hand.  “So, how have you been?”

“Pretty great actually.  I’ve been making it to my morning classes and evening rehearsals, no problem.”

“Good, I’m glad the stims are working for you.”

“And I’ve made some new friends.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, down at T
he Hart.  Everyone has been so friendly.”

“I’ll bet.  You made quite an impression there the first time you showed up.”

“So did you,” I murmured, waving him off when he asked me to repeat what I’d said.  “Have you had any luck in trying to track down my Sire?”

“No, not really.  Have you had any more dreams about him, or any sightings of the man who showed up at your school?”

“No, nothing.  I wish I could remember him, but… it’s all a big blank.”  That wasn’t strictly true, I was fine with him not putting in an appearance now that I was starting to pull my life together, but the investigation did give me an excuse to see Bishop more often. 

“I was thinking
,
I could take in a blood sample of yours and we might be able to trace your lineage that way.”

“My blood?  Sure, if you think that wouldn’t raise any suspicions.”

“It’ll be fine.  Stop by tomorrow night and I’ll be set to collect a specimen.”  I was about to reply that I wasn’t sure if I’d be available the next night, when I noticed his attention was wholly focused on a dark limousine that pulled up.  “You’re going to Kursik’s place again?” he demanded, his expression darkening. 

I couldn’t tell if he was angry or jealous over my choice of dates, but it was definitely a reaction, and I tried to sound nonchalant.  “Eventually, we’re going out first.” 

“I won’t be able to pull you out of there
again
,
he’s not a man to be trifled with.”

“You won’t need to, I’m sure I can manage a night at the ballet without you babysitting me.”

Bishop didn’t look happy with that, but he didn’t say anything else as we watched the driver alight from the vehicle
to
come collect me.  Whether or not it bothered him, he remained silent until I turned away from the window to meet the driver at the door and Bishop called me back with a single word.  “Anja…”

“What?” I asked, turning back to look at him.

“
Don’t go back there
.”

My heart twisted at the anguish on his face, and I took a step closer.  Was he ready to admit his feelings for me?  “
Why not?
” I breathed, silently willing him to say more. 
 

“
Are you interested in him
?”

“Would you care if I was?”

The driver’s knock sounded at the door, loud in the stillness between us.  For a long moment I thought he might crack
,
as Mason put it, but then Bishop retreated behind his familiar walls, completely dodging my question.  “Stay here with me and focus on trying to find your Sire.” 

“I’ll be right there!” I called out.  Resisting the urge to shout in frustration, I turned around again, heading for the door so he wouldn’t see how close I was to crying.  “I don’t see what help I can be, I don’t remember anything.”

“Anja, it’s important.”

“You don’t have the first clue what’s important.”  I didn’t care if he heard me that time as the bitterness spilled forth. 

“I think I have a better perspective on that than you think.”

“Whatever,” I muttered.  “He’s waiting for me, I have to go.”

“Anja, wait…” Bishop reached the door before me, leaning against it.  Everything about him screamed that he didn’t want me to go out with Aleksandr, why couldn’t he admit it?  “
You have your whole life ahead of you
, but it won’t mean a damn thing if your Sire steps in and snaps his fingers, expecting you to drop everything and follow him.  Don’t you want to find out who he is?”

“I wouldn’t do that, I’m not you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”