Blue-Blooded Vamp

Page 14

I wanted to close my eyes but couldn’t. A scream ripped from my chest an instant before the fangs broke my—
I woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed. My heart galloped in my chest. Cold sweat glued my clothes to trembling limbs.
Beside me, Adam turned over restlessly. I wiped my brow and glanced toward the window. Dim light shone through the black curtains. Judging from the weakening pressure on my solar plexus, it was close to dusk.
Since going back to sleep meant the possibility of more fucked up dreams, I carefully crawled out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Inside, I closed the door behind me and clicked on the overhead light.
The woman staring back at me from the mirror looked haunted—or hunted.
I splashed cold water on my face. It woke me up like a slap in the face. “Keep it together, Sabina,” I said to my reflection. The dream about Maisie had been just that—a dream.
While it was understandable that my subconscious needed to sort through the guilt I felt about Maisie’s death, I wasn’t about to tempt fate and go back to sleep. With my luck, Asclepius would show up again and remind me about my promise. No doubt that’s why he’d been eavesdropping in my dream in the first place. The thought of him analyzing the contents of my subconscious made me want to rinse my mind out with soap.
It looked like sleeping had become almost as dangerous as being awake.
I grabbed a quick shower and dressed before heading out to the living area. When I tiptoed through the room, Adam was still asleep. I decided not to wake him. Just like me, he’d had little sleep since we’d left New York.
The night Maisie died, she’d still been under Cain’s influence and kidnapped Adam. She’s strung him up and whipped him until he’d passed out from blood loss and pain. However, the physical wounds he’d suffered were nothing compared to the emotional ones. I’d lost my sister, but Adam had lost his best friend. A best friend who’d tried to murder him not once, but twice.
So, yeah, I figured he needed the rest.
I walked out into the living room of the apartment and found Erron and Giguhl sitting in front of the suite’s laptop.
“Hey,” I said, surprised to see them up. “I didn’t expect anyone else would be up yet.”
Until I’d spoken, neither had noticed me, but now Giguhl looked up from the screen and blinked. “Oh, hey, Red. We’ve been up for hours, actually.”
I frowned. “What? Why?”
Erron looked up finally. “I got up first because the demon snores like an asthmatic wildebeest.”
Giguhl nudged the mage with his elbow. “Please, it’s not that bad.”
“You’re right.” Erron shuddered. “But the dry humping was fucking terrifying.”
I raised an accusing brow at the demon. Giguhl’s randy nocturnal activities were well documented. Several months earlier, in fact, he’d tried to sleep-sex Adam.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I was dreaming about having a three-way with a hot demoness and a nymph,” the demon said with an eye roll. But judging from his defensive tone, he’d been dreaming of something—or someone—embarrassing. “Anyway, I woke up not long after because I’m still stuck on New York time. We both figured since we were already awake we might as well get a head start on tracking down Dicky’s clue.”
The scent of coffee beckoned me toward the kitchen. I yawned and headed toward lifesaving caffeine as I spoke. “Oh yeah? Find anything good?”
Giguhl leaned back and put his claws behind his head. “Oh yes. Turns out Pasquino is pretty famous around Rome.”
I stopped pouring coffee and looked at them over the bar separating the living room from the kitchen. “Wait, it’s a person?”
The demon and the Recreant shared a grin. “No, actually,” Erron said. “It’s a statue.”
They waved me over to the laptop for explanation. A website on Roman tourist sites popped on-screen. The site showed a picture of a timeworn statue without arms or a head. “Pasquino is one of Rome’s famous talking statues.”
“Talking statues?”
“They don’t literally talk,” the demon explained. “But apparently there’s an old tradition of people using these statues to post poems criticizing the government, and they’re all signed as if the statue wrote it.”
“Hmm,” I said, going in closer. According to the site, Pasquino was the original statue used for the purpose. “Where is it?”
“It’s near the Piazza Navona,” Erron explained. He clicked on a map link, pulling up a layout of the area in question. “It’s like a fifteen-minute walk from here, actually.”
“Well, that’s something,” I said.
“Assuming we’re right and this is the correct Pasquino,” Erron said. “We’re thinking your father probably left a clue on the statue for you. So all we have to do is go check it out and find the right one.”
At that moment, Adam appeared in the doorway. “Evening,” he said. He wore nothing but boxers, sleep-mussed hair, and a yawn. He looked so adorable I almost forgot about the statue as my mind filled with images of me inviting him back to bed for some sleep-sexing of our own.
“Hey, mancy!” Giguhl called, interrupting my naughty thoughts. “Erron and I found out what the clue means.”
Adam perked up. “Oh?”
While Giguhl and the Recreant talked over each other in their rush to explain their findings, I got up for more coffee. While I poured, I thought about whether to talk to the guys about Asclepius’s appearance in my dream. Probably not a coincidence he showed up on my first night in Italy. He’d promised not to demand results for a few days, but I assumed more of these subtle reminders would follow until he confronted me directly. Since I didn’t really expect Georgia’s inquiries to lead anywhere, I probably needed to do some asking around of my own while we were out, which meant letting the dudes know what was what.
By the time I returned with mugs, Adam had seen the evidence on the laptop and was checking out a map of the section of the city where the statue lived. “Okay, so we’ll head out in a few to look this statue over. Sound good, Red?”
I handed him a cup and nodded. “Yeah, but before we do, I have another item to add to our to-do list.”
Giguhl frowned. “Already? How much trouble could you get into in the kitchen?”
I grimaced at his lame joke. “Asclepius showed up in my dream last night.”
Adam stilled, looking wary. Giguhl, too, had gone on red alert. Both of them were well aware of the bargain I’d made with the god. But Erron simply frowned. “Who’s that?”
“He’s a god of healing. I made a couple of sacrifices to him in the process of trying to help Maisie,” I explained. “Anyway, he wants me to kill this vampire chick who’s supposedly here in Italy.”
“What happened in the dream?” Giguhl asked.
“He didn’t say anything, so I assume it was just a reminder that he was watching me.”
“Sabina, please tell me you’re taking this seriously,” Erron said, his tone sober. “You can’t dick around with the gods.”
“I know,” I said defensively. “He knows I have more pressing matters right now. I should have a few days to make progress with Tristan before Asclepius gets his panties in a twist.”
Erron blew out a breath. “Seriously. The last thing we need is a pissed-off god smiting you before we catch Cain.”
“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know. The vamp’s name is Nyx. I figure if we don’t run into any local vamps, we can go ask Dicky if he’s heard of her.”
Adam nodded resolutely. “Sounds like a plan. In the meantime, let’s pray this statue offers up something useful.”
We decided to walk to the statue instead of flashing over. Pasquino wasn’t too far from the hotel and we didn’t want to just magically appear in the middle of what might be a crowded square.
It was a beautiful, clear night in Rome. The cloudless night made the air crisp and chilly. Giguhl had balked about being back in the canvas tote, but I told him it was either that or he had to don a sweater and booties. His thin kitty skin couldn’t handle low temperatures, nor, I reminded him, could his bald testicles. That shut him right up.
As we walked, we chatted about the possibility that this statue thing would pan out.
“What else do we have to go on?” Erron asked reasonably.
“It’s true. Still, I wish I knew why Tristan was being so cagey about all this,” Adam said.
“He’s probably just being cautious,” Erron said. “He’s in as much, if not more, danger as us right now.”
“If he’s even alive,” I said in a hushed tone.
Adam shot me a look. “Let’s not admit defeat before we have reason to.”
“I know. It’s just… we have to be prepared for anything.”
We all fell silent as we pondered what that “anything” might be. Gods knew that statement was inviting trouble. The universe had a way of throwing complications the size of buses into our plans.
We’d turned right down a darkened street when foreboding hissed its cold breath down my neck. At the same instant, my left shoulder blade flared with a burning sensation. I held out a hand to stop the males.
Adam looked at me. “What’s wrong?”
“Trouble.” No sooner had the word left my mouth than a dozen vampires emerged from the shadows. Judging from the flashing fangs and feral expressions, this wasn’t a Roman welcome committee.
I dropped the bag and fell back into my fighting stance. The gun in my hand appeared as if summoned, but in reality I’d drawn it on instinct. After months of not shooting anyone, it’s amazing how quickly the automatic draw had come back to me. Erron swung his arms together, gathering his power into a tight ball of energy. Adam chanted under his breath, calling up his own powers. Giguhl crouched at my feet waiting for permission to shift.