Grave Expectations - Jess Vandermire 4 Read online

  “Regent, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can,” he said.

  “Thank you, my friend.”

  “You must not divulge anything over the phone,” Vasilli said quickly. “If you have results, you must come here in person. Leave no information with regard to the samples on any technical device or paper in your office.”

  “Understood,” Sampson said, frowning.

  “I expect word of your tests quickly,” Vasilli said.

  Sampson pocketed the vials. That motion made Vasilli clench his jaw.

  Regent figured Vasilli thought the vials should be treated with more care. But he knew that lab techs often tucked the vials into their pockets like that.

  “God be with you, Sampson,” Regent said.

  “Thank you, Father.” They shook hands and Regent made the sign of the cross in the air with his thumb. They needed all the help they could get.

  From the office window, Regent watched Vasilli walk Sampson to his car. Once he’d driven away, he noticed a nondescript black sedan pull out and follow Sampson down the street. Did his friend know he was being tailed? Probably. He’d worked for Jess long enough to be ultra alert to his surroundings.

  “It’s security, nothing else,” Vasilli said, reentering the office and seeing Regent watching from the window. “Dr. Case must be safe while he carries the blood.”

  Regent didn’t like Sampson being followed without being apprised of it. “What do you want from me now?” he asked. Or was that a secret, too?

  Vasilli cleared his throat with impatience. “I want you to start praying, Father. Pray in the same way you did for your sister and for the three people you reanimated recently.”

  Regent bit back a retort. How many times could he say it? He hadn’t saved James, Terry, and baby Sephina. How in hell had the church even learned about them? It seemed Rome knew more about vampires than he’d ever suspected. Maybe his work against the undead hadn’t gone unnoticed for the last fifty years, after all.

  Or, was Vasilli merely digging for information? Trying to get Regent to betray a confidence? Did he already know it had been the newly returned Britt who had somehow changed the family from vampire to human without understanding how he’d done it?

  Or worse? That Britt couldn’t do it again—not even for Jess. “I told you I didn’t do—” Regent stopped in mid-sentence and bit his tongue. If he spoke right now, he’d tell Vasilli more than he should. No matter what Vasilli wanted, Regent would never divulge Britt’s secret new abilities, unless Britt gave him permission to do so. And he couldn’t see that happening anytime soon.

  MALCOLM FISK paced restlessly in his office and cursed the fact that Brewster had booked an appointment with one of the olde vampires for tomorrow night. There’d be no fooling himself. He’d have to cancel the rest of his appointments until then. The way he felt right now scared him. Fatigue didn’t even describe the bone-deep tiredness that encompassed him after working on the ancient vampire.

  He had to figure out how to make some headway with the olde ones. Not to mention, there was a limited time before they’d revert again. He didn’t want the Europeans to find out they’d pretty much always need him to continue treatments, until it was too late.

  Brewster rapped on his door and barged right in. “Leader, you’re wanted in the healing room.”

  Fisk balled his hands and shoved them behind his back. “I told you to cancel my appointments with the street vampires.”

  “Yes, I know, but if you want to keep your loyal customers happily paying, I thought a quick appearance might appease them until you can do a service again.”

  As much as Brewster was a pain in the ass, what he said made sense. Besides, Brewster was giving him a strange look. Like he didn’t think Fisk could handle the workload. If Brewster, his lap dog, lost faith in him, what hope did he have with the vampires? “Okay. Okay. I’ll get ready in a few minutes.”

  “That’s good,” Brewster said, then sashayed out of the office.

  Once Fisk had changed into his flowing robes, he swallowed a shaky breath and told himself he was ready. A sudden urge stopped him cold. He actually stood in front of the painting with his hand extended toward the wall.

  “No.” Since the blade had absorbed his blood, it sang to him more often. He didn’t want to crave the blade. It was a tool, not a drug. He’d avoid it as much as possible for the next while.

  Damn it. He could walk away right now. He could.

  On the other hand, if he needed the blade to reenergize him, it’d be within reach in his safe. The sweat that had threatened his brow calmed, and somewhere in the back of his brain, he knew the blade was angry with him for thinking that way. It didn’t like being used. It wanted a symbiotic relationship, and it wanted respect.

  He balked against his own crazy thoughts.

  When he’d found the blade at the market in Iran years ago, it had looked unremarkable and ancient. Not something anyone else would want to buy. It hadn’t been jewel-encrusted or even nicely shaped. It consisted of a dull rusted-gray blade, broken at the tip with an unremarkable hilt.

  But he’d known it was special. He hadn’t even had to touch it to know. After connecting with him in the privacy of his own home after returning home from Iran, the resonance from his blue light made the blade glisten and hum until it looked brand new and shiny.

  Fisk pushed those memories away and left the blade behind before Brewster started nagging him again. He entered the back area of the auditorium and peeked between the stage curtains. The room was full of undead, pasty faces.

  Barely giving him a chance to survey the crowd, Brewster pranced around him, adjusting his collar and handing him the doctrine he’d spout to give the vamps a better show. Of course, the words meant nothing—the real power came from within him.

  He picked up the speech, forced a smile onto his face, and stepped through the golden curtains onto the podium.

  “Good evening, my friends,” he said. Yeah right. As if he’d want a freaking vampire as a friend. “I welcome you here tonight to offer you the seeds of salvation. Not for your desires and urges, but for your heart and soul.”

  The vampires’ faces stared back at him as emotionless as always. The words meant about as much to them as they did to him. He sighed, and glanced through the crowd. Tonight, there was a new member in the group. A young female he hadn’t seen before. Not many females attended his sessions. Maybe things were looking up. He could envisage all kinds of uses for her.

  With Brewster rolling his finger in the air from the side of the stage to urge him on, Fisk continued his speech, making sure his voice held the high notes of optimism necessary to sell his line of bullshit. Vampires weren’t easy to convince. They needed the hard-sell. Before he left the stage, he promised he’d continue with their healing sessions within two days.

  “I need my healing now,” one of the vamps at the front of the audience shouted. “It’s been three days since my last treatment.”

  Fisk forced his attention back on the angry crowd. “I promise you’ll be fine until I return to you. In the meantime, you may prepare yourself by attending sessions here whenever you feel the need.” He liked to keep his vamps needy, not angry.

  With a rumble of irritated voices rising from the auditorium, he exited through the curtain and hurried to his office. The last thing he needed was a horde of pissed-off vampires coming after him. He’d hate to have to wipe them out and lose his income stream.

  But for now, he had to focus on European vampire number two. He knew their names, but chose not to think of them as individuals. They were freaking vampires who should probably die. But keeping them alive-ish benefited him.

  An hour later, after achieving a modicum of success with the European, he made a desperate dash for his suite of offices again. He was bone-tired. This episode had been exactly like the last one. He made for the safe because he desperately needed the blade. Again, everything went black and he passed out before he could reach it.
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  Some time later, he was roused by Brewster patting his hand and softly calling his name.

  “Your session went even better than the last,” Brewster said. “The olde one was pleased.”

  “Good,” Fisk said, shoving himself upright. He still felt woozy. Slightly nauseated, too. This was even worse than last time, and he didn’t want to consider what might happen if he tried it again without help. “I think I’m going to have to recruit John Brittain before I do the next vampire. Their needs are sucking everything out of me.”

  If Brewster was shocked that Brittain had the same abilities, he didn’t show it. “Will he go along with your plans, sir?”

  “I’ll make sure he has no choice,” Fisk said. “He’s very attached to his pet vampire. I get the feeling he hasn’t been able to help her, and he desperately wants to. If I promise to help him achieve his full potential, I think he’ll jump at the chance.”

  Yeah, Brittain could help. But there was something different about him. Something powerful and unnerving.

  Fisk slumped into his black leather executive chair while Brewster shuffled papers on the corner of the desk.

  “You mentioned his vampire friend. Can you save her?” his aide asked.

  “No. That’s the problem. But Brittain doesn’t know that.”

  “How do you know you can’t, Leader?”

  “I tried to touch her when she was in my office. It’s like she has some kind of barrier that blocks me. I don’t think she’s even aware of it.” He slumped lower in his chair and thought about the safe again. “Call her for me, Brewster. Invite her to my office and tell her to come alone. I need to see her first.”

  “When, Leader?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  Brewster tapped the papers until the edges were even, then he put them down. “Certainly, sir.”

  The second the door closed behind him, Fisk picked up the phone. Damn it, he should have told Brewster he needed sustenance. He called the front desk and ordered a twelve-ounce steak with a baked potato and sour cream and beer on the side. While he waited, he leaned back and closed his eyes. It wouldn’t be easy to get the upper hand with Jess Vandermire.

  JESS WOKE, EXPECTING to be alone in her room again. Her heart actually beat once or twice when Britt’s handsome face leaned over her, waiting for her to reanimate.

  “Morning, gorgeous,” he said. His warm breath caressed her face.

  “Only you could think a vampire gorgeous,” she said, after her initial inhale.

  “You’re not the run-of-the-mill vampire, doll. Have you not realized that?”

  She tried to move her stiff fingers. She itched to wrap herself in his arms. Feel his warm flesh against hers. Absorb the steady rhythm of his beating heart.

  Unfortunately, before she could capture him, he jumped up and moved away from her. She sighed.

  He didn’t join her in the shower, as he had done on many other occasions, but she hadn’t expected him to, either.

  She came out smelling fresh, and wishing she could feel that freshness. He must’ve been here a while—she smelled old coffee in the kitchen.

  “I’ll wait for you in the living room,” he said before she could run a brush through her hair and approach him. The good news—his lips had been moving in silent prayer when she’d returned from the bathroom. She definitely felt the warmth of those prayers on her soul.

  Since Regent had partially saved her soul through prayers and baptism over fifty years ago, she needed constant benediction to maintain her level of humanity. No one else had ever been able to affect her with prayers, until Britt. She wondered if he really knew how rare his talent was.

  She followed him down the hall to the kitchen where he poured another cup of coffee and sat at the island counter while she made her way to her special fridge.

  Her fangs had partially extended. She needed blood, so she grabbed two packets from the fridge and turned away from him to consume them. She always did that, though she sensed her feeding didn’t repulse him.

  “I wonder how Regent is doing,” Britt said, draining the last of his coffee.

  “Maybe we could phone him and pump him for information?” She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to figure out that she’d been joking.

  It didn’t work. He was too wrapped up in whatever his worries were this morning to notice.

  She picked up her cell and switched it on to check for messages. She got a ding right away. “He left his message for the day. According to him, everything is ‘OK’”.

  Britt put his cup in the sink and rinsed it out. “I know this is hard for you, but we don’t have a choice but to stay away.”

  She heard the edge of worry in his words. “I know, and I’ll go along with Regent’s wishes, for now.” She finished her blood and put the packets in the sanitary trash can that had been specially created for that purpose.

  The odor of his coffee bothered her worse than usual this morning. She used to like it when she’d been human, but as a vampire, it offended her, though she’d never tell Britt that.

  “You had a message on your phone from Fisk’s attendant just before sunset,” Britt said.

  She arched her eyebrows. Britt didn’t normally snoop into her messages.

  “I was here when the call came in,” he said, answering her unasked question.

  “Ah.” Her message manager vocalized the messages at the same time that they recorded.

  “He wants to speak to you alone,” Britt said through teeth clenched tight. He wasn’t impressed. “Wonder what he’s up to?”

  “Well, we’ll just have to find out what he wants, won’t we?”

  “I don’t like it, Jess. What if Jane has been caught, and he’s calling you in for retribution?”

  “I don’t think so. Jane’s better than that.”

  “Either way, I’m coming with you,” he said.

  “No. You damned well are not,” she said. “I’ll be okay.”

  “I’ll be outside waiting for you, then,” he said, planting his hands on his hips in defiance.

  She sighed. “You can be annoying. I recommend that you stay away. I don’t need a damned babysitter.” She strode past him and out of the apartment, letting the door slam shut between them. She knew Britt would follow and wait outside, regardless of what she said.

  She expected him to follow her. That was one of the things that she loved about him—he truly cared about her. And even though she wanted to maintain her autonomy, she had to admit that if Britt had been the one going to Fisk’s alone, she would have followed him, too.

  She glanced back. No sign of him. Maybe he had other things to do? Or maybe he was starting to trust her to look after herself. She hoped not… .

  THE ATTENDANTS ON the front desk sent her to the appropriate elevator and she forced herself to ignore the three vampires milling about in the lobby. Bloodsuckers weren’t into hanging out in lobbies. What did this man do to them?

  Before long, they’d be sipping lattes on street corners for God’s sake.

  The elevator door opened directly into Fisk’s office this time. She stepped inside and looked around.

  He wasn’t there. She cleared her throat. Then cleared it again, a little louder. If he didn’t show, she’d start rummaging through his desk to see if there was anything of interest.

  Fisk’s head popped around the corner of an interior door. “Jess, I’m so glad to see you. Please come into my inner sanctum.” He laughed. “You’ve been here before, but the last time, you came in from the hallway.”

  “I got your message. How can I help you?” she asked. Bonus! She was allowed to speak this time.

  “It’s more like how I can help you,” he said. “I assume you’re wondering what I’m doing with vampires?”

  Well, crap. Maybe she didn’t need Jane on the inside after all. Not if he was about to spill his guts.

  “If you want to tell me, I’d be interested to know,” she said, not giving anything away. She damned
well wanted to know, and the sooner the better.

  “I can help you,” he said. “I can make it so you can go out in the daylight.”

  She pursed her lips. Apparently, the illustrious Fisk didn’t know she already had that ability, as long as she prepared herself with extra prayers for a few days first. Not that she’d tell him.

  “Can you?” she asked, adding the right amount of interest in her voice. He obviously did a little more than that for the vampires. Or they wouldn’t be hanging around like fruit flies.

  He nodded, his smug expression tightening the skin around his eyes. His white-blond hair, cropped so close to his head, reminded her of a woven wool rug.

  “How do you do it?” She leaned forward in her chair and waited for him to spill.

  “I dabble a little in ancient mysticism,” he said, tenting his fingers dramatically.

  She sank back in her chair, deflated. Lying bastard. “Which form of ancient mysticism might that be?”

  His eyes narrowed on her ever so slightly. “Several different forms that I’ve amalgamated to suit my own special needs.”

  What a crock. Then again, maybe that was the point. “What would you have to do to allow me to go out in the daytime?”

  She knew damn well that it hadn’t been mysticism that the monks had used to bring Britt back. No, it was somehow related to the church. She’d bet her … life on it.

  “I’m also able to cause a healing reaction inside that can bring a vampire closer to humanity. It’s a several step process, but you’ll feel the difference as soon as I’m done.”

  “And why are you telling me this?” she asked.

  “To help you, of course.”

  He wouldn’t even let her speak last time, and now he wanted to heal her? “I’m guessing this will cost me?” Not that she couldn’t afford to pay him if she so desired.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wanted to believe him. Britt had saved the three vampires who meant the most in the world to her … Terry, James, and baby Sephina. Could it be possible that Fisk had the ability to turn more than one vampire back to their human selves?