Мишель Роуэн - Tall, Dark & Fangsome

Then I grabbed my coat and left the club, attempting to ignore her dirty look and George’s curious one. Neither attempted to follow me, which, based on my dour mood and where I was headed, was a very good thing.

“You got my message?”

Gideon’s deep voice greeted me from the shadows of his fourth-floor suite at the Madison

Manor. If I could find a bright point in this otherwise dark scenario, the boutique hotel at

Spadina and Bloor—in the part of Toronto called the Annex—was only a few blocks away from Darkside. His room in the restored Victorian mansion even had a fireplace, which currently wasn’t lit despite the cool temperature of the room. As far as I knew, he didn’t go out. Why should he when I was only a text message away to do all of his chores?

The ensuite bathroom light was on. Otherwise the main room was dark, the blinds drawn.

To my left, double French doors led to a snow-covered balcony overlooking Madison Avenue.

“Obviously I got your message,” I said tightly. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You are.”

“Can I turn on a light?” I felt at the wall for the switch.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

But it was too late as I flicked on the overhead light. Gideon glared at me from the chair in the corner. He immediately raised his hand weakly in an unconscious attempt to cover the scars on his face, but then gripped the armrest instead.

I’d seen enough pictures of Gideon in his prime, before the accident, to know that he used to be extremely attractive. Those days were over, at least for half of him. One side of his face was covered in ugly scar tissue, but the other side was still flawlessly handsome.

When I first met him, before I even knew who he really was, he wore a scarf over his face to hide his identity and disfigurement as well as pretending to be the Red Devil. Now I didn’t think he left his room at all. Along with the scars came a whole lot of pain as the hellfire continued to burn through him. He was not a happy camper to say the least.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“As well as I look.”

“That bad, huh?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Possibly worse.”

“Serves you right. You ever heard of karma? Maybe this is your punishment for killing so many vampires.”

“Maybe.” He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “Did you bring it?”

“Yup.” I knew what he was talking about. I reached into my purse and pulled out the small package. I didn’t know what it was, only where to go to get it. The man behind the desk at the New Age store had handed it over to me earlier today as if he knew exactly who I was and what I wanted, no questions asked.

“Bring it to me.”

When I approached, he turned his face so I couldn’t easily see the scars. I wanted to roll my eyes. Gideon was very vain. He hated how he looked now and he didn’t want anyone to see him. Couldn’t say I blamed him for that. He looked like hell. Literally.

The scars seemed to be spreading and getting worse, causing him even more pain than before. Despite myself, my stomach twisted at that thought. He’d threatened the people I loved in order to blackmail me into siring him. He’d shot me with a tranquilizing garlic dart—twice. He’d forced me to break up with the man I loved.

Gideon Chase was evil, no question about it.

But being face to face with him reminded me how much I hated seeing anyone in constant, agonizing pain, no matter who they were or what they’d done.

I was such a wimp.

“Is that concern I see on your face?” he asked, as if he’d read my mind, a small smile in his green eyes.

“Concern? For you? Not likely. I hate you. And in three days when this is all over, I never want to see you again.”

He shook his scarred head. “I don’t think you hate me half as much as you’d like to.”

After everything he’d threatened, with everything he represented, it would be completely crazy and illogical for me to feel anything for him except hate.

Right?

Of course it would.

“No, trust me,” I assured him. “I despise you.”

His lips curled, except on one side they didn’t move at all because the scar tissue was too thick. “Quite honestly, I think you should be thanking me for helping you to end things with the master vampire.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m not discussing Thierry with you.”

“You don’t have to.” He placed the package I’d delivered on the small table next to him and leaned back in his chair. “I’m just saying that he didn’t appreciate you as much as he should have.”

“Can I go now?” I eyed the door.

“In a minute. I think you have me all wrong, Sarah. You’ve convinced yourself that I’m the bad guy—”

“You are the bad guy,” I reminded him.

“If I was the bad guy, would I have saved you from being staked that night? You’d be dead right now if it wasn’t for me. I also gave you that very special gold chain you wear around your neck right now.”

I touched the jewelry in question. “That was all to get me to do what you want.”

He sighed. “I don’t see why this has to be unpleasant between us. We can be friends.”

“Friends?” I repeated. “You’re a hunter and I’m a vampire.”

“And your point?” He looked amused with me.

“I’m going now. I brought your… whatever it is. Party on.” I turned to leave.

“Don’t you want to stay to see what it is?”

I actually did. I was extremely curious, so sue me. I’d decided not to open the package when I received it, but curiosity killed the cat and all that. This kitty had had plenty of brushes with death lately, so I wasn’t going to take any more chances.

There was a crinkling sound as he unwrapped the brown paper packaging. I swiveled around on my heels as he removed a black box from inside, which he opened to reveal—

“A wristwatch?” I said, feeling less than impressed. “That’s what you had me pick up for you? That’s very underwhelming, I have to say.”

“This is a very special watch. It’s not as special as your chain, but it’s pretty close.” He traced the tip of his index finger over the face of the very ordinary-looking timepiece.

Then he stroked the scars on his face. “It’s actually a glamour spell cast into a wearable object. I had it specially made. You wouldn’t believe what something like this costs.

Luckily money is no problem for me—I set aside a great deal of cash in case I ever needed to go into hiding.”

I knew that a “glamour” magically helped someone appear beautiful or different. If somebody had a large nose and he or she had a glamour it could look like a small nose.

Real-life airbrushing. Didn’t change what was underneath, but sometimes appearances were enough.

Without another word, he slipped the watch on his wrist and fastened it. The very next moment a thin band of light moved over him. Wherever the light touched, Gideon’s scars disappeared completely.

My eyes widened in shock.

“How do I look?” he asked, reaching up to touch his now scar-free face.

I swallowed hard. “You look… different.”

Actually, different wasn’t really accurate. He looked the same as the pictures I’d seen of him. Hair almost as dark as Thierry’s, a disconcertingly warm intelligence behind piercing green eyes, a movie-star-perfect face. He still wore the simple clothes he had on before, of course—black, loose-fitting pants and a baggy blue T-shirt—but now the scars on his muscled left bicep and forearm had smoothed out completely.

He flashed a grin at me. “Different is good.”

I felt stunned. “So what does this mean? You’re cured, just like that?”

His grin faded. “No. This is only a glamour. It changes nothing. In three nights the ritual will go on as scheduled.”