Мишель Роуэн - Stakes & Stilettos

"Not bad." I turned to George again. "Listen, tell me more about this Red Devil guy. Who is he? What has he done? Where did he come from?"

He scratched his chin. "Well, I don't know much actually. Other than the fact that he's a hero. Back in the old days when hunters tried to take out a bunch of vamps, the Red Devil would swing in and save them all."

I thought about that. "How come I've never heard of him before?"

"There's a lot of things you've probably never heard of. You've been a vamp for barely any time at all. And besides, until last night I thought he was long gone. Haven't heard any rumors about him for years, and he's never even been active in my lifetime. He did most of the big stuff in the old days stretching all the way back to the Crusades. The guy's got to be over a thousand years old." He shifted position on the bed. "But still hot."

I thought about my scarfed hero. "I just can't figure it out. Why would he be here? Why would he save me?"

George shrugged. "Maybe you should stop overanalyzing it and just consider yourself lucky."

"Yeah, maybe." My stake wound itched so I rubbed it lightly. "I never even got the chance to thank him."

"Maybe you'll see him again some day," Amy said. "That would be so romantic."

I looked at her sharply. "You've seriously got to lay off the Nora Roberts, Amy. I'm not interested in him. I would like to thank him for saving my life, but I may never get the chance. Besides, Thierry thinks he's just some guy dressing up like the Red Devil. Trying to be something he's not."

"Oh, brother," Amy sighed. "Who cares what he thinks? You have a gorgeous vampire superhero who risked his life to save you. You, Sarah. And you're worried about what that reclusive jerk thinks?"

"I know you don't believe this, Amy, but I'm in love with Thierry. Love, love. Like cupids and hearts and sexy lingerie love."

She made a face. "But he's no Red Devil."

"You don't even know the Red Devil."

"I know he's strong and courageous and incredibly amazing."

George nodded. "Definitely."

"Thierry's none of those things," Amy said firmly. "You just won't accept that."

I glared at her. "Sure, he's a little reserved and sometimes he doesn't talk much."

"Does he ever even go outside?" Amy asked, and I knew she was trying to exaggerate because she was finding this debate funny.

I grinned. "He goes outside at least twice a week. Fresh air is important to a master vampire."

"But only when it's safe," Amy said. "After all, we must be vigilant about the dangers that lurk around us at all times." She did a surprisingly good impression of him and I couldn't help but laugh.

"An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of wooden stakes," George added.

"Look, he is who he is," I said. "You should give him half a chance."

"But you wish Thierry could be a little more like the Red Devil" Amy raised a thin, perfectly plucked eyebrow.

I shrugged. "Maybe I do. A little. The Red Devil was rather… forceful I'd be willing to bet that he'd charge right into a dangerous situation instead of staying inside where it's safe."

Amy and George didn't reply to that. The cheery smiles had fallen away from both of their expressions.

After a moment, George cleared his throat. "Hey, Thierry. I guess Amy left the front door unlocked, huh?"

I glanced at the doorway. Thierry leaned against it. There was a small smile on his lips.

Terrific. And how much was I willing to bet that out of that entire conversation, he'd only heard the very last thing I'd said. I was such an asshole.

"I hope it's okay that I let myself in, Amy," he said.

She was frozen over by the closet with a sparkly red dress held up in front of her as if for protection against the forces of evil. "Sure. Uh-huh."

"That one." I pointed at the dress. "It's perfect. Can I borrow it?"

She nodded stiffly and flung the hanger in the general direction of my lap.

"Are you ready to go?" Thierry asked me. "Your overnight bag is in my trunk. We can be in Abottsville in three hours."

I nodded and began to get up from the bed, but since I was still nursing the healing wound it took some effort. He came over to my side and assisted me to my feet.

"Bye, Thierry." Amy stayed over by the closet. She was looking at her chosen object of disdain, Thierry. But as I focused on her expression I realized that there wasn't much disdain to be seen in her wide eyes.

She looked like a teenager at a rock concert.

I frowned.

And then I had the sudden and profound realization that, despite all of her harsh and nasty words, my pink-haired best friend had a crush on my boyfriend.

Her gaze flicked to mine and I think she saw it in my eyes—that I knew her dirty little secret. She looked away and actually started to whistle innocently.

Great. Just what I needed.

Thierry helped me out to his black Audi without saying another word. He pulled out of the driveway in front of Barry and Amy's apartment complex.

"About what I said in there," I began.

"What did you say?"

I didn't even remember, actually. But I knew it had something to do with me wishing that he was more courageous, like the Red Devil. I didn't mean that. I'd been joking around. I knew Thierry was courageous. I'd seen it with my own eyes. I felt horrible that he might have overheard me say something I didn't even believe.

"Nothing." I shook my head and forced a smile. "You know I love you, right?"

He smiled as he eased the car onto the highway. "I know. You love me despite my many flaws. But just so you know, this Red Devil person is not perfect either."

Shit. He had heard.

"I never said he was."

"In fact, I think he may be dangerous, whoever he truly is under that disguise. If he approaches you again I want you to tell me immediately."

I nodded. "Okay. But let's forget all about him just for today."

He turned to me and met my eyes briefly before focusing on the road again. "Agreed."

And even though I wondered who he was, what he wanted, and where he came from, I forced myself to forget all about the Red Devil.

Or, at least, I tried damned hard to.

Interlude

Paris, France, A.D. 1547

"Thierry, I'd like you to meet Marcellus."

He came to Veronique's side and raised his eyes to meet those of the man he'd heard about for two hundred years. The man his wife had never stopped caring for, even though he had left her to fend for herself during the darkest days of the Black Death plague.

It was very difficult to be married to someone who was hopelessly in love with another.

Difficult, but not impossible.

Thierry nodded at the vampire and forced a semblance of a smile to appear on his face. His collar felt stiff at his throat, as if he was being choked by it. Veronique constantly accused him of being unfriendly to others they met in their travels through Europe, of being a miserable man filled with a festering darkness.

He had to admit, the woman was an excellent judge of character—except when it came to

Marcellus, that is.

Marcellus was a handsome man. Tall and imposing, with fair hair and skin, but with a charming smile—the ease of which Thierry admired—and an obvious taste for fashion. His clothing was perfectly tailored and expensive enough that the cost of it could have fed

Thierry's entire family for years.

His family. They'd all died during the plague. Four sisters, two brothers, and his mother.

Gone. His father had died years earlier, and as the eldest by five years, Thierry had taken on a parental role with his siblings. Yet, only he had survived.

Survived, he thought with bitterness. Yes. After two hundred years of life, survival was all that mattered anymore.

Veronique, he had to admit, was a beautiful woman. Hair as dark as night that she wore in the latest styles. She dressed in the latest fashions. Her wrists and neck and ears dripped with jewels—all of which Veronique had acquired for herself. Thierry didn't know how she had paid for such luxuries, but there was always money to spend. He had long since stopped questioning their resources.