Мишель Роуэн - Fanged & Fabulous

Thierry finally released me. And said nothing.

I looked at him. “I take it you don’t want him to know I’m the Slayer of Slayers.”

His lips thinned. “You could have mentioned you spoke with him on the telephone.”

“So . . . ” I cleared my throat, feeling my face flush. “We’re still on for our date tomorrow night?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “I am looking forward to it.”

“Super.”

Three long and tiring hours later, I was home at my apartment, doors double-locked, trying my damnedest to get to sleep. Even considering that I was exhausted, it seemed to be an impossibility to clear my mind.

George gave me a ride home from the club as opposed to my taking another expensive cab. He said he’d stay on my couch, but I told him I was okay. I regretted it as soon as he left.

I wasn’t even sure if Thierry knew I’d left the club, he was so busy talking on the phone with his office door closed up tight.

My mind raced. From my new reputation, to Nicolai’s offer . . . to . . . well, I didn’t really want to think about Quinn. Although maybe I should. The reaction the ex-hunter had elicited from Thierry had been very interesting. Did Quinn make him jealous? Or did he just not like the guy?

I heard the padding sound of footsteps outside my bedroom. The door, which was already open a crack, creaked open even farther. The footsteps grew nearer. I couldn’t see anybody in the inky darkness, but I wasn’t scared it was a hunter. I knew what it was.

I felt a wet tongue lick up my bare arm, which was hanging off the side of my bed.

“Gross.” I turned to look at the floor. “How many times have I told you not to do that? Bad dog.”

Barkley wagged his tail innocently.

“Don’t give me that. I know you can understand me.”

Barkley scratched the side of the bed and whined.

I sighed. “It’s the middle of the night. You have to go outnow ?”

I was currently dog-sitting Barkley, since his regular keeper was spending some much-needed time relaxing in a special hospital near Niagara Falls . Some might call it an insane asylum, but I preferred to look at it as a “special hospital.” He’d been charged with the murder of Roger Quinn, who just happened to be Quinn’s zealous, vampire-hunting father. When the police arrived, apparently Dr. Kalisan (former fake-o cure-for-vampirism doctor, but actually a pretty nice guy) went on and on about vampires, which made the court decide a little time in the hospital would be a good thing.

Anyhow, Dr. Kalisan needed somebody to look after his werewolf while he was away. This is a phrase he used in front of the other doctors, which did nothing to make him look non-insane.

The fact that Barkley actuallywas a werewolf really didn’t make any difference in the situation. I’d never seen him in human form. Apparently he was stuck this way: as a big, shaggy, scary-looking, but friendly,

black dog.

Who had to go out to do his business many times a day.

“Don’t you think you can hold it?” I asked him. “All I need is a few hours’ sleep. I’ve had one hell of a day. Why don’t you know how to use the toilet?”

Barkley whined and scratched at my bed again.

I stared at the dark ceiling for a moment. And sighed. Well, it wasn’t like I was getting any sleep anyhow.

“All right, I’ll take you out.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and then hunted around for my fuzzy slippers and ratty blue terrycloth bathrobe. “But you better make it a quick one.”

I grabbed my keys off the kitchen counter. My cell phone was right next to them so I grabbed that too and slipped it into the deep pocket of my robe. More of a habit than anything.

He was scratching at the door by the time I got there.

I tied my robe and glanced at the nearest clock: 5:35 A.M.

Then I unlocked the door, slipped out into the hallway, and pushed the down button on the elevator.

Barkley was still whining, now scratching on the elevator doors.

“Okay, almost there,” I told him. “Relax, would you?”

Outside, it was freezing. Nobody should be out in January before 6 A.M. Even creatures of the night like me. Even though the cold didn’t really bother me much anymore, it just felt wrong. Especially while wearing pink fuzzy slippers and after recently learning I was a potential walking target.

I found the spot I usually took Barkley, a ten-foot-by-ten-foot patch of snow with a tree he seemed to enjoy. I absently glanced up at my balcony on the tenth floor.

And frowned.

“What the hell?” I said aloud.

A dark figure was scaling the side of the building. It stopped briefly at my floor, bracing itself on the balcony railing, and threw something. I heard the sound of glass shattering.

“Hey!” I shouted. “What the hell do you think you’re doing up there?”

The figure swung over to another balcony and then another, and then it was out of my line of sight.

Barkley hadn’t done his business yet. He looked up at me and whined.

And then my apartment blew up.

My apartment.

Blew. Up.

In a great big ball of fire.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Barkley started to howl. Doors slammed. I heard voices around me in the cold early morning and after a while a blanket was wrapped around my shoulders. I smelled the smoke, sharp and pungent, and it made my eyes water. Sirens, loud and migraine-inspiring, assaulted my ears. My mouth felt dry. People started asking questions, touching my shoulder, staring at me with concern.

“You’re so lucky you got out,” one voice said. I don’t know who it was. I don’t even know if I answered.

The apartment complex was evacuated and people milled around me, looking confused and afraid.

I just stared up at what used to be my apartment, now a smoking black spot on the side of the building,

ten floors up, and I burst into tears.

“Nobody was hurt, thank God!” another voice said.

Then in lower tones. “She must have had a gas leak. Poor girl.”

Poor girl. They were talking about me.

The pale girl standing outside in the cold in her bathrobe, crying like a baby, with a red blanket dangling from her shoulders. In shock, not moving, not thinking. Just staring at everything she had in the world that had just gone up in smoke.

Barkley nudged my hand. I looked down at him.

“Woof,” he offered in a concerned tone.

“The hunters,” I said to myself, or to Barkley, or just out loud. My voice sounded odd. Kind of creaky.

Broken. “The hunters did this, didn’t they?”

Vampire hunters had just blown up my apartment.

And they’d been two minutes too late to take me with it.

“Shit,” I whispered. “I really am in serious trouble, aren’t I, Barkley?”

Behind me, I heard a car door slam. I didn’t know how long I’d been standing there, but the sun was now beginning to come up, casting a pinky orange glow along the ruined side of the apartment building.

Pretty, I thought absently as a shiver went through me.

“Sarah.” A hand touched my upper arm to slowly ease me around. Thierry’s brow was creased, his face and shoulders tight. His frown deepened when he saw my face.

I turned to glance at the building again. Despite the warm blanket, I was shaking.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Okay,” I felt the word on my tongue, but said nothing else.

His gaze slid down the front of me, then back up to my face. “Answer me, Sarah.” His voice sounded harsh with concern. “Are you injured?”

I looked down at Barkley and sniffed. The damn dog had saved my life. I suddenly felt guilty for deciding not to buy him the steak-flavored dog biscuits because they weren’t on sale this week.