Suzanne McLeod - The Cold Kiss of Death

He inclined his head in tacit agreement, then moved and touched his hand to the open doorway to the front shop. Magic sparked like a match flaring as his hand brushed the Ward. ‘There is still our predicament, Genevieve.’

‘No problem,’ I said with a confidence I wasn’t entirely sure I felt. I stood in front of the back door and looked . The black bars of the Knock-back Wards pulsed and as I studied the spell I realised long black cables of magic linked the three Wards—two on the doors and one on the window. I would need to remove all three to get Malik out. No way was there enough time to dismantle the spells, and the kitchen was too small to crack the magic—bits of wooden door or shattered glass raining down wasn’t going to help anyone—which left only one option: I’d have to absorb the spells. Of course, that option had its own drawbacks.

‘Just so you know—’ I started, turning back to Malik, then blinked as I saw him texting on his phone. Why, or rather who was he texting? He’d always struck me as a loner, not like the rest of London’s vamps, who could call on others of their blood-families. I shook my head and went on. ‘When I remove the Wards, the magic might do something to me, but don’t worry about it, okay?’

He looked up, curiosity in his gaze. ‘What will it do?’

‘Difficult to say, maybe knock me out for a second or two, or it might just make my hair stand on end, or maybe even nothing at all. The magic can be a bit capricious when it wants, but the effects wear off quickly enough. So just get out safe and come back at sunset with my alibi.’

‘As you wish,’ he said, and went back to his texting.

I gave Tomas one last look, not really wanting to leave him but knowing there was nothing I could do for him now other than find his killer. Then, I took a deep breath, held out my hands and called the Wards.

The magic hit me like a ton of bricks falling on top of me, smashing my bones and pulverising my flesh, filling my lungs with dust until I felt like I was inhaling razorblades. Somewhere in my mind I screamed as hot flames scorched through my body. Fire destroyed the edges of my vision. Hard hands circled my wrists, lifting me, jerking my shoulders from their sockets. Blood, thick and copper-sweet, filled my mouth; the reek of burning flesh was in my nose. And the bricks kept falling, and falling, burying me beneath a mound of magical rubble.

‘Genevieve, my dear, I would very much appreciate it if you woke up now.’ The Earl sounded faintly bored, but as he was one very dead vampire, I decided I must be having a nightmare and went back to floating in the sparkling mist and golden sunlight he’d distracted me from.

‘ Now , my dear,’ the Earl repeated, more insistently, and a sharp pain in my hand made my eyes snap open.

A blur of red and black and pink resolved itself and my startled reflection looked down at me from the large mirror on the ceiling. I blinked as I took in the details. I was lying on black satin sheets on a bed the size of a small football field. There was a surgical shunt taped to the back of my left hand, delivering clear fluid from a drip, and three heart monitor pads stuck to my chest, their wires trailing out of view. My honey-coloured skin was mottled yellow and green with bruises, except for some pink shiny patches that looked like newly healed burns.

I didn’t look so good; to be honest, Frankenstein’s monster probably looked better. Oddly, I was dressed in a slinky red satin negligée that clashed with what was left of my singed and frizzled amber hair. The red slinky number was also at least two sizes too big in the bust area: it gaped down the front, not leaving much to anyone’s imagination. Around me the rest of the room’s décor kept going ad nauseam with the red and black theme: carpet, walls, even the ornate curtains framing the French doors and the pre-dawn sky. Yep. Definitely dreaming; hospitals don’t usually go for Bordello Tacky.

‘Good morning, Genevieve.’ The Earl sat on the bed next to me, blond hair flopping over his pale, aristocratic face, the blue of his Oxford shirt bringing out the azure colour of his eyes. The blue blazer and grey flannel trousers all contributed to his relaxed At Home in the County look—but the look was an illusion; he was the top dog in London’s vampire food chain ... or at least he had been before I’d killed him. Damn. Why couldn’t I have a normal nightmare, like running through an eerie forest being chased by something horrible and nameless, instead of a surreal dream about dead vampires in the middle of a weird hospital make-over show?

He smiled broadly, flashing his fangs. ‘I was beginning to feel a tad concerned for you, my dear. I have been attempting to awaken you for quite some time now.’

‘Go away,’ I said, only it came out more gawwwrr .

‘I knew you’d be delighted to see me.’ He patted my red satin-covered thigh. ‘And just to put your mind at rest, I am not a dream, nor some drug-induced hallucination’—he lifted my unresisting hand up from where it lay on the bed—‘in spite of the morphine in your body.’ He flicked the shunt and the sharp pain came again.

‘Grreeoffmee,’ I slurred, wishing he would go pop! or whatever dead-dream vampires were supposed to do.

‘I see that you are finding this hard to accept.’ He released my hand and we both watched as it thudded onto the mattress and bounced. ‘I must admit, I did myself at first, but I have become used to the idea that I am not truly dead.’

The pain in my hand receded and I tried to roll over in an effort to go back to the sparkling mist and end the nightmare. Or at least in my mind I did. My body stayed where it was. My own horrified eyes stared down at me as I realised I couldn’t move, my heart thudded slow and heavy in my chest and fear crawled into me on shuddering, drug-muted claws. Maybe this wasn’t a dream.

‘Iwatchedgoblinsscatterashes.’ My words still slurred, but I was getting a little more control now.

‘Yes, so you did. That was rather an unpleasant surprise.’ He smoothed a hand down his blazer lapel. ‘It was a much more pleasant revelation when I realised I had not quite shuffled off this mortal coil’—he flashed fangs again—‘or, in my case, immortal coil.’

‘Happywithyoudoingshufflingbit,’ I muttered in disgust.

He sighed. ‘The medication is stifling your thoughts, my dear. It is annoying; I particularly wished to converse with you. Allow me to remedy it.’ He picked up my hand again and jerked out the shunt. I struggled in cotton wool-wrapped terror as he sniffed my inner wrist. ‘Your blood is as deliciously sweet as ever, even with the drugs.’ His two needle-thin venom fangs extended between his sharp canine teeth. Gripping my forearm tightly, he plunged all four fangs into my flesh.

Pain ripped through me and my arms and legs twitched like a dying fish as my brain’s message to fight struggled to reach my muscles. I screamed, but he clamped his hand over my face, muffling the sound as he pressed my head back into the black satin pillows. Then the world turned hazy and silver as his venom flooded my blood and hit my heart like a sledgehammer, and the pain dissolved in the rush of promised pleasure. My heart beat faster and faster. Heat and lust suffused my body as the venom-induced adrenalin sensitised every inch of my skin.

He reared up his head and inhaled deeply. ‘You know how this works, don’t you, my dear? With so much of my venom in your blood, your body will continue to crave sexual release, but it will unable to reach it other than through my feeding.’ He leaned over and pushed aside the negligée, smiling as he pinched my left nipple. I arched into his hand, the pain/pleasure nearly destroying me. ‘Of course, it would be quite crass of me to take advantage of you in this condition, when you are unable to defend yourself.’ The Earl gave a satisfied sigh and licked a spot of my blood from his bottom lip. ‘But it is edifying to know I haven’t lost my touch, as it were.’