Кейти Макалистер: A Girl's Guide to Vampires

"It's not every day you meet someone who's read tarot cards for a murder victim," I commented chattily, receiving for my efforts identical glares from both Roxy and Tanya.

"It wasn't just the one," Arielle said, blowing her nose delicately. "There was another woman murdered in Le Havre just after we left, and one in Bordeaux three months ago—do you remember, Tanya? She bought a love spell from you the week before. We saw her picture in the paper. She was the latest victim, until Heidelberg."

The room spun into a gray swirl of confusion as the image of a man burst with startling clarity into my mind. He was in black, his features shadowed, silhouetted against the night, walking with long, tireless strides. The wind brushed against him as he moved through the woods, driven by a need I couldn't begin to understand. I was pulled toward him, merged with him until I could feel the blood moving through his veins and the breath on his lips as he approached the town, stalking through the night with an arrogance that bespoke centuries of existence. Through his eyes I saw the lights of the town as they flickered through the pine boughs; when his breath quickened as he inhaled deeply to catch the scents of the town, so did mine. The images in his mind filled mine, thoughts of humans, warm and alive, their blood singing a sweet siren song he couldn't resist. He leaped over a drainage ditch, moving swiftly and powerfully up a hill to the outskirts of town, muscles and sinews and tendons working with graceful efficiency. The scent of blood was strong in our nostrils now; the taste of it made our mouths water. I knew from our memory that the feel of it was like nothing I'd ever known, hot and sweet, flowing down my throat—

"JOY!"

I jumped as the horrible sensations faded, leaving me nauseated and shaking, clutching the table as the room dipped and spun around me. It was like the experience I'd had a few weeks prior at Miranda's, but a hundred times more intense, a thousand times more terrible. I hadn't just seen a man this time, I'd merged with him, become part of him, joined with him as he stalked his prey. My mind was screaming out demands for information and warnings with equal confusion, and yet in all the chaos, one question repeated itself again and again until it consumed me.

What the hell was happening to me?

"Are you all right? You look like you're a million miles away, and you're breathing funny. Is it your asthma? You want me to go get your inhaler?" Roxy's voice was tight with worry.

I shook my head to clear the remnants of the… there was no other word for it but vision … and pushed the glass of beer away from me with a shaky hand. I still felt sick and dizzy, but it was fading. "Sorry. No, I'm fine. Just spaced out there for a few minutes. I guess I'm not meant to be drinking alcohol anymore."

Roxy shot me a curious look, part concern, part exasperation, but said nothing further about it. She chatted to Arielle while I tried to pull myself together, tried to analyze what games my mind was playing on me. It had to be the beer, I've never been the type of person to experience anything creepy like that. Not even the ill-fated rune stone reading at the Womyn's Magick Festival had made me feel as if I were a pawn to a force I didn't understand, let alone believe. Either I was having some sort of reaction to the beer, or I was going insane. Maybe that was it, maybe I was going mad. That seemed almost a preferable fate than to thinking the vision I had was real. I licked my dry lips. I could still taste the metallic bite of blood as it flowed over my tongue and down my throat.

"What did you mean, 'latest victim'?" The words were out of my mouth before I realized it. All three women stared at me. Something Arielle had said suddenly seemed to be important. "You mentioned a couple of other women who had been to your fair, women who died afterwards, and you said one was the latest victim. What did you mean?"

"Nothing," Tanya spat. "She meant nothing. There is no connection, as the German police have proven to their satisfaction, so your accusations will serve no purpose."

I pushed the worry of my potential insanity aside, surprised by the intensity of Tanya's verbal attack. "Look, Tanya, I'm sorry if you think I'm accusing you of anything, but I'm not. I'm just curious about what Arielle said about there being more than one murder victim."

"Arielle said nothing of interest," Tanya said sullenly and stared into her beer. I pursed my lips and looked at Roxy. She shrugged. I sat back, ignoring the darkness creeping into my mind to concentrate on the bit of information Arielle had presented. I've always loved murder mysteries, and this seemed like the ideal thing to occupy my mind while I waited for the guys in the white suits to show up and take me away.

"So… there was more than one body?" I asked Arielle. As soon as the words left my lips, my mind was flooded with the immense satisfaction found in acts of dominance and conquest, the heat of another's body pressed tightly against mine, the scent of her shampoo, the silk of her skin against my mouth, warmth trickling through me, filling the icy regions, quieting the beast that howled within… I snapped my eyes open, coughing and choking to clear my mouth of the horrible substance. Blood.

He was feeding.

It was too much for me. I half stood, clutching the table for support. "I think… I think I…" A red pit opened before me. I clawed at the table to keep from falling into it.

"Joy?"

Roxy was there in an instant, her arms around me, pushing me back into the chair. "Put your head down between your knees. It'll pass in a minute."

I did as she ordered, unable to stop the trembling that racked me. My mind was shrieking, screaming with the need to know what was going on, what was wrong with me, why I was suddenly seeing things I had no desire to see, let alone believe in.

Vampire , whispered the wind. I shook my head vehemently, banging the back of my head against the underside of the table. I clutched at the sensation, welcoming the pain since it was real, not imagined. Real—I desperately needed something real.

"Joyful, you OK?"

I opened my eyes and lifted my head cautiously. Roxy was squatting next to me, applying a cold wet cloth to the back of my neck. "Geez, you scared the crap out of me. Your face went absolutely pale, and your eyes were empty like there was nothing there. Don't ever do that to me again, OK?"

"OK," I agreed, mustering a ghost of a smile.

She hugged me tightly for a moment, whispering, "Don't make me get tough with you, sister," before she pulled back.

I gave a shaky little laugh at her order as I sat up slowly. Arielle stood on my other side holding out a glass of water, the bartender next to her speaking rapidly in Czech. I swallowed a bit of the water and in German assured the man I was just fine.

"Delayed jet lag," Roxy told him. "Jet lag Delayed Looong time," she repeated louder in that weird pidgin form of English so many Americans abroad adopt.

"He's Czech, Rox, not deaf," I pointed out, wiping my face with the wet cloth before handing it back to the bartender. I sipped a bit more water while everyone drifted back to where they were sitting, just as if nothing earth-shattering had happened. I rubbed my forehead and wondered why my mind had chosen that moment to snap, and what I was going to do about piecing it back together. What I needed was some time to myself with a big gallon jug of brain super glue.

"I think you should go lie down rather than go to the GothFaire," Roxy pronounced, evidently reading what remained of my mind. "You look like death warmed over."

"Thanks a lot." I struggled to block out the feeling of danger that surged within me until it howled like the wind in a storm. I gritted my teeth as Roxy chatted on, unwilling to give in to the sensation, clutching the arms of the chair in an attempt to focus on what was real, not what my mind was generating. The wood, that was real. It was hard and smooth from years of polishing, the intricate scroll carving on the arms was deep, the edges blunted with use. I fought to control my breathing, denying the need to pant as the blackness drew closer.