Michele Hauf - Beautiful Danger

Pulling out the band from her ponytail, she shook out her long, stick-straight hair. Her eyeliner was smeared up on one corner, giving her a half-cat’s-eye look.

Staring at her pitiful reflection, she wondered when she had last cared. Had she ever cared?

Yes. The world had been different two years ago. Dreams had felt fluttery and fun, ambitions solid and achievable. Fashion and beauty had been important to her, because she’d known she was pretty and liked to look her best. Music—oh, music—it had been more than a hobby. Despite working nine-to-five for a local attorney’s office as a file clerk, her real passion had been her music, and she’d been practicing to audition for a seat in a small community orchestra. But she’d abandoned the fine arts after falling in love.

During a trip to Paris, she had fallen in love and married Todd Cooper, knowing what he was. And, okay, so the falling-in-love part had come after the marriage. After four months of dating, she’d discovered she was pregnant and Todd had gotten down on his knee and promised to take care of her and their family. She’d been ready to plunge into the unknown of family and the new known regarding his profession, but only because fear had motivated that readiness.

And that fear should have forewarned her of this dangerous future in which she now existed.

Fool, she thought now. To have thought she could change a person? That had been her mind process as she’d said “I do.” She hadn’t liked Todd’s profession and had hoped a new family would lure him out of it. Yet she’d quickly learned people didn’t change; they only grew more deeply into themselves, altering imperceptibly, minutely, but at their core, ever remained the same.

While she waited for the water to warm up (she could brew a cup of tea faster than it took to summon hot water from the pipes in this old building), she wandered out to the living room to get her coat. Best to keep it hung when not wearing it. The Kevlar vest and pants she let lie on the floor. She was too tired to do housecleaning right now.

No, not tired. More like annoyed. Yes, by that irritating vampire!

She selected a hanger from the movable rack she’d pushed against the back door, because the iron staircase that climbed the rear of her building was unsafe and coming loose from the outer wall so she never used it.

She heard a knock outside. On the back door that sat atop a dangerous staircase that only someone very stealth might navigate.

“Shit.” Lunging toward the end of the bed, she grabbed her pants and shuffled them on. Then she ran into the bathroom, shut off the water and grabbed a stake from the linen closet. She kept weapons hidden throughout the apartment.

Returning to the door, she slowly pushed aside the hanger rack but didn’t get it moved all the way when the door burst open, shoving the rack of clothes toward her. She stepped aside, stake raised—and recognized Domingos LaRoque behind the funky brass goggles.

The vampire remained on the threshold, his palms flat before him, pressed against...nothing. A vampire could not enter a private residence without permission. That he’d been able to push the door inside surprised.

Lark exhaled but didn’t let down her guard. She wasn’t safe by a long shot.

“Save it for later,” he said, eyeing the stake held aloft by her shoulder. “The wolves are at your front door.”

Without taking her eyes off him, she tilted her head but didn’t have to try to hear if someone was at the front door, because it also smashed inside. Wolves did not need permission to cross any threshold, private or public.

“This way!” Domingos yelled.

Tempted to go after the nuisance wolves, Lark checked her bravado. They were more than merely nuisance. Apparently, the brutes wanted to punish her for showing them up. And when weighing her chances against two or three wolves or one vampire, she’d go with the better odds.

She stepped toward the threshold and gestured that Domingos move aside. Once her hand crossed over the threshold, that was all he needed. The vampire grabbed her hand and tugged her outside, lifting her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. She beat a fist against his back, directly over the kidney, but that didn’t stop him. He didn’t take the stairs to the ground, but instead went up the rickety iron staircase.

“Let me go!”

“They’re in your bedroom.”

He tossed her up to land on the roof, which was shingled, and since she was barefoot, she had better hold than if she wore boots.

With a deft jump, he landed beside her and pressed a finger to his lips. “Quiet.”

A wicked clatter preceded the entire iron staircase landing on the small, private courtyard below. Lark moved to look over the edge of the roof, but Domingos tugged her back and shook his head in admonishment.

Below, a werewolf said, “They went down and took the stairs out behind them. Let’s go!”

The vampire eyed her breasts, the nipples peaking beneath the thin lace bra fabric. “No treats for the puppies this morning.”

“They think we went down, but they’ll figure it out as soon as they pick up my scent. They’ll find us up here.”

“That’s why we’re not going to stick around. Come on.” He stood and offered her his hand.

She should stake that hand and then plunge the stake through his heart. But she’d dropped the weapon when he’d pulled her over the threshold. And going anywhere with a vampire was out of the question.

“I’ll be fine on my own.” She took off across the roof, thankful for lacking shoes because that softened her footfalls and provided traction.

Lark crossed two rooftops with ease because the buildings in Paris were so close together, and by the third rooftop she was congratulating herself for her agility and finesse. But she knew she was not alone. The vampire followed, silently, mocking her with his easy stroll. Hands behind his back and head bowed, he merely stood there each time she looked over her shoulder, as if a child’s game and if she saw him move that would mean he was playing.

Wolf howls echoed from below. They either hadn’t figured where she had gone, or else they were tearing her place apart. She didn’t mind losing her things to raging wolves. Save the violin she valued, and perhaps a few photos she’d tucked away in a drawer.

Now if she could just lose the vampire.

As suddenly as she had the thought, she turned and the vampire crashed into her, sweeping an arm around her back and lifting her as he took the twenty-foot leap to the next roof. They landed softly, with a grace that only a winged creature could possess.

Lark knew vampires could not fly, nor did they have wings, but he presented curious evidence that the mythology the Order had taught her may be incorrect, or perhaps incomplete.

Tugging her along behind him, Domingos ran toward a roof door. They descended a concrete staircase into an empty loftlike space, floored in rotting hardwood that reeked of chemicals and coated with what looked like centuries of dust. A former factory long vacated of workers and industrial equipment?

Here they would be safe. Unless they turned on each other, which Lark wasn’t beyond doing should the vampire have the same thought.

At the far end of the loft a circular window boasting a ten-foot span looked over the rapidly brightening city sky. It reminded Lark of the rose windows found in cathedrals, yet without colored glass.

“So,” she said after catching her breath and moving to position herself near the window. A door stood to her left. An escape. “You’ve saved me twice tonight. Though I guess it’s morning now.”

“That means I get another prize.” Shoving the goggles to the top of his head, Domingos walked before her, pacing in a random circle, his bare feet leaving trails in the dust. “What shall it be this time?” He conked the side of his head as if trying to dislodge something. “Tell me!”