Michele Hauf - The Vampire's Protector

Again she did something with the tiny device, then turned it toward him. “Here’s the mirror app. Take a look.”

He bent to study the reflection in the silvered surface of the device. Indeed, it had changed from showing a painting to a mirror. Marvelous. And diabolical. And yet...

“That is...me? I look...well.” He tapped his teeth again. They were white and not wobbling in their sockets. “Such a marvel.” His nose, long and with a bend at the middle looked like the same nose. His eyes were gray and clear. His hair seemed longer. As did his face look—well, healthier. Such a handsome fellow, eh?

Realizing he was mooning over himself, Nicolo cleared his throat and stood upright. “Did you say it was you who facilitated my rising from the grave?”

“Inadvertently.”

He quirked a brow.

“When I was inspecting my find, the bow slipped across the violin strings. Played a few notes. But I didn’t do it on purpose. It was accidental.”

“You have the black violin?” Nicolo’s heart thumped once, and he winced at the aching remembrance of that vile instrument.

“I do.”

Blowing out a heavy breath, he clutched his hair in frustration. “I asked Achille to destroy that monstrosity! Oh, this is most awful.” He started to stride away, then turned and paced the pavement back up to her. “Do you know what this means?” He slapped a hand over his chest. “That explains why I feel so alive and strong. I feel as though I could run round the world and not pause to catch my breath. And my teeth.” He tapped the perfect teeth in his mouth.

“Oh wow.” She peered at his teeth. “I read you had lost all your teeth before your death.”

“I did lose them! As well as my voice. I could not speak above a whisper for years before my death. And now it is as if I have transformed into a new version of myself when I climbed up out of that coffin. And you are the reason for it!”

He clutched her about the neck and squeezed. She struggled and then kicked and landed her foot successfully at his hip, just missing his groin. Nicolo dropped the vampire and with a shout, stumbled backward into a swath of lush tall grass.

“We women have learned a thing or two about defense since your time,” she said, standing over him. “Let that be a warning. You’re strong, though.” She rubbed her reddened throat. “Kind of weird for a dead guy.”

“I am not dead,” he managed as he fought to free himself from the long grasses tangled about his shoes.

“No, you’re not. But what are you?”

That was the question, indeed. By all the blessed mercies he prayed that foul brimstone bargain had not been enacted.

“Why did you play the violin?” he asked the vampiress. He had best be cautious for another attack. The next time she could use her fangs.

“I didn’t play it,” she said. “I was supposed to find the violin and bring it to Acquisitions, but I figured I’d better open up the case and check to be sure it was inside first. When I did, it was almost as if the violin had a mind of its own. I’m sure it played those notes by itself.”

That did not surprise him. What he knew of the violin was that it was magic most foul. Diabolical, even.

Truly, had she summoned him by enacting that bedamned brimstone bargain? It didn’t seem possible. The condition had been that he should be the one to play the violin. Only then would he be granted immortality and immeasurable supernatural power.

Did he have immortality now? He certainly felt...something. Stronger, and more powerful. Sure. Yet if not immortal, what, indeed, had he become? And how to fix it?

Did he want to fix it? That may imply his going back to the grave, of dying. Again. He rather liked the air today and the soft, sweet grass beneath his shoes. The sky appeared so clear and bluer than ever he could remember. When had he last admired the sky and simply inhaled the crisp summer air?

No matter, he must not rile this woman overmuch in case she might bite and kill him. Perhaps he could play along with her suggestion to keeping an eye on him. Yes, must needs.

A zombie? If he started to decay he would immediately request a second death, because if he turned into something like that thing displayed on her little box then—absolutely not.

“Where is it?” he asked.

“The black violin? It’s uh...” Her eyes wandered along the side of the fancy silver carriage, then snapped back toward him, though she didn’t meet his gaze directly. “...on its way to the Archives for storage.”

“I don’t understand that.” She was lying to him. Moments earlier she had said she had it. “You played it not too long ago. I felt the music. It moved through my veins. And it called out to me.”

“Really?” She stepped before him, admiration sparkling in her pale blue eyes. He recognized that look. So many had looked upon him as a literal idol when he’d been at his prime performing on the stage. “You’re really him. The Paganini.”

“Indeed.” He set back his shoulders and puffed up his chest. Felt good to step back into the acknowledgment of his talents. He was a maestro, and he would resume that status. Because he knew nothing else.

“What is your name, vampire?”

“Summer Santiago.” She offered her hand, and he assumed she wanted him to shake it.

He gripped it and her skin felt warm. Amazing to feel another being’s warmth and life, to be reassured that he, as well, possessed life. Then a flash burst in his brain, and he received a series of images as if a manic dream chased his reality. The vampire was twenty-eight, had always been a vampire, had a vampire brother named Johnny, and vampire parents. Her job title was a Retriever, and that had something to do with finding lost items or magical objects. An image of her lying beneath a steel carriage such as the one they stood before confused him. She wasn’t hurt. It was a place where she enjoyed being, or rather, working.

Summer pulled her hand from his, and the images flickered out like an extinguished candle. Nicolo chugged out a gasp as the blue sky and sweet grass resumed his senses. “What was that?”

“That was a handshake. I’m pretty sure they did it back in your time. Nineteenth century, right?”

“No, those images. I saw...” He tapped his forehead. “You have a brother who is a vampire, and he sings on the stage alongside his wife. Why does she have horns?”

“How do you know that?”

“It came to me when I held your hand. Is the woman demon?”

“No, Kambriel is vampire, but she wears horns as part of her stage costume. So holding my hand gave you images of my life? That’s some kind of cool power.”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t cold. Your reference to things being hot and cold makes little sense to me.”

“Oh, buddy, it’s slang, and you have so much to learn. But of course I don’t think you’ll have much time to gain all that knowledge.”

“Why?”

“You shouldn’t exist.”

“Is that so? Why? Do you believe I am some unholy beast resurrected from death?”

“Well...are you?”

He hadn’t an answer to that one. And if he thought about it too much, he wouldn’t like the truth. She wanted to put him back in the grave? Never. He was alive, and nothing would change that. And he was strong enough to get one little vampiress off his back.

He shoved her shoulder hard and watched as her body soared through the air a good thirty feet and she landed on the side of the road, tumbling into the grassy ditch.

Nicolo winced. That had to hurt. But he had to protect himself if he wanted to survive this new world.

“So long, vampire Summer. I am off to live my new life.”

Chapter 4 Contents Cover Introduction She wanted to bite him, to taste his blood and learn if it was as rich and exciting as the man. But there was a certain danger in that. Summer had no idea what Nicolo was. What would she impart in Nicolo’s mind if she drank his blood? If he were merely human would she drive him mad? Couldn’t risk it. He needed her. And she wanted him to trust her. “Don’t let this happen,” Summer muttered. But they were only words. Her heart had already made a leap. And while that scared her, she was always one to follow adventures. Even the kind Summer had never pursued before, like the adventures of the heart. Title Page The Vampire’s Protector Michele Hauf www.millsandboon.co.uk About the Author MICHELE HAUF has been writing romance, action-adventure and fantasy stories for more than twenty years. France, musketeers, vampires and faeries usually populate her stories. And if Michele followed the adage “write what you know,” all her stories would have snow in them. Fortunately, she steps beyond her comfort zone and writes about countries and creatures she has never seen. Find her on Facebook, Twitter and at www.michelehauf.com . Dedication To all the orchestra geeks. You rock! Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Extract Copyright