Fangs But No Fangs (35 page)
Jolee's hand trembled and she started to put the letter down, but she couldn't. She had to read on.
And I can enter your house as a shadow or as mist. It's just one of the abilities I now have.
She looked around her, a cold chill stealing up her spine. No, this was nonsense. Then she looked at the zippered bag. She knew the bag and the letter hadn't been there last night, and she hadn't slept. So how had she not heard anyone come in the trailer? How had that happened?
I became a vampire after Christian attacked me.
Jolee made a noise in her throat.
Please don't let that frighten you. He is not the same Christian now that he was back then. He was still under Lilah's influence then. He still believed Rhys had wronged him. And he didn't actually cross me over to vampirism. My beloved Rhys did that, and I'm eternally grateful. He is the love of my life. My soul mate. Just as Christian is yours. I can see that. I can sense it.
Jolee, I know this is hard to accept, nearly impossible to believe, but what he told you is true. Vampires do exist. And they are not evil creatures of the night.
For me, vampires have been the family I never had. And I've never been happier or felt more blessed. Whatever you decide, please know that none of us ever meant you any harm. And I'm pleased to have met you.
Best wishes,
Jane
Jolee read the letter again. She didn't know what to believe. What to think. She set the letter down, and then went through the trailer checking all the windows and doors. Everything was as she'd left it. And she hadn't heard a sound. She had been too agitated to have missed even the slightest noise.
She hurried back to her living room, looking across to Christian's trailer. His heavy shades were drawn and his car was parked in the driveway. Rhys and Sebastian's SUV was beside his Porsche. Did he have those heavy blinds to keep out the sun? Her room wasn't as dark, and he slept in there fine.
She walked back to her room, and realized the room was quite dark, especially if the curtains were pulled over the blinds which, now that she thought about it, Christian always did at some point in the night.
Okay, she was losing it. She was actually starting to consider that this ludicrous story could possibly be real. Walking back to the kitchen, she glanced once more at the money and the letter. Those were real and they'd gotten there somehow.
Bang! Jolee jumped as her door shook as if it was going to be ripped from the hinges. She rushed over and peered out the window. Vance stood on the other side, furious.
She hesitated, but then moved the chair. Bad move. As soon as she did, Vance shouldered the door open.
"You little bitch," he gritted out as he stalked toward her. He looked wild and unkempt. His greasy hair spiked from his head. His shirt and jeans were dirty. She backed away from him, but also tried to avoid being cornered.
"Vance, wh-what are you doing here?"
He laughed bitterly. "Like you don't know. First, you didn't give me some money. Not smart. But this last thing, Jolee. Oh, you are going to pay for that."
Jolee shook her head. "I don't know what you are talking about."
He laughed again, his lips curling back menacingly. He stalked forward, and she shifted away, trying to move so that she could reach the door.
"I can't go back to prison."
Jolee realized the police must have questioned him and found some evidence. Or drugs. She glanced at the door, gauging her position. She had to keep him talking, and keep herself moving slowly. If she could get out the door, she could run to Christian.
"I can drop any charges. You can get help."
He laughed again. "I already came to you for help. For money. But you wouldn't give it to me. That wasn't very helpful."
But he stepped closer, stopping her slow sidestep toward the door. "And now I have the damned pigs after me. Not helpful, Cherry. Not helpful at all."
"Vance," she said in a gentle tone, afraid he was going to come closer. "I'll just forget everything. Just let all this go."
He laughed at that. A rough bark. "Too late, sis. They know what I did with that money. They plan to take me in for possession."
"Then you need to go, now," she said, making the fear in her voice sound like it was for him.
Vance nodded. "Yes. I do. But not before I make you pay."
He lunged at her, catching her arm just as she reached the front stoop. He jerked her backward, wrenching her arm. She screamed out in pain and lost her balance, falling hard on the stoop, her body half in and half out of the front door.
Before she could get her bearing, Vance straddled her, his weight forcing her breath out of her. He pinned her arms to the linoleum and loomed over her.
"I'm not letting my trailer trash sister and her cocky-ass boyfriend get the better of me."
Vance hit her then, backhanding her right across the face. She gasped and saw stars. She had to stay conscious. If she passed out, God only knew what Vance might do. He looked strung out, insane.
He hit her again. A bolt of pain shot from her cheekbone throughout her head. She needed help. She needed Christian.
Vance lifted his hand again, and this time his hand was fisted. Maybe he meant to beat her to death.
"Christian," she tried to shout, his name no more than a disoriented cry that he would never hear. She started to lose consciousness.
Christian awoke immediately, hearing Jolee calling for him, feeling her pain. He struggled to his feet, disoriented but desperate to find her. He staggered down the hall, focusing on Jolee and where she was. She was in her trailer. She was in pain.
Her voice reached him again. "Christian!"
He reached for the knob, throwing open his front door. He immediately recoiled as sunlight burned his eyes. He stumbled back out of the direct sunlight and blinked through watering eyes, trying to find her.
He did. Prone on her top step with a man on top of her, hurting her. He saw the man's hand rear back to strike her, and he darted out into the sunlight.
He didn't even feel the rays sear the bare skin of his back, blistering everywhere it touched. All he could focus on was getting to Jolee, protecting her.
He reached them quickly, even though his movements were heavy and awkward. He caught the back of the man's shirt and pulled him off her. Unfortunately, his body was weighted and clumsy from the sun, and the two men rolled down the metal stairs into a heap.
The man rose over Christian, prepared to attack, and Christian saw the man's face. Vance. Of course it was Vance. The bastard. And as Vance saw Christian, he froze, appalled. Christian knew how he must look, blistered and charred. Horrifying.
Vance tried to scramble away backward, on his hands and feet like a scared crab. Christian didn't allow his retreat. He managed to stand in one move, the action costing him much of his energy. But he pushed away the ponderous fatigue and caught Vance's shirt, lifting the man with one arm. Then he punched Vance repeatedly until his nose and lips bled.
"If you come near Jolee again, I will kill you. Do you hear me?"
His voice was raw, grating.
Vance didn't answer. Christian released him, and he fell in a crumpled heap on the gravel, unconscious.
Christian fell, too. He tried to stand, to go to Jolee, but the sun stole his strength, just as it was stealing his life. He made it to his feet, only to fall back to his knees in the dirt. He tried again, but couldn't. He was dying.
He fell heavily, face down; he could now smell the burn of his own skin. He could hear the sizzle. Then he heard a small distressed cry beside him, and he felt Jolee's hands on him. They were blessedly cool on his marred flesh.
He sighed.
"Christian. Oh God, Christian. Please get up." She tugged at him.
At first, he didn't even try. But her pulls became more frantic, and he worried that she'd hurt herself. He used the little strength he had to work with her as she caught him under the arms and dragged him toward the stairs.
After much struggling, she got him into the kitchen, then she managed to pull him down the hall to her bedroom. She left him on the floor to go secure the curtains closed, then she tried to lift him up to the bed, but he had no energy left and she simply wasn't strong enough.
She collapsed onto the floor beside him. Again she touched his face, his hair. "Oh, Christian."
"A fright, aren't I?" he managed to rasp.
"No," she assured him. "No."
She started to stand again. "I have to get your brothers."
He caught her arm; his charred hand looked hideous against her smooth, pale skin. He released her. "No. Will happen to them, too."
She hesitated, then nodded. "But I need to get you to a doctor."
"Won't help."
She shook her head. "Then what should I do? You need help."
"Too late," he breathed.
Jolee shook her head, a desperate sound escaping her lips. No. He couldn't be dying. He couldn't. But as she looked at his horribly ravaged skin, she knew he couldn't survive.
"I'm sorry," she told him. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you."
He shook his head just slightly as if to tell her it didn't matter. Then he smiled, his beautiful lips cracked and blistered. "Showed you."
She knew he meant to be funny, but she couldn't laugh. Instead a desperate whimper escaped her. She couldn't lose this man. This man who risked himself to save her. A woman who'd told him he was insane, who didn't believe him and trust him after all the wonderful things he'd done for her. And now he was dying— because of her.
He lifted a burnt hand to her face, not touching her, just gesturing to her face. "You have bruises."
How could he worry about her? About a few bruises that would heal. He was dying. Her heart twisted, stealing her breath.
"Christian. There has to be a way to save you."
He shook his head. "No."
"But I can't lose you. I love you."
He smiled. "Love you, too." His eyes closed.
She looked around helplessly as if she'd find something to help him in her room. Maybe there was. Maybe she was the thing that could save him.
"What if you fed? Would that help you?"
He blinked his pale eyes open.
"No," he said. In those pale eyes that were sometimes so unreadable, she saw she was right. She could save him with her blood.
"You have to bite me."
"No. Would need too much."
"Would you kill me? Or cross me over?"
"Cross," he stated. "But can't bite."
Her chest squeezed. He couldn't bite. He'd told her that. She couldn't save him, like he'd saved her.
She made a strangled sound, touching his scorched face. She was failing the man she loved. She was losing him.
She stared down at him, helpless.
"Don't cry."
It wasn't until he said the words that she realized tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Then don't leave me," she pleaded. "Please."
He nodded, although she knew he was just appeasing her.
She slid her arm under his back and managed to pull him up, cradling him against her chest, her back braced against the wall. She buried her face in his hair, sobbing helplessly. He shifted, his mouth brushing the base of her throat.
"Don't," he whispered.
"Then stay with me. Make me like you. I want to be with you forever."
He didn't move for a moment, and she feared he was gone. Then she felt the brush of his lips on her skin again. Then a startling pierce at her neck, then tremendous, overwhelming satisfaction. Then nothing.
When she awoke, she was in bed. She sat up, looking around her, expecting Christian to be gone, expecting to discover that the events of earlier were just a dream, a nightmare.
Then she saw him. He stood in the doorway in only a pair of dusty black pants, but the dust was the only sign of his earlier struggle. The charred, blistered skin she remembered was again golden and smooth and perfect.
He regarded her with a worried expression, his eyes clouded with guilt. Only then did she feel the changes in herself. The energy in her veins, the strength in her body. She felt wonderful.
"Am I a vampire?" she asked him.
He nodded, looking pained. She scrambled off the bed and went to him, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her cheek to his bare chest.
"Thank you," she said. "Thank you for not leaving me."
He gently caught her upper arms and pushed her away enough so that he could look at her. "How can you thank me? I used your blood to save my own existence."
"No," she said with a smile. "You used my blood to give us forever."
He stared at her for a moment, then pulled her tightly against his chest. His mouth captured hers.
"Why did Lilah walk out into the sun?" she asked, now knowing that was what she must have done.
Christian frowned, surprised by the question. "She killed herself because she was crazy, and never recovered from the fact she couldn't control Rhys as she did me. She wanted him, and he fought her. He was strong."
She shook her head. "No, you are strong. You risked your own life to save me."
"I love you," he said simply.
"Good thing," she said with a saucy smile. "I don't cry for just anyone."
"You will never have reason to cry again," he promised her. And Jolee knew he was telling her the truth. And she believed him.
EPILOGUEFor those of you who have read my blog religiously over the past year, I'm sorry that I've dropped the ball in the past few months. I've been busy, and some rather interesting things have happened during that time.
First of all, let me start by saying I've decided that my twelve-step program has worked. Well, sort of. Certain things like Step 1: Honesty, Step 5: Integrity, Step 7: Humility, and Step 9: Forgiveness—those are all huge parts of being a successful human. Actually all the steps (listed in full in my January 15, 2005 entry) are important to being human. And to being a vampire too.
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