Real Vampires Get Lucky

“This is why I never turned anyone before.” Jerry had done this for me. But we'd been heavy duty lovers back in the day. We'd needed to stay together, for the hot sex if nothing else.

“It doesn't have to be forever, Gloriana, just until she can deal with her new situation on her own.” Hmm. So why did Jerry still insist on keeping tabs on me with the whole bodyguard bit? Could it be love? He said so, but then eternity loomed, and to be tied to the same sixteenth-century male . . .

“Glory, you're not going to just leave her there, are you?”

“Okay, okay. I know what I have to do.” Sort of. “Call me, Jerry, when you get back to town.” I hung up and put my hand on Valdez's collar when he growled again. Lucky struggled to her feet, cursing when she slipped in her own blood and stained her boots. I resisted the urge to give her a hand, sure she'd just slap it away.

She started collecting her scattered treasures. An antique hand mirror had survived without a crack. A BlackBerry and enough cosmetics to open a stall at a flea market were tossed into her bag. She stared at her cell phone for a minute, obviously still confused despite her tough talk.

“Is there anyone you want to call? Like a husband? That family of yours? Cops?” I was obviously going to be stuck with the woman. It couldn't hurt to make nice. Her fingers were bare, but that didn't mean the vamp who'd torn out her throat hadn't lifted a few baubles as a souvenir, including a wedding ring. “Anything missing besides your credit card?” She reached up and felt her earlobes. “Damn it, those were my favorite two carat studs.” She looked at my David Yurman knockoffs and sniffed, “No husband this decade. I'm definitely not calling my family. And no cops. I'll get my stuff back, my way.” She wobbled on her high-heeled boots. “I feel weird. What exactly did you do to me?” Her eyes rolled and I grabbed her before she hit the ground. Out cold.

I pulled her coat off and tossed it next to the door to collect later. Then I slung her over my shoulder and stuck her purse and my own sad-looking handbag on my other shoulder. I punched in the security code on the keypad beside the back door to my apartment building.

“Valdez, drag that coat inside, then pick up the bags of Christmas lights in your teeth and let's get upstairs. This woman's pretty small, but her purse weighs a ton.” Small like in a size six to my ten, okay, twelve. I could feel muscular legs as I held on to her. She was in shape. Nice way to be stuck forever. Not like I'd been on the big V-day with my weakness for roast beef and lemon tarts. Valdez dragged the coat across the threshold, then grabbed the plastic bags and trotted inside while I held open the door. He headed up the stairs first, like he usually did, to make sure the coast was clear. I have a few enemies and seemed to be making more by the day, despite the fact that I'm really a very nice person. I have lots of friends too. Which is one reason I'm determined to stay in Austin and make a go of my vintage-clothing store. The paranormal community here is great, for the most part. I glanced over my shoulder at Lucky's pale face. Maybe somebody with a grudge had followed her here from New York. What was she doing in Texas anyway? And in the alley behind my store? It wasn't exactly on the Austin highlights tour. A woof from Valdez and I headed up. I had lots of questions and, until Lucky woke up and lost the attitude, I wasn't getting any answers. I have vamp strength and could have carried Lucky for miles and not broken a sweat. But, damn it, her bloody boot was bumping against my vintage wool yellow and white houndstooth swing coat. I prayed a dry cleaner could get the blood out. Stupid. I should have shucked the coat, locked it in the car, then picked her up.

Cursing my lack of planning, I juggled my load to unlock the dead bolt. I flung open the apartment door and dumped Lucky-okay, I was gentle-on the couch while Valdez dragged in the bags of Christmas lights. Forget decking the halls tonight. I headed to the kitchen and a bottle of A-positive Fangtastic. Smelling Lucky's blood and the tiny sip I'd taken had given me a raging thirst. I stood over her and swigged straight from the bottle. Whoa. I leaned down and sniffed. Oh, God. Lucky smelled a lot like me. How creepy was that? I dragged off my coat, moaned at the sight of a smear across the sleeve and looked at the clock. A few minutes until dawn. No wonder my thoughts were scattered and I was barely able to keep my eyes open. I pulled Lucky's boots off, checking out the size (too small for me, but perfect for my roomie), then hustled downstairs for her coat. I dropped it in a plastic garbage bag and set it by the door. I did know a good dry cleaner. I wasn't going to give up on a designer label without a fight.

Lucky was going to sleep like the dead until sunset anyway, but I tried to make her comfortable, even tossing a throw over her. Then I headed for my own bed. Valdez waited outside my closed door while I undressed and put on a comfy nightgown. When I let him in, he settled on the foot of my bed for guard duty during the vulnerable daylight hours. I closed my eyes. Lucky. She had a hell of a surprise coming when she woke. And I'd have to give her the gory details about her new life or death or whatever. I jumped up, ran back to her side and dug into her purse until I found her knife, then pulled the other one from a clever scabbard stitched into the side of her right boot. I stuck both knives on a shelf behind a book, How to Dress Ten Pounds Thinner, then fell into bed again.

Lucky had sure lived up to her name tonight. If I hadn't come along when I did . . . But would she be grateful now that she was one of the undead?

Me, I wasn't feeling so lucky. My roommate hadn't come home before dawn. This wasn't unusual, but she hadn't left a message on the answering machine. We'd agreed to check in with each other after some near misses for both of us. Believe it or not, there are some people who don't appreciate our fashion sense and sparkling personalities. So we keep tabs on each other. I hoped Flo was okay. I hoped I was okay. Responsible for a new vampire. Crap.

Three

Screams, no, make that shrieks, jerked me from a sound sleep. I nudged Valdez with my foot.

“Sounds like our guest just woke up.”

“And she's freaking out.” Valdez yawned and jumped off the bed. “Want me to check on her?”

“My vampire, my problem. But thanks. I wonder how much she remembers about last night.” I rolled out of bed and reached for the red robe I'd tossed on a chair the night before.

“Careful, Blondie. Sounds like she's about to blow. I'll be ready to move in if she acts ungrateful.” Valdez stepped back when I opened the door. Jeez. I winced as the noise ramped up another octave.

“Hey, hey, calm down.” I stalked into the living room. I don't know what I expected. Maybe that she'd seen the empty Fangtastic bottle with a half inch of what looked an awful lot like blood (because it was, of course, though a synthetic variety). Or that she'd woken up in a strange place and her favorite boots weren't on her feet.

Oh, no. Instead, Lucky, who wasn't feeling so fortunate, stared into the silver hand mirror she'd had tucked into her purse.

“What's wrong with me? Why can't I . . . see myself?” She looked up, her eyes swimming in tears. “And where am I?”

“Take a breath. Try to relax. You're in my apartment. I'll answer all your questions in a minute.” I snatched up the mirror, took a second to admire the delicately engraved C on the back that told me this must be a family heirloom, then set it on the coffee table and headed for the kitchen. I'm not too good without my evening jolt of Fangtastic. And I definitely needed something before I dealt with all the upcoming drama.

“Where are you going?” Lucky leaped up and grabbed my arm. She swayed then seemed to rally, her French-manicured fingernails digging in.

“The kitchen. For a bottle of breakfast. You probably need one too.” I pushed down an uncharitable thought that my stash of the expensive stuff wasn't going to last long with a houseguest scarfing it down. Would it be tacky to ask for a donation? I eyed her fabulous Birkin bag. If she'd give me that beauty, I'd happily keep her swimming in Fangtastic.

“A liquid breakfast? Are you an alcoholic or something? I usually have stone cut oatmeal, skim milk with a few blueberries for the antioxidants, of course, and coffee, black.”

“Of course. Gee, let me write down your order.” I looked at her nails doing a number on my vintage quilted robe. At least she'd gone in for a blunt tip or I'd have a hole in the nylon.

She took the hint and released me. “Sorry.” She ran a hand through her hair.

“It's okay. You're confused. Sit.” Now I could see she had subtle highlights-brown, mahogany, a touch of copper. That cut and color must have cost her a fortune. New York. A fortune and a half.

“I'm feeling weird and I can't remember how I got”-she swept a glance around my admittedly shabby digs-“here. Who the hell are you anyway?”

I sighed, bit back a chorus of “Why me?”s and guided her back to the couch. “Gloriana St. Clair. Call me Glory. I brought you here last night. This is my apartment. It's right upstairs from where I found you.”

“Last night? You . . . found me?” Lucky dug into her purse and pulled out her BlackBerry. Her hands shook as she punched through it. “Yeah, right. I'm in Austin. Texas.”

I checked the ticking kitty clock I'd brought home just because Valdez hated it. I had about thirty minutes before I was supposed to take over from the day help in my shop. I needed to throw myself into something fabulous and get downstairs. That is, if I could figure out what to do with Lucky.

Uh. Oh.

Lucky had picked up her mirror again, hyperventilating between eye rubs. She sobbed and leaped off the couch again.

“Tell me why-” She gasped and her eyes rolled.

Swell. Out like a light. I hoped this wasn't going to become a habit. Swooning is so nineteenth century. I dragged her back to the couch, then headed for the kitchen again. Ah. Fangtastic. I took the first swallow of the night and sighed, grateful for the surge of energy. Then I sat across from Lucky and watched her stir to life again.

“Feeling any better?”

Lucky stared up at the ceiling. “I feel like shit.” She turned her head, watched me take another swallow and wrinkled her nose.