This Side of the Grave

"No. Just seems more than coincidence that whenever one of them went missing, they were last seen at a place where some of those ass**le ghouls were."

"What places?" I asked.

"Some bars, clubs – "

"Names," Bones pressed.

Scratch began to rattle off a list, but all of a sudden, his voice was drowned out under a deluge of others.

. . . four more hours until I get a break . . .

. . . remember to get the receipt for that? If it doesn’t fit, I’m taking it back . . .

. . . if she looks at one more pair of shoes, I’m going to scream . . .

The sudden crash of intrusive conversation wasn’t coming from the mall shoppers around us – I’d tuned that out even before we sat down. This was coming from inside my head. I jerked as if struck, my hand flying to my temple.

Oh shit. Not again.

Chapter Two

What’s wrong, Kitten?" Bones askedat once.

Ed and Scratch also gave me concerned glances. I forced a smile while struggling to concentrate on them instead of the plethora of conversations that had suddenly taken up in my mind.

"Just, um, a little hot out here," I muttered. Damned if I was going to tell two strange vampires the real cause of my problem.

Bones’s gaze traveled over my face, his dark brown eyes missing nothing, while those voices pitilessly continued to chatter on in my mind.

. . . no one saw me. Hope I can get the security tag off . . .

. . . I’ll give him something to cry about soon . . .

. . . if she doesn’t show up in five minutes, I’m eating without her . . .

"I, ah, need some air," I blurted before recognizing the stupidity in that excuse. One, we were already outdoors, and two, I was a vampire. I didn’t breathe anymore, let alone have any health conditions I could blame my sudden weird behavior on.

Bones stood, taking my elbow and throwing a stiff "Stay here" over his shoulder at Ed and Scratch.

I walked quickly, trying to concentrate on the cool pressure of his hand more than where I was going. My head was lowered, because my eyes had probably turned bright green from agitation. Shut up, shut up, shut up, I chanted at the unwelcome crowd in my head.

The din in my mind seemed to amplify the noises from the people milling around us, until everything blurred into a sort of white noise. It grew, overwhelming my other senses, making it hard for me to focus on anything except the relentless voices coming at me from all sides. I struggled to push them back, to concentrate on anything except the sounds that seemed to grow with every second.

Something hard pressed against my front the same time that a straighter, harder barrier flattened my back. Underneath the now-thunderous chatter bombarding my mind, I heard a familiar English voice.

" . . . all right, luv. Force them back. Listen to me, not them . . ." I tried to picture the countless voices in my head as a TV channel I just needed to turn down – with my willpower being the remote control. Fingers stroked my face, their touch an anchor I drew strength from. With great effort, I pulled my mind away from the melee, distancing myself from the noise that wanted to consume the rest of my senses. After several minutes of dogged concentration, that mental roar subsided into an annoying but manageable mumble. It was similar to the sounds from the shoppers around us, oblivious to the fact that they were in biting distance of creatures that weren’t supposed to exist.

"I have got to stop drinking your blood," I said to Bones when I felt in control enough to open my eyes. A glance around showed that he’d backed me into a pillar in what probably looked like a passionate embrace, judging from the slanted glances thrown our way.

Bones sighed. "You’ll be weaker."

"But sane," I added. And safer, too, because if hundreds of voices suddenly crashed into my mind during a battle, it might be distracting enough to get me killed.

I tugged at Bones’s short dark curls until he pulled back to look at me. "You know this can’t be leftovers from when I drank Mencheres’s blood; it’s happening more often, not less," I said softly. "I have to be getting this from you. And I can’t handle it." I’d thought changing from a half-breed into a full vampire meant an end to my uniqueness, but fate thought differently. I woke up on the other side of the grave in possession of two things unprecedented in vampire history – an occasional heartbeat and a craving for undead blood. The side effect of the latter meant I temporarily absorbed power from the blood I drank, much like vampires absorbed life from human blood. That was all well and good, but if I drank from a Master vampire, I also temporarily absorbed any special abilities that Master had. This was great when it came to enhanced strength, but not so great when it came to other abilities that were out of my depth to control. Like Bones’s ability to read human minds.

"You don’t give yourself enough credit, Kitten," he said, his voice low.

I shook my head. "There’s a reason why it takes centuries for vampires to get special powers, and only if they’re Masters. It’s too much to deal with otherwise. If I keep drinking from you, what happened today will only get worse. You’ve obviously grown into the mind-reading power you inherited from Mencheres, so much so that I’m starting to pick it up from your blood, too."

And if Bones started manifesting any other abilities as a result of the power exchange he’d received from his co-ruler, I really wanted no part of them. I’d drunk from Mencheres once out of necessity, and it had fried me for over a week afterward. I shuddered at the memory. Never again if I could help it. The voices thrumming in the background of my mind seemed to agree.

"We’ll sort that out later, but we need to go back now, if you’re ready," Bones said, giving my face a last stroke.

"I’m okay. Let’s head back, before they freak out and bolt." Bones slowly uncurled his body from mine. The din in my head was now low enough that I noticed several females around us checking him out. I stamped even harder on those inner voices. The last thing I needed was to hear a flood of lusty imaginings involving my husband and other women to really sour my mood.

In fairness, I couldn’t blame them. Even in his trademark black pants with a casual white pullover, Bones stood out like a jewel among rocks with his finely molded features and tall, sculpted frame. Every move of his body sent ripples along those lean muscles, and his flawless crystal skin practically dared people to see if it felt as good as it looked – which it did. Even when we’d first met and I plotted to kill him, Bones’s looks had turned my head. In that way, he was a perfect predator, enticing his prey to come close enough to bite.

"You’re being eye-humped by about a dozen women as we speak, but I’m sure you already know that," I said in a wry tone.