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Lou glanced at her watch, and swore softly. She was late for her two o’clock appointment with Kyle Bowden. He was an odd duck. She had never had a client who wanted a vampire found but not destroyed. She wondered if he wanted to destroy the vampire himself or if, poor fool, he had fallen under the creature’s spell. Lou had been hunting vampires for ten years and had yet to find one who didn’t deserve a stake in the heart. But Bowden wasn’t paying her for her opinion.
After shutting down her computer, Lou left her office. She didn’t for a minute believe that Mara was pregnant.
But a little voice in the back of her mind kept asking, What if it’s true?
“Pregnant?” Kyle stared at Lou. “Is that even possible?”
“No. Vampires are unable to create life.” Lou wasn’t sure why she had even mentioned it to Bowden, except she had been curious to see his reaction.
“So, the only lead you have is that she might be in Nevada?” Gaining his feet, Kyle paced the floor. “It’s been weeks!”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Bowden, but looking for a vampire isn’t the same as trying to find your average woman. Mara doesn’t have a Social Security number. As near as I can tell, she doesn’t have any credit cards or bank accounts. If she has a residence, it’s not in her name. The same goes for a cell phone. She doesn’t show up on any census rolls or tax records. To my knowledge, she’s not on Facebook or any of the other social networks. Vampires tend to be very protective of their identities. But I’ll find her.”
Kyle dropped back down on the sofa. “Anything else?”
“No. I’ll be in touch.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
After walking Lou to the door, Kyle poured himself a shot of whiskey. The hunter claimed it was impossible for a vampire to get pregnant, but what if she was wrong? What if Mara was carrying a child—his child?
Dammit, he should have asked for the doctor’s name, but learning that Mara might be pregnant had thrown him for a loop.
Grabbing his cell phone, he dialed McDonald’s number, muttered an oath when he got a busy signal. Too restless to sit still, he paced the floor, then picked up his keys and left the apartment. He needed a drink, and he didn’t like to drink alone.
Lost in thought, Lou sat at the curb in front of Bowden’s apartment while she accessed the messages on her office answering machine. A call from her mother, a wrong number, an inquiry about her services. Nothing urgent.
Dropping the phone on the seat, she tapped her fingertips on the steering wheel. Whatever had possessed her to agree to find Mara and not destroy her? The so-called Queen of the Vampires had been alive for centuries. No doubt she had killed thousands of helpless mortals. If any of the Undead deserved to be destroyed, it was Mara.
What if she was really pregnant?
Lou shook her head. It was impossible and yet, what if Cindy had been telling the truth? There hadn’t been any smiley face at the end of the e-mail, nothing to indicate that Cindy was pulling her leg. So, what if it was true, and Bowden was the father? Did he have some special DNA that enabled him to impregnate the Undead? She swore softly. Now that was a scary idea. There were already too many vampires in the world without some foolish mortal going around making more.
She glanced out the window as the mortal in question emerged from the apartment building, got into his car, and pulled away from the curb.
Being curious by nature, and having nothing better to do, Lou started the car and followed him down the street. When he pulled into the parking lot of a tavern a few blocks away, she drove on by. What if Bowden knew Mara was pregnant and that was why he was looking for her? She shook her head. No, his surprise had been genuine.
“Well, hell,” she muttered. She wasn’t getting anywhere here. Picking up her cell phone, she noticed a missed call from Bowden. Ignoring it, she punched in Cindy’s number.
After listening to the recorded message, she said, “Hey, Cin, this is Lou. Just thought I’d let you know I’ll be in town tomorrow night.”
Chapter Twelve
Mara hadn’t been inside a grocery store more than a dozen times in her existence, and then only when she was following some tasty-looking mortal. But today she wasn’t looking for prey, she was shopping for food. Mortal food to ease the odd cravings she was experiencing, cravings made harder to fulfill because she wasn’t really sure what she was hungry for other than chocolate. She never tired of it, but, according to some prenatal guidelines she’d read on the Web, she knew she needed to eat fruits and vegetables and drink lots of milk for the baby’s sake.
Thinking of the baby brought Kyle to mind. What was he doing? Did he miss her? She didn’t miss him as much as she’d thought she would, but then, Logan was responsible for that. He was good company, always there to cheer her when she was down, to assure her that everything would be all right.
Earlier in the week, she had gone shopping online and bought a stove and a refrigerator. Logan had looked at her askance when the appliances were delivered.
“I was getting tired of going out for food three times a day, or having it delivered,” she had explained with a shrug. “Besides, if I’m going to be mortal, I need to learn how to cook, not only for me, but for the baby.”
Mortal, she thought as she moved slowly up and down the aisles. Why did anyone want to be mortal? It was tiring, it was messy, and so far, it hadn’t been much fun. She picked up one item after another, studying the pictures on the cans and the boxes, reading the directions on the packages. She knew, of course, that hot dogs weren’t made from real dogs, and that Goldfish crackers weren’t made from goldfish, but what on earth was tofu?
She bought chocolate milk and bread sweetened with honey, several bags of miniature chocolate candy bars, chocolate-flavored cereal, and even chocolate-flavored coffee. Not exactly the kind of diet a pregnant woman was supposed to eat, she reminded herself, and with that thought in mind, she added some fruit to the cart—oranges because they smelled good, red apples because she liked the color, watermelon and peaches and pears, lettuce and tomatoes. She picked up a couple of thick steaks, and added a bottle of red wine for Logan. Lastly, she bought half a pound of rare roast beef and some cheese for sandwiches, and then headed for the checkout counter where the clerk and the box boy both flirted with her. She flirted back shamelessly, pleased that men, old and young, still found her attractive.
She was still smiling when the taxi pulled into Logan’s driveway. No doubt both the clerk and the box boy would have been shocked to know just how old she really was. The thought wiped the smile from her face. She had lived for thousands of years. How many years did she have left, now that she was becoming mortal? One? Ten? Twenty?
