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Shirl woke slowly. She felt funny. Different. Not quite herself. She lifted a hand to her head. Was she dying? Was this what death was like, this sudden clarity of sight and sound? A reminder of the perfection of life before it was snatched away? The room was dark, yet she could see everything clearly—the faint crack in the ceiling overhead; each individual thread in the silk sheet that covered her; the tiny dent on the edge of the antique dresser across from the bed.
She sat up, feeling slightly disoriented. This wasn’t her room. Where was she?
She jumped when the door opened and a light came on, then let out a sigh when she saw who it was.
“Rhys.” She blinked at him as everything that had happened the night before came rushing back. She frowned, and then she smiled. “It worked.”
“So it would seem.” He stepped farther into the room, his gaze moving over her. “How do you feel?”
She thought about it a moment, then said, “Wonderful! My head doesn’t hurt anymore!” Leaping off the bed, she threw her arms around him. “Thank you!” she cried exuberantly, and kissed him.
She was beautiful, her body was pressed against his, and he did what any other man would do. He kissed her back, pretending, for a moment, that it was Megan in his arms. And then he gently pushed her away.
“No regrets?” he asked.
She laughed softly. “I don’t think so, but it’s a little early to tell.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I think I’m hungry.”
Rhys nodded. Her eyes had taken on a red hue. “Time for your first lesson.”
“Lesson?”
“Vampire hunting 101,” he explained. “Rule number one. I’m the Master of the West Coast Vampires. You’re my fledgling. This is my territory. As long as you stay here, you do as I say. Got it?”
“Yes, master.”
“You’re learning,” he said, ignoring the sarcasm in her voice. “Rule number two. I’m the only one who’s allowed to hunt in this city, and I do it only rarely. Smart vampires don’t hunt where they live.”
Shirl nodded. That made sense.
“Number three. For as long as you exist, there will be a blood connection between us. I’ll always be able to find you, and if you bring trouble into my territory, I’ll destroy you. Got it?”
“Y…yes.” She hesitated a moment, then asked, “Will you tell me something?”
“Depends on what you want to know.”
“How long have you been a vampire?”
“Five hundred and twelve years.”
She backed away from him and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Wow.”
“Are you ready to go?”
“Go where?” She glanced around the room, noting the heavy curtains across the window, the fact that there was no mirror over the dresser, the heavy lock on the door.
“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I thought…”
“What? That I’d feed you?”
“Well, yes, sort of.”
“As a rule, vampires don’t feed off their own kind. A taste now and then is okay, but no more than that.”
“Oh.” She bit down on her lower lip. She had known she would have to drink blood, but she had assumed it would be something she could work up to gradually.
“So, are you ready?” He didn’t wait for her reply.
Shirl gasped when he scooped her into his arms. A kind of dizziness engulfed her, and, when the world righted itself, they were outside a small tavern. She could hear waves in the distance, smell the salty tang of the ocean, hear the conversation coming from inside the bar. “Where are we? How did you do that?”
He shrugged as he set her on her feet. “Just another way of getting around when you’re in a hurry. We’re in Manhattan Beach. When we go into the bar, I want you to look around, find someone who appeals to you, and call him, or her, to you.”
“What? You mean, just call them? Out loud?”
“No, mentally.”
“I’m not psychic.”
“You’re a vampire. You can pretty much do whatever you want. Come on.”
Shirl followed him into the tavern. It was nothing like what she was used to. The interior was shabby, the air was stale, heavy with the stink of smoke and sweat. Three young men were playing billiards in the far corner of the room. A woman Shirl realized was a hooker was discussing her price with a nervous-looking, middle-aged man. Several other men and women sat at the bar. A pair of young women stood in front of the jukebox, trying to decide what song to play.
Shirl pressed her hands over her ears, trying to shut out the cacophony of conversation and thoughts that bombarded her. And the smells! Perspiration, perfume, alcohol, cigarette smoke, soap, and deodorant. It was overpowering. But it was the beating of so many living hearts, the rush of blood through miles of veins, that overrode everything else. She groaned softly. She was hungry, so hungry.
She glanced at the men and women sitting at the bar. One of the men turned to look at her. He was young, in his midtwenties, with shaggy brown hair, blue eyes, and a mustache. He looked clean and didn’t smell too bad. His name was Don, but people called him Sharkey.
Feeling a little foolish, she concentrated on sending him a mental summons. To her astonishment, he stood and walked toward her, his expression somewhat bemused, as if he couldn’t believe what he was doing.
“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured. “What’s a gorgeous gal like you doing in a dump like this?”
Shirl licked her lips. “Would you come outside with me?”
“Sure, honey,” Sharkey said with a wink and a smile. “What did you have in mind?”
“I want to show you something.” Shirl looked at Rhys. Am I doing this right?
At his nod, she took Sharkey’s hand and led him outside and around the corner of the building into the shadows beyond.
When Sharkey noticed Rhys following them, he tried to pull out of her grasp. Shirl didn’t know which of them was more surprised when he couldn’t break her grip.
“Now what?” Shirl asked, looking to Rhys for help.
“Let’s see what kind of vampire you are,” he said, grinning. “Just follow your instincts.”
“Vampire!” Sharkey exclaimed. “What the hell?” He tried again to jerk out of Shirl’s grasp. “Dammit, let me go!”
Shirl gazed deeply into his eyes. “Be quiet and hold still!” she said angrily, and when he complied, she looked over at Rhys again, waiting for his approval.
