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Ow.
“So, you’ve had it the whole time?” an indignant voice above me growled.
Through the gray haze of pain, I looked up and tried to focus on Emery’s face. He sneered down at me, just as pasty as ever but not quite as sweaty. In fact, there was a subtle radiance to his pale, round face. His eyes were no longer dusty brown but a clear, liquid amber color. And his teeth were brilliant, white, and … pointy.
Shit.
I shouted, “Emery, who the hell was dumb enough to turn you into a vampire?”
I tried to push up from the floor, but the itching torment of my skin expelling thousands of tiny glass slivers left my arms weak. I glared up at him. I knew that eventually, the shock of Emery’s betrayal would catch up with me, but for now, keeping up a sarcastic, condescending front seemed for the best.
“My mistress, Jeanine, only granted me the gift a few short days ago. First, I had to prove I was worthy.” Emery sighed. “She found me. She showed me the truth about the world, about vampires. She gave me answers I’d been looking for all my life. She saved me. And she asked so little of me. And I failed!”
Emery kicked out like a preschooler having a tantrum at Wal-Mart. His foot caught me in the ribs, knocking me back against the counter. Dazed, I followed his line of sight to the book still clutched in my hand. Even through the sharp throb of pain, my brain spun. The break-in. Emery’s overzealous interest in the inventory. His need to search through every single title. He’d been looking for one specific book all this time. And I’d had it in my trunk. If I hadn’t been bleeding profusely, I might have laughed.
“You’re an evil henchman, Emery? Seriously? You broke into the shop while I was out of town? Why would you do that? And why the big charade with arriving weeks later all scruffy and jet-lagged? I would have given you anything you asked for. Why are you doing this?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what made this situation worse, my stupidity or the choking regret over my stupidity. I’d felt sorry for this doorknob, guilty for not being nicer to him. And he’d been working for Jeanine since the moment I’d met him. He’d deceived us all, turned on his only family to help that crazy bitch terrorize me. I felt my fangs extend over my lips as I ground my teeth together. The anger felt good. It felt clear compared with a muzzy confusion of pain and worry.
Emery smiled down at me. In a patient voice, he said, “I need that book, Jane. I need The Spectrum of Vampirism to restore Mistress Jeanine to her full health.”
“Anything except that,” I spat, rising to my feet. Glass tinkled to the floor from my sleeves. “Now, tell me where Andrea is.”
Emery shoved me back down onto the floor, which, given the woozy feeling in my head, was probably where I needed to be anyway. Still holding on to the book, I crawled behind the bar to the fridge. Emery followed, seemingly undisturbed by the blood trail I was leaving.
“I’m a new man, Jane. Capable of things I never dreamed of,” he intoned with a faraway expression. “Mistress Jeanine touched me with her dark wisdom. I worship at her feet. I lick the ground where she treads.”
I took three bottles of Faux Type O from the fridge and poured one after another down my throat. Wiping my mouth, I peered up at him. My vision was starting to clear. My wounds closed. I was able to flex my arms. My legs felt stronger. I was practically Popeye the freaking Sailor. I hefted myself to my feet. “Adolescence left deep, deep scars on you, didn’t it? I think you need to meet this guy I went to high school with. Name’s Adam. I think you’d get along,”
The dreamy note vanished from Emery’s face. He’d just realized his mistake, not taking the book from me immediately. Being so new, he didn’t realize how quickly we recovered with the help of an infusion. He took a menacing step toward me; my hands tightened around the cover. “I need that book. The mistress demands it. If I don’t bring it to her, she will plant her heel on my—”
“I do not want to hear about your sexcapades with Crazy Jeanine,” I told him.
“Oh, no, I am not worthy of the mistress’s attentions,” he said in a hushed, reverent tone.
“Then why do you keep calling her ‘mistress’?”
“Because she controls everything I do,” he said. “What I eat, when I sleep, how long I’m allowed to go without—”
“I get the picture, Emery. Please don’t give me details. And stop talking about her feet, it’s icking me out.”
“I’m finally coming into my own, Jane,” he growled. “Do you know what it’s like, living your whole life, waiting for it to start? Knowing that there’s something out there for you, something that will complete you, but not knowing what it is?”
“All I’m is hearing is ‘blah, blah, blah, I’m a loony tune enjoying my moment,’” I told him. “Now, tell me where Andrea is.”
“If you don’t give me that book, Jane, I’m going to have to take it,” Emery said, drawing himself up before rushing at me. Fully charged from my bloody snack, I punched him in the forehead with all the force I had. And now that he’d lost the element of surprise, Emery wasn’t that much of a fighter.
“Ow!” he cried, collapsing in a heap on the floor.
“Emery, please don’t do this. You’re Mr. Wainwright’s family. As much as I hate what you’ve done, I don’t want to—dang it.” I sighed as he charged me again, and I punched him in the forehead. Again. “Stay down, Emery.”
“Give me that book,” Emery demanded.
“Hmmm … No ,” I roared.
“Jane, you leave me no choice.” Emery pulled a large wooden crucifix out of his jacket.
I gave him an acidic smile. “Sorry, I’m kind of at peace with the whole Christianity thing.”
“I thought you might say that.” Emery pressed the center of the crucifix, and a stake snicked out. He raised the stake and charged me again. And I punched him in the forehead. Again.
