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“Whatabout the vampire?” Damien prodded impatiently. The clock was ticking. They’d already burned up one day flying and three days hiking here. That left three days to get the vampire back to Cimil.
“Have you ever read the book about the Grinch?” Brutus asked. “Well, try to visualize him. Except that anyone who attempts to speak to, look at, or come within one hundred yards of his lair is never seen again. Not alive anyway. Maxton always leaves behind a little warning for anyone else who attempts to disturb him.”
“Warning?” MF asked.
“He enjoys turning them inside out. Imagine a sock. But it’s a person.”
Damien made a sour face.
Brutus went on, “Best you stay clear of Maxton, tailor. Fina’s people have attempted to capture him many times, and it always ends in tragedy.”
“Why would they want to kill him?” Damien asked.
“Not kill.”
“Then what?” Damien asked.
“Up until our arrival, males have been very scarce in this area. Mostly because the women would eat them—a big dating deterrent.”
“So the women hunted the vampire for…sex?” MF asked.
Brutus shrugged. “It was before Fina’s time as ruler, but yes. And if you don’t want to be sucked nearly dry but left alive so you feel every second of your skin being peeled from your bones, then I suggest you leave the man alone.” Brutus lowered his voice. “He’s—how should I say—a fucking asshole.”
“Did someone say asshole?” Pet clapped. “I like those! When does the licking start?”
“Pet!” Damien barked and then looked at Brutus. “I appreciate the warning. Truly, I do; however, Cimil is demanding I find this Maxton and convince him to come out of hiding.”
“She wants him to make more vampires, doesn’t she?” Brutus asked.
“How did you guess?” Damien asked.
“Take the worst possible idea ever, and you’ll find one of Cimil’s hairbrained schemes.”
“Agreed.” Damien threaded his fingers through his damp hair. “But if your mate’s life was in the crosshairs, what would you suggest? How do I speak to him?”
Brutus kissed the top of his baby’s head and flipped the infant on to his broad chest, rocking the little man to sleep instantly.
Impressive.
“I have no advice, tailor. The vampire is not a creature who embraces change, which includes his solitary life. Hell, he still wears an ascot, so I hear.”
“Did you just say he likes ascots?” Damien smiled.
CHAPTER SIX
“Damien! You heard Brutus. This vampire doesn’t want to be spoken to or looked at, let alone dressed.” MF closed the door to their guest hut, complete with a baby hammock for Bonbon and Gorgonzolina, where the two swung together while Pet pushed.
In just an hour, they were to attend a special dinner in their honor. That gave Damien just enough time to have Pet fly up the hill and leave the ascot for the vampire—a little warming-up gift.
Damien looked down at MF, who sat on the primitive, straw-mat bed. “Do you or don’t you want to become a vampire again?”
“Of course I do, but let’s face it; if Cimil says it’s my destiny, she probably has some self-serving angle.”
“I cannot argue with your assessment. But there is still the fact that it is what you want. Yes?”
MF huffed and then nodded reluctantly.
He added, “There is also the fact that Cimil will kill both Sky and Willa if I do not deliver the vampire in three days.”
