The Vampire's Fall

Chapter 4

Zenia woke with her name zinging between her ears. Except it wasn’t the way she had chosen it. Blade had called her Zen last night. She liked it. It sounded like the man had made the name his possession when he’d said it. And that didn’t bother her at all.

But did she feel Zen right now? Hard to tell. She wasn’t sure what to feel. She was a woman out of place. Did she have a place to return? Was there a house or an apartment waiting for her to push a key into the lock and resume her life? She hadn’t a key, a purse or any identifying materials on her after the bus had hit her.

Only that weird tin circle.

She glanced at the flimsy circle she’d hung around the rearview mirror. She’d been clutching it after coming to a stand against the street pole. In that moment, she’d almost tossed it aside, but she’d felt an intuition to keep it. For some reason. Curious.

Had it anything to do with the destiny she felt she tread? For the undeniable feeling that contacting the police would not be wise? Was it a true feeling or was it that she thought she should have a goal or reason for existing so destiny was a good fill-in-the-blank answer?

Sitting up, she pulled her knees to her chest and bowed her head to work out the kinks from sleeping across the stick shift. A knock on the driver’s window startled her. A swath of dark hair reminded her that she’d had the audacity to follow a complete stranger out to his property last night. She’d parked at the end of the driveway closest to the highway just in case she’d needed to make a quick getaway. He’d been good to his word. Hadn’t bothered her.

Until now.

Zen hit the window control and lowered the glass. The scent of steaming coffee wafted into the truck interior. Never had anything smelled so good.

Blade handed in a black mug. Steam rose from the liquid surface. “Just brewed it. Extradark. Hope you take it that way.”

She’d take any offering of food or drink no matter the strength or weakness. Thank goodness he’d paid for her beer last night. That left her twenty dollars in her pocket—left over from selling raspberries—and a half-full gas tank. It was terrible not to know who she was. But not having the funds to rent a room or pay for a hot meal? She would have to look into that home for amnesiacs he’d mentioned if she didn’t figure her life out, and fast.

“Thank you.” She sipped the brew. It kicked her. Hard. “Whew!”

“It’s called Death Brew for a reason,” Blade offered. “Have a good night’s sleep?”

She shrugged. No one named Brock had tried to break in and attack her, so she figured that was as good as it got.

“Here’s the deal,” Blade said. “I’m heading into town in an hour. Got some work to do for a couple of nuns. If you want, you’re welcome to use my shower before I leave.”

“Really?” She hadn’t showered in days. Had begun to wonder if her hair would ever see a comb again. “I’d like that.”

“Cool. Just me and Oogie live out here in the barn. If my cat likes you, I like you.”

“Then here’s hoping I pass the cat test.”

* * *

The eerie, hairless black cat hissed and arched its back as Zenia landed at the top of the stairs leading to the loft level of the big barn. The lower level was a wide-open garage littered with vehicles in all states of repair. This was the living quarters. Vast and open, it felt modern and airy, not at all barnlike.

Blade, who had led her up the stairs and directed her to the left for the bathroom, peered out from around the stainless-steel fridge at his cat, which was poised on the back of a green-and-blue-plaid couch. Blade glanced at Zenia, who had frozen at the top of the stairs, clinging to the backpack strap she’d tossed over her shoulder. Then he eyed the cat, who had arched up its back so high Zenia thought it might fold in half.

“Guess I failed the cat test,” she offered.

“Oogie?” Blade knelt and called to the cat. “What’s wrong, buddy?” He tilted his head at her and she felt as if his look peeled back her layers and zoomed right to her oozy core.

If only it were so easy to learn who she was.

“Who are you?” he asked. Yet again.

And yet again, she had no clear answer.

The cat leaped into his arms, and the man stood, stroking its wrinkled suede-like head. “Oogie likes everyone.”

“Obviously I’m not everyone. And that’s the big question, isn’t it?” She rubbed her arms, though she wasn’t cold, just frustrated. And it had taken a cat to nail that frustration to the wall. “Who am I?”

The cat hissed at her.

Zenia flinched. “Uh, do you want me to leave?”

“No. Shower’s that way.” He nodded toward the hallway. “Oogie and I will talk. You have to walk through the bedroom,” he called as Zenia made her way down a short hallway. “You’ll see the bathroom door once you get in there.”

Overlooking the cat’s defensive reaction, she glided into a dark room that was lit by the sunlight beaming through a window set into the slanted roof.

Her gaze swept over the unmade bed. Black rumpled bed sheets. Cozy, in a manly way. Beneath her flip-flops, the floorboards were wide unbleached timber, as were the walls and slanted ceiling. Overall, a darkly clean, yet rustic decor. Just like the man.

And yet, he’d sweetly cuddled that ugly cat. Surprising to see such a big, intimidating man handle a tiny beast so gently.

Veering into the attached bathroom, Zenia was thankful it wasn’t all black. In fact, bright white tiles decorated the floor and walls, and though small, the gleaming shower looked inviting through the clear glass door.

She closed the bathroom door and set down the backpack. She’d raided a clothing donation box one night and found a sack of folded clothes that didn’t smell. Freshly washed? She could hope. And they’d fit, so she’d taken the whole bag and the canvas backpack that had been stuffed under a pile of smelly gym shoes.

Stripping off her clothes, she caught her reflection in the small shaving mirror above the sink. It was too small to see her whole face so she bobbed to get a view of her condition. Her hair begged a good combing and dark shadows curved under her eyes. She so needed a good night’s sleep and...to know.

“Who are you?” she repeated Blade’s question to her reflection. “And why the hell were you able to walk away after being hit by a freakin’ bus?”

She’d sensed his utter astonishment when she’d told him that. At the time she hadn’t thought anything of it. Could have been the adrenaline racing through her system. Shouldn’t she have a broken bone or even come away with a bruise or gash? She’d not even bled!

But instead of panicking, she’d been thankful. And that was about all she could do, wasn’t it? Live day to day, grateful that she had clothing and a vehicle.

Stepping into the shower, she adjusted the water temperature and said thanks for the kindness of strangers. And then she had the thought that she should have locked the bathroom door behind her.

* * *

Blade stood outside the bathroom door, his fingers glancing over the clear glass knob. On his bed sat his pet of thirteen years, the feline’s hairless black ears tilted backward and gold eyes wide. Oogie generally liked people. Though, he did tend to get his hackles up when demons were around. Full-blooded demons. Recognizing the mimicus breed of demon that could mimic other species had given Oogie trouble.

Don’t think about her. Just forget.

Forgetting was what he most wanted to do. But the memory of her had etched itself into his soul. And no amount of charity work was going to rub it away. Not even moving a heavy stone fountain into a garden for a couple of retired nuns.

Blade shrugged at Oogie. “What do you think?”

Oogie’s ratlike tail flicked with annoyance.

“She seems harmless. She doesn’t even know who she is.”

Which didn’t necessarily render her harmless. She could have forgotten she was some kind of assassin. Or maybe she was a real good liar.

He was jumping to wild conclusions. Zen was simply a pretty woman who had had a bit of bad luck. With a bus. And demons. Though she seemed genuinely unaware of the demonic trouble.

A stolen truck and no home or belongings? Had to be tough. She couldn’t sleep in her truck every night. But he wasn’t prepared to offer her a place to bunk down, either.

That way lay madness. Been there, done that. Wasn’t about to wear the T-shirt.

But she was a curiosity to him. And her looks were exotically appealing. She couldn’t be from around here, Land of Ten Thousand Lakes with hoards of Scandinavians who were whiter than white and had the tendency to mutter uff-da to express everything from annoyance to excitement.

Maybe she hailed from the more culturally varied Twin Cities? Had to. She could be a professional, or even a model or an actress.

Why not go to the police? They must have a way of searching for a person without a name but rather a picture. If she was a registered driver her license would be on file. Name learned. Problem solved.

For the most part. Simply learning her real name wouldn’t automatically restore her memory. Had to be tough not remembering a thing. She could have family. Friends. A husband.

Blade made a note to check her finger for a wedding band. He didn’t want to step on another man’s territory. Not that he was stepping. No, he was just helping a needy soul. It’s what he did, apparently.

“Come on, Oogie. We can’t sit out here like a couple of stalkers.”

* * *

The maxi dress with bright yellow-and-blue horizontal zigzags was a bit loud, but it felt comfortable and wasn’t too low cut. She did have nice, full breasts though, so revealing a little cleavage wasn’t going to kill her.

Zenia fluffed out her wet hair, and then borrowed Blade’s comb, which lay on the edge of the white porcelain vanity. A search in the small cupboard beneath the sink didn’t spy any hair products. And she didn’t want to check the drawers in the bedroom. Who knew if Oogie, the attack cat, might come after her?

After hanging the towel she had used to dry over the shower door, she shoved her dirty clothes in the backpack and headed down the hallway. Lured by the delicious scent of pancakes and maple syrup, she got right up to the kitchen counter, dropped the backpack, then veered toward the double cathedral windows at the end of the living area.

The old barn had obviously been restored and the windows added. They looked as though they belonged in Notre-Dame in Paris. And for some reason, she felt as though she’d been in the French city, though briefly; long enough to claim familiarity with the medieval cathedral. No color filled the glass sections that gently curved to a peak at their pinnacles. It gave the windows a clean, modern look. Very suitable for a man’s home. In a barn. It was an interesting choice, but again, seemed to match Blade’s no-frills, rough demeanor.

“They are so beautiful,” she said of the windows, then flinched when she heard the hiss behind her.

“Oogie!” Blade tossed a red stuffed mouse down the stairs that led to the garage below. “Go play with your mouse.”

The cat cast her a discerning look, then dashed off.

“I’m sorry,” Zenia said. “I don’t know why that thing doesn’t like me.”

“Oogie is a cat, not a thing.”

“Yeah, but it looks like a rat. Why doesn’t it have any hair?”

“He’s a Sphynx.”

“Oh, right. I know those breeds are hairless and require special care. Does he wear a sweater in the winter?”

“Actually, he does have one with a skull and crossbones on the back. Got a problem with that?”

She approached the kitchen counter and slid onto a stool. “No. Sorry, I seem to offend at every turn. I should leave. You’ve been more than kind.”

“Not until you eat.” He placed a plate stacked with pancakes before her. Beside that sat a coffee cup steaming with dark brew. “You like maple syrup?”

“I...don’t know.”

“Right.” He tapped his temple. “But you do know about Sphynx cats. Interesting.”

She dug into the pancakes. Mercy, but it had been days since she’d eaten a decent meal and not a candy bar or bag of Doritos that she’d gotten out of a vending machine. Her aching stomach growled with glee.

“So your bedroom is all black,” she stated between bites. Ah, hot food. And it smelled so good. And tasted even better.

Blade stood across from her by the stove, arms crossed and one hand wielding a spatula. He was noticeably not eating. “That it is.”

“And you’re all into the dark look yourself. Is that called goth?”

He made show of looking down the front of his black T-shirt, stretched tightly across muscled biceps, black jeans and, well, his feet were bare. “For a chick who’s lost her memory, you’re very judgmental.”

“And you are being sarcastic. I do know what sarcasm is.”

“Good for you. I’m not a goth. I’m just Blade. You find everything you needed in the bathroom?”

She touched her hair. “I borrowed your comb. I hope that was okay. You can’t imagine how good it feels to be showered and reasonably groomed. My hair must have looked horrible before.”

“It’s gorgeous,” he said quickly. And then he turned and made a show of checking that the griddle was turned off, mumbling as he did so, “I mean, it’s fine.”

Zenia brushed the wet locks over her shoulder, but couldn’t hide what felt like a blush. “So what do you do, Blade? You said you were running into town? To your job?”

“I do some fix-it work for the locals here and there. Got a quick job for a couple of retired nuns who are designing a water garden in their backyard. And I work with my brother, Stryke. He’s, er...leader of a...group.”

She sipped the hot coffee carefully, trying to figure out what he wasn’t willing to say. A group? Of what? People? For what reason? But she wouldn’t ask. Whatever he wanted to present to her, she’d take, and anything he didn’t want her to know was fine, too.

Should she be more curious? She had enough problems of her own to worry about. And she wanted to move over to his good side, maybe even befriend him. She could use a friend. Where were her friends? Were they worried about her? Had they called the police?

“Stryke is building a compound for...his work,” Blade offered. “I’m his second-in-command. It’s family stuff.”

“Sounds important. Do you think I have friends?”

The man shrugged. “Not sure. But you’re not wearing a ring.”

She studied her hands. The fingers were long and slender. “I must not wear jewelry.” That seemed sad. One should never forego a chance to sparkle. “I should have a couple of rings. I like sparkly things. Why did you notice the absence of a ring?”

“It’s nothing,” he said again, taking great interest in the griddle.

“These pancakes are delicious,” she said. “I’m trying not to devour them, but it’s not working.”

“Devour all you want. Griddle is still hot. I can make up more fast.”

“No, I think five is more than enough. Though, I will take a refill on the coffee. I figure it’s the last good meal I’ll have for a while. Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I did when you were in the shower. So you’re sleeping in your truck and I’m going to assume you don’t have a lot of cash.”

“Twenty bucks.” She shrugged. “I’ll figure something out.”

“There’s an inn at the edge of town where you could stay. Family owned. I don’t think it’s expensive. It’s got a big red cock out front.”

Zenia sputtered on a sip of coffee. “A what?”

His smile was slow but genuine and it warmed her all over to finally see some levity from him. His eyes were all kinds of sexy now.

“The inn is called The Red Rooster. There’s a giant iron rooster sculpture on the front lawn.”

“I see.” But looking for an actual red cock may have proved more interesting. “How much you think they charge a night?”

Blade opened a drawer beside him, took out a roll of bills and set it on the counter before Zenia. “That should help you out a bit.”

A bit? Her jaw dropped open. The tightly wound block of greens looked as though it could bankroll an entire building project.

“Oh, no, I can’t.” But she couldn’t stop from grabbing it and testing the weight of the roll. They were hundred dollar bills. And there had to be a couple dozen of them rolled up. “This is... No. I don’t know how I’d ever pay that back. I’m good with sleeping in the truck and eating Doritos. I like the cool-ranch ones.”

“It’s a gift. I can afford it.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“That’s the best kind of gift. It makes me feel good to give. Maybe it will even tilt me out of the guilt column I’ve been stuck in. Will you let me have that good feeling?”

“I uh...” She set the roll beside the plate. It would certainly come in handy and definitely pay for a month or more at a cheap inn or hotel. And she could really use a hot shower every day. And maybe even new clothes. And some sparkly rings for her fingers.

The guilt column? What had the man to feel guilty about?

It was none of her business. If he was trying to buy some redemption or whatever, far be it from her to get judgmental, as he’d suggested earlier.

“Okay,” she said. “But what will I owe you? Besides all this cash?”

“You think I expect something from you for that money?”

“You’re a man. If I know anything about men it is that they generally do not give things to others without expecting something in return. And you, being handsome and single, and me being, well—whatever and whoever I am—maybe you want something from me.”

“Something.” He leaned forward onto the counter on his elbows and his hair fell over one eye. He rapped the counter. Considering what his terms would be?

“I don’t want to give you sex,” she suddenly felt the need to say. “I mean, I don’t know you very well. So if that’s the condition, then I’ll leave without this.” She pushed the roll toward him.

“If I’d wanted to have sex with you, Zen, it would have happened last night.”

“Oh.”

So that meant he wasn’t interested in having sex with her? Because the guy was ten kinds of handsome. And—didn’t he find her attractive?

Why that thought? She wasn’t curious about having sex with him.

Maybe a little. Oh, mercy, to imagine that blue hair falling over her face as he kissed her and those rigid abs brushing across her stomach...

“I want to help you out and make sure you’re safe.”

As he seemed to do with the locals. Helping nuns? Despite his dark-and-dangerous appearance, the man must be a pussycat at heart.

“Okay.” She clasped the money roll. “Can we be friends?”

Blade abruptly straightened and crossed his arms again. “I don’t do the friend thing with women very well.”

“I see.” A wad of cash and a don’t-let-the-door-hit-you-on-the-way-out. Never mind the guilt column, this guy was still occupying the weird column. “So this is it, then? I indulge in your tasty pancakes and then take the money and run?”

“Yep.”

Her heart fell, but she kept her shoulders straight and didn’t show her disappointment. “That’s cool. I’ve overstayed my welcome as it is. Got some memory tracking to do.” She grabbed her backpack and stuffed the money in it. Holding out her hand, she shook his. “Thanks for everything, Blade. Blessings to you.”

“Stay away from Brock Olafson,” he called as she headed down the stairs.

She would. But it was too bad Blade didn’t want to be friends. She could really use a friend right now. This being-on-her-own thing was for the birds. Whoever she was, she was probably a person who thrived on the connection with others.

Which was why it felt as if she was walking away from the best thing to ever happen to her as she took the stairs downward.

Chapter 5

“Uh, Blade?”

A wave of relief fell over Blade when he heard Zen calling from the bottom of the stairs. She hadn’t left.

And what was that about? He didn’t care if she left and never returned. He’d told her he didn’t want to be friends. Had given her enough cash to survive a few months on her own. Add another tally in his charity column. End of story.

“There’s a police car at the end of the driveway,” Zen called up. “The officer is looking over my truck.”

“Ah, hell. They must have gotten a stolen vehicle report. Get back up here. I’ll go out and talk to him.”

He passed her on the stairs. The skim of her hair across his biceps felt like silk on his skin. He wanted to feel it brush his lips, to draw in her scent and—