Like both times before, Sophie knew her Ancient One was in the room before she’d fully awakened. What she didn’t know was who else was in the room with them both.
She could swear it was the crisp sting of testosterone flooding the room that made her pull herself from the incredibly amusing dream she’d been enjoying. It couldn’t be anything else. The room was silent and dark. Noise hadn’t awakened her. Light hadn’t either. Nope. Had to be male hormones. She wondered what she’d done to deserve such a glorious awakening.
Her eyelids fluttered open at the sound of a low, threatening growl, like the warning rumble of a dog.
“Ric?” she said, spying him first. Speaking of dogs, his stiff stance reminded her of the posture her childhood dog took when she spied a cat on the loose. Her dog, Daisy, had been nothing like her name suggested. She was no pansy, either; never took mercy on a stray cat once she had hold of it.
Sophie’s gut instinct told her Ric would be no less vicious once he had his hands wrapped around his prey. In a way, that thought made her warm and tingly inside. The combination of sex appeal and danger was something she’d never tasted before in a man. It was a very spicy, intoxicating flavor.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
His answer was in the form of a continuing glare in the general direction of the bathroom. Naturally, Sophie let her gaze follow the line of his unwavering one.
“Oh,” was about all she could think to say for a second or two. “Hello, there,” she said to the familiar Ancient One, his stiff pose mirroring Ric’s, as he stood frozen just inside the doorway. Her gaze ping-ponged between the two men a few times, then, slightly dizzy, she said, “I feel like I should make some introductions. Ric, this is the Ancient One. Ancient One—by the way, it’s getting real old calling you that so I think I’ll call you…Andy—this is Ric.”
Both men flinched. Muscles bunched, teeth gnashed, cockles raised. Oh boy. Seeing an old-fashioned vampire rumble coming on, she climbed from the bed, grabbed the two-ton book she’d picked up during her earlier trip to the library off the nightstand, and positioned herself between the two glaring men.
Whew baby, now that was a position to be in. The testosterone floating about the room was almost enough to knock a girl out. Sophie practically fell over—undoubtedly overdosed on the stuff—then recovered by musing on the wonder of having both men making love to her at once. Oh, wouldn’t that be heaven? One to pleasure her above the waist, one below? Or front and back? The options were endless.
When neither man spoke, she said, brandishing her book like a raised sword, “I don’t suppose there’s any hope we can settle our differences and all be friends?”
“She’s mine. I found her first,” Ric growled like a Neanderthal man…bedecked in Ralph Lauren.
“Uh, hello? Found her?” Sophie turned to give him a good dose of ugly eyes. “First, have we forgotten I’m still in the room? And second, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t treat me like someone’s misplaced…er, basketball. Last I read, that finders-keepers expression didn’t apply to people.”
“You do not deserve her,” Andy retorted, giving Ric his own dose of ugly eyes. “You’re not telling her everything. As I am sure you know, the law states your lies make her free to make her own choice.”
Sophie waved her book in front of Andy’s face in an effort to get him to look at her. If they were going to fight over her, they’d better at least look at her! “Excuse me, I appreciate your thought process here, but his lies have nothing to do with my choices. And I have no idea what law you’re referring to, but as an American citizen, I’ve always been free to make my own decisions—men, homes, cars, jobs, the whole nine yards.” She poked him in the chest. Her knuckle popped and she yelped, shaking it. “I never even let my sister have a say when it came to men. That was probably stupid. No, I admit that was absolutely stupid. My sister could spot a loser from five hundred feet, but still, you get the point. No one tells me who I sleep with and whom I don’t.”
It looked like neither man was about to listen to a word she said—typical. Like a couple of children, they continued glaring at each other and hurling insults. Ric stiffened at Andy’s questioning of his breeding and hurled back a stinger of his own, topping it off with, “Why don’t you go find a nice cool mausoleum to cozy up in? No one here has an interest in cozying up with the likes of you.”
“Hey, speak for yourself,” Sophie said, not so much because she was even considering making kissy faces with Andy—though the thought had crossed her mind once or twice—but more because if there was one thing a man could do to really piss her off, it was speak for her. She gave Ric a shove, which didn’t budge him even a fraction of an inch. That made her even madder. “I have my own mouth, tongue, and vocal cords, Ric!” she shouted, like that would do any good. “And I’m quite capable of using them, thank you. But I’ll keep you in mind as a standby if I ever get laryngitis. And you—” She whirled around to address Andy again.
“I’m giving you exactly ten seconds to leave,” Ric growled from behind her. She could imagine his dark-eyed stare still focused on Andy.
“—you behave yourself,” she scolded Andy, feeling like she was dealing with a couple of toddlers fighting over a favorite toy. “I appreciate the fact that you offered to help us, but please, this isn’t helping.”
“Ooh, ten whole seconds.” Andy, again ignoring what she said, despite the fact that she was standing in front of him waving her arm like a deranged chicken, chuckled at Ric’s bravado. He checked his fingernails, glanced at his wristwatch until the full ten seconds had passed, and a few extras—Sophie counted them in heartbeats—then grinned. “I appreciate the offer but I think I’ll stick around a while longer. Sophie and I have some things to discuss.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Sophie nodded.
“Don’t believe a word this man tells you. He doesn’t care about you,” Ric said, finally addressing her but his gaze still firmly fixed on Andy.
That set off another round of insult volleys. The language flying between the two was enough to make a sailor blush. Sophie was tempted to take notes, just in case she needed some colorful insults later. Instead, she stood between them, watching the action and musing about the crazy twist her life had taken recently.
Well, this was interesting, if a little bit scary. Sophie had never been fought over by two men, let alone two amazingly gorgeous, incredibly powerful men. Except for the fact that she was slightly leery of the second one, didn’t know how much she could trust him, she might’ve been giggling like a schoolgirl. The fact that she had no clue how powerful either was, or how much damage they could do to each other, also dimmed the giggle factor a bit. Plus, the fact that both of them were essential to her search for a couple of moldy old artifacts that she needed to kill the stupid snakewoman married to her best friend brought the potential glee factor down even a few more notches.
Somehow, she had to diffuse this situation. Pronto! Before the bodies started flying. As it was, the two men were slowly inching their way closer to each other. Their puffed-up chests and thrust-up chins were no more than a couple of feet apart now. And she was still wedged in the middle, but losing breathing space fast.
She dropped the book on the floor and put both arms out, to keep the men apart, at least enough to allow her an occasional deep breath, and shouted at the top of her lungs, “Enough!”
For the first time in close to a half hour, the room was swallowed up in complete silence. She could actually hear herself breathing.
“Ric, Andy, you both say you want to help me but all you’re doing is making things worse! Stop acting like a couple of children, shut up, and let’s figure out what we need to do to find the stupid spear and shield. I have a lamia to kill! And I intend to do it with you or without you. Both of you!” She turned to Ric first and was pleased to see he seemed to have simmered down a bit. It wasn’t more than a degree or two, but it was something. “Please, Ric. You don’t know what this means to me. My best friend is dying, being sucked dry by his wife, a woman I introduced him to! Darn it, it’s my fault. I’m going to cause the death of yet another person—”
Ric began, “You’re not responsible—”
“Just like my poor little sister. I caused her death too. It was all my fault. I knew she was in danger but she was doing it for me…and…” Sophie swallowed several times as rage, regret, guilt burned a hole in her belly. “I couldn’t tell…. She died because of me, because of a lie.”
Both men stood silent, looking at her with wide, unblinking eyes.
Finally, an eon or so later, “How does he think he’s going to help us?” Ric grumbled, pointing at Andy.
She began, “He says—”
Andy interrupted, “I know where to find the items you need. The harp and the sword.”
“Harp?” Sophie repeated. “We aren’t looking for a harp. We’re looking for the shield. The Magen.”
“See?” Andy gave her a doleful shake of his head. “That Wissenschaft has led you astray already.”
“I have not!” Ric said. His chest muscles flexed under Sophie’s fingertips as she pressed her hand against his shirt, with the misguided but hopeful intention of holding him back. “I have brought her this far.”
“Into the hands of the one who would see her fail,” Andy challenged.
“I know Margaret Mandel is a lamia,” Ric said.
“Not only a lamia but also Lisse’s sister,” Andy corrected.
“Her sister. What’s that matter?” Ric shrugged his shoulders. “We know she was lying about the shield and spear. And we had no intention of searching out the gentleman in Chicago.”
“A poor decision,” Andy said, also looking like he was cooling down. “He is a Guardian.”
“Guardian of what?” Sophie asked, finally feeling like they were getting some useful information.
Andy took a seat in a chair that was almost too small to hold his bulk. “Since the lamiae do not procreate, they must protect their population. They pay anyone, humans, dragons—”
“Dragons?” Sophie interrupted, disappointed. So much for her hopes of getting useful information out of this one. “Like the fire-breathing, scaly monster, overgrown reptile variety?” She stole a glance at Ric and noticed he looked as surprised as she did. Or was that something else? Fear, maybe? She turned back to Andy and chuckled, even though the last thing she felt like doing at the moment was laughing. “Real-live dragons. That’s funny.”
“You laugh?” Andy raised one ebony eyebrow.
“Surely you don’t expect me to believe there are real dragons prowling around the earth,” Sophie said, hoping he was kidding, hoping this whole conversation was a joke. Fighting a half woman, half snake was scary enough. Dealing with a dragon—big teeth, fire, scales…big teeth!—that was another thing altogether.
“Yet you believe in vampires, the Wissenschaft, Ancient Ones, and lamiae,” Ric pointed out.
What was this? Were those two joining forces? She was beginning to wonder if that was such a good thing. “You’re standing here.” She poked at Ric’s chest. “See? Solid, firm. Real. And him too.” She poked at Andy’s chest to illustrate. “And in case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been bitten by both of you bloodsuckers, so I know your fangs are real too. How can I not believe in you? But I can state unequivocally that I’ve never, ever seen a fire-breathing dragon…that is, outside of the movies. In particular, the one in Shrek was frightening. And a girl dragon to top it off. She was tough. Whew. That fire breath was something. Wouldn’t want to mess with her. Poor Donkey!”
“Take my word for it, she was a pussycat compared to the real thing,” Andy warned.
“I have no experience with dragons myself,” Ric said. “But I’ve heard of those who have dared tangle with them. Not pretty.”
Ric believed him?
“There’s no way around it, you’ll have to face a Guardian sooner or later if you’re going to get the harp and spear,” Andy said. “He might not have what you’re looking for yet, but he’ll fight you for it or try to steal it from you once you’ve found it. Those guys mean business.”
“Yeah. So I’ve heard.” Ric didn’t sound pleased.
“I can’t tell you how to beat them, since I haven’t defeated one personally, but I can tell you about their weaknesses. Those are well known among the Ancient Ones,” Andy offered.
Ric took a seat in the chair next to Andy, rested his foot on his opposite knee, and looking like they were long-lost chums, gave him an encouraging nod. “Tell me. As men of science, my clan has no use for them and thus has no information on them in our annals.”
“As I expected,” Andy said, with a solemn nod. “I will tell you everything I know.”
And just like that, a new and unlikely friendship was born, between one gorgeous but pigheaded Wissenschaft and an equally stubborn but not quite as yummy Ancient One.
As both of the men’s gazes found her, their brows raised in a collective gaze of assessment, Sophie again wondered if their new partnership was a good thing or a bad thing. She figured it was probably both.
In the meantime, the shower was calling and she was in no position to refuse. To put it mildly, she reeked. Plus she was anxious to do something useful. When she emerged from the bathroom, smelling Zestfully clean, and feeling fresh and energized and ready to go spear hunting, Andy was gone. Ric was reclining in the bed, his head turned so his face was to the wall. His chest wasn’t moving. Even ten or so feet away, she could tell he wasn’t breathing; then again, he’d proven once already that that didn’t mean much.
Just to reassure herself, she called his name.
He didn’t respond.
Now she was worried. She called louder. Nothing. A million possibilities hopped around inside her head like Ping-Pong balls in a rubber-walled room. Had something terrible happened while she was in the shower? Had Andy been pretending to befriend Ric only to attack him once she’d left the room?
A whole lot more freaked out than she ever thought she would be, she ran to the bed, took one good breath to fill her deflating lungs, and grabbed his arm, figuring she’d roll him onto his back and take a look. What she would do after that was beyond her.
Did CPR work on the undead? Would a guy who rarely breathed need CPR? How would she know if there was something truly wrong with him?
It took a great deal of effort, strained muscles in places she hadn’t even known she had muscles, grunting and groaning, to get Ric over onto his back.
Dead weight. Dead…
Shoving that thought aside, she shook him. “Ric?”
He didn’t respond. Not an eyelash flutter, or a nose flare. Nothing.
“Ric, come on! Yeah, I gave you a hard time about being all manly and protective about Andy or whatever his name is, but you got over it…right? Ric? This. Isn’t. Funny!” She shook him harder, slapped his cheek lightly, then again with a whole lot more force. Even with her practically punching him he remained deathly still. “Oh, God! He’s dead? How? Oh, God! What happened? Did Andy do something?” she shouted to no one, because there was no one there to answer her. She ran around, shaking her hands, wanting to do something, anything, to bring Ric back but having no idea what to do. She paced. “Dead. My vampire sweetie’s dead? Was it garlic? A silver bullet? I didn’t see a stake in his heart. Surely I would’ve seen that.” She did a quick check for obvious injuries—bullet holes, burnmarks—and then for garlic and holy water. “Nothing? Did he starve to death? Does he need blood? Oh, man. I hope that isn’t it, because if it is, that means I’ll have to supply it to him and I can’t do that.”
She adjusted the collar of her pullover and leaned over him until her neck was pressed against his closed mouth. “Come on, baby. I know you want some. Drinky-drinky.”
He didn’t bite, slurp, or even lick.
“Darn it!” She glanced at her wrist, then pried his lips open—he looked a little bit like a horse with his lips curled back like that—and rubbed her wrist against the front of his teeth.
That did nothing either. Didn’t inspire even a twitch. Frustrated, near panic-stricken, she smacked his chest. “What the heck am I supposed to do? Huh? Damn it, if this is step two of the big plan, you could’ve given me a warning, a hint or two. A study guide. Something.”
She paced some more.
“Okay. What do I know about vampires?” She stopped pacing. “Not much. They need blood. But Ric knows I’m ignorant of the ways of the vamp. So if this is a test, he wouldn’t expect me to know something he knows I don’t know…. Jeez, I sound like Abbott and Costello.”
Sophie turned around and looked at Ric again. “Blood. That’s the only thing I can think of. It’s the only thing I know. That has to be it. But where do I get it from?” She looked around the room. Like there was going to be a ready supply of fresh blood in the hotel room. “Oh, man, he wouldn’t expect me to actually supply the blood, as in cut myself, would he? Why couldn’t he have passed out at a blood bank? I could just order up a unit or two of O-neg and be done with it.”
She stared at his pale face, wishing he would answer her.
“Shit! It’s a little thing. Right? I just need to make a small scratch. A poke, like the doctor does when he checks for iron. I have to try. I just hope I can supply what he needs before I pass out cold.” Determined to do what she could, she marched to the bathroom, found her pink Lady Schick, closed her eyes, and ran her fingertip along the blade. It stung like heck, had to have sliced clear down to the bone. She yelped and opened her eyes after bracing herself for what had to be a virtual river of blood gushing from the wound.
There wasn’t even a single drop. She could see the narrow slice in the skin but evidently it didn’t go deep enough to cause bleeding. “Darn it! I nick myself every freaking morning while shaving and now I can’t produce a single drop of blood when I need to?” Her heart racing, her hands shaking, stars twinkling before her eyes, she counted to three and tried again. Once again pain shot through her hand. This time it was so bad she dropped the razor in surprise. “Owwww! What I do for you, bloodsucker!”
This had to have worked. There had to be blood pouring from the wound, gushing, pulsing…. Her stomach turned. She blinked open her eyes but could barely see, thanks to the stars shutting out most of her field of vision. She thought she caught sight of some red and hoped it was good enough. At a near swoon, her head spinning, she went over to the bed, wormed her finger into his mouth and rubbed her fingertip along his teeth, the inside of his cheek.
“Wake up, dammit!” she said, tears now making it even harder to see. She felt breathless, near unconscious, like after she’d woken up from surgery and had had a reaction to the painkillers. “I can’t…do…any…more.” Giving in to the darkness that had slowly pulled her, she fell over, landing next to him on the mattress.