CHAPTER 2 #3
The thought sends everything in me down to my gut.
One by one, my fingers latch onto the edge of the table as a terrible realization fixes in my brain.
Vampires are white, pale, and deathly looking.
I’ve seen dozens and dozens of pictures of dead vamps, which is the best time to photograph them.
Contrary to popular myth, vamps do reflect, they do photograph, but who wants to take the time to snap a few selfies during a high-stakes interaction?
Nope. Slay and run. That’s the game, especially since vampires also don’t disintegrate into dust, so it’s best to get out before the police move in.
But Alain D’Ange looks different, and if he’s not a vampire…
“Since I told everyone you’re my girlfriend, I must now prove that bit of lunacy by being seen out and about with you.
Therefore, Bumps, you’re moving in with me.
I’m thinking a month of cohabitation should settle any rumors nicely, after which we’ll engage in a public breakup.
The world can divide themselves between Team Bumps or Team Alain until they forget our names entirely. ”
Sure, I should be accustomed to the rug being yanked out from underneath me, but I’m having a problem processing exactly how this one is being torn. I mean, I know he’s speaking English. His words are just… confusing.
“What?”
“A month. You and me. Then, we part. You’re already seen as unhinged, which will help my cause. Look at you. Not a man in this world will wonder why I chose a crazy for a girlfriend if she looks like you, nor why I couldn’t make myself keep you after the glamour wore thin. Do you live in the city?”
Seriously, not processing anything he’s saying. Is he speaking Swahili, maybe?
But then he moves, so fast he’s a blur. His elbows plop on the table, and I realize, belatedly, how fast he could rip out my throat if he wanted to.
My whole life flashes before my eyes and I cry out as my body tries to backpedal right out of the chair.
“Too fast. Sorry. My Kind is only plodding while shifted. The point is, Bumps, we’re on the same side. And I’m not a vampire.” He sits back again, moving at human speed this time. “You’re a slayer-in-training.”
“N-not t-training,” I stutter, my adrenalin kicking me in the teeth. “A-am. I g-graduated.”
“Did you?”
He doesn’t have to sound so damned surprised about it.
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Right? Well… good. Too many demons and vampires running around lately. I, um, have some books you might like to peruse.”
“Why, because you think I suck at my job?”
His gaze flits to the table before lifting to mine again. “I think you could benefit by some expanded reading. You might then realize that I’m nothing like a vampire.”
I lift my shaking finger to point at his face. “So vampire.”
He smiles a dazzling smile and clasps his palm over the spot where my stake ripped through his shirt. “So gargoyle, little girl. Stone all the way down.”
My face understands the double-entendre before the rest of me does.
It heats me from within with the force of a thousand suns, and despite my predicament, I can’t help wondering just how hard a vampire-gargoyle can get.
Is there a limit? Does hardness matter in the sexual arena after a certain point? Would it hurt?
His smile grows into what I might classify as a leer. “You’re going to be a wonderful girlfriend.”
“Uh-uh,” I deny, shaking my head.
Brilliant response, Bunny. Great, witty repartee.
He leans forward again, but slowly this time, which just makes him seem even more dangerous.
“If aiding the world in evading Armageddon isn’t enough of an incentive for you, your predicament should motivate you to join me in a little deception.
You attempted to murder me on national television.
If the police investigate and determine you were not, in fact, wielding a breakable balsa-wood stake as I suggested, you’ll be making lovely friends in prison.
New York institutions are filled with the toughest, evilest elements on earth, and Bumps?
” His gaze slides over me like slow, melting wax. “You won’t be lonely for company.”
I can feel color draining from my face. A few hours parked in a holding cell was bad enough. Morrie never prepared me for prison. “I… I have to think.” I grip the table so hard that my fingers turn white.
“Think fast.”
Right. I stare into his amber-colored eyes, trying to see the truth of him. He seems… genuine. Plus, the stake shattered. His skin is gray like stone. He says he’s a gargoyle, and if he is, then being his fake girlfriend is do-able. Gargoyles are protectors of the good. They fight evil. I think.
Plus, if he’s a vampire disguising himself… I can always stake him in his sleep.
“I thought gargoyles spend all their time on church rooftops scaring pigeons?”
Another wave of sadness like the one I spotted earlier washes over his expression as he visibly slumps.
“Yes, well, not all purposes are given to one for a lifetime.” With a little shake, he draws himself back into power-emitting, billionaire tycoon.
“I need a decision. Be my fake girlfriend for a month, with all that the post entails—and I’ll be the one deciding what is and isn’t necessary, by the by—or rot here in prison, at the same time destroying any hope for a global financial system that will actually aid humanity instead of destroying it. The choice is yours, Bumpy.”
Put like that, is it really a choice at all?