I see his point, but maybe there’s a solution. That is, if he really wants to be human again.
“I assume you would want to take the serum?” he asks, a hint of unexpected hope in his voice.
“Yes. And I’d want Stella to have it, too.”
“That would not be possible.”
“Why?” I ask. Not that there’s anything wrong with the way she is, but she might want the choice someday.
“Because as far as I know, she is the only one of her kind. There would be no way to test it first to be certain it is safe. The virus that makes us is more than a virus. It transforms our bodies, like yeast transforms flour into bread, the culture that turns milk into cheese, the ice that makes a margarita mix into—”
“I get the point.”
“Good, because what I am speaking of is reversing vampirism. But the child was born that way, her DNA coming from two sets of parents. So what would she revert back to if she is an original species all her own?”
It gives me a lot to think about. I would never want to risk anything happening to her.
“Now will you give me your word that you will not harm Nice?” Michael asks. “You see how this is bigger than you and me or our need for revenge against him?”
“If he is safely locked up, I guess I have no choice.”
“I want your word, librarian. I want you to swear on your child’s life.”
“Her name is Stella. Why can’t you say it?” I snap.
He shrugs.
“Michael,” I growl, “you said you were going to give me a chance and trust me. But how can I trust you if you won’t even say our names? It’s like we are not real to you.”
“Fine.” He shakes his head. “I cannot seem to make my mouth form the words.”
“What words?”
“Your names. There is a barrier inside my mind preventing me.”
That is really strange. I wonder if this has to do with his other transformation—the one where he lost his soul.
There’s a knock at the door of our motel room.
My eyes go wide, and I hold my breath to hear better. No one except the clerk knows we’re here.
I raise my finger to my mouth and tell Michael to be quiet. I point my crossbow at the door and come up to the side. “Who is it?”
“Pizza,” says a woman’s voice.
“Wrong room.”
“It says right here, Miriam Murphy. That’s you, right?”
Crap. I dash over to Michael, unlock his chains, grab my goodie bag, and run into the bathroom. The window is very small. There’s no way out.
“Did you pick this room?” he scowls.
“I’m sorry. But if you recall, I wasn’t aware we had an assassin after us. I was only thinking about you not getting away.”
Michael lifts his head toward the ceiling, like he’s praying for patience. Then something seems to catch his attention.
“Look,” he whispers and points up to a large metal grate.
The ventilation system. Given what a dump this place is, I bet it leads right into the next bathroom.
Michael must be making the same assumption. He reaches up with his tall frame and pops off the screws. He helps me up, and I slide in, trying not to notice the half inch of mold and dust caked inside.
Is that a dead rat? So nasty. I push on the grate leading to the next bathroom and hop onto the tile floor. Luckily, it doesn’t appear anyone is staying here.
Michael follows closely behind me.
“What next?” I whisper.
“Wait until we hear them enter our room; then we’ll slip out this door and run.”
“To where?” I ask.
“The Hotel Platano’s penthouse, where Nice is.”
Hotel Banana? Sounds oddly fitting for Nice.
He adds, “I have my car parked two blocks north from where I found you near the beach. We’ll make a run for it. After that, we will capture Nice and bring him back to my plane. It’s on standby.”
“What about that person?” I point to the wall separating us from this assassin.
“We will have to deal with them another day. We cannot afford to lose Nice. Too much is at stake.”
I have to admit that seeing this rational, determined side of Michael is refreshing. He’s acting out of his sense of duty and not as a slave to his emotions. But the other part of me really misses his squishy, sweet side too. Sentimental & Sweet Michael was the man who worked tirelessly to keep my library open when I was Nice’s captive. Squishy Michael started building a museum to share my family’s legacy with the world. He was also the man who rocked my world in bed. He gave me Stella.
We hear the sound of the door being kicked down in our room.
“Let’s go.” Michael jerks open the door—only to find a short person in a black mask pointing a crossbow right at him. He jumps just as the arrow flies, and it lodges right in his chest.
“No!” I grab him and run, leaving behind the perpetrator, who smells like White Diamonds by Elizabeth Taylor—a poor choice of perfume, because while it masked some of the smell, I caught a subtle whiff of their true scent.
Human.
Wait. We’re being hunted by a human?
My mind is far too occupied by the bleeding vampire in my arms to process that. He could dust at any moment.
“Where do I go, Michael? Where?”
“Dump our cellphones,” he groans. “They could be using them to track us.”
Crap. Of course. I don’t have a free arm at the moment, because I’m carrying him like an oversized baby, and he’s a tall, well-built man. As soon as we’re a few blocks away, I set him on the ground behind the dumpster of a taco place.
“It smells like armpits,” he mumbles.
“Be quiet,” I whisper and dig out my phone from my jeans. Then I find his cell inside his coat pocket and stomp both devices to smithereens. “There. Done. Okay, let’s get a look at that wound.” I lean down to inspect the
