"Stan!" I screamed. My mind was still foggy, but the tender hold of the drugs slipped away. I felt terrible; my mouth tasted like metal.
I got off the table, my feet stabbed by broken glass and concrete shards. My legs folded, and I grabbed the table for support. Unbelievably, the light only dropped a couple of feet; it was still on, too. I lowered myself to the floor and crawled to Stan. Shards pierced my palms and knees, but the pain was dulled. Sweat dripped off my temples and rolled down my neck. The acrid smell of smoke singed my nostrils. It was familiar, that scent. Like home. Like family. I kept moving, thinking only of getting to Stan. I needed to save him, so I could strangle him later. My heart dropped when I saw Stan's pale hand sticking out from the rocks. Seeing my old friend, my uncle Archie, buried by debris swept aside my anger about his actions. I could browbeat him later, if he lived to hear my harangue. I wasn't leaving him in the rubble. I flung away rock after rock.
"Stan? I'm getting you out," I said. "Keep breathing. Please, just keep breathing."
The noise and explosions stopped. What had blown up the building? A gas leak? A nuclear missile? A werewolf having a bad day?
I cocked my head. I heard fire singing. It was far away, but I heard it all the same. The song was different than the others I'd heard before. It called to me. It seduced me. But I couldn't answer. I couldn't leave Stan.
I uncovered Stan's legs and torso. Dread pounded through me. His injuries looked bad. One leg was bent at an impossible angle, and he had several broken ribs. Blood stained his clothes and seeped from jagged wounds.
I kept digging, and refused to consider that Stan wasn't alive. Whatever drug I'd been given made me feel like I'd imbibed too many Venti Mochas, and that made me think about Starbucks. What I wouldn't give for a Raspberry White Chocolate Mocha, with soy milk and no whip. Vaguely, I wondered where everyone was. I mean, surely they knew Stan had been going all Dr. Frankenstein on me. An unearthly stillness settled over us. The space above was completely dark, but even so, I realized it was another room. I think the prison and lab were located under the queen's mansion, basement level. Were we still there? Or had I been moved to somewhere else? Maybe everyone had evacuated. Or maybe they were dead.
No, I wouldn't think that way.
I lifted the final concrete chunk from Stan's body and threw it. It banged against the wall, and I flinched at the harsh sound.
The green outline around Stan was dimming and I didn't want to see it fade away. "C'mon, Stan! Stay with me."
The light was flickering, and I figured it would go out soon. It was just as well. The yellow beam revealed the wide, unseeing stare of my old friend. His glasses had somehow remained on his face, but the lenses were cracked.
"No," I said, shaking my finger at him. "You're not dead. Do you hear me? You're. Not. Dead."
I looked down and realized I was still naked, and sweaty and dusty, and just a little bit out of my mind. I tugged the sheet from the debris-strewn table and made a suitable toga with it. Then I got behind Stanley and lifted him by his shoulders. I dragged him from the rocks as gently as I could. He was heavy, and moving him was like trying to move a two-hundred-pound bag of rice. Behind me, the weak beam of the downed light revealed a door. I headed toward it with my precious cargo. I only laid down my burden long enough to pull the handle. It was locked.
I yanked and yanked, but the goddamned door wouldn't open. I screamed and pounded on the metal until my voice went hoarse and my hands went numb.
Exhausted, I pulled Stan to the corner and collapsed next to him. That was the moment the light blinked out. Darkness blanketed the entire room. I stroked Stan's forehead and promised him everything would be okay. This was a lie, of course. But Stan didn't appear to care. I drifted in and out of consciousness. Then, from far away, I heard a familiar voice.
"Libby!"
"Here," I croaked; my throat sore. "Here!"
"Don't worry," said Ralph on the other side of the door. "We'll get you out."
"Hurry," I said. "Stan is really hurt."
"Move out of the way!" yelled a fierce female voice.
The door burst off its hinges and flew across the room. I blinked as bobbing lights headed in my direction. I realized several people had filed into the room, and they held flashlights. One was a short, stacked redhead who marched toward us with fire in her eyes.
"He's not dead," she told me matter-of-factly. She knelt next to Stan and rubbed the bald spot on his head. "He'll be just fine."
"Linda," said another, softer Irish voice. I made out the tall shape of a woman. Her skin glimmered strangely. "We must help Libby. Stanley is - "
"Fine. Stanley is fine." Linda scooped Stan into her arms and lifted him as if he weighed no more than air. "Brigid, as soon as you're done tending to the girl, you come and fix up my man."
Then she stomped out of the room.
Ralph sat down next to me. His blue eyes were filled with relief. His fingers swept my hair back from my forehead.
I felt so relieved to be alive. "What's going on? Is Stan . . . oh, God!"
Ralph's response was unexpected. He kissed me. Talk about bad timing. His lips were warm and soft and tasted like cinnamon. Heat spread through my body. It was like we shared the fire again, and I reveled in that feeling.
I clutched at his shirt and let the tears flow. Gently, he moved back and wiped off my gritty cheeks. I looked like hell and probably tasted like asphalt, and he planted one on me anyway. The sparkly woman knelt next to me. Her diaphanous gown was green and showed off her lithe frame.
"My name is Brigid. I'm a healer, and I can help you."
I studied her, feeling tired and scared. Glittery gold symbols on her skin swirled and changed patterns.
"Those are some crazy tattoos."
"My magic knows what you need." Okay. That made no sense, but what was new? Nothing in Broken Heart made sense. Brigid put her cool, soothing palm against my forehead. "Sleep well, Libby."
That was the last thing I remembered.
I awoke in darkness. The bed underneath me was really comfortable and the sheets were so soft I felt wrapped in clouds. Huh. I must've gotten an upgraded prison cell. Yay me.
I was really tired of getting knocked out and waking up in strange places. Seriously. What was wrong with these people?
I stretched, relieved I was dressed in pajamas. These fit me better, too. Overall, I felt good. My body didn't hurt at all, and the buzzing headache that had plagued me when I awoke on Stan's surgical table was completely gone. Whatever Brigid the Glitter Girl had done, it was miraculous. I tried not to think about Stan, but how could I not? He was dead. I was sorry, too, even though he'd been experimenting on me. And he didn't exactly stop his new pals from treating me so poorly. I had lots of reasons to be mad at Stan, but I didn't want him dead.
And what about Patrick? Surely they'd figured out I wasn't responsible for his sickness. Without Stan to do the testing, how would I be proven innocent? I could only hope Patrick was already recovering.
"Lights on, fifty percent," I muttered to Mr. Roboto.
Nothing happened.
"Lights on, fifty percent," I said louder.
"You have to flip the switch," said Ralph's amused voice.
"Aaaaahhh!" I sat up and pulled the covers over my head, which was stupid. How was a comforter going to shield me from anything?
A light snapped on as I cautiously lowered the bedspread. Ralph stood in the doorway looking at me, his blue eyes filled with apprehension.
"And I thought I slept like the dead," he said.
"Oh, hah." I was nervous. This was not a prison; this was someone's bedroom.
"Mine," he said, answering the question before I could ask it. "I took responsibility for you."
"They wanted to throw me back in the clink, didn't they?"
"We have to protect ourselves," he defended.
Then he sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair. "Stan shouldn't have - "
"Experimented on me?"
He nodded. "And even after he did, you saved him."
And it looked like Ralph had saved me. Again. But why? He'd made it clear he didn't like what was happening to me. To him. To us.
"Thanks." I didn't want to look at him anymore, not when I couldn't hide how I felt. I didn't care if it was the dragon fire, the magic that bound us. I liked him. I wanted him. I studied the room. The sleigh bed was dark cherry wood. The sheets were gold lined with red, which the comforter's swirling pattern matched perfectly. The nightstands matched the rich wood of the bed, as did the dresser and armoire. There were no windows; the walls had an odd silver sheen. Yep. I was in the vampire's lair.
Still, it was filled with a married couple's furniture. Oy. I couldn't help but think about Ralph and his wife going to the furniture store and picking it all out. They'd probably made love in this bed, and he'd slept next to her every night while their twins grew in her womb.
I felt self-conscious sleeping in her bed. Like I was the Other Woman.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Are you okay?"
"What do you think?" My harsh tone made him flinch. Crap. How could I explain what I was feeling without sounding like an idiot? I smiled weakly. "Your wife had good taste in bedroom suites."
"Therese didn't . . . that is, this set belonged to my parents. After she passed away, I sold our old suite and took all this out of storage." He examined me, as if trying to figure out what else I might want to know. "The bedding was a gift from my sister. And the pajamas you're wearing are new. I guessed your size."
I hadn't even thought about where the pajamas had come from. "I didn't mean to freak. It's just weird. You being a widower. I feel like I'm intruding." I paused. "You bought me new pajamas?"
"Sorry. They were a gift from Patsy."
I was a little disappointed Ralph hadn't picked them out for me. Gah. I was so pathetic.
"I'll make you breakfast," he said.
I glanced at him and noticed his fangs were extended. I put a hand to my throat and gulped.
"What?" I squeaked.
"Not like that," he said impatiently. "I meant I'll cook for you, and then we can go."
"Go where?"
"The queen has called a council meeting." His gaze bounced away guiltily. "I'm supposed to take you there."
"Wait a minute." I glared at him. "You're my jailer now?"
"I told you. The only way to keep you out of that place was to agree to be your . . . escort." He looked at me, stone-faced. "Do you know what that means?"
My heart stuttered. "If I escape . . . you mean they'd kill you?"
"Worse." He stared at me, and his lips thinned. "They'd taunt me. I'd never live down letting a human escape my evil vampire clutches."
I didn't know if I should laugh or throw a pillow at him. I settled for a smile. I could always smack him later.
Lucky for me, the vampires laundered my clothes and gave them to Ralph. After a quick shower, I got dressed and brushed out my hair, then I French-braided it.
I went to the kitchen, feeling once again out of place. This was the home he'd made with Therese and their sons. I didn't feel like I belonged.
"Where are your boys?"
"They're staying with my in-laws in California. It's safer for them there. And no, they don't know about my condition."
"Are things really that dangerous here?"
"You were here for five minutes and got attacked by two wolves, a Tainted vampire, and a zombie. Then two dragons fell out of the sky."
"Ah. Good point."
After that, Ralph and I didn't have much to say to each other. While he made pancakes, I wandered his house. It was a small two-bedroom bungalow that Ralph kept tidy. With his sons here, I bet it wasn't nearly as easy to keep clean. I imagined clothing and toys and books strewn from the front yard to their bedroom. I found the idea enchanting, and for a strange moment I yearned to know what it was like, chasing after two giggling three-year-olds.
I stood in the doorway of the twins' room, and marveled. The walls were sky blue, and the border around the top featured brightly colored trains. Two toddler-sized beds in the shape of cabooses were neatly made up; each small pillow had a brown teddy bear. Those fuzzy fellows waited for the return of their tiny playmates. I wondered how long it would be before they came back, and how long it would be before they could live here safely with their father. Maybe never. Even though I was upset with Ralph, I couldn't help but feel sad for him.
I flicked off the light and returned to the kitchen, where Ralph was putting the finishing touches on breakfast.
I was so nervous about the meeting that I didn't really have an appetite. I ate the pancakes because Ralph had gone to the trouble of making them. It seemed a thousand years ago that I was sneaking into Broken Heart to find proof of the paranormal.
"Do you know what happened to my cell phone?" I asked.
"Confiscated," he said.
"Do you have one?"
"You can't call anyone. Not yet."
I really wanted to call my parents. I wanted to hear Mom's voice. It might've been childish to want my mommy, but I wasn't going to deny I'd be relieved to see her and Dad again. I wanted to protect them, especially if they'd gotten clear of the town. I was worried. If they'd given up trying to find me, then PRIS would descend on Broken Heart.
I had so many questions about what was going on, what had happened to me. But all I could think about were those two empty beds and those two lonely teddy bears.
"When will you see your boys again?" I asked as we cleaned up the breakfast dishes. The window above the kitchen sink showed that it was pitch-black outside. I must've slept all day. Keeping a vampire's hours already; I might as well get used to it.
"Visits are difficult to manage," he said. "I told you my in-laws don't know I'm a vampire. They think I work for the Consortium as a project manager, and that I've been sent out of the country on a special assignment."
My heart broke for him. "So, you don't get to see them at all?"
"Every Sunday," he said. "My computer has a webcam, and my in-laws have the same setup. We do see each other. It's not the same as having them within arm's reach, but it'll have to do."
"Why stay here?" I asked. "You could take the boys and start over somewhere else. Get out of this place. I mean, it's crazy here. Look at what happened last night." I blinked at my own statement. "What did happen last night?"
"Broken Heart has had some problems," said Ralph. "One of them is named Lia, and she showed up last night on her dragon. That thing blew the hell out of the mansion and destroyed Stan's lab."
"You mean the blue dragon? The one that killed his sister?"
"Unfortunately, no. We don't know who he is."
"And this Lia person?"
"She's an Ancient."
I stared at him blankly. He nodded. "Right. The short version is that there are seven Ancient vampires, the original ones who created all the vampires we have now. Every Family has a different power."
"Like you with the fire thing."
He nodded. "Anyway, Lia's an Ancient. And she's not happy about Patsy's leadership."
"Patsy led a coup?"
Ralph laughed. "Hell, no. She got sucked in because of a prophecy. Basically, it said the Ancients' way of doing things would end, and Patsy would be the new vampire queen, and oh yeah, lead the lycanthropes, too. Not that the werewolves are exactly paying her tribute."
"She said something about that before," I said, trying to figure out where to put all the pieces of the Broken Heart puzzle. Damn. I was never very good at putting together puzzles.
"So, anyway, a few months ago, Lia conspired with two other Ancients. She was the one staging a coup. It failed."
I was beginning to see why Ralph had sent his sons out of the state. How the hell could all this paranormal drama unfold without anyone in the real world noticing? Broken Heart was a small town, and it was plunked in the middle of nowhere. No one would come here on purpose. Lots of paranormal rumors were flying around, which is why my parents and I had decided to check it out. I wondered what Broken Heart's citizens had done - and were still willing to do - to protect their secrets.
"I'm sorry about Stan," said Ralph, mistaking the reason for my silence. I probably should've been more worried about Stan's actions. I suppose it didn't matter all that much since he was . . . dead. I wasn't sure how to feel about it. I really didn't want to think about him or what happened. But apparently Ralph did.
"We didn't know he'd taken you to do other tests. That's why we couldn't find you at first."
"How did you find me?"
"Melvin. He found Patsy and gave the search party directions."
"I guess I owe him one." I felt strange about that. I wondered if the ghost was here now. Feeling foolish, I said, "Uh . . . thanks, Melvin."
Ralph chuckled. "I don't think the spirits are with us."
"Shut up. I'll have you know he likes me."
"He's not the only one," he said softly.
"What was that?"
"Nothing." He looked down at the sink and an awkward silence fell between us.
"What about Patrick?" I asked. "Is he okay?"
"I don't know," said Ralph. "But I don't believe his illness has anything to do with you."
I appreciated his confidence, but as it turned out, he was wrong. Apparently the meeting would convene at the queen's mansion, which looked beat up, but by no means in danger of falling apart. The attack had obviously been directed at the middle of the large house. The brick walls were blackened, but solid. The roof had been tarped and broken windows had been covered with plywood.
The front door no longer existed, but the two big wolves, both outlined in red, standing guard at the entrance were better security anyway. They both growled at me as we passed. I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue. Ralph kept a firm grip on my hand. I pretended he wanted the romantic connection even though he probably just wanted to keep me from running away. What he didn't know is that I'd already figured out running away was a bad idea. Not just because I would be hunted by scary paranormal creatures, but because, so far, running away from my problems had only made 'em worse. After getting a "sniff and nod" from the guards, we entered the house. The smell of burned wood and melted plastic assailed me. I saw Ralph's nose twitch and realized the scent was probably a hundred times worse for him.
The large staircase was broken and burned. The lower part was completely gone. A hole at least twenty feet across had been blown out, and far below was Stanley's destroyed lab. I didn't get a chance to really look because Ralph hustled me down a wide hallway and into a formal dining room. The long table could easily seat forty people, and almost half the chairs were full. Patsy was seated at the head and Gabriel to her right. And to her left . . .
"Stan!" I stared at him, unable to believe my own eyes. He didn't look like he'd been crushed by a fallen ceiling. He didn't have a cut on him, and he wasn't wearing his glasses, either. I hurried forward, ignoring all the people at the table. I didn't know them, and probably wouldn't like them anyway.
"It is you!" I hugged him. "You're alive!"
"Well, not quite," he said. "I'm a vampire."
"And he's married," said the redheaded woman, who stood up next to him and wrapped her possessive arm around his. Stan looked so happy he was about to burst.
His wife gave me a perfectly manicured hand, but her gaze wasn't all that friendly. "I'm Linda Michaels."
"Libby Monroe." I looked at Stan. Now that he was walking around again, I could go back to being pissed-off at him. "Why'd you experiment on me?"
The silence was sudden, and I could feel everyone's gazes on us. Stan had the grace to look ashamed. "I needed samples."
"You had to strap me down to a table to get blood?"
"I did the blood tests. Your liver function test was off the charts. I had to be sure."
"And you couldn't ask me?" It was awkward, the three of us standing and chatting while fifteen or so other people stared at us. I was well aware that the queen was indulging me, and that I could easily end up back in a cell, or worse.
"I wasn't sure you would cooperate," he said. "Maybe it was the coward's way, Libby, but I did what I thought was best. I had hoped to get the necessary samples before you woke up."
What in the hell had Stanley found in my blood work that made him drug me and perform procedures without my permission? Anxiety rippled, and I started to worry. Was I sick? Did I have some kind of heinous new disease capable of killing vampires? Was it as I secretly feared - the dragon had irrevocably changed me?
"You didn't have the right," I said as fear gnawed away at my caution. "None of you had the right to experiment on me! To toss me in jail! How dare you just . . . just confiscate my life!"
Tears spilled, and I didn't care. Let them see my weakness. To them, I was a mere human, worth nothing. How easy it was for these creatures to hold me hostage, to unravel all that I had worked for because it suited their purposes. I felt anger coil, the familiar heat spread through me. They thought what I had done in the living room was bad? Hah!
"Why, Stanley?" I yelled, feeling the power grow inside me. I shaped my fury, held on to it, waited to unleash it. "What's so wrong with me?"
"Libby," said Stanley, his voice rife with concern. "You're not human."