Broken Heart Town 04 - Wait Till Your Vampires Get Home Part 3

She yanked me down and clamped her mouth on mine. The first thought that entered my mind was "No tongue!" The next thought was "Seriously! No tongue!" And then I realized the kiss wasn't a kiss. There was nothing s.e.xual about it.

Fire shot from her mouth to mine. It roared through me, licking my skin, enveloping my insides. I tried to pull away, but we were sealed together. I felt her fingertips against my temples. G.o.d, it was so hot. Not p.o.r.no hot. Falling-into-the-sun hot.

I was burning, burning.

"Libby!"

Ralph's voice sounded far away. I couldn't respond. I couldn't do anything but accept the fiery gift of the dragon.

Then it was over.

She collapsed to the ground, her hands falling away from my face. I knelt next to her, s.h.i.+vering, trying to draw in breath. Energy pulsed at the base of my spine, and spun a web of throbbing heat to every nerve ending. It was almost as if my blood had been burned away, leaving only the cleansing magical fire racing through my veins.

Streaks of red and orange blurred my vision.

My stomach rebelled and I fell to my side, vomiting black liquid.

What had she done to me?

"Libby!"

My vision cleared and I saw Ralph's legs. His white sneakers were battered and muddy. He squatted next to me, avoiding my puddle of ick, and helped me sit up.

"Jesus," he muttered. He grabbed the box of wipes and yanked one out. He cleaned my face, but the swipes were painful. Every inch of me felt raw, exposed. "What did she do to you?"

I gripped his wrist and he stopped wiping my cheeks.

"The . . . other . . . dragon," I managed to whisper.

"As soon as you and the other woman went inferno, the blue one took off."

"How . . . is . . . she?"

"She's gone, honey," he said gently. "Whatever she did to you, it was her last act on this Earth."

Some act. Where before it had felt like lava pouring through me, now it was as though I had been submersed in an Arctic sea. My teeth chattered and my vision grayed. I felt like I was sinking under the inky black of the cold ocean. Drowning in it.

I grabbed Ralph by the arms. "My . . . p-parents."

"We'll find them. I promise." He pressed his lips against my forehead. Electricity arced between us. Ralph was thrust away from me, his body writhing in orange-red flames.

I reached for him, tried to call his name.

My traitorous eyes closed and I unwillingly sank into the beckoning dark.

Chapter 5

My eyes fluttered open, though I wasn't quite able to focus them. After a while I was able to ascertain my surroundings. I lay on a soft surface and stared at a white vaulted ceiling. A very large chandelier-an exuberant explosion of s.h.i.+ny gla.s.s and chained gold-hung from the center beam. It had not been turned on, so it wasn't the source of the light in the room. I heard the crackling of fire and smelled cedar. It was weird, but I swear I could taste the soot.

It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. Every muscle ached. My skin felt like it had been peeled off and glued back on. Even moving my eyebrows caused pain. I tried to sit up, but the whole world spun. I settled for leaning on my elbows, which also freaking hurt.

I reclined on a fancy velvet couch, probably an antique. My coat, gloves, and shoes had been removed and my purse was nowhere in sight. The lushly decorated room favored creams and burgundies and dark woods, but the oversized stone fireplace was its jewel.

A fire burned brightly inside it. I watched the flames undulate. I wanted to be closer. No, not closer. Inside. Warmth and safety could be found in fire.

Wait a minute. What? Building a cozy spot inside a fire was bad. Still, the flames were mesmerizing. Their heat, their dancing, their song.

Sheesh. I must've really hit my head hard. I lay back down and closed my eyes again. I took deep breaths, trying to find a calm spot in my roiling thoughts.

"Is she awake yet?" asked an Irish-tinged voice.

My eyes flew open. I was startled to see two men with shoulder-length black hair, mercury gazes, and the same faces leaning over me. Their expressions of curiosity were the same, too. Strangest of all was the pulsing color around them. One was outlined in blue, and the other in purple.

"Uh . . . h.e.l.lo," I said. I stared at the pulsing color. I knew about auras, of course. But these were solid, unchanging. And they smelled sweetly fetid, like dying roses.

"You feelin' all right?" asked the one on the left.

Are you kidding? I attempted a smile. "My head feels like a wet sandbag."

Questions crowded my mind and at the forefront: Where were my parents?Had we really stumbled upon a town full of paranormal beings? What had that dragon girl done to me? And what the h.e.l.l had happened to Ralph?

"My name is Patrick." He was the one on the left.

The guy on the right said, "I'm Lorcan."

"I'm Libby."

We all looked each other over for a few seconds. Then Lorcan grasped my hands and helped me to sit up.

Bad idea.

I swayed too far to the left. Patrick grabbed my shoulders and righted me. My stomach gurgled.

"I feel like I'm gonna yark."

Alarm flashed in his eyes. His gaze skidded to his brother, who had the same expression. I would've laughed except that I really did feel like vomiting. Yech.

I put my head between my knees and inhaled.

When my stomach settled, I slowly raised my head. Deep breaths, Libby. Really deep breaths. "How did I get here?"

"We found you at the cemetery," said Patrick. Or was it Lorcan? "Our doctor examined you, and said you had no major injuries and would be fine."

Then why didn't I feel fine? And what was with my sudden ability to see auras?

"What about Ralph?" I asked. "Is he okay? He sorta looked like he was on fire. But I was pa.s.sing out at the time so I could be wrong."

"He's getting checked out now," said the man nearest me. "Was there anyone else?"

I hesitated. I didn't want to give away more information than necessary, especially to people who had yet to make clear their intentions. I decided not to mention my parents.

"There was a zombie. And an injured vampire." I made diving motions with my hands. "They were flattened by a couple of dueling dragons."

G.o.d, that sounded sooooo insane, but these two didn't blink.

"The woman who died," I continued. "She was a dragon."

"We didn't find a woman. Or a dragon," said the twin on the left. How had I already gotten them confused? An ache throbbed behind my eyes. At least my body no longer felt like someone was taking a cheese grater to it.

"Don't worry, Libby. We'll figure things out." The rea.s.surance came from . . . Lorcan. Yeah. I was fairly sure the one sitting on the couch with me was Lorcan.

"Great. Then there's no reason for me to stick around. Nice to meet you and everything. If you'll just hand over my stuff, I'll be on my way."

"To where?" asked Patrick. He folded his arms across his broad chest and smiled in a not-very-rea.s.suring way.

"Away from here," I said decisively. "Wherever here is."

"You're being evasive," he accused.

"So are you."

"In what way?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Do you feel well enough to go on a little walk?" asked Lorcan.

I narrowed my eyes. "What kind of walk?"

He held up his hands in a surrender gesture. "Just upstairs."

"Why should I go up there?"

"Our queen has requested an audience," said Lorcan. His silver eyes flashed with amus.e.m.e.nt. "I think you'll find her quite refres.h.i.+ng."

"What exactly is she queen of?" I asked suspiciously.

"Depends on who you ask," answered Lorcan. "Suffice it to say, we consider her leaders.h.i.+p valid."

Gee, that cleared everything up. "And what are you?"

Amus.e.m.e.nt flared again in his gaze; then those orbs went red and he showed me a big, fangy grin.

Even though I had already met two bloodsuckers, my heart still skipped a fearful beat. "Sheesh. You could've just said you were a vampire."

"Where's the fun in that?" His tone held restrained laughter. Well. I'm glad one of us was having a good time at my expense.

"Are you mental?" I asked, annoyed.

His raven eyebrows winged upward.

Patrick chuckled. "I'll take her to Patsy. Go on back to the compound."

Lorcan nodded and got up from the couch. He winked at me, then-poof! He disappeared in a shower of gold sparkles. He was gone, and I wished I knew how he'd pulled that magic trick. Then I could go poof, too. "You know," I said conversationally, "if I hadn't already met a zombie, vampires, monster wolves, and a dragon, that would've been really impressive."

Patrick grinned.

The staircase looked as though Scarlett O'Hara would sweep down it any moment and declare, "After all . . . tomorrow is another day." It was wide, made of dark, polished wood, and curved as it rose upward. It had approximately four million steps.

After we got to the second floor, we walked along the hallway, our footsteps quieted by a thick carpet that was a faded burgundy.

The walls looked freshly painted, a rather nice rose color with a chair rail that matched the wood of the staircase.

The hallway seemed to go on forever, but we finally reached the end and stopped in front of double doors, which were slightly ajar.

Patrick held my arm in a loose grip. I had stumbled several times and he probably thought I was going to keel over. I had no illusions I could escape, mostly because I still felt weak and more than a little shaky. I was worried about my parents. And my thoughts kept straying to Ralph. Was he okay? Were these his friends? What had happened to us in the cemetery?

I wasn't sure I wanted to meet the queen of this crazy freaking town. Nerves plucked at my stomach. I wondered where the queen fell on the bad-a.s.s scale: Was she Cinderella-stepmom scary or off-with-her-head Queen of Hearts terrifying?

I looked at Patrick. "Um . . . should I curtsy or something?"

He smirked. "Yes. And always address her as 'most royal grand potentate.'"

"Seriously?"

"You don't want to know what happened to the last person who messed up the formal address." He slashed a line across his throat.

Oh, s.h.i.+t.

"Zerina, you have to stop changing people's hair color." A woman's irritated voice filtered through the slight gap between the doors.

"I don't know what she's complaining about," answered a woman with a thick British accent. "Terran looks better with blue hair."

"Just stop doing it. Don't make me throw your skinny a.s.s out the window."

Patrick knocked, then shoved open the doors. Shocked, I stood there like an idiot, gaping. He tugged on my arm and I followed him inside.