become a hellish monster, you know. I still have an electricity account, a water account, a phone account, a cell phone, a—”
Patrick raised a hand. “Yeah, okay, I get the point.”
“But I’m still missing one. The point about you and Death naked?”
“I woke up and she was in my room. We argued about Peabody, I grabbed her and suddenly she was naked.”
Ven raised his own hand. “Wait a minute, I’m missing half of that conversation. Who the bloody hell is Peabody?”
Patrick let out another harsh sigh. “A drowning victim today. I’d resuscitated him. Fred touched him. He died.”
Ven shot his eyebrows up. “Fred?”
Patrick shrugged. “Fred. I’m still not convinced she’s what you say she is. Come to think of it, I’m not convinced this isn’t still a dream.”
A tightness pulled at Ven’s unbeating heart. “Dream? What kind of dream?”
Patrick’s eyes closed and he pulled an irritated face. “Fuck. Not this again.”
“You’re still having those nightmares, aren’t you?”
With another, much more violent muttered curse, Patrick rose to his feet. “Leave it alone, Ven. I’ve had a gutful. Whatever it is you think I am, I’m not.”
Hot anger shot through Ven and he stood, glaring at his brother. “How many times have I saved you from dying, Patrick?”
“Jesus, not this again!”
“How many times did I save your life before my death? How many times did I pull you from the surf after a freak wave dumped you under? Wiped you out? How many times did I grab you from the road after you somehow stumbled off the curb into the pathway of a bus, or a truck? How many freak accidents have I saved you from, brother? How many? It seems to me I’ve kept you alive on more than one occasion when some force has been pulling as many strings as possible to see you dead.”
Patrick didn’t respond. Ven studied him, trying not to be angry. His brother had spent his life struggling with something inside him, something he didn’t want to acknowledge or release. But it was there. It wasn’t just his denied ability to see events in the future, nor the way he’d moved the television remote control without touching it. It was something Ven couldn’t explain. Like Patrick was important. More than important. On a level of existence he couldn’t understand or vocalize. He’d sensed it as a human, he’d felt it as vampire. Whatever Patrick was, he was more than he thought, more than he wanted and quite frankly, Ven had had enough of his refusal to see that. His kid brother needed to face it. Especially now that Death was interested in him. “Not to sound churlish, Pat, but I died protecting you. The vamp that attacked us outside the pub was not after me. It was after you. There’s gotta be a reason for that.”
“He was hungry. I was the weaker target. That’s all.”
Ven shook his head. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
Patrick shot him a silent look and Ven couldn’t miss the stubborn glint in his eyes, or the bunching tightness in his jaw. His shields were coming up. As they did every time Ven raised the issue.
Biting back an inhuman growl, he stormed across Patrick’s bedroom, heading for the door he’d so recently barged through. “Fuck this,” he threw over his shoulder as he crossed the threshold. “I want answers.”
And there was only one creature he knew who could provide them.
It was time to face Death. Again.
Chapter Three
Amy Elizabeth Mathieson lay stretched on her bed, gazing up at the ceiling. She ran her hands over her ribcage, down her waist, across her hips, noting with pride the toned muscles and complete absence of fat. She worked hard to stay in shape, spending hours in the gym, even more in Pilates and yoga classes every week. If she didn’t, who knows what vacuous bimbo with a vampire fetish may lure Ven away from her.
Sliding her fingertips up her torso, the sound of Kings Cross’s nightlife wafting through her open window like background
Patrick raised a hand. “Yeah, okay, I get the point.”
“But I’m still missing one. The point about you and Death naked?”
“I woke up and she was in my room. We argued about Peabody, I grabbed her and suddenly she was naked.”
Ven raised his own hand. “Wait a minute, I’m missing half of that conversation. Who the bloody hell is Peabody?”
Patrick let out another harsh sigh. “A drowning victim today. I’d resuscitated him. Fred touched him. He died.”
Ven shot his eyebrows up. “Fred?”
Patrick shrugged. “Fred. I’m still not convinced she’s what you say she is. Come to think of it, I’m not convinced this isn’t still a dream.”
A tightness pulled at Ven’s unbeating heart. “Dream? What kind of dream?”
Patrick’s eyes closed and he pulled an irritated face. “Fuck. Not this again.”
“You’re still having those nightmares, aren’t you?”
With another, much more violent muttered curse, Patrick rose to his feet. “Leave it alone, Ven. I’ve had a gutful. Whatever it is you think I am, I’m not.”
Hot anger shot through Ven and he stood, glaring at his brother. “How many times have I saved you from dying, Patrick?”
“Jesus, not this again!”
“How many times did I save your life before my death? How many times did I pull you from the surf after a freak wave dumped you under? Wiped you out? How many times did I grab you from the road after you somehow stumbled off the curb into the pathway of a bus, or a truck? How many freak accidents have I saved you from, brother? How many? It seems to me I’ve kept you alive on more than one occasion when some force has been pulling as many strings as possible to see you dead.”
Patrick didn’t respond. Ven studied him, trying not to be angry. His brother had spent his life struggling with something inside him, something he didn’t want to acknowledge or release. But it was there. It wasn’t just his denied ability to see events in the future, nor the way he’d moved the television remote control without touching it. It was something Ven couldn’t explain. Like Patrick was important. More than important. On a level of existence he couldn’t understand or vocalize. He’d sensed it as a human, he’d felt it as vampire. Whatever Patrick was, he was more than he thought, more than he wanted and quite frankly, Ven had had enough of his refusal to see that. His kid brother needed to face it. Especially now that Death was interested in him. “Not to sound churlish, Pat, but I died protecting you. The vamp that attacked us outside the pub was not after me. It was after you. There’s gotta be a reason for that.”
“He was hungry. I was the weaker target. That’s all.”
Ven shook his head. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
Patrick shot him a silent look and Ven couldn’t miss the stubborn glint in his eyes, or the bunching tightness in his jaw. His shields were coming up. As they did every time Ven raised the issue.
Biting back an inhuman growl, he stormed across Patrick’s bedroom, heading for the door he’d so recently barged through. “Fuck this,” he threw over his shoulder as he crossed the threshold. “I want answers.”
And there was only one creature he knew who could provide them.
It was time to face Death. Again.
Chapter Three
Amy Elizabeth Mathieson lay stretched on her bed, gazing up at the ceiling. She ran her hands over her ribcage, down her waist, across her hips, noting with pride the toned muscles and complete absence of fat. She worked hard to stay in shape, spending hours in the gym, even more in Pilates and yoga classes every week. If she didn’t, who knows what vacuous bimbo with a vampire fetish may lure Ven away from her.
Sliding her fingertips up her torso, the sound of Kings Cross’s nightlife wafting through her open window like background
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