“It’s a way to pass the time until I land my dream position.”
“Dream position?”
“Well, I’ve given up on the whole Vanna thing since Darcy pointed out that I’m not quite tall enough to reach the letters of the puzzle, so I’ve decided to take over Deal Or No Deal. Now that would be a sweet gig.”
Regan choked back a laugh. Culligan had been a television junkie, rarely turning off the thing when he was in the RV. Not that Regan complained. It at least offered her a glimpse of the world beyond her silver cage.
“Does Howie Mandel know he’s about to become unemployed?” she demanded, shaking off the savage memories.
“I thought I would keep it on the down-low for now. No need for him to go all Britney Spears before I’ve actually been offered the job.”
This time Regan couldn’t stop her chuckle. “Very thoughtful.”
“That’s me, a heart of gold. It’s both a blessing…” Dramatic pause. “And a curse.”
“Yes, I can imagine.”
A silence descended, broken only by the song of crickets and distant frogs. It was a comfortable silence. So comfortable that Regan was astonished to discover she didn’t mind the gargoyle’s company. In fact…
No. She swiftly squashed the treacherous thoughts. She didn’t want or need a companion. Not Levet, who could make her laugh, and certainly not Jagr, who could piss her off one moment, and the next, wreak sensual havoc with a single bite.
Against her will, Regan found her gaze searching through the darkness, her senses seeking some sign of the MIA vampire. She told herself she didn’t give a damn if Jagr had run off and gotten himself killed. One less vampire in the world couldn’t be a bad thing. Her only concern was…was…finding a place to sleep before the humans began filling the streets.
Yeah.
That was it.
Absolutely.
“You can trust him, you know.”
Levet’s lilting voice interrupted her dark broodings. She turned to find him regarding her with knowing gray eyes.
“What?”
“Jagr.” His tiny face twisted in a grimace. “I might not like the coldhearted bastard, but he’s a lethal warrior and he has made a pledge to return you safely to Chicago. He will give his own life before he will let you be hurt.”
Her fur (metaphorically speaking) was instantly ruffled. “I didn’t ask for anyone’s help.”
Levet snorted. “As if that ever stopped the pushy bastards.”
“You mean Darcy?”
“Sacrebleu, no.” The gargoyle was shocked by the mere suggestion. “I was speaking of the vampires. Darcy possesses the most gentle, most beautiful soul I have ever encountered. There’s no one who doesn’t love her.”
Regan ignored the pang of envy that struck her heart.
“Gentle soul? How the hell did we come from the same womb?”
Levet shrugged. “Life has given you a hardened shell, but your soul is just as pure. Which is no doubt what has Mr. Cold as Ice so on edge. And of course, the fact that you’re hot as hell does not hurt.”
Regan choked at the ridiculous claims. “You are…”
“Oui?”
“Very peculiar.”
The demon flapped his wings. “Well, that’s a fine thing to say to the demon who helped save your life.”
Regan shrugged. “I’m peculiar myself. It’s not all bad.”
“Yeah, well you’d never call Brad Pitt or McDreamy peculiar.”
“Tom Cruise.”
Levet considered, then nodded. “Valid point.”
“Weren’t you going to lead us to some caves, gargoyle?” an icy male voice demanded, the only warning that Jagr had silently appeared from the shadows.
The gargoyle squeaked, clapping a hand to his chest. “Holy mother of God, you nearly gave me a heart attack, and not in a good way.”
Jagr’s eyes narrowed. “The caves.”
“And I thought Styx was a grump.” With a flick of his tail, Levet turned and waddled down the street in an obvious snit. “This way.”
Regan hurried to follow Levet. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with the grim-faced vampire.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true.
The last thing she wanted was for him to sense the rapid pounding of her heart and the flare of awareness that stained her stupid cheeks with a blush.
What was wrong with her?
Okay, she’d reacted to his bite. And (as much as it griped her to admit it) to his kiss.
Jagr was a vampire. Everyone knew they used sex to lure their prey. And that even the most powerful of demons were susceptible. The only shocker would have been if she didn’t respond.
So why was she acting like a freaking preteen with a crush on her teacher?
Pathetic.
Sensing Jagr move to walk by her side, Regan gave herself a mental shake and squared her shoulders. Time to start acting like a mature pureblood.
Whatever the hell that meant.
“Where did you go?” she demanded.
His cool glance slashed in her direction. “I disposed of the bodies.”
“Oh.”
“Levet was right,” he continued smoothly. “They were curs. Three of them. Two were caught in Levet’s blast and one managed to escape.”
Her steps faltered. “Why aren’t we following his trail? Culligan might have sent him.”
“I followed the trail. It disappeared four blocks north of here.”
“Just like Culligan’s.”
“Yes.” The frosty blue gaze swept over her face. “Did the imp have a lot of contact with the curs during your imprisonment?”
“On occasion.” Regan grimaced. “No more than any other of the lowlife demons we encountered during our travels.”
“Travels?”
“Culligan never remained in one place more than a few nights. We crisscrossed the country a hundred times.”
“What about Hannibal? Did you stay here often?”
“No.” Regan shook her head. She’d heard of Hannibal, of course. Built on the edge of the mighty Mississippi River, it was the home of Samuel Clemons (Mark Twain), and the setting for many of his most famous novels. There was also some cave or another that had been the hiding spot for Jesse James (the History Channel was a wonderful thing). A charming town, but hardly a hot spot for demons. “He never even mentioned this place.”
Jagr considered her words as they crossed through an empty parking lot built close to the river. In the darkness, Regan could hear the waters that swirled and eddied around the tethered steamboat tied to the nearby dock.