Real Vamps Don’t Drink O-neg

by Tawny Taylor

Genres: Paranormal Romance

Synopsis

First Love Or First Bite? Although Sophie Hahn works as a paranormal researcher, she doesn't believe in ghosts, werewolves, or anything to do with the supernatural world. But when it appears that her best friend Dao is slowly being killed by a female vampire, her beliefs are put to the test. Dao's new wife is the prime suspect, though she doesn't look capable of hurting a fly, let alone sucking the life out of someone. On the other hand, watching Dao whither away to nothing isn't an option. So if Sophie has to go vampire hunting, she'll do it. . . They are the Others--the vampires, mages, and werewolves once thought to exist only in our imaginations. Now they're stepping out of the shadows, and nothing in our world will ever be the same again. . . In A Town Like This, Being A P.I. Can Be Murder Shiarra Waynest's detective work was dangerous enough when her client base was strictly mortal. But ailing finances have forced her to accept a lucrative case that could save her firm--if it doesn't kill her first. Shiarra has signed on to work for a high-level mage to recover an ancient artifact owned by one of New York's most powerful vampires. NEVER TEMPT FATE It's been a hell of a day for Abby Barlow. In just a few hours, she's survived an explosion, watched her employer die, had a startling dream, and now she finds herself in a seedy Chicago hotel with the sexy, unearthly Dante, a man she both desires and fears. For 341 years, Dante has stood as guardian to The Chalice, a mortal woman chosen to hold back the darkness. A terrible twist of fate has now made Abby that woman. Three hours ago, Dante would have used all his charms to seduce her. Now she is his to protect. And he will do so until his very death. Drama. Scandal. Secrets. And a whole lot of supernatural goings-on. I'm Pureblood Were, And Proud Of It. . ."Where Darkness Lives" by Alexandra Ivy No one's more surprised than Sophia when she's struck by an unfamiliar maternal urge to move near her daughters. But instead of being greeted by a welcome committee, she's targeted by kidnappers. . .and saddled with a gorgeous bodyguard on a mission to protect--and seduce. . . I'm A Tomboy At Heart, But I Want A Man Who Makes Me Feel Like A Real Woman. . ."Murder on Mysteria Lane" by Angie Fox

Release date: September 1, 2008

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 302

Sample

“I know, I know, I’m a rotten friend—” Sophie Hahn stumbled through her best friend’s front doorway in the hurried, less than graceful gait of a deer that has suffered a near fatal confrontation with a semi truck. “Dao? Where are you?” She rushed through the living room, shouting, “Really, there should be a law against leaving a message that begins with ‘I need you to get over here yesterday,’ and ends with, ‘It’s life or death’ at five A.M. on a Saturday morning. I’ll have you know I ran at least three red lights on the way here, and I think I’ll need a rotate and balance. I’m pretty sure my right tires are shot. Dao? Lisse? Hellooooo!”

She rounded the corner, heading toward the kitchen at a fast jog; however, the sight of her friend—pale, bedraggled, and slouching against the wall as if he lacked the strength to stand upright—brought her to a screeching halt. “Holy smokes! You weren’t exaggerating. What the heck is wrong with you?” She lunged forward and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. No fever. “You’d better lie down. Is it serious? Darn it! I knew I should’ve come over last week—”

“No, no. Nothing’s wrong.” Dao Wen Dong knocked her hand away like it was a pesky fly, gave her an unconvincing shake of his head, and practically dragged his limp-looking body across the living room to shut the front door. “I’ve never been better.” He held her in a stiff, cold hug for an instant, then dropped his arms, motioning her toward the kitchen with a tip of his head.

I’ve had a warmer welcome at the secretary of state’s office. “No offense, but you look like hell,” she said as she leaned back against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms over her chest.

Her friend’s responding smile was hollow, his eyes flat as day-old Pepsi, as he poured a cup of coffee. He offered it to her, but, not a coffee drinker, she refused it with a shake of her head. Despite her best effort, she couldn’t help staring at the deep purple shadows hanging under his eyes like bruises. The dark circles contrasted sharply with the wan tone of the rest of his face.

Had her teetotaling friend gone on a bender?

“Seriously, you don’t look well at all,” she repeated.

“Thanks,” Dao grumbled. “It’s good to see you too, not that you look much better.”

Having forgotten her mad rush to Dao’s house, and the lack of time and attention she’d paid to her hair, clothing, and make-up, Sophie raised a hand to tame her bedhead. “Well, you said it was life or death. Honestly, if you’d wanted me to take the time to get all pretty, you should’ve avoided the words ‘Get over here yesterday.’ So, what’s the big secret? Are you hungover? Did you go on a binge, down a beer or two, lose your head, and do something crazy—like take a midnight road trip to KFC?”

“You know I don’t drink. And even drunk I wouldn’t touch deep-fried food.”

“Then are you sure you’re not sick? Maybe you should go see a doctor. Seriously.”

“Oh. No. I’m quite certain I’m fine. I’m just tired. Been working a lot, between—” He chuckled. “Well, let’s just say I’m not getting much sleep these days. But I’m taking vitamins. Lots of B for fatigue and C to fight off infection. Anyway, I wanted to show you my latest work in progress. It’s sheer genius.” He motioned for her to follow him down the hallway.

“I bet. I’ve loved every book you’ve written. Brilliant. Absolute genius. I wish I could write like you do. Then I could quit my crappy job, stay at home, and work in my jammies. What a life!” Sophie hurried behind him to his office. Despite the fact that the man had to have lost a good twenty pounds or more the past couple of months and looked like a walking skeleton, he could move pretty quickly when he wanted to. Must’ve been those B vitamins kicking in. “Speaking of geniuses, where’s your lovely wife?”

“Er…Lisse had a…late night.” Dao gave Sophie an odd grin and guilty chuckle as he pulled out his desk chair and slouched into it. He added, “She’s sleeping but last night—”

Sophie waved her hands. “Ah. Too much information there.”

“You asked.” He motioned toward an empty chair.

“So, let me get this straight—Lisse doesn’t know I’m here? Even with all my bellowing?” She glanced at the empty chair, then at Dao. “I don’t know. Maybe I should leave. It’s early, Saturday morning, she’s asleep. You’ve only been married a couple of months. I wouldn’t want her to think—”

“No way. First, Lisse could sleep through a natural disaster. Second, she would never think anything about you and me. I’ve told her over and over again that after being friends for so long, sleeping with you would be plain creepy. Like sleeping with my own sister—if I had one, that is. Besides I doubt she’ll wake up for at least a couple of hours.” Dao scooted his chair up to the desk, swept his cluttered desktop clear with one arm, then fired up the Dell. “If I’d known what an effect marriage would have on my writing, I would’ve married Lisse months ago. I can’t believe how inspired I’ve been lately—”

“Please,” Sophie interrupted before he went into any details about the subject of his inspiration. She pulled up a chair and sat. “If I agree to stick around for a few minutes, you must promise me, no more talking about your sex life. I can’t remember the last time I had any conjugal—or even nonconjugal—action. I don’t need to be reminded about what I’m missing.”

Dao laughed, his eyes squinting into the little upside-down smileys she’d adored since the first time she’d met him, on the middle-school playground. “Fair enough.” Those little smiley eyes had always been able to make her feel better, even on her worst days.

“Good, because if you said another word, I’d never be able to look Lisse in the face again without blushing.”

Dao chuckled as he punched keys and clicked the mouse, finally opening a word-processing document. “I want you to give me your honest opinion.” Looking extremely proud, he nudged the monitor so that Sophie could read the screen. “Go ahead.”

She read the first page, or the part of the first page she could see. It was…awful! Some kind of strange story about a freaky woman who was traveling the globe with the sole purpose of having sex with anything she could—male, female…and not always human. Could a woman really do that with a donkey? She shuddered. Granted, Sophie could accept the fact that she was a little uptight about sex. Unlike Lilly, the character in Dao’s book, she took the wheres, whos, and whats of sex seriously, hence the lengthy dry spell. But she couldn’t imagine this creepy story selling anywhere, at least not outside of a porn shop.

She glanced at Dao. This had to be a joke, some kind of trick to get her over there, since she hadn’t visited her best pal in several weeks.

The thing was, she couldn’t find a hint of amusement on his face. Lots of hope, a little nervousness even, but not a bit of laughter. She glanced deeper into his eyes.

Oh boy, he was serious.

“I…wow. I don’t know what to say. It’s very…um, different. Why the change in, er, genres? I mean, you’ve done very well with your mysteries. I love your mysteries. They’re so gritty and real.”

“I felt it was time for a change.”

“And what a change it is,” Sophie said, making every effort to keep her reaction tamed down for the sake of her friend’s feelings. She knew Dao had a very delicate ego, at least when it came to his work.

“So, what do you think?” he asked as he scanned the page with his cute little brown eyes. “I’m on fire for this one. Can’t stop thinking about it, even when I’m sleeping.”

It’s garbage, if you want to know the truth. “On fire? Really?” Yes, burning it sounds like a good plan. Sophie sighed. “Well, who am I to say what’ll sell and what won’t?” Not the least bit interested in reading any more, she leaned back in her chair. “I’m just a lowly secretary, not an editor. Have you shown this to your agent yet?”

“No, not yet. I’m waiting. Want to get it perfect first. It’s almost there.”

“Yeah? Almost perfect, eh?” Better do another read through.

Dao leaned forward, obviously becoming engrossed in whatever he was reading. He clicked the mouse, pecked at the keyboard, then scrolled down some more and repeated the process. “I can’t stop tweaking it here and there…I…oh…” his words trailed off as he started typing furiously. His face twisted into a tight expression of intense effort, like one you might see on someone hanging by their fingertips from a thousand-foot cliff. “This is wonderful! Utterly amazing.” His keyboard went clackety-clack as he continued typing. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

Taking that as her cue to leave, Sophie gave his shoulder a pat. “I’ll come back in a few days and see how that story is coming.”

“Ummm.” Dao answered, not missing a beat as he continued typing.

Sophie closed his office door behind her after she tiptoed out of the room. Confused—no, more like freaked out!—by her friend’s bizarre behavior and frightening appearance, she flopped back against the closed door to catch her breath.

Dao had gone from a fun-living, social guy with a sparkling smile and fairly sturdy physique to an obsessed, frail, sickly man in what? A couple of months? A few late nights couldn’t have done that to him.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. And as his friend, she owed it to him to find out what. She’d never let another person she loved down again, never ignore the signs that something was wrong and assume everything would work itself out.

Making that mistake once was more than enough for a lifetime.

And this was Dao, the person who’d practically carried her through the grief of that first loss.

As she straightened up, she caught a dull thump coming from the bedroom he shared with Lisse. She tensed. Nothing like catching a new bride by surprise.

“Dao, honey. Where’d you go?” Lisse crooned from the other side of the closed door.

Not wanting to get in the way of her newly wedded friend’s love life, Sophie hurried down the corridor toward the living room. Before she reached the hallway’s end, she heard the telltale squeak of a door’s hinges, then a female’s surprised gasp. She stopped walking, figuring the sight of a woman running down one’s hallway would be far more suspicious than the sight of one’s husband’s best friend standing all casual-like in the hallway. Still, she couldn’t quite convince herself to turn around and give Lisse the reassuring smile she probably needed.

The door slammed shut behind Sophie’s rigid back before she hazarded a glance over her shoulder. Figuring it was safe to look now, she turned around and said, “Sorry, Lisse. Dao called me over to check out his latest story. I’m headed out now.”

“It’s okay,” Lisse’s muffled voice came through the door. “I didn’t know you were here. I’m…not dressed yet. I hope you don’t mind showing yourself out.”

“Nope, not at all. I was just heading home as we speak,” she said as she hurried toward the door.

“Okay. Goodbye, Sophie. I’m sorry I can’t be more social. You must think I’m very rude but my robe is down in the laundry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Next time I’ll make sure Dao tells you before he invites me over at five A.M. on a Saturday morning.” One hand on the doorknob, Sophie stooped over to slip on her clogs. As she kicked at her overturned left shoe, something opalescent and sparkly clung to the top of it. Curious, she plucked up the roundish shiny object, very thin and delicate, about the size of a quarter, and slipped it in her jacket pocket. On went the shoes and out she went, into the cool, damp early summer morning.

What a way to start the weekend, with a real-life—correction—life-or-death mystery! Regardless of her friend’s insistence to the contrary, she had more than a sneaking suspicion that his health was in serious jeopardy. But how would she get him—a man who’d insisted on weathering pneumonia without seeing a doctor—to go in for a checkup?

 

Sophie studied the strange shimmery round thing she’d picked up at Dao’s house Saturday as she set the phone back on the cradle. She wasn’t sure if she’d just gotten the brush-off from Lisse or if she was just imagining things. Oftentimes, it was hard for her to distinguish reality from her fairly active imagination.

Looking for an ally in her quest to get Dao to the doctor, she’d called the one person she figured could actually convince him to go—his wife, naturally. Lisse seemed to be on her side as they discussed concerns about Dao’s health, but when it came time to ask her to call and make an appointment for him, she grew very quiet. Granted, she didn’t say she wouldn’t, but for some reason…

Why wouldn’t his wife, the woman who loved him, want him to go to the doctor?

The phone rang, and still lost in her thoughts, Sophie swept it up, tucking it between her chin and shoulder as she answered, “Tri County Paranormal Research Associates. How may I help you?”

Like most folks who called her work, the woman on the other end sounded breathless and panic-stricken as she detailed the nature of her problem. Sophie took down the woman’s information, then put the call through to her boss, Tim, who happened to be in the office today. Most of the time he was out playing ghost buster with a truckload of electronic gizmos that as far as Sophie could tell did nothing but blink and make ugly noises.

Tim was extremely intelligent, like a card-carrying member of MENSA smart. And because she believed genius and insanity were like kissing cousins—too close for most people’s comfort—she attributed his obsession with paranormal gobbledygook to this relationship. At least his stories were amusing, and the interest from his trust fund would keep her paychecks coming for a long time.

After she passed on the call, she set the shiny thing aside, figuring she’d ask Tim what he thought of it later. It had no markings like a coin, and it had a slightly irregular shape. On closer examination, it reminded her of two things—either a dime that had been flattened on a train track or a piece of fish skin or scale. Knowing Dao’s propensity to eat fish, she suspected the latter.

Still, it was an odd thing. Semitranslucent, the color changed, depending on the light it was examined under. In natural light, it was mostly white and blue, but in artificial light it glowed in a wide range of colors from soft pink to deep midnight, depending on the angle she held it. Even more curious, every now and then it seemed to emit a small electrical charge. A little zap that made her fingers tingle.

Unable to resist the urge, she plucked it up one last time and ran her fingertip over the surface. The colors shimmered as she stroked it. The effect was almost mesmerizing. She stared at it a moment until Tim’s voice broke the spell.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“I was hoping you might have an idea. You know a little about everything. What do you think? Is it a fish scale?” She set it in her palm and lifted her flattened hand so he could get a better look.

His eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead as he picked it up and examined it. “Wow, this is amazing. Truly amazing. Where’d you get it?”

“A friend’s house. It was on the floor.”

“Does your friend have a pet snake?” he asked as he flipped it over to look at the other side.

“Pet snake? Heck no! He hates snakes. Why?”

“Looks like a piece of shed snake skin to me. I’d have to get a look at it under the microscope to be sure. Be right back.” He walked back to his office-slash-lab, where he kept all his electronic gadgets and gizmos, and disappeared behind the closed door.

Sophie stayed put, despite her growing curiosity about the strange scale—skin—whatever, and tried to imagine how a piece of snake skin would end up on Dao’s floor. She came up with absolutely nothing. That was, indeed, a mystery all in itself.

Tim returned several minutes later with the most bizarre look on his face. It was something between awe and terror. “I need to meet her. I must meet her—”

“Meet whom? Slow down, would you? What would a snake scale—”

“Skin. Definitely shed skin.”

“Fine. Snake skin. What would a snake skin have to do with…her? It’s a female snake? How can you tell? Did you get a little piece of nipple there? And how does one ‘meet’ a snake? Do you need a formal introduction?”

Tim rolled his eyes and looked at Sophie as if she were an absolute twit—which she was not, thank you very much.

“Don’t look at me that way,” she said. “I wasn’t privy to whatever you saw under the microscope. I’m not a moron. Fill me in.”

“Is your friend a male?” Tim asked as he continued to study the skin.

“Yes. A male human, that is. Just to clarify.”

“Yes. Of course he’s a human. Is this friend of yours dating someone…or married?”

“Yes. He’s married but not to a snake.”

Tim shook his head. “Poor guy,” he murmured.

“What poor guy?” Sophie yanked on Tim’s sleeve. “Poor guy because he isn’t married to a snake?”

“No, poor guy because he’s married to her already.”

“What’s Dao’s marital status have to do with anything? Besides, what’s wrong with marriage? I never imagined you to be one of those ‘marriage sucks’ kind of guys.”

“I’m not, unless the wife happens to be a lamia.”

“What the heck is a lamia?”

“A muse. A female vampire. Is your friend by any chance a writer?”

“Yes, but what’s—”

“And since he’s been married has he been more obsessed with his writing? Has he become ill yet?”

“Yes, on the writing. And yet?”

Tim looked into her eyes and again shook his head. “Poor guy. He’s doomed.”

“Doomed? Why?”

“She’s destroying him.”

“Who? Lisse? She’s a quiet little thing. Maybe a tad demanding in bed from what I surmise, but hardly the kind one would expect to be a vampire. She doesn’t even have a widow’s peak. Don’t real vampires have widow’s peaks? And her teeth all look normal.” Despite all the things Tim seemed to know about Dao, for which there was no reasonable explanation—he couldn’t have been listening in to her conversation with Lisse—she wasn’t buying the whole lamia thing. There was no such thing as vampires. Or ghosts. Or monsters. Nuh-uh.

Tim’s work as a paranormal researcher was a joke. She’d seen nothing to convince her of the existence of anything paranormal. His so-called proof consisted of hazy photographs and less than credible eyewitnesses.

“Yes. She’s a lamia. Half woman, half snake.”

“I’ve seen her. She’s no snake. In fact, she’s very beautiful. And she definitely has two legs. Couldn’t speak for her tongue, though. Could be forked. I’m not about to go ask her to open wide and say ‘ahhhh.’”

“She wouldn’t show her true self to anyone but her lover.”

“If there’s one thing I can be certain of it’s that Dao wouldn’t find a woman covered in scales sexy, even if the scales were rather pretty.”

“He would if he was under her spell. The lamiae are extremely powerful vampires. They find their mates and slowly, over many weeks, seduce them until they are completely under their spell. Once a man marries a lamia, he’s doomed to die a swift, miserable death. He’ll grow weaker and weaker, his life drained from him by his wife.”

“Swift? How swift?”

Tim shrugged. “I’m not sure of the time line. A couple of months, maybe.”

“A couple? Like two? Because he’s been married that long already.” She fought the urge to panic. This was a bunch of baloney. There was no such thing as a lamia. And Dao wasn’t about to die. Dao couldn’t die. He just couldn’t.

Unfortunately, Tim didn’t seem to know that. “Sounds like he’s near the end. Sorry.”

She didn’t like what she was hearing. Not one bit. Which was why she preferred to look for another reason for Dao’s illness. And his strange behavior. And the snake skin in his living room. Okay, there were a number of coincidences here. “There must be another explanation. That skin is from a…a python or something. Who knows, maybe he went to a zoo—”

“It’s not the skin of most common varieties of snakes. I snapped a quick photograph and e-mailed it to my buddy who works in the zoo’s reptile house. He’s assured me it’s not from any snake they have there. That rules out several varieties of pythons and boa constrictors. Just to make sure, he’s forwarding the image to a friend of his who identifies shed snake skins. . .