Christine shrugged her elegant shoulders. "Because he's a male vampire, and they do the dead-man-walking-away trick better than any other species. Because you broke his heart and didn't believe in him. Honor for a seventeenth-century vampire is everything."
"I have my pride, too—" Lucy began, but Christine cut her off.
"Pride is a cold bedfellow. And besides, Val is worth more. You know that."
Lucy thought over what Val's partner said, and Christine was right. Pride was pride, but good love was better every night of the week. Yet, was everything ruined? She had not believed in her true love's fidelity. She had martyred herself for her past, for her mother's past, letting the burdens she carried convince her to distrust everyone else, and to hurt them before they had a chance to hurt her.
"I've done Val a terrible wrong. How could I?" she whispered.
"Yes, you did a bad, cruel thing, and Val didn't deserve it. He's a wonderful, loyal, loving, and passionate vampire—a credit to our species."
Christine stared at her, and looking into those warm brown eyes Lucy tried to see within the vampiress's heart. "Do you still love Val?" she asked.
Christine heard the concern in the mortal's voice. "I love Val as a partner and friend. Yes, we were lovers, but only for a short while. Less than six years. Besides, I'm with someone, and I have been for the past twelve years. And I'm not giving that up."
"I don't know how to thank you," Lucy said with a sincere smile. Tears glistened in her pretty blue eyes.
"Easy," Christine replied. "By sucking it up. Go apologize to Val. Make him listen. It won't be easy."
But suddenly, before any more could be said, Christine tilted her head to one side. Lucy started to ask her what was wrong, but the vampiress silenced her with a slash of her hand, her mouth becoming a tight, hard line.
Handing Lucy a cell phone, she commanded, "Call Val. Tell him where we are. I think our monster has just struck… Hit one on the phone," she explained when Lucy paused. Then, when Lucy did as instructed, Christine took off running. Kicking off her high heels, she headed toward a back alley across the street.
After calling and alerting Val, Lucy took off after the vampiress. She was both curious and concerned, so Val's curses to stay put served no purpose but to ring idly in her ears.
The alley was dark and curving. Lucy could hear Christine's feet against the wet asphalt, slapping fast and furious as the vampiress ran.
By the time Lucy reached the end of the alley, she heard the sounds of a fight. The alley had an overflowing Dumpster and open stacks of boxes and smaller tin garbage cans, many filled with rotting fruit. A large single lightbulb hung above a doorway, illuminating the struggle taking place between Christine and another paranormal creature. On the ground beside the Dumpster lay a young woman.
Lucy ran to what was clearly DeLeon's latest victim and checked her pulse. From the light above, Lucy could see that the woman's mouth was bruised, tiny wrinkles radiating out from her mouth and eyes. The woman's skirt was hiked up, but her panties were still on. Had she been raped? At least she was still alive, even if she was unconscious.
The sound of someone being thrown into a trash can caught Lucy's attention. Glancing up, she saw Christine lying in a heap by the can and a tall figure with dark hair hanging in a thick fat braid to his waist. He was crouching down, ready to launch himself at Christine, who was shaking her head as if dazed.
Without really thinking, Lucy picked up a wine bottle and threw it at the creature's head, screaming, "Remember the Alamo!" It hit with a crack.
Surprised more than hurt, the creature turned to look at Lucy. In the dim light, she gasped and froze like a deer caught in the headlights. The monster had violet eyes—strange, empty dead eyes—along with really ugly reddish fangs. It was the Ka incubus in the flesh—and unfortunately, up close and personal!
What irony. She had been looking for the menacing monster for over a week, and here he was. She had found him all right, and he was just a tad irritated at her. Maybe she shouldn't have thrown that bottle of cheap wine at him. Maybe she shouldn't have drawn his attention to her. After all, she wasn't Superwoman or a super vampire. Maybe she hadn't thought her distract-him-any-way-you-can plan through completely.
What to do with him? Lucy was nearly in hysterics as the incubus leapt toward her. But again, her subconscious came to her aid, and she grabbed up a trash can lid and held it like a shield.
The incubus continued attacking, so Lucy hit him in the face with the trash can lid. She could feel it dent, and his weight threw off her balance. She stumbled into a trash box with the rotting, slimy fruit, and landing in the mushy and smelly things had her gagging and cussing while the incubus rolled away and came to his feet.
"You youth-stealing swine! You red-fanged freak! Why don't you pick on somebody your own size? Cowardly creep! You sidewinder incubus, you!" Lucy shouted, trying to keep the monster's attention on her instead of Christine. She struggled to her feet, slipping inside the large box as she danced around on rotting grapes, peaches, and bananas. Suddenly she felt like she was in a B-grade horror movie—but in Tuscany, complete with wine-making. "You life-snatching sneak of a skunk!"
DeLeon growled at her insults, reddish fangs gleaming a bright crimson and growing another inch. He blinked, wondering why this mortal female wasn't cowering in fear or crying for mercy. She was different than most humans… but still wasn't enough of a curiosity to keep him from killing her.
Lucy gasped. "Oh, yuck!" DeLeon really had a dental problem, what with those foul-looking fangs of his. No way did she want those things anywhere near her. She shuddered in revulsion.
Smelling her fear, DeLeon laughed and slowly stalked her. Lucy's plan was working. He had clearly momentarily forgotten in his anger that another supernatural creature was behind him lurking in the dark, waiting for the perfect time to strike.
"Hell's bells," Lucy muttered, maneuvering out of the trash box, large globs of smashed grapes and bananas on her clothes, peaches in her hair. As she stepped accidentally into another small box, it lodged on her right foot. Unsuccessfully she tried to kick it off, then gave up and began backing away.
"Hold on to your cowboy hats, you've found what you were seeking, Lucy, and this is going to be a bumpy night," she muttered to herself, not really thinking about what she was saying. How could she? This monster took a person's life without remorse. He aged women so he could be forever young, and didn't care about the wrecked lives he left behind.
"You're nothing more than a necrophiliac," she accused him. "And having sex with women until you age them to death? You ought to be ashamed! You amoral immortal! You ought to be rotting in hell, you chicken-shitted, troll-dunged youth-sponger! What makes you think you can age a woman, having her act like and buy purses like her mother forty years too soon?"
DeLeon halted in his stalking. He gave his prey another close inspection, reassessing his earlier opinion.
The mortal was a muddled moron, an escaped lunatic! Had she truly come looking for him?
Lucy smiled. Though feeling grim, she was also pleased. Her plan had worked. An age-old Campbell family strategy was confusion to the enemy. And behind him, in the corner of her eye, she could see that Christine had gotten to her feet.
"I'll make you pay for those words, foolhardy human," DeLeon snarled. He lunged at her, but behind his back Christine went on the attack. The vampiress's lunge caught him in the lower back. Unfortunately, while the tackle sent him to the ground, it also knocked Lucy back into the trash pile.
"Hell's bells!" she exclaimed. "I'm in the fruit again."
The sounds of shouts and running feet and the flicker of flashlights lit the alleyway behind them. Behind that noise came the insistent call of police sirens, still distant but closing in. Hearing this, DeLeon threw Christine off his body, slamming her into the wall, then he took off running, jumping the nearby chain-link fence as easily as if it were a puddle. A moment later he had disappeared into the hot, dark Louisiana night.