"Do you think this is a bloomin' hotel? What, next you'll be wanting a bidet?"
With infuriated embarrassment, I ground out, "Unless you like it messy, I suggest you show me an alternative, and fast."
A noise that sounded very much like a sigh came from him. "Follow me. Don't trip or twist anything, damned if I'll carry you. Let's see what we can come up with. Sodding woman."
As I clambered after him, I comforted myself with mental images of him writhing helplessly under my stake. The visual was so clear, I almost smiled as he led me toward the sounds of water.
"There." He pointed to a cluster of rocks that appeared to hang over a small inner stream. "That water runs downstream. You can climb on those rocks and do your business."
I hurried over, and he called out with an edge to his tone, "By the way, if you're thinking you'll just jump off and swim out of here, it's a bad idea. That water's about forty degrees and snakes over two miles before it exits these caves. You'd be suffering from hypothermia long before then. Not a nice way to be, shivering and lost in the dark, delusions setting in. Besides, you'd have broken our agreement. I'd find you. And I would be really, really displeased."
The grim note in his voice made the words sound more lethal than the cocking of a gun. Despair pricked me. I had been thinking of doing that.
"See you in a bit." He turned around and walked a short ways away, his back to me. Sighing, I climbed up the rocks and balanced while answering nature's untimely call.
"I suppose toilet paper's out of the question?" I called out flippantly.
There was a bark of laughter in reply. "I'll put it on my shopping list, Kitten."
"Stop calling me Kitten. My name is Cat." Finished, I lowered myself down until I again stood on somewhat solid ground. "What's yours, by the way? You never told me. If we're going to be...working together, at least I should know what to call you. Unless you simply prefer answering to profanity, of course."
There was that sly curl to his lips again when he faced me. His feet were planted apart and his hips tilted slightly forward. Pale hair hugged his head in tight waves. Under the pinholes of light around him, his skin positively glowed.
"My name is Bones."
"First things first, luv. If you're going to be truly good at killing vampires, you need to know more about them."
We sat on boulders facing each other. The dim light in the cave from the shafts of sun had a vague strobe effect. It had to be by far the strangest moment of my life, sitting across from a vampire calmly discussing the best ways to kill one.
"Sunlight doesn't do anything but give us a bad sunburn. Our skin won't explode in flames like it does in the movies, and we won't turn into bits of crispy chicken. However, we do like to sleep in the day because we are most powerful at night. That's an important point to remember. During the day we are slower, weaker, and less alert. Especially at dawn. By dawn, you'll find most vampires tucked into whatever they call a bed, which as you could tell from last night doesn't necessarily mean a coffin. Oh, some of the old-fashioned ones will only sleep in coffins, but most of us sleep in whatever's most comfortable. In fact, some vamps will have coffins staged in their lair so some Van Helsing wannabe goes there first while the vampire sneaks up on them. Done that trick a time or two myself. So if you think throwing up the blinds and letting the sun stream in will do the trick, forget it.
"Crosses. Unless they're rigged up like yours, crosses don't do much more than make us laugh before we eat you. You seem to know that one yourself, so we'll move on. Wood, as you are also aware, might give us splinters and piss us off, but won't stop us from ripping your throat out. Holy water...well, let's just say I've had more damage done to me by someone throwing dirt in my face. The whole religious thing is bunk when it comes to hurting our kind, got it? Your only advantage is that when a vampire sees that special stake of yours, they won't be put off."
"Aren't you afraid I'll use this information against you?" I interrupted. "I mean, why should you trust me?"
In all seriousness he leaned forward. I leaned back, not wanting to be any closer to him.
"Look, pet. You and I are going to have to trust one another to accomplish our objectives. And I'll make this very, very simple: If you so much as look cross-eyed at me and I even wonder if you're thinking about betraying me, I'll kill you. Now, that might not scare you, being the big brave girl you are, but remember this: I followed you home the other night. Got anyone you care about in that barn of a house? Because if you do, then I suggest you make nice with me and do as you're told. If you cross me, you'll live long enough to see that house burned to the ground with everyone still inside. So if you ever make a go for me, you'd better be sure you finish me, understand?"
Gulping, I nodded. I understood. Oh God, did I ever.
"Besides"-his voice brightened like a spring day-"I can give you what you want."
Doubtful. "What could you possibly know about what I want?"
"You want what every abandoned child wants. You want to find your father. But you don't want a happy reunion, no, not you. You want to kill him."
I stared at him. He'd spoken aloud what I hadn't even allowed my subconscious to whisper, and he was right. It was the other reason I hunted vampires, to kill the one who fathered me. More than anything, I wanted to do that for my mother. If I could, I would feel I had in some small way atoned for the circumstances of my birth.
"You..." I could barely speak with all the thoughts flying through my mind. "You can help me find him? How?"
A shrug. "For starters, I might know him. Know a great many undead types, I do. Face it-without me, you're looking for a needle in a fangstack. Even if I don't personally know him, I already know more about him than you do."
"What? How? What?"
He held up a hand to stop my babbling. "Like his age, for example. You're twenty-one, right?"
"Twenty-two," I whispered, still reeling. "Last month."
"Indeed? Then you have the wrong age as well as the wrong address on that fake license of yours."
He must have gone through my purse. Well, it made sense; he'd also stripped me when I was unconscious. "How do you know it's a fake?"
"Didn't we just cover this? I know your real address, and it's not the one on that license."
Oh crap. That defeated the purpose of why I'd gotten the phony ID to begin with, in case I ever lost against a vampire and he rifled through my things. I hadn't wanted one to be able to track down my family. That had been the thought, anyway. Stupid me never expected a vampire to follow me home.