Night Of The Living Dandelion Part 25

"My a.s.sistant Lottie told me her grandmother used herbal tea to treat infections," I said.

"That does work, but not fast enough for people nowadays. My parents use folk remedies all the time. They're in their sixties, have perfect health, and still take daily hikes in the mountains."

"Do they dress like you?" As soon as I said it, I pressed my lips together, cursing that missing tact gene.

Vlad smiled. "You mean in black clothing? As far as I know, only for funerals."

"Forgive me for asking, but why do you wear black clothes? You know it feeds the rumor mill."

Vlad crossed his arms over his chest. "Marco was right. You are nosy."

"I'm sorry. Sometimes my curiosity gets the better of me."

"Don't worry about it. You're brave. I admire that. I wear black because I like it, because I don't have to think about what to wear, and because it sets me apart from other men. Except for one time when I was in the military, it hasn't been a problem-that is, until recently."

"You could start wearing regular guy clothes. You'd fit in better."

"I could." His eyes crinkled at the corners. "If I wanted to fit in."

"You like being thought a vampire, don't you?"

Vlad poured tea into the black mug from a ceramic pot, then gave me a smile. "Let's go poison our patient."

He was joking, right?

When we returned to the bedroom, Jillian immediately raised herself on her elbows, already showing improvement, no doubt from being rehydrated.

"Here you go," Vlad said, sitting beside her.

Jillian drank thirstily, stopping for air after every few gulps. Then she sighed contentedly and leaned back against the pillow. Vlad met my gaze with a look that said, Success!

I was beginning to like the guy.

Jillian handed me my phone. "You can have it back now. I texted Claymore to let him know I was safe and not to worry."

"Did you tell him where you were?"

"No, I just told him you'd give him all the details later. Happy now?"

"You told Claymore I'd give him the details? Then he knows where you are, Jillian."

"No, he doesn't."

"Yes, he does. Claymore brought me here."

As if on cue, there was a hard pounding on the front door. Jillian's eyes grew as round as golf b.a.l.l.s; then she pulled the blankets over her head.

"That'll be Claymore," I told Vlad.

He strode out of the room, so I followed, hoping to intercede on his behalf in case Claymore tried to avenge his wife's honor. Up ahead, I saw Vlad open the door, then be thrown back as Claymore pushed it open and barged inside. Two paramedics followed, carrying their medical bags. One of them was Kyle, who gave me a nod. A collapsible gurney waited just outside.

"Where is my wife?" Claymore demanded, his slender fists clenched as though ready to punch.

"Claymore, calm down," I said, putting myself between him and Vlad. "Jillian is fine. She's resting in the bedroom."

"She's in his bedroom?" Claymore said, nearly choking on his words.

"I'll show you the way," Vlad said to the two paramedics, and started toward the bedroom. They followed, taking the gurney with them.

I grabbed Claymore's sleeve before he could go after them. "Listen to me. You owe Vlad a big thank-you. Jillian showed up here in the night and collapsed in the hallway outside. Vlad took her in and was able to get liquids in her, which probably saved her life. And just now he got her to take her antibiotics."

Claymore was breathing hard, but as my words sank in, he began to calm down.

"Jillian didn't think she could trust any of us, Clay. She trusted Vlad precisely because she thinks he's a vampire. She made him swear he wouldn't tell where she was, and he kept his word. That's why we didn't know. It was just good luck that I dropped those plants off and found her."

A loud screeching sent us both scurrying toward the bedroom. I turned the corner and found Jillian engaged in a blanket tug-of-war with the EMTs. "I won't go! You can't make me!"

"We just want to take you to a nice quiet room at the hospital," Kyle said. "No one will bother you there, and you'll be able to say who can visit you and who can't. How does that sound?"

Jillian didn't have the strength to keep fighting, so she reached out to Vlad. "Help me."

Vlad took her hand and sat on the bedside. "Jillian, do you trust me?"

She nodded.

"Then go with these medics to the hospital to be checked out. I will send your herbal tea mix with you so you can continue to get your strength back. Okay?"

She nodded again.

Vlad placed her hand on the bed. "I'll put the tea in a cardboard take-out cup. Let these men help you onto the cart."

Jillian watched the medics roll the gurney to the opposite side of the ma.s.sive bed. Vlad left the room to get her tea, so Claymore moved up to his spot. "Jillian?" he said softly.

She glanced at him, then turned her head away. He stared at her, crushed, then left.

I followed him into the hallway.

"Clay, give her time," I said "Once her meds have fully taken effect, she'll be her old self again."

"I hope you're right." He glanced toward the kitchen. "Before I leave, I suppose I should apologize to Vlad for my rudeness."

"That would be a good idea. But don't leave without me. I'll need a ride back to Bloomers." I patted his arm, then watched as he headed down the hallway. I went back into the bedroom and found Jillian lying docilely on the gurney while the medics tucked the sheet in around her and prepared her for the trip to the hospital.

As they rolled her out of the room, Kyle said to his partner, "Go on ahead. I'll be right there."

He stepped back into the room, took an envelope from inside his jacket, and handed it to me. "That's the info Marco wanted."

"Thanks." I stared at the envelope for a few moments, tempted to open it, then stuck it in the side pocket of my coat. There'd be time for that later. I didn't want to miss my ride.

I started down the hallway and realized that the throbbing in my ankle had stopped. In fact, I couldn't feel the lower part of my leg at all.

With a feeling of dread, I lifted my leg and saw what appeared to be a big skin-colored balloon inside the rubber boot-the balloon being my ankle. I probed the swelling and set off a cascade of pain that started in my toes and ran up to my thigh. I knew then that I wasn't going anywhere without my crutches.

I glanced up and saw Claymore step outside the apartment with Vlad. "Hey!" I called. "Wait!" I hopped toward him, using the wall for balance, dislodging my purse on my shoulder in the process. It fell to the floor, but I had no time to stop.

"Hey," I called again. "A little help here, please."

Vlad turned to look first, his gaze instantly traveling to my ankle. He reached me in two strides and swept me effortlessly into his arms. "I was afraid of this."

I'd never been that close to Vlad before, and I had to admit, it wasn't such a bad experience.

Okay, Abby. Stop thinking like that. "Claymore, if you'll bring my crutches-"

"No need for that," Vlad said. "I'll carry you out to the car."

"I'll pull my car around front," Clay said, and took off.

Nice of them to ask what I wanted to do. "Before we go, I dropped my purse back there."

"No problem." Vlad carried me back through the hallway, lowered me so I could retrieve the purse, then straightened-all without breaking a sweat. For a tall, slender man, he had amazing strength. He smelled good, too, like fresh herbs.

"Thanks," I said, "and not just for that. You were kind to take my cousin in and care for her. Jillian can be a handful on a good day."

"It wasn't so bad," he said, his light gray eyes quietly a.s.sessing me. "After all, it brought you here, and that gave us a chance to get better acquainted."

"That's true."

"So," he said, "let me show you my casket."

There I was, in the arms of the alleged vampire, with no witnesses in sight, being carried to the room that contained his coffin. Why did I feel like I was living that horror movie?

Vlad managed to open the door and hit a light switch that turned on a table lamp without dropping me. I did a quick survey of the room but didn't see a single coffin in sight.

He carried me into a cozy living room and put me down on a caramel brown suede sofa. In front of the sofa was a beautiful old wooden chest with an arched lid and bra.s.s trim. "This is it," he said, nodding toward the chest. "My casket."

"That's not a casket."

"According to the HOW TO KILL A VAMPIRE Web site, it is, although I prefer the term blanket chest. But who am I to say?" Vlad smiled again, clearly finding humor in the rumors being spread about him. I, on the other hand, felt like an idiot. I'd been completely willing to believe he had a coffin in his living room.

"Have you considered putting up your own Web site to counter the rumors? You could post a photo of the chest to prove it's not a casket."

"If I do that, Abby, I give the creep behind that Web site validity. The best thing is to ignore the rumors and let people judge me by what they see-a friendly guy mixing drinks behind the bar."

"You're right, but it angers me that someone is able to get away with spreading lies."

"It's why we live in the United States, isn't it? To have such freedom? Anyway, I have every confidence that Marco will find out who it is and handle the problem."

My cell phone rang. I took it out of my purse and saw Claymore's name on the screen. "Hi, Clay. I'll be right down."

"That's not a good idea," Claymore said. "There's trouble out front."

"Do you have a window that looks out in front of the building?" I asked Vlad.

He carried me to one of the windows in his bedroom. We lifted a slat and peered through.

A big white van sat at the curb, and as we watched, a panel door in the side of the van opened and a group of angry, baseball-bat-wielding large men jumped out. They were all wearing T-shirts that said GARLIC PARTY VAMPIRE SQUAD.

"Kill the vampire!" one of them shouted.

"Kill the vampire!" the others repeated, slapping their palms with the bats. Then they headed straight toward the building.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

"Tell Clay to go around to the alley behind the back parking lot," Vlad said, as he carried me to his front door.

I relayed the message to Clay and put my phone away. Vlad stopped to take a black leather man bag from a drawer in a table by the door and hand it to me. "Hold it for me, please."

He carried me out of the apartment, down the hallway to a flight of steps, and out the back door. I didn't know how he did it, but he wasn't even breathing hard.

Vlad checked carefully before leaving the building, then carried me through the parking lot and straight toward the black BMW idling in the alley. He opened the pa.s.senger door and put me inside, took the leather bag from me, then shut the door and patted the window. "Go!"

"What about you?" I cried, rolling down the window. "You can't go back. Come with us."

"I can take care of myself. Now go!"

I turned to watch as Vlad disappeared behind the garage, then buckled myself in as Claymore sped away. "I hope he'll be all right."

"I called the police. They're on their way. Do you want to come with me to the hospital and have your ankle X-rayed?"

"No, thanks. Icing it should work." I hoped it would, anyway. I had to interview Dr. Holloway at two o'clock. No way did I want to be stuck in the ER all afternoon. "But please call me later and let me know how Jillian is."

"I can't thank you enough for helping us, Abby. If I can ever return the favor, just ask."

I tucked his offer away. It might come in handy one day.

Claymore wasn't familiar with Operation Abby, so he watched in amazement as Lottie and Grace swooped out of Bloomers, got me onto my crutches, and had me inside the shop in two minutes flat. I had just enough time to glance up the block and see that there weren't any protesters across the street. My ankle, however, was protesting a lot.

"Lordy, would you look at that?" Lottie cried, after I'd peeled off the yellow boot. "Didn't I tell you unwrapping your ankle was a bad idea?"

"I've got to make it all better so I can keep my two o'clock appointment. Marco will be here to get me in less than two hours."