Downstairs, Prince Varinski seated himself next to Natasha, petting her hand from time to time in a gesture of comfort. Boris Van Winkle sat on her other side, his hand possessively caressing the vampiress's knee.
Alex and Ripley stood by the huge black-bricked fireplace, their moods betrayed by the restless energy with which they shifted from foot to foot.
The moment they had entered the room, Forest had pulled Nic down beside her on a small sofa. Next, the vampiress had entwined herself around him like a snake, Sam observed hotly, noticing immediately that there was less than an inch of space between him and the viperous vamp. She undoubtedly wanted to sink her fangs into him; it was so obvious, Sam wished herself oblivious to the tacky seduction.
More the fool, she, Sam decided disgustedly. Let Nic break the Irish vampire's heart and take her to the heights of heaven, only to let her fall back to earth with a big fat splat, like Sam had done. Let the slinky Forest O'Day get lost in the wood.
Sam narrowed her eyes at the cackling couple. Nic seemed to be enjoying all of the overdone attention, and right now the vampiress was running her fingers along his collar, playing with all his silky, thick hair. Natural hair, because Nic didn't wear any hair gels, like the overmoussed Forest, whose front bangs were a little stiff. Rolling her eyes, Sam regretted that she even cared how Forest the sex kitten was eyeing Nic, like he was a tasty piece of chocolate that she intended to devour.
Narrowing her eyes in derision, Sam watched Forest flutter her eyelashes, a flirtation that had gone out of fashion with the Civil War. Of course, Sam judged, Forest was no sapling; she was more an old growth, because it was obvious the vampiress had seen at least two centuries, maybe more. How could Nic be interested in an older woman that old? And he'd warned her about being professional, while all the time his eyes were glued to this client's cleavage. Professional, my ass, she grumbled silently.
She had the sudden urge to shout "Fire, fire—run, Forest, run," then sit back and watch the vampires all fly to the front door in fear of their overindulged lives. It was a cruel thought, and it made her smile secretly since she had gumption to do it. Unfortunately, she also had the smarts to know better.
Natasha Barrington's words interrupted Sam's criticism of her competition—competition Sam wasn't willing to yet admit was competition.
"I just know Jessie would die if she knew she was immortalized in grey."
"She'd be petrified," Forest agreed. "Jessie should have been changed into marble or gold, not something as mundane as rock."
"She was such a beautiful creature, all fire and light. Now she's stone cold dead. We'll never again share the thrill of shopping for a good bargain on coffins, or drink human martinis at sunrise after a night of raunchy sex," Natasha mourned, her eyes filling with scarlet tears.
Listening to Natasha's grief, Sam was very glad that she wasn't a vampire: coffin hunting and human martinis were not her thing. In fact, the only thing she had ever liked about a martini was the glass. And the olive. The drink tasted like hair tonic.
"We'll never again turn into bats and harass the tourists around the Brooklyn Bridge. Jessie had such a sense of humor. She used to love hearing the tourists scream when she got tangled in their hair," Natasha continued, her litany of regrets growing.
Monster memories, how sweet, Sam thought snidely. Jessie's humor sounded a little twisted. Messing up people's hair was just plain rude, especially since tourists didn't have their regular hairdressers to help them!
Turning her face to Prince Varinski, Natasha spoke: "Now tell me, who killed my little sister?" Her voice was devoid of any humanity, causing Sam to shiver in her chair by the fireplace.
"A Meduse—a gorgon," Petroff answered somberly.
"A Meduse? I thought the term was Medusa?" Boris said, his tone doubtful.
Nic answered this time. "The Medusas were from Greece originally. They're also known as the three gorgons, cursed by Athena because the youngest sister had an affair with Athena's lover, Poseidon. What's not commonly known is that they had a brother, who also was cursed. His name, Meduse."
"But I thought Medusas were all hideously ugly, with snakes for hair," Natasha said; then she resolutely shook her head. "You're wrong. Jessie wouldn't be caught dead with anyone even average-looking."
What a fractured fairy tale, Sam mused wryly. And what shallow bloodsuckers. "The oldest recorded versions state that the gorgons were all very attractive people, and that they would only turn into snake-headed creatures with red bulging eyes and long claws when their emotions were aroused. It's the venom from the bite of the snake that causes a person to turn to stone."
"That's mythology! These creatures weren't ever real then, were they?" Forest asked. Her tone was dismissive, her face conveying her scorn.
Nic broke in. "As real as you and me. There were sightings and deaths attributed to the gorgons until the thirteenth century. Then history goes quiet. I thought, like everyone else, that the gorgons were extinct. Not any longer."
"I thought so too," Sam threw in. It earned a smile from Nic, a smile Forest took exception to. She ran her fingers up and down his silken sleeve, her long red fingernails making a slight scratching noise on the fabric. Sam wanted to punch her lights out, or at least find an ax to chop her down to size.
She said instead; "The evidence doesn't lie. And unless I miss my guess, we have a serial stoner here. Have you heard of any similar deaths?" Inside she was seething. She knew a stone-dead woman when she saw one, and also knew that no black magic was involved. First Nic had unfairly questioned her professionalism, and now this half-dressed bimbo bloodsucker was questioning her Bustin' ability. Sam was used to her word being taken for granted. She'd years of experience and was considered an expert by everybody who counted.
Natasha glanced at Ripley, who shook his head. Boris answered: "No, we've heard of nothing suspicious in this way, no deaths where people are turned to rock."
"On the jet, Ripley explained that Jessie was dating somebody special. But Ripley didn't know his name," Nic mentioned, his gray eyes probing.
"Since I was her close friend, I know his name," Forest replied, smiling seductively into Nic's face. "Nero. But I don't know much else."
Sam couldn't agree more. The Irish vampiress was nothing but a big, fat snake with oversized breasts and fangs. Fuming at the woman's overt play for Nic, she added hastily, "Nero? He has just one name, kinda like Cher?"
Forest swung back around to face her, her red lips twisting in a sneer. "She met Nero at a Goth bar. Jessie had a couple of dates with him. He gave her a beautiful ruby ring, and she was in love. They hadn't had sex before their last date, which was last night. I don't know what he looked like or his last name. Although, I'm positive he was a supernatural creature—Jessie was rather adamant about never dating humans. So limited in their… abilities." Forest's smile was smug as her gaze swept up and down Sam's body, then dismissive as if Sam were nothing more than a bug on the carpet. It really didn't surprise Sam; apparently Forest was also a bigot, with humanity being beneath dirt-nappers like herself.
"Yeah, I guess vampires don't have to take Viagra to get a nice hard stake in the action," Sam retorted sarcastically, matching the venal vampiress look for look. "Anyway, which Goth club did she meet this Nero guy at?"
Forest shrugged, causing the spaghetti strap on her right shoulder to slip, revealing even more of her abundant cleavage as she ran her fingers down Nic's muscular chest. When she went for his leg, Sam debated briefly on whether she might not just go ahead and knock the vamp's block off, but though she longed to tug the Irish hussy's dress back up and pop Nic one in the kisser, she maintained her stoic expression. Stupid Nic didn't seem to realize he was this vampiress's intended breakfast of champions.
"I think it was that American one—American Gothic. They have some hot hunks there, though not as hot as what I'm sitting by tonight," Forest remarked. Licking her lips she whispered, "Do you taste as good as you look?"
Nic wouldn't be all male if he didn't respond a little to that blatant invitation. He smiled at her wickedly, noting from the corner of his eye Sam's chagrin.
"Probably better," he commented softly, but just loud enough for Sam to hear. Then he added in a more professional tone, "Did Jessie and Nero go to any other places?" His eyes began to sparkle as he now had a place to start tracking his quarry—and also he loved the expression on Sam's face. Sam thought she was being nonchalant, but she had too much passion to carry it off. Right now she was glaring at Forest, clearly despising the fact that the Irish vampiress was all over him.
Normally Nic would have been interested in a vamp this gorgeous, but he had Sam on the brain. She was what he wanted in bed, naked and hot, and her jealousy was only firing his lust. If he wasn't careful, he was going to get aroused right here and now, thinking about Sam.
"Besides American Gothic, Jessie hung out at Bram Stoker's Bar and the Breed Club," Forest said, her tone oozing seduction. "Every vampire who's anybody goes to Bram Stoker's Bar. It's all the rage. And every elite supernatural shows up at American Gothic sometime or another."
Sam shrugged. "So we know now that Nero hangs out at Goth clubs and picks up supernatural females, but we don't know what he looks like," she said, trying hard to ignore the nymphomaniac vampire. Who'd known Nic would be into corpses, even if those corpses had to-die-for bodies and lovely red hair with too much mousse. And why hadn't she brought her paranormal pest kit, inside which she had an assortment of razor-sharp stakes and a bunch of nasty tricks and treats for monsters?
"I think he has long black hair and violet eyes," Natasha piped up. Everyone turned to stare at her.
"How do you know this? I thought Jessie hadn't said much to you about him?" Ripley said.
"I'm pretty sure I saw her with him briefly on the last night they met. At least, I think it was him. He was beyond handsome."
"Why do you think it was Nero?" Sam asked.
"Because Jessie loved beauty, and this was a beautiful male. He was assuredly the best-looking person in the bar. And the bar was American Gothic. I left soon after, and then Boris and I went out of town for a few days," Natasha admitted regretfully. "I can't believe I was in the same club as my sister's killer and I didn't rip his heart out!"
"When was this?" Nic asked cautiously, aware of the vamp's fragile state.
"Last Saturday."
"Okay. So now we have a place to start tracking," Alex announced. "And now the bigger question: How do we kill this monster?"
"An interesting thought. No one has run across a problem like this in centuries," Prince Varinski mused, his expression thoughtful.
"Perseus cut off Medusa's head with a golden sword," Sam mentioned, wishing she had a golden stake to use on Forest. Talk about being unprofessional, she griped silently, hoping that Nic and the vampiress wouldn't decide to copulate on the small sofa in front of company. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Sam hatefully wished that Nic wouldn't be able to get a woody. If the vamp sent Nic up in flames, she certainly wasn't going to put the Forest fire out. The doof, the doof, the doofus was on fire? She didn't need no water, let the mothasucker burn!
"Like many Greeks, the gorgon will have an Achilles' heel. Probably his head. So, I imagine the golden sword theory is best if we listen to mythology. I wonder where we can acquire two or three such swords?" Nic spoke up, trying to ignore Forest's continual carnal caress. The enemy they were soon to face was dangerous, deadly and crafty—a tough combination to beat. But this kind of adventure was the kind he liked best, as gargoyles, goblins and ghosts were a little tame. Nic loved to pit his wits and skills against an evenly matched adversary. He had never lost yet; nor would he, since his cousin, his little brother and Sam's lives all possibly would depend on his skill.
"I can supply those swords by tomorrow night if all goes well," Prince Petroff volunteered.
"And I'll do the research to make sure we're on the right track to killing him," Sam offered. She didn't like killing supernatural creatures, but some were just plain monsters. And a serial stoner was one seriously heavy bad guy.
"I'll help you," Nic remarked casually.
Sam shook her head, no. She knew that it wouldn't do at all if he came with her. They would just end up arguing or kissing. Either way, she knew she wouldn't be able to keep her mind off the gorgeous jerk, and she should be studying the ancient texts.
"You, Alex and Ripley need to visit the Goth clubs and talk to the bartenders before the regular crowd gets there. Between the three of you, you should be able to get that done before prime time. Ask around and see what you dig up. Do a little spying. See if you can't help pinpoint where Nero's lair is located."
Nic began to argue. "There are only three clubs!"
Sam frowned. "Three that we know of. There might be more. Besides, you guys might want to check out Greek restaurants in the area."
"Greek restaurants?" Alex asked.
"The Meduse is probably homesick for good old home cooking," she explained.
"That's stupid," Forest said. She didn't like Nic's interest in Sam, and it was obvious.
Nic frowned. "No, Forest, it does make a kind of sense. The Meduse won't feed from his kills; he kills for pleasure. And he eats like humans do. I imagine Greek food would tempt him—a piece of home. Who doesn't like a Greek omelette?"
Natasha spoke up, her fangs flashing as Prince Varinski put his arm around her shoulder. "I don't care how you do it, just get me his head on a pike."
"Don't worry, darling, we'll take care of this for you," Petroff promised. Then, glancing at Boris and Forest he added, "We need to go to sleep soon and sleep till dusk. We'll need all our energy for this creature. It's time we go to the hotel."
The Prince stood. "Everyone needs to use extreme caution. Especially the females of this group. We're up against the unexplainable. So, take care and, must importantly, beware of Greeks bearing gifts."