Carmen left the office to shower. I lay against the sofa and closed my eyes, and before I knew it, I fell asleep.
I dreamed of walking through the familiar hills of northern New Mexico, the air fragrant with sage and piñon. A sudden nervousness fell over me. My steps sped up into a jog, then a fast trot. The nervousness tightened into fear. The hills turned into the condos of Hilton Head and I found myself running desperately across the beach, terror-stricken, splashing into the surf, as giant, many-headed dogs chased me.
I awoke with a start. My talons clutched the shredded sofa upholstery where I had ripped it during my dream spasms. I sat upright, my sixth sense buzzing. My kundalini noir coiled inside me, tense as a rattlesnake.
I let my fangs and talons retract. After brushing tufts of sofa lining from my body, I slipped my underwear and pants back on.
Carmen returned, wearing a short bathrobe. Her hair was wrapped in a towel and her face looked freshly scrubbed.
She surveyed the torn sofa and the bits of upholstery littering the floor. “What the hell happened? If you were in the mood for rough sex, you didn’t have to go at it solo.”
“Nightmare,” I muttered, embarrassed.
“How do you feel now?”
I tightened my fists and flexed my arms. An athletic energy pounded through me. “Better.” I wanted to run, to jump, to smash things. I wanted to fight.
One name came to mind. Goodman. Your hours are numbered.
Carmen smiled. “Felix, your aura is so bright it could spark an explosion.”
I clasped her neck. “Speaking of explosions.”
She pulled away. “Don’t have the time. Remember that couple at the Markov PharmacoEconomic party?”
“Which couple? There were dozens.”
“Krandall and Peltier. You gave me their card.”
I nodded in recognition. That blonde Peltier had two nice big reasons why I couldn’t forget her.
Carmen undid the towel around her head and rubbed her scalp. “They called me just now. Want to get together.”
“Fun and games?” I knew the answer. A touch of jealousy brushed over me. Carmen and I had finally had sex and it was pretty damn good. But we vampires knew that sex was just another language that existed between the undead. Undead friends with undead benefits. I could no more be jealous of Carmen screwing around than I could be of her talking or dining with others. We could get attached to humans, and hell, I still had a soft spot-in the place where my heart used to beat-for a forest sprite who had come and gone through my undead life like a breeze.
Carmen laid the towel around her shoulders. “More than fun and games. I’ll see what they know about Goodman, aliens, and the missing women.”
“Be careful.”
“With those two?” Carmen stifled a laugh. “They try anything funny and I’ll stuff their remains in mason jars.”
Carmen bent over to pick up her discarded jogging suit. She looked at me from between her legs. “Felix, if you get down, you can see right up my bathrobe. And that, in case you can’t tell, is an invitation for a quickie.”