Tina Gerow Read online

  “Logan, this is my sister, Dara.”

  Dara pushed Ariel out of the way with the impatience of woman wanting to see to her patient and dropped down on her knees beside him. Her cool hands traced the shard in his face and concern etched her lovely features. But no sizzle of awareness flowed through him like it did every time he saw Ariel.

  Turning his thoughts back to his yard, he said, “What are you going to do with the mummy pieces? How do you kill something like that?”

  Ariel’s lips curved up on one side, and Dara’s concerned look turned to one of surprise. It seemed he’d said something interesting. Ariel gestured to the squirming pile. “Those are zombie pieces, not mummy. We’ll have to burn them. We could use salt, but it would only stop them, it won’t get rid of them.”

  He promised himself he would eventually ask all the questions running riot through his mind, but right now he just wanted to get a shower, some rest and a stiff shot of whiskey, in any order he could. “There’s stuff in the barn to make a bonfire out of them or whatever you need to do. Just make sure no zombie fingers are going to get in to scare my horses. I’ve got a few about to foal soon.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it.” Ariel sat down on the top step and turned sideways so she could talk to him. “Is anyone else on the ranch besides you right now?”

  He shook his head and then instantly regretted it. “No,” he managed. “James is having dinner with some record producers, my housekeeper always visits her grandkids on Friday nights, my secretary won’t be back from vacation until next month and it’s payday, so my ranch hands, including Jeb, are in town at Whiskey River.”

  “Whiskey River?” asked Dara softly from under impossibly long lashes.

  He turned to her and stopped short as his gaze fell into sea green eyes. Her long blonde hair played around her face in the breeze. She was classically beautiful and he couldn’t resist just looking for a while.

  “Whiskey River,” Dara repeated, a small dimple to the side of her mouth giving away the fact she was trying to hide a smile.

  “Sorry.” Logan pulled his mind back to the subject at hand. “Whiskey River is a local honky-tonk—uh, country bar and dance hall.”

  “So, you’re all alone out here tonight and everyone knows it?” asked Ariel.

  “I guess so. But why the hell would anyone want to attack me?” He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Before an hour ago, I never knew half these things existed. And why they have an obvious fetish with my family jewels is beyond me.”

  The memory of the near miss with the arrow came back to him with painful clarity and he looked back and forth between the two women. “The arrow.”

  Ariel nodded. “That’s right, you had a near miss with an arrow. Maybe it’s time you told us exactly what happened.”

  Logan reached up to touch his throbbing cheek and Dara slapped his hand away so she could finish removing the piece of bone. “I was out hunting with Jeb and I stepped in a hole and staggered backwards. The next thing I knew, there was an arrow imbedded in a tree next to me where my crotch would have been. Jeb and I just figured it was a hunter with some really bad aim.”

  Ariel didn’t comment, only nodded, her eyes boring into his. “That’s what we’re here to find out.”

  Logan’s mind went warm and fuzzy and his eyes slowly closed of their own volition. “I haven’t even had my whiskey yet, what the hell?” he demanded of the world in general.

  When his senses cleared, he sat in his living room in the recliner, and the four women and James ranged around the room talking. He bolted up as the lethargy left his body and he could move again. Unfortunately, his head still throbbed like his prize bull had danced on it, so he sat down again, hard.

  All eyes swiveled to focus on him and conversation stopped.

  “What the hell happened? Are the zombie pieces taken care of? I won’t have my horses miscarry because of this.”

  He noticed the stricken look Ariel shared with her sisters, as if he’d just done an amazing trick. Then her composure reappeared like it had never gone, reminding him of their meeting in his office. Had that only been earlier today? It seemed like a million years ago.

  “Logan,” she said as if trying to sooth a spooked horse. She walked toward him and his mind began to warm and go fuzzy again.

  He shook his head hard, the pain beating back the disorientation. He’d lost consciousness the last time this happened, he refused to do it again. Using every ounce of his determination, he pushed himself up to stand and faced Ariel. “Tell me what happened,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Ariel’s mouth hung open, clearly in shock over something. But Logan struggled to understand what.

  James stepped forward. “Logan, sit and we’ll explain everything.” James helped him back into the chair and then glanced over his shoulder at Ariel. “You’ve never failed before and now you’ve failed twice, I’d take that as a sign.”

  “Failed doing what?” Logan glared at each of them in turn. They were starting to talk in code to 20

  each other and it was damned irritating. “Look, I’ve been attacked by a mob of zombies and one very pissed off vampire. I think I deserve to know what the hell happened tonight.”

  Ariel stepped forward and took a seat on the footstool facing him. He noticed with disappointment, she’d borrowed a shirt to cover her flimsy tank top.

  “You wouldn’t have been attacked if you stayed in the house and let me take care of it.”

  His patience reached the end of the line. Too much had happened, without answers and without anyone including him. If they thought they were going to treat him like an invalid, they were wrong. This was exactly why he didn’t want a bodyguard in the first place. “Hold it right there. I never hired you as my bodyguard and I don’t recall you complaining when I was blowing holes in those things out there.” He gestured toward the back porch and tried to ignore the warning pains shooting through his head from his shouting. “So, why don’t you try telling me what the hell is going on rather than coddling me like some day-old calf?”

  Ariel sighed and then finally nodded. “Okay, why don’t we get some breakfast and then have a drink. I think this news will go down much better on a full stomach. You don’t have any whiskey in this house, do you?”

  A woman after my own heart.

  CHAPTER THREE

  >Logan lay in his bed staring up at the ceiling. His head continued to throb, even though he’d downed a few painkillers with a belt of whiskey. His doctor left a few hours earlier after announcing he had a mild concussion a few days of bed rest would fix. Of course, that was after a lecture about the wisdom of trying to ride an unbroken horse at night.

  Logan’s pride smarted over that one. Thanks to James, now the doctor thought he was an idiot as well as clumsy with his horses.

  Logan sighed. It wasn’t like they could tell the doctor he got his injuries from a rogue vampire. Then Logan was sure his diagnosis would’ve been very different. Maybe he should’ve listened to Ariel and just trusted Dara’s opinion. She was sure a hell of a lot easier on the eyes than his ancient doctor.

  He closed his eyes and tried to relax. The events of the evening were still sinking in, and he struggled with why he could so easily accept all he’d been told. Wouldn’t a sane person reject all of this out of hand? And if so, what did that say about him?

  After a four a.m. breakfast, he spent a few hours hearing all about the overall war of good versus evil, myths based in reality and underground races such as vampires, zombies, were-creatures and gargoyles. He’d listened calmly, told everyone he needed to get some rest and then hastily retreated to his room.

  He wished rest would come. So far, all he accomplished was a thorough hour-long study of his ceiling fan and a few very vivid fantasies about Ariel, both with and without the wings. His body had responded by giving him the longest running hard on he’d had since high school.

  He sighed and tried to relax.

  He th
ought he heard the sound of faint giggling. He looked around his room, trying not to move his head too much, but heard nothing. Must be imagining things. He closed his eyes and willed himself to fall asleep.

  The cool breeze from the fan played over him, and he could smell the crisp Texas pre-dawn just outside his window. He stretched and kicked off the rest of his covers, enjoying the way the breeze caressed his bare skin.

  The giggling sounded again. Now that he was more aware, it sounded like little bells would if they could laugh. He pried open his heavy eyelids and looked down his body to where he’d heard the sound.

  A small face looked back at him from behind his morning erection. A second of shock and disorientation held him frozen. He pushed up in bed—hitting his head on the headboard and dislodging his small visitor. He let fly his favorite round of curses.

  The giggling sounded again, and he pulled the blanket haphazardly over him to cover his nakedness. He saw a blur fly up and then settle on top of his covers. When the blur cleared, the face was still there, attached to a miniature voluptuous, naked body.

  She had long blond hair, which flowed about her independent of her movements, pert breasts that bounced invitingly as she laughed, and luminous eyes of liquid lavender.

  She reminded him of a Barbie doll. Only the Barbies he’d seen never made him wish he were Ken-sized. And…she had gossamer wings between her shoulder blades, which flicked back and forth lightly like a cat idly flipping its tail.

  What is it with me and women with wings?

  She giggled again, amusement dancing in her expressive eyes. “You like my wings, man-thing?”

  Her voice held the same bell quality as her laugh, like tinkling which came out in the form of words. “How did you know what I was thinking?” Logan demanded. “Who the hell are you?”

  “You didn’t have to cover up your nether parts because of me,” she said, pointing to the tented sheet where his erection remained on full alert. “Too bad the men of my kind aren’t as well endowed as that!” She tittered and then winked at him. “And I’m so glad the mean vampire didn’t bite it off.”

  A blush crept up his neck into his face and he pulled another blanket over him to help reduce the tent effect. “You didn’t answer my question. Who are you? And how did you know about the vampire?”

  She waved expansively. “I’m Alonna. Your kind would call me a fairy. And fairies know all kinds of interesting things.”

  “A fairy,” he repeated. Well, that certainly explained the wings.

  She preened her wings and turned so he could see all of them, including her pert little bare backside. “I’m flattered you like them.” She looked back over her shoulder and gave him a smoldering look he could interpret on a woman of any size. But even if he didn’t already have a woman with wings to fantasize over, this situation would be strange and surreal.

  She threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, man thing, you do entertain me.” She flew closer to him and sat on top of his thigh swinging her feet lightly over the side.

  “Why are you here?” Logan asked finally.

  Alonna cocked her head, studying him. “I bring prophesy and insight into human dreams. But as a favor to my giant cousins, I bring it straight to you. Especially since you don’t pay attention to the dreams I’ve already brought you.” She snorted decisively, letting him know he was ignorant for ignoring them.

  “Giant cousins? Prophesy and insight? What are you talking about?” Logan had seen many strange things lately, but figuring out a riddle first thing in the morning while his head throbbed was asking a little much.

  She puffed her breath out fluttering her hair and moving it away from her spectacular miniature breasts. She smiled at him knowingly, and he tore his gaze away.

  A tinkling laugh flowed through the room. “Man-thing, don’t feel bad. Men of every species like to look.” She waved in a dismissive gesture. “My giant cousins are the gargoyles. Years ago they saved me from being raped by a vampire—a full-sized one!” she said with hands on her tiny hips. Her eyes reflected her horror at the thought.

  She wagged her finger at him. “And I’m forgiving you for hurting Ariel, since you had no meanness in your heart.” She sighed, the movement doing wonderful things to her tiny breasts. “You are just a man-thing, after all.”

  Logan stiffened and tried to rack his brain for what she meant. “I never hurt Ariel,” he insisted. “At least I don’t think I have.”

  “Not yet, but you will.” She pursed her small lavender lips and studied him.

  Logan scowled. Terrific, it had finally happened. They judged men on future actions. It was just a matter of time. But, he couldn’t imagine hurting Ariel in any way. “I wouldn’t hurt her on purpose.”

  “Isn’t that what I just said?” she demanded with a long-suffering look. “Pay attention, man-thing. I have others to deliver to this night, you know.” She stared at him until he nodded his head that he understood.

  “Your prophesy—and mind it well—is this. If you raise the son of your blood, he will become a champion for good. If you raise the daughter of your destiny, she will swallow the world in darkness. If you cease to exist before your fated time, the son of your blood will avenge you with great rivers of dark blood and the heavens will shine on him.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I don’t have any kids—blood, destiny or otherwise.”

  “That is for you to figure out, man-thing.” She stood and turned to go. Then she turned back to him and held up her index finger in warning. “But, be warned. Do not share this prophesy with anyone, or it could change the direction of your fate and all will be lost.”

  Logan sat up straighter and hissed against the pain in his head. “Wait,” he called after her. “You said you trusted the gargoyles. Can I share it with them?”

  She turned and studied him for a moment and then flew back to him to stand on his chest. She reached down a tiny hand and placed it over his heart—her cool touch burning through him like fire. “The one who touches your heart, but no other. And even then, there is risk.”

  She walked up his chest and placed a small kiss on his bottom lip. “Good bye, man-thing. I’ll visit again in your dreams.” She glanced pointedly down at his crotch, still covered in blankets, and sighed. “If only I were bigger.” And then she vanished as if she were never there.

  *****

  A brisk knock sounded against his door and Logan smiled. He’d know James’ knock anywhere. “Come on in, James.” Finally, someone he knew wasn’t associated with anything but normalcy.

  James opened the door and crossed to Logan’s bedside. “How are you holding up?”

  Logan heard the affection in his friend’s voice and saw concern etched across his rugged features. “As well as can be expected, I suppose.” He sat up, propped a second pillow behind him, and leaned back.

  He studied James for a moment. His friend looked tired, almost haggard. Logan had never seen James like this before, but his clothes belied his fatigued state. James looked like an ad for men’s casual wear in his black jeans and perfectly pressed button down shirt. “Have a seat, I know you well enough to know there’s something on your mind. Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you? It will be a nice change to think about something ‘of this world’ for a while.”

  James pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts. His features were drawn and for the first time, Logan sensed fear from James.

  What’s he afraid of?

  Logan had known James for nearly ten years and he’d never seen the man concerned, let alone afraid. He found himself uncomfortable with this new James, and wanted to help put him at ease. “James.” Logan noticed he wouldn’t meet his gaze. “We know each other too well for you to be worried about talking to me. Hell, you’ve pissed me off more times than I can count and we’re still friends, aren’t we?”

  James sighed. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re my best f
riend in the world and I consider you my family.”

  He nodded. James had become the family he never let himself have after his mother died. His aunt and uncle tried their best, but Logan spent most of his life making sure no one got too close. James had somehow gotten past his internal walls, and he would always be grateful.

  James sat up a little straighter and looked Logan in the eye for the first time since entering his room. “Unfortunately, this is in the category, ‘not of this world.’” James looked down and shook his head as if garnering his strength for what would come next. “I’ve got a past I’m not very proud of, and since you’ve heard all the other strange things tonight, it’s time I came clean with you.”

  Logan’s brow furrowed. How could the events of tonight and what happened to James have any relation to each other?

  Ice ran thorough his veins as he remembered the banter between Ariel and James in his office. Ariel had done everything but call James a vampire to his face. But she hadn’t meant it literally—had she?

  James watched him carefully for a few moments then squared his shoulders. “Do you remember when Ariel told you the gargoyles were created in eleven-hundred?”

  Logan’s palms broke out in a sweat and bile rose in the back of his throat. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this. But he swallowed hard and nodded.

  “Well, the Dark One—always one to twist God’s works, decided to create a race similar to the 24

  gargoyles, but evil. Since he doesn’t have the power of creation, he took evil men and turned them into what later became known as vampires.”

  “James…” Logan began, shaking his head and ignoring the pain. He didn’t want to hear the rest. Somehow, he knew whatever came next would change his perception of the world even further, and he didn’t know if he could take anymore tonight.