Vampire Dragon by Annette Blair Page A

hospital.”
    The boy narrowed his eyes, as if behind them hid a brain overflowing with wisdom. “A smart guy, hey?” the boy said, speaking like one of Vivica’s old black-and-white movies.
    Bronte caught up near the living quarters and checked her watch. “The Salem Trolley will bring the first tourists in a few hours. Between our shared nightmare, the lightning, and losing Ogden, if only temporarily, I need a Master Vampire and fast.”
    Darkwyn cupped the back of his head. “Tell me again what a Master Vampire does.”
    “He’s my bodyguard, hosts Drak’s, and keeps the peace, so he’s also sometimes a bouncer.”
    Darkwyn hoped “bouncer” had to do with mattresses and nakedness. “Define ‘bouncer.’ ”
    Zachary chuckled. “A bouncer picks up troublemakers by the seats of their pants and throws them out so they bounce on the sidewalk.”
    Not sex as he hoped. “Can I throw them over the balcony? More fun.”
    “No!” Bronte snapped. “Not the balcony, not even throw. You would just show them the door.”
    “The doors are plainly visible, Bronte. That would be a wasted effort.”
    Zachary chuckled.
    “The Master Vampire is the host and generally keeps the peace,” Bronte said. “Does that give you any ideas, Darkwyn?”
    “Yes, it does. I will replace Ogden as handyman.”
    “No, you’ll be my new Master Vampire. That’s your apartment, by the way.” She pointed to the door opposite hers at the end of the hall. “It faces front like ours.”
    “Hey,” Zachary said. “To hit both apartments, front and back, that bolt of lightning had to be coming straight down from above the Phoenix, almost like a claw with us in its grip.”
    “How old are you?” Darkwyn asked.
    “Ninety-nine, my next birthday.”
    “Always a confusing answer.”
    “You should talk. What happened to the gash on Bronte’s—”
    “I don’t know enough about vampires to be one, thanks.”
    “Zachary,” Bronte said, herding them toward her apartment. “Break out the Dracula DVDs and let’s have a bloody brunch while Darkwyn gets a crash course.”
    “Which ones?” Zachary asked, sorting DVDs.
    “All of them. Darkwyn, I’m Vampiress and I need a Master Vampire today. It’s the only way to protect me from the male vamps who’d try to make a play for me, otherwise.”
    What she needed, he thought, was a bodyguard in the truest sense, to protect her from Killian’s evil. “I’d rather take the handyman job, but I could still protect you.”
    “That job’s taken. Ogden will be back. The apartment across from this one is for the Master Vampire I hire.”
    Darkwyn thought about that. “Fine, then I’ll live with you.”
    “ She already has a roommate,” Zachary said. “Me.”
    Out of the boy’s range, Darkwyn gave Bronte a look filled with promise. They both wanted more of what they’d shared last night. He needed to be near her to protect her from Killian, and to take on her life quest, still a mystery. “I will watch the vampire movies,” Darkwyn said with a sigh. “But no promises beyond that.”
    Half an hour into a movie, and two bowls of Count Chocula later, Darkwyn hit pause on the remote. “What made you get into this freaky business? Did somebody curse you?”
    Zachary shrugged. “We owned the building, and Bronte needed a job where she could take care of me. This is Salem. Dracula’s Castle catered to tourists but not vamp role players or Salem’s real vamp community. We saw a need. We had a need. We filled both.”
    “And,” Bronte added, “it seemed a natural choice. We grew up around blood and guts.”
    So had he, fighting wars, feeding his dragon self, but—“You? Blood and guts?”
    Zachary gave Bronte a look, before turning to him. “ ‘ The family ’ owned a slaughterhouse.”

EIGHTEEN
     

     
    After the second vampire movie ended, Bronte’s heart skipped when Darkwyn got up to stalk her. He grasped the arms of her chair and looked into her eyes. “I vant to drink