Free A Touch Too Much by Chris Lange Page A

get any grosser?
    As though basking in sunshine gave her unexpected strength, Liv made her mind up. Her first act as a non-burning vampire would be to overcome her fear by dealing with the hairy monster. Resolve hardening her muscles, she took the few steps separating her from the entrance.
    The room hadn’t been pitch-dark in the first place, but with the door wide open Liv easily saw the grungy contents—the unmade bed, the stained carpet, the chair where she had left her jacket, the lit bathroom to her left, and, in the farthest corner, watching her, the rat.
    Gooseflesh rising over the surface of her body, her determination melting like heated wax, Liv didn’t stop to think. She rushed to the chair, grabbed her jacket, retreated to the bathroom in the face of her enemy, retrieved her bag with shaky hands, and got the hell out of the motel where Alfred Hitchcock had no doubt shot Psycho .
    So much for overcoming her phobia. Disappointing, yes, but she figured a non-burning vampire couldn’t be expected to act as ruthlessly as a true vampire. With this questionable excuse in mind, she hurried to her car. As her tyres screeched on the gravelly driveway, she turned right onto the main road.
    Mindful of the speed limit, Liv reached the outskirts of the small town of Bentham by late afternoon. Hungry, thirsty, and needing time to ponder recent events, she pulled over by a strip mall.
    She strode to the nearest restaurant, bag in hand. Four or five tables had been set out front for patrons to enjoy the warm weather—no way would she pass on this golden opportunity. Without a single glance around, she wolfed down three cheese and ham sandwiches, a plate of home-made chips, two big chocolate cookies, and a glass of orange juice.
    The sense of relief that washed over her when she pushed her plate back had her grinning. She was able to sit in the sun, see her reflection in the restaurant window, and look at shoppers like they were people, not bloody food on legs. Without stretching it too far, she felt positive she could chew mountains of garlic. What a glorious day!
    But how? Rogan might know the answer. He had only been gone for a few hours, yet the vacant spot in her heart had his name on it. What was he doing? Would he ever come back to her?
    A stray dog came sniffing around, its tongue lolling, its brown eyes holding hope of a different kind. When Liv offered it the last fries, the dog licked its chops before grabbing the chips with great care. Then it padded away, tail wagging, on the lookout for a new adventure.
    Unlike her new furry friend, Liv sought quiet and peace. The past forty-eight hours had been a whirling mass sucking her in, a complicated vortex she had fallen into willingly. She could have ditched Rogan and his vampire universe anytime, but she hadn’t. Instead she’d seen to it that Khord’s silver bullet didn’t kill him. What was more, when she’d tried her so-called power on the warrior in the warehouse it hadn’t affected him in the least. Come to think of it, she might well have treated him for smallpox.
    Regarding vampires, she really did have a healing power. So why did they believe her a deadly threat to their race? Why did their legend mention her as a Bringer of Death? Whoever came up with that myth must have been loaded, stuffed full with human blood. Did they use drugs over there? Could their prophecy writer have been hallucinating at the time?
    Liv smiled at her reflection in the window. Making fun of vampires felt good right now—a pity she must get a move on. The sun had already dipped to the west, tree shadows lengthened across the parking lot, shoppers left the mall. Time to hide from bloody creatures of the night. Time to get ready for whatever fate had in store for her.
    She bought a new pair of jeans, a skirt, tops, shoes, underwear, and a toiletries bag inside the mall. While she was there she asked for directions to the nearest clean motel. She must have put too much emphasis on