Free Dead Vampires Don't Date by Meredith Allen Conner

drilled a hole right through me. I could only stare.
    "Does he plan to out the vampires or the entire immortal community?" His oddly formal manner of speaking emphasized his questions.
    I've met two other extremely old vampires before. They both had the same excruciatingly polite tone.
    He shifted. I tensed. My hands clenched and I realized then that I still had my magic cupped in my palms. It had to be reflex because I could barely form a coherent sentence.
    The leather sleeves of his duster squeaked slightly as he folded his arms across his chest. He made no other move. He waited for me to respond.
    I replayed his last question. "I don't know."
    I couldn't stand it anymore. My nerves had reached their breaking point. He either needed to kill me or leave.
    He nodded once. "This may take longer than I expected."
    He planned to torture me? Little black dots danced around the edges of my vision.
    "Why don't we continue this in your office?" The movement he made with his arm was very courtly. I've seen actors in medieval movies use the same gesture. This was the real thing.
    So at odds with the lethal tension, the gallant move broke through my terror. I began to ease my way back towards the front door. I did not want to die. Or be tortured. I squeezed my fists, the warmth of my power reassured me.
    "Ms. Storm." I tensed to run like hell. "You will not make it through your door."
    Shit. Shit. Shit.
    "I am seeking answers to my questions. I have no immediate plans to hurt you."
    Somehow that didn't completely reassure me.
    "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ivan Romanov. I am the personal guard to the Queen of the United States Vampires. I am searching for her son."
    It took several seconds before his words made sense to me. He didn't know. Ivan was looking for the Prince. He spoke of him in the present tense. He had no idea that Xavier was utterly dead and buried less than thirty miles from where we stood.
    He didn't want to kill me. He really did want answers.
    All I had to do was lie like hell again.
    I could do that.
    "The Prince is missing?" I made it a question, as if I hadn't a clue as to what he was talking about.
    Since I'm not a full card carrying member of the immortal group, I'm not privy to the gossip. I didn't know how much info was already out there.
    Better just to play dumb all around.
    "Please." Ivan made that grand gesture again. I headed into my office. Clearly he didn't plan to answer any of my questions until we were seated like civilized people.
    That thought gave me a moment of comfort. That disappeared with the mental reminder that once inside my office, with the door closed, my screams would be muffled.
    The door closed behind me.
    I bolted to the other side of my desk. Ivan gathered his long coat and sat down. It should have looked feminine - a woman rearranging her dress. Instead, it was menacing. Like he had bullets sewn into the hem, ones he could unleash with barely a thought.
    I moved over to the coffee maker. "Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?" I could do polite and I desperately needed some calming tea right now.
    "No. Thank you."
    The water spit and gurgled before it settled down to stream into the waiting pot. Almost immediately loud, high-pitched barking rang out from my other office.
    Big Al had channeled away after dinner. I'd locked him in the office, because as a Chihuahua he had issues with my vacuum. Ivan had practically whispered his questions and I hadn't been much better, with the door closed, Al had not heard a thing.
    Until now.
    A bare whisper of sound made me turn around. Ivan stood in front of the chair, sword in hand. "Who is here?"
    I didn't correct him. Griffins make a sound like a bark and Hellhounds do too.
    "No one." I rushed to assure him. "I have a Chihuahua. A tiny dog. He's harmless." I prayed to every source I could think of that Al would stay a dog.
    I loved him.
    If Big Al channeled back . . . I refused to think of it. I couldn't lose him. And I had no