“Are we there yet?” Jane grumbled from the back seat for the umpteenth time.

“No,” Gareth snapped, gripping the wheel like he wanted to grip their necks. “And if you ask again, I will tie you to the roof of the car until we do get there.”

The silver Mercedes SUV was sleek and powerful. Gareth handled it like he was meant to be behind the wheel. It was every kind of unnecessarily hot and stupid… and did I really just say it was hot? I was an idiot for letting my mind wander to forbidden and ridiculous scenarios.

“Can we listen to music?” Jane suggested.

“What kind?” Gareth asked, truly exasperated but trying tremendously hard.

“David Hasselhoff’s greatest hits?”

“Absolutely not,” he snapped, grinding his fangs.

We’d already been put through two hours of Air Supply’s entire catalogue and some kind of ear splitting polka music. I had to agree that the Hoff’s collection would end in bloodshed—theirs.

Flying would have been quicker, but it would have announced our arrival in a way that showed our hand. Flying was a skill that was rare. Not to mention the fact that Martha and Jane were novice flyers if you could even call what they did flying. It would have been awful and potentially very messy if they’d hit a telephone pole or a passing plane. The thought of having one of the old biddies strapped to my back all the way to Oklahoma was enough to make me love the long drive.

We were about seven hours into the ten-hour trip and the old pains in the ass had complained most of the way. I was actually impressed with myself and Gareth that they were still alive.

“So what’s the plan anyway?” Martha asked leaning over the seat and popping her wrinkly head in between us.

“The plan is that you keep your mouth closed for the next three hours so I don’t have to remove it,” Gareth said tightly.

“Sounds reasonable,” Martha agreed. “But I was talking about the actual mission—not the joy ride.

“We’re winging it,” I told her.

It was the truth. Not the best of plans, but we still weren’t sure if Vlad would be there. If he was truly obsessed with Claudia, he would be in attendance. I needed to get to her first and twist her arm—or neck—into helping us. Hell, we didn’t even know if she was aware of Vlad’s obsession. It would be hell not to kill her on sight, but Gareth and his sibling’s lives took precedent over my need for revenge. I would have my revenge, but not until she helped the man I… um, didn’t like all that much.

What the hell was wrong with me? While the little needles under my skin that I’d felt right after Gareth had made the deal with Satan had calmed down, I still felt very left of center. I needed to get laid and not by Gareth. I was simply horny. That was all.

“But we’re going for Vlad,” Martha persisted. “We want to capture him and not kill him?”

“You will not be involved in that part,” I informed her. As much as I wanted to decapitate both her and Jane, I wasn’t going to let Vlad touch a sparse hair on their heads. I was beginning to understand Astrid’s reluctant affection for the old dorks. “You will help me with the pageant and stay out of the way.”

“Just want to put it out there that I bit a bad Fairy in the ass,” Jane said with a not so humble shrug of pride. “I’d be happy to sink my fangs into that fucker’s ass if it would help.”

“Is this an alternate Universe?” Gareth asked with a helpless look of horror on his beautiful face. “They’re going to get themselves killed.”

“Listen to me, Dickie,” Jane said, patting him on the shoulder. “We should have been dust about forty-seven times already. We’re still here so that means we’re supposed to be. We are fully willing to bite asses and strip if necessary.”

“Stripping is never necessary,” I hissed. “You will keep your clothing on or you’re going home now.”

“Fine,” Jane huffed. “Don’t say I didn’t try to help.”

There was blessed silence for about five minutes. I kept my eyes trained on the road ahead even though they wanted to stray to the Vampyre driving the powerful car. I never did get a satisfactory explanation from anyone as to why I could see through Gareth’s glamour, but it didn’t matter. It would make it easier for me to keep an eye on him.

It had been decided that he would pose as my guard and the old gals as my chaperone and coach. Apparently on the pageant circuit one travelled with an entourage of sorts. The more I learned about the undead beauty contests, the more disgusted I became. There was cage fighting, a barely there bathing suit competition, another in evening gowns, and an interview.

Nine times out of ten several contestants died—for real died—in the cage-fighting portion of the festivities. It was a sexist, barbaric, and royally screwed up form of entertainment.

“We’re being followed,” Gareth said calmly, checking the rear view mirror.

“Seriously?” I asked, glancing at the side view mirror.

“Yep, for about ten miles. I’m going to turn off at the next exit and see if our guests would like to chat.”

“No one outside of us, Ethan, Astrid, The Kev, Gemma and Satan know what we’re doing and only Astrid and Ethan know we’re driving,” I said, watching the sleek Porsche follow us through several lane changes.

Checking my weapons, I turned back to the wide-eyed and very excited Martha and Jane. “You will stay in the car and get low. Do not come out of the car unless I call for you. Understand?”

“Roger that,” Martha said arming herself with everything that could pass for a weapon in the car.

Jane let her fangs drop and began to sharpen them with a metal file.

“What are you doing?” I asked, watching her go to town on her teeth.

“Sharpening up in case I need to bite some ass. I tell you, I’m really excellent at it.”

“Me too,” Martha said, revving up a hand held drill and having at her own fangs.

Speechless. They left me speechless. The only good thing was when they were sharpening their canines they couldn’t talk.

“Open your window a bit and see if you can catch a scent,” Gareth directed as he swerved across three lanes and took the exit.

Sure enough they followed.

“Angels,” I said through clenched teeth. “Not my idea of a fun meet and greet.”

“Chicken?” Gareth asked with amusement and a raised brow.

“Take that back.” I laughed and punched him in the arm. “Very little scares me.”

“I can think of something that scares you,” he said so softly I leaned in.

Leaving that one alone, I turned back to the old gals again. “Angels are not the species to screw with. They make Trolls look like household pets. You will not bite them, lob weapons at them, or even make eye contact. Clear?”

“You’re no fun at all,” Jane griped.

“I beg to disagree,” Gareth said. “And Venus is correct. If you make one false move with the heavenly bastards it will be your last.”

“You think they work for Rachmiel?” I asked, feeling my adrenaline spike.

“I’d put my money on Roberto. Roberto is aware we’re going after Vlad. They want Vlad alive for some reason. We’re collateral damage. My guess is they could care less if we live or die.”

“Not very Christian of them,” Martha grunted.

“Excellent point,” Gareth said flatly as he pulled into a deserted rest stop.

“Wait,” I said, making a decision before I could really think it through. “Are you at full strength?”

Gareth paused and stared straight ahead. “No, but I can handle an Angel or two.”

“No one can handle an Angel or two,” I muttered with a humorless laugh. I rolled up my sleeve and pressed my wrist to his lips. “Drink.”

“Are you hitting on me, Vampyre?” he asked as his eyes went green with desire.

“Absolutely not,” I snapped. “Been there, done that. Not going back. Drink. I’m tough, but I’ve never gone up against an Angel. I need you at full strength for purely selfish reasons, Vampyre.”

“Tis a pity.” Gareth grinned and winked at me as he ran his talented tongue from the center of my palm to the veins in my wrist.

I’d fed him once before when we’d gone after a horrid and now very dead Vampyre named Spike. One of Gareth’s gifts was that he could call and go to his siblings from millions of miles away. Spike had taken on Astrid’s form and lured Ethan into a deadly trap. Gareth had transported a group of us to his brother. The effort it took left him close to death in his cursed state. And yes… I had fed him. I didn’t regret it then and I wouldn’t regret it now. I would do it for anyone who I was fighting along side with.

“Drink,” I ordered.

“As you wish.”

His fangs sunk easily into my offered wrist and a burst of color shot across my vision.

Oh my Hell. This wasn’t like the last time at all.

Small shudders rocked my body as he drew blood from me. The needles beneath my skin returned with a vengeance and I grew wildly hot and uncomfortable. It didn’t help that he kept his eyes glued to mine as he drank.

Shitty taste in men. Shitty taste in men. Shitty taste in men. I needed to remember I had shitty taste in men. It was just hard to commit to the mantra when Gareth was staring at me like he would die without me.

“Um… you guys want us to step out of the car?” Jane asked with waggling brows. “Gettin’ a little smexy in here.”

“I’ll say,” Martha agreed with a cackle. “I’m getting a woody and I’m not even involved.”

“Women don’t get woodies,” I snarled, trying to cover my embarrassment and horniness with anger. Plus women didn’t get woodies.

Gareth removed his fangs and licked my wrist to close the puncture holes. It was so appallingly intimate, I was certain I had a mini orgasm just watching… so again I covered my ridiculous reaction with indifference and anger.

“They’re pulling up,” I growled, refusing to make eye contact until I had a little more control. “Have you ever fought an Angel?”

“I have.”

“Holy shitballs,” Jane shouted. “And you lived?”

“Apparently,” Gareth replied dryly.

“Any pointers?” I asked. I was as amazed as Jane, but not about to show it.

“Go for the eyes, it’s where all the magic lives. Once you blind them it becomes somewhat of a fair fight. Not easy, mind you, but it levels the playing field a bit.”

“And you know this how?” I inquired, checking my weapons one more time. I’d need short daggers and throwing stars if I wanted to take out an eye or two.

“I was trained to fight by an Angel,” he replied smoothly as he too checked his weapons.

That was unheard of. No Vampyre was trained by an Angel. Fairies were deadly, but Angels were freakin’ terrifying and none of them were partial to Vamps. Or at least I didn’t think they were.

“I call bullshit,” I said, gaping at him.

“Call whatever you want,” he shot back with a shrug. “The truth is the truth whether you want to believe it or not.”

The look in his eyes implied he was speaking of much more than the unbelievable fact that he was trained by an Angel. But this was not the time to press him for information I was certain I didn’t want to hear.

“Who trained you?” I asked, still doubtful.

“The most powerful angelic ass of them all.”

“Roberto?” I whispered, awed.

“The one and only. Shall we have a little celestial showdown?”

“You’re not lying?” I was flabbergasted and impressed… and turned on.

Shitty taste in men. Shitty taste in men. Shitty taste in men.

“I never lie. Ready?” Gareth asked.

“I was born ready,” I said as a small smile began to pull at my lips.

“That’s my girl.”

My stomach flipped at the endearment, but I quickly brushed it off. I liked it far better when he was being an ass to me.

“We will try and walk away from this without engaging. My guess is Roberto sent flunkies to keep an eye on what we’re doing.”

“Not very good flunkies if we spotted them,” Martha pointed out.

“Trust me,” Gareth said. “They wanted us to see them otherwise we wouldn’t have. Oh, and don’t call me Gareth. I don’t know if they’ll be able to see through the glamour, but it’s best they not know who I am.”

“Do you think they’ll see through it?” I asked.

Gareth shrugged and then looked pensive. “Possibly. Can you keep a secret?”

“I can,” Martha insisted. “I’ll take it to the grave that Jane was born a hermaphrodite.”

“Holy shit,” Jane shouted, head butting Martha with an alarming battle cry. “You wanna play hard ball? Fine. Martha has four nipples.”

“I’m gonna kick your ass, hooker,” Martha grunted as she tackled Jane and they went to town in the back seat.

“Not sure they can, but I can,” I told him with a grin.

“No worries,” he said. “I’ll wipe their minds later if I have to.”

“What’s the secret?”

Without a word, Gareth closed his eyes and shifted into the body of a gorgeous man with light brown hair and golden yellow eyes. It was instant and I sat slack jawed as I stared.

“What did you just do?” I asked loud enough to be heard over the ruckus in the back seat.

“One of my gifts,” he replied easily. “While the Angels might be able to see through Samuel’s glamour, I know for certain they can’t see through this.”

“Why did you let Samuel glamour you then?” I asked confused.

“This will only last a short while and takes a tremendous amount of power. I don’t have that power at my disposal right now, but your blood helped.”

“How long can you hold it?”

“Half hour—maybe a bit longer. So let’s get this show on the road.”

“What the ever lovin’ hell?” Jane exclaimed in her outdoor voice as she came up for air and noticed Gareth’s new appearance.

“Parlor trick,” he said.

“Cool,” Martha said as she too peered at him in fascination.

“My name is Dickie,” Gareth said with a smirk. “Dickie the Vampyre.”

“Understood.” Biting back my laugh at his mention of the ridiculous name I gave him, I nodded and prayed this new version of Gareth would hold up long enough for us to get out alive.

There was only one way to find out.