The Meridian Gamble Read online

  She knew that her people had never been able to garner more than a few drops of their enemies’ blood, but perhaps with Professor Lawton’s research, they could replicate the samples they had.

  It wouldn’t be hard to find them again, if she left tonight. She could go to one of the major cities, New York or Los Angeles, London. Abigail knew the signs to look for. It would be fun to see them, friends she had made over lifetimes. Perhaps she could enjoy some of the money she had managed to accumulate over the centuries, or experience the passion she had denied herself in this life. Even though this body was older now, she might find a few of her lovers who wouldn’t care, who would only remember the moments of ecstasy they had once shared. And perhaps she could help the scientists of the Luminos to use the research Professor Lawton had given them to extract the ultimate revenge.

  And then in a flash, everything changed, and her world was thrown into danger. She heard it, a small creak of the floorboards behind her. And very casually, she reached into her pocket, and put her thumb on the button of the trigger.

  Abigail turned, feigning a sudden fear.

  And there he stood in front of her, smiling cheerfully as you would with an old friend, which they were, in a sense. And it was unnerving, knowing his bright white teeth could pop out into fangs at any moment.

  The man who stood in her living room was handsome, stunningly so, with jet-black hair and deep green eyes that were dark, yet managed to sparkle. And he had the kind of masculine frame that could set a woman’s heart pumping. They had only met once, but she immediately recognized him. His name was Adam, and he was Enemy Number One among their people, the vampire who was most skilled in hunting them down. And, of course, there were the other rumors of his even more unbelievable past.

  “I’m sorry. It’s rude of me to interrupt you while you’re enjoying your wine,” he said.

  Which was kind, in a sense. He had no idea how hard she had worked to earn that bottle.

  Abigail tightened her grip on the trigger. Hopefully, he would think it was a knife she was fingering, to use against him.

  “How did you find me? May I ask?”

  “It was a few years ago in New York, when you were attending a conference, a chance thing. You passed by on the street, and I noticed your mind was hard to scan, which is always a sign,” he said.

  Abigail cursed herself for her foolishness, for allowing Professor Lawton to pressure her into accompanying him to the conference. Yet it had been difficult to refuse, as it related to work. She thought she had gotten away with the risk.

  “Your personal information didn’t reveal much, until I found the online transfers to that bank in the Caymans. That was sloppy of you. You didn’t seem significant enough to investigate right away, out here in the boondocks. But, of course, when the company took an interest in your research, I knew exactly what was going on.”

  The transfer was another mistake, though at least she had waited until later in life to succumb to greed. She had almost wished she had studied computers, to protect this sort of information from being tracked by the vampires, but that would have to wait until the next time around.

  “It’s interesting work that you’re doing here,” Adam said. “But I’m curious exactly what it is you hope to accomplish?”

  “To create a synthetic blood, of course. One that might finally sate you leeches, so we can all live in peace.”

  “I had no idea the Luminos were so charitable toward leeches,” he said with a smile.

  “It’s what you don’t know about us that will be your undoing.”

  But he only laughed at her banter, not threatened in the least. The man subtly shifted his weight on the balls of his feet, and she knew he was putting himself into a position from which he could spring. But he didn’t move yet, so as not to set her off, which only meant he wished to toy with her further.

  “So do I know you?” he asked, casually.

  “The 1950’s. My name was Imogen. I had been a spy for the government, among other things.”

  “Ah, yes,” he said, thinking back. “Sorry about that. Our little rendezvous got a bit … messy.”

  “These things happen. Besides, it seems like a lifetime ago,” she said with a smile.

  “This doesn’t have to go that way, if you tell me what I need to know.”

  Adam had brutally tortured her the one time they met, back when she was Imogen. He had cut her to shreds over hours, then allowed her to heal for a few days before torturing her once again. Her mind was strong, but even she couldn’t resist that abuse. He finally figured out that she didn’t have the information he required, and banished her to the tanks. It was the first time she had succumbed to that fate, and she had vowed it wouldn’t happen again. Judging from when she was born in this life, it must have been at least five or six years that the vampires had slowly drained her.

  And she was a bit surprised, by what he wanted to know. Was he really going to ask the same thing, after all this time? It was a relief in a way, to think that’s all he wanted, that he was so distracted by his whore he would miss the greater danger.

  “Have you seen Saga? Has she returned?”

  His lip quivered, he was so eager for her answer. You would think a creature so ancient would be better at controlling himself. Despite their animosity, the pain on his face was almost touching. And if she knew something about the woman, she would have almost wanted to tell him. Almost.

  Saga, the great conundrum. She was one of the few of her people who had ever been transformed into a vampire, which appealed to him for obvious reasons. Yet, she was also the only one of the Luminos who had not come back one life after another. As far as they knew, she had been born once, in Egypt, and after that had only returned in the Victorian era. Two measly lives, unless she had been hiding from them all, which was very likely. And it was bizarre, for so many reasons.

  Abigail had never come across her in all of her lives, but she wished that she had. She wondered what was so special about this woman that made the vampire chase after her so relentlessly, like a puppy after a ball. And he wasn’t the only one who wanted her. Abigail hoped she would have the good fortune to stumble across Saga some day. She would torture her the same way the vampires abused the Luminos, perhaps tie dynamite around her neck and blow her sky high, just to keep her away from this bastard of a man.

  “You’re still hung up on her? I would have thought you’d have given up by now.”

  “Not quite yet,” he said, taking a step.

  “Well, it’s too bad, because she’s given up on you. I’m sorry to say, Saga has moved on. Her name is Emiline now, and she lives in Toronto. In fact, she’s become one of our top assassins. But if you don’t believe me, I’m sure she’d be willing to plunge a knife in your heart to convince you.”

  There was no Emiline, of course. Abigail only hoped he would waste his time looking for a phantom after she was gone.

  A slight look of concern trembled across his face, and she could tell she had caught him off-guard. But quickly, his features became placid once more.

  Adam smiled.

  “If that were true, I’d be the one to hand her a blade.”

  She laughed at how easily he saw through her ruse. But looking at him, Abigail suddenly realized something; he didn’t care about the Luminos at all. All the hunting and stalking and searching hadn’t been about the war, it was for her, this Saga. He was hunting them down because he was hoping to stumble upon her again, because she was one of them, and he thought she might go back to the one place where she wasn’t wanted. It was almost romantic, somehow.

  But now that he knew Abigail was clueless to Saga’s whereabouts, she had to act quickly. Because the vampire could cover the distance between them faster than she could press the button.

  He didn’t move quite yet, but it seemed he could sense what she was about to do. And he had one last thing to say.

  “When you see your people again, tell them I will do anything they want, if they give
me Saga.”

  And her finger went down on the plunger.

  For a split second, she could see him dart, and thought he was coming after her. Which would have been a very good thing, if he were to get caught up in the inferno. But was that the sound of a window crashing, just before the world exploded around her?

  And if Abigail had more time, she would have felt relief knowing she wouldn’t have to spend years floating in the limbo of the tanks.

  Her body was engulfed in flames.

  And she found herself rushing down a tunnel, into a bright white light, just like in the movies. But it wasn’t just a light, it was a place she could see into. And Abigail remembered something they always seemed to forget in their time on Earth, something the vampires had tried to get out of them, which the Luminos had never revealed, because they couldn’t. And yet in these final seconds, it always came back to her like an old friend.

  Abigail remembered where it was they went between lives.

  Chapter One: Meridian

  “I really need to step up my game now that I’m officially an ad exec. The pressure is on to bring in new clients. But it’s so much more than just the networking that I’m loving; it’s the creativity. Jacob assigned me to the Bijoux Jeans campaign, which is such an incredible opportunity. My imagination is on fire with all the fresh new ideas I have for marketing their brand …”

  I roll my eyes, but Staci doesn’t even seem to notice.

  Now that she’s gotten her big promotion, she’s quickly becoming obnoxious. I’m not even sure why I’m friends with this girl, sometimes. She loves to brag, endlessly. Everything seems like a petty competition between us, even though she’s clearly more successful than I am. In fact, at times I’m not even sure what it is we’re supposed to be competing for.

  Though I suppose I’m kidding myself to pretend it’s all one-sided. Staci knows I want to move ahead at the agency, and I can’t help but to be just a bit jealous of her ascent. We both started as receptionists at the same time, and now she’s an important creative executive, or at least a junior one, while I’m stuck as a lowly assistant in the Human Resources Department.

  It’s so ironic, I work in the place that fills the jobs at the company, yet I can’t find the right position to help spur my climb up the corporate ladder. Which might be in part because I’m good at what I do, and my boss won’t want to see me leave. I know he’ll block any move I try to make. So I end up making subtle inquiries when jobs open up that I might like, or worse, not making any moves at all for fear of alienating him. And at times, I feel like my life is being defined by the risks I’m too afraid to take. It can all be so overwhelming. It feels like I’m stuck in a dismal fate that I’ll never change, like I’m a modern day Sisyphus pushing a boulder up a hill.

  “So tell me what you think of this. I’m picturing a series of print ads and TV spots showing Bijoux Jeans in classic movies, like a Saturday night at the cinema kind of thing,” she rambles on.

  “Gosh, that sounds so neat,” I say, trying to feign enthusiasm.

  “You could have ‘Star Wars,’ but with Luke and Han Solo wearing Bijoux Jeans as they fight the stormtroopers. Or ‘Saturday Night Fever,’ but with Bijoux Jeans instead of the iconic white suit …”

  And I pinch my thigh, so I won’t fall asleep while she’s talking.

  I try to tell myself that everything happens for a reason. Maybe I’m stuck in HR because I’m not meant to move ahead in advertising. Because what I really want to do is write. Writing has always been my thing. Even though I lack motivation at times, on another level, I feel a certain compulsion to write my little stories down. I feel like they’re important in some way, even though they’re just silly, romantic trifles.

  I’m secretly working on a Victorian novel, a tawdry tale about a rich girl named Caroline who is forced into marriage to save her family’s fortunes. Her father hatches a scheme to unite their company with that of another affluent family, and Caroline finds herself torn between a growing love for her new suitor, and a forbidden attraction toward his dark-haired scoundrel of a younger brother. But something is missing from it. There’s a darker twist to the story I haven’t quite figured out. Something about the rival family, and their sinister interest in absorbing the business that Caroline’s family owns.

  I’m thinking of adding in a magic subplot, but it seems out of place in a romance novel.

  And maybe I really am the one who is a bad friend, because I’m basing one of the characters in the story on Staci. In a very catty way. In my novel, Staci is Marjorie, the heroine’s beautiful older sister who becomes insanely jealous when she isn’t the one chosen for marriage by their rival’s handsome son.

  I’m not really sure why Staci reminds me of Marjorie, because they aren’t really much alike at all. Marjorie comes from the rich upper crust of society, while Staci is a working girl struggling to get ahead. Marjorie is a beauty with the perfect figure who all the boys chase after, and though Staci is an attractive girl, she has a more generous shape she constantly complains about. She goes to the doctor to find new prescriptions that might help her conquer her weight problem, which she swears is all chemical, and wears lumpy dark suits to cover her frame. Staci’s hair is full of scorched blonde locks that tumble to her shoulders, which she claims are the hottest new color, yet Marjorie has long brown tresses that hang straight to the middle of her back.

  But, on a deeper level, they are more similar. Both are boy crazy, and both have a competitive spirit, which some might even call petty. And there is something more, which I find hard to explain. Sometimes, I feel like Marjorie is the girl Staci would have been if she’d lived in the Victorian era, and came from a family of means.

  Sometimes, I feel like Staci was Marjorie in a past life. But the idea seems ridiculous.

  And as we munch on our Chinese Chicken Salads in the Asian Fusion restaurant, as I try to force myself to listen to her blabber about marketing tacky jeans, the strangest thing begins to happen. Right before my eyes, my friend begins to flicker and morph, and change into a different person. I think I’m starting to go crazy with my overactive imagination, because Staci begins transforming into Marjorie. Her yellow hair grows longer, and its thick curls straighten into long brown tresses. Her lips become more refined and seem to squeeze into a perfect, heart-shaped pout. The bright swipes of blush on her cheeks turn into a light, pale powder, and her figure seems to melt away in a manner that Staci can only dream of, as her dark business suit becomes a high-collared, white lace dress.

  For a moment, the entire restaurant seems to disappear, and I’m transported to the breakfast table of a grand Victorian manor. And Marjorie, the sister from my story, stares back at me.

  I shake my head, somehow pushing the vision away. And it scares me just a bit. Does this mean that I’m wildly creative and meant to be a writer, because of the vividness with which I can make my stories come to life? Or am I maybe going insane?

  “So what do you think? Do you want to go?”

  Staci stares at me expectantly, and I realize she’s been talking all along, and I have no idea what she’s been saying. But I decide to run with it, because it’s easier than explaining the place where my mind just went.

  “Sure, I’d love to go. Where are we going?”

  “Downtown Pub!” she says, in an exasperated tone. “A few of the people from Drexler Wexler are going to be there. Who knows, there might be some cute, successful guys.”

  And suddenly, I remember exactly why it is that I hang around with Staci so much, because she’s the perfect wingman, one who forces me out of my rut to go on the eternal hunt for hot men. And though Downtown Pub probably isn’t my type of place, I realize that if I want to move ahead in advertising, mixing with the suits from Drexler Wexler is exactly the kind of thing I need to do.

  “Heck, yeah. That sounds like a lot of fun,” I force myself to say.

  “Great,” Staci says. “Say, do you mind if we cut out of here? I want to hit Bloomie�
�s on the way back …”

  The waitress walks by, and Staci waves her over so we can divvy up the check.

  “So there’s this one guy at Drexler Wexler I’m kind of into,” Staci says. “His name is Darcy.”

  We’re walking down the sidewalk on Fifth Avenue, navigating our way through the bustling lunchtime crowd.

  “Oooh, tell me more! What’s he like?”

  “Well, he’s cute. And very successful. He just made Executive Director of Marketing. We’ve kind of been flirting over the phone, but I’m hoping if we get together, it can turn into something more than just business.”

  I know Staci. She’s probably making a point to mention Darcy so that I’ll steer clear, which is fine by me. One of the reasons she’s such a great wingman is that we have an unspoken agreement to never go after the same guy. And it works out well in most situations, because we’re both wallflowers who aren’t overly aggressive, and we both like different types. Staci is into the boring businessmen, guys she thinks will cheer her on as she climbs the corporate ladder and father her 2.5 kids. I tend to stay away from the metrosexual type and go for more masculine men. I tend to want something … more.

  As she tells me about her lust for Darcy, something catches my attention on the other side of the street, a man in the crowd. He’s still a ways off, but I can see him with such clarity for some reason, like my eyes focus in on him with telescopic vision; he’s African-American, a bit taller than the mob around him, and dressed in a business suit like every other guy. I’m not sure why he stands out to me, but as I stare at him, the psychic weirdness of the day continues. And he starts to glow.

  At first I think it’s a trick of the light. A kind of radiance seems to shine from within him, and forms a ring around his body. And the longer I stare at him, the more distinct it becomes, to the point that I no longer feel it’s an illusion.

  Is anyone else seeing this? I look to Staci, but she’s still talking about Darcy. The man stops at a crosswalk, but the other people on his side of the street just stand there as if nothing odd is happening.