there was a cross tattooed on the palm of the right one.
"Miss Richards, I don't want to worry you, but I fear your life is in danger. Grave danger."
"Maybe you should stop all this cloak-and-dagger stuff and just cut to the chase," Marisa said.
"Very well. If what I suspect is true, Alexi Kristov is following you."
Marisa frowned. "Who?" she asked, wondering why the name sounded so familiar.
"Alexi Kristov. Count Alexi Kristov."
Marisa blinked at Ramsey, and then started to laugh. "Who put you up to this?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"This is a joke, right? Did Grigori send you here?"
"Grigori? Grigori Chiavari?"
"I don't know his last name."
"Is he here?" Ramsey's gaze darted past her to the front door. "Now?"
"No." She took a step backward, wondering if it was safe to open the door, or if he would try to force himself inside.
She glanced over the landing, hoping to see Mr. Abbott watering the front lawn, as was his wont in the evening, but there was no one in sight.
"What's all this nonsense about Alexi Kristov, anyway?" she asked, feeling irritable after a long, hard day at work. "He's dead."
Ramsey nodded. "Indeed, he is."
"You want me to believe that a dead vampire is following me?"
The faintest of grins curved Ramsey's lips. Tiny lines crinkled near his eyes. "I'm afraid there are no other kind."
Marisa stared at him. "What? Oh, right, I guess vampires are dead, aren't they?" She let out a sigh of exasperation. "Listen, you're too late for Halloween and too early for April Fool's, so, if you'll just excuse me - "
"Miss Richards - "
"I don't believe in vampires."
"That does not make them less real, nor does it make the danger to you less great."
"Listen, I don't know what you're up to, or what you're selling, but I find it to be in incredibly bad taste. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've had a long day."
"Miss Richards, please, you must listen to me!"
"I've heard enough." Not willing to turn her back on him, she took a step backward, her hand tightening on her key ring. "If you don't get out of here, I'll scream bloody murder."
Ramsey stared at her a moment, then sighed in resignation. "As you wish." Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew a business card. "If you need help, you can reach me at this number. I only hope you call me before it's too late."
He turned and started down the stairs. "If I were you," he called over his shoulder, "I would not leave the shelter of my house after sunset, nor would I go walking in the dark with Grigori Chiavari again."
"What? Wait a minute!"
Ramsey paused on the steps, and then turned to face her.
"What do you mean? Why shouldn't I see Grigori again?"
"He's one of them."
"One of them? You mean a vampire?"
Ramsey nodded. "Good evening, Miss Richards. I hope I see you again."
She was fixing dinner when the phone rang. She knew, even before she picked up the receiver, that it was Grigori. Ramsey's warning flashed through her mind, and for just an instant, she was tempted to hang up. And then she shook her head. Vampires, indeed. The whole idea was ludicrous.
"Marisa?"
"Yes, hello."
"I was wondering if I could interest you in a movie."
"A movie? Tonight?" She hadn't believed a thing Ramsey had told her, yet she was suddenly reluctant to see Grigori again.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing. I'm, ah, just surprised to hear from you."
There was a moment of silence, and she had the eerie feeling that he was reading her mind, that he knew exactly what she was thinking, and why. But that was ridiculous.
She stared at the receiver. "Are you still there?"
"Yes. I should very much like to see you tonight." His voice was warm and thick and sinfully rich, like hot fudge poured over chocolate ice cream.
"I'm really not in the mood for a movie."
"I see."
There was a long silence. Before she quite realized what she was doing, she found herself inviting him to dinner.
"Thank you, I've already eaten, but I'd love to come by and share a glass of wine with you, say, in an hour."
"Okay, see you then."
She replaced the receiver in the cradle, very gently, then stood there, shaking her head. She'd had no intention of inviting him over. Why had she agreed to see him?
She ate quickly, dumped the dishes in the dishwasher, wiped off the sink, then hurriedly straightened up the front room. When that was done, she changed out of her worn jeans