Zen and the Art of Vampires

"Damned child locks," I cursed as I tried to pry the lock upward.

"She has the stone," the man identified as Kristoff said, his head jerking back toward me.

"It's not mine!" I yelled, shaking the stone at him. "I told the same thing to those other people, not to mention the ghosts."

"Ghosts?" the driver said, looking more interested than skeptical.

"Yes. People who drowned on a ship, I think. A long time ago, but I'm not whoever they're looking for, too. I've never seen this stone before. I think it came in a book I bought this afternoon, a book that a Frenchwoman was trying to find."

The unnamed man driving slowed down and pulled over in the parking lot of a darkened bank. "What is your name?"

"Pia Thomason. I'm from Seattle, here with a tour group." My cheeks flamed to life again. I didn't think I could stand the contempt that was sure to be in Kristoff's eyes if I mentioned what sort of group it was. "I bought a couple of used books this afternoon, and I think the bookmark must have been hidden in one of them, because I sure as shooting never saw anything like it before." Quickly I recounted the brief meeting with the woman in the square. "The bookmark is probably hers."

"Bookmark?" the driver asked.

"Yeah, it's a bookmark, see?" I pretended my hand was a book and slid the silken cord over it.

"I can assure you, Pia, it is not a bookmark," the man said, smiling at me in the mirror.

I couldn't help but smile back at him, charmed by the warmth in his expression. His face had a softer look to it than his harsh friend's, his green eyes slightly tilted up at the edges, with laugh lines radiating outward.

"That's as may be, but I assure you it's not mine. I was going to try to find the woman it belongs to, but there are so many people out, I doubt if I could spot her."

He watched me for a moment before turning to Kristoff, who regarded me with suspicious eyes. "She could be telling the truth."

"It's not likely," Kristoff answered. "She saw ghosts."

"That's likely to be due to the stone, since I've never seen anything weird before. Well, sometimes at the beach guys who think they are Speedo-worthy, but that's neither here nor there. And just an FYI—I hate being talked about as if I'm not here even more than I hate being stuffed into a car and driven off without my consent. I believe technically this a kidnapping, and I'm fairly certain it's illegal even in Iceland."

They both ignored me.

"She was running from the sacristan," the nice one said.

Kristoff's lips thinned. "It is an act, Alec, put on to make us think just what you're thinking."

Alec! Aha, a name at last.

"But—"

"If you would oblige me by not believing everything a woman tells you, we might live to see this task done," Kristoff said, rubbing a spot on his chest.

Contriteness filled Alec's face. I spent a moment musing just how much I liked his name, but dragged my mind back to the task of escaping the latest in what seemed to be an evening filled with strange episodes.

"You said the wound was healed. If it is still bothering you—"

"It has long since healed, but it reminds me of the folly of taking people for granted." Kristoff's eyes glowed in the darkness of the car as he glanced back at me. "It is said the blood of a Zorya can heal any injury."

"That's it!" I said, holding up my hands. "I'm officially through. I've been insulted, challenged, nearly brainwashed by some deranged cult, hunted, pleaded at by a pair of ghosts and leered at by a third, rejected, and now kidnapped, but when you start talking about using my blood, it's time for me to go to bed and pretend I never came on this trip. Since you're so determined to drive me somewhere, would you please drive to the Hotel Andersson? Thank you."

I sat back in the seat, determined to hang on to what was left of my shreds of reason. If I believed hard enough that these two handsome, but clearly unbalanced, men were just taking me to my hotel, and not about to commit some sort of ghastly blood sacrifice, perhaps I could escape with my sanity intact.

Alec considered me again with a not unfriendly eye. "We could go to the bookseller, to see if it proves her story."

"That would just be a waste of time. The shop is sure to be closed at this time of night."

"If I was still talking to either of you, which I'm not because I no longer recognize your existence, I would point out that although the shop was closed, there might be some sort of clue there as to the origins of the bookmark," I said, calmly examining a fingernail.

"She has a point," Alec agreed.

I decided to unbend enough to give him a grateful smile. He returned it with a little wink. I started to feel a bit warm as another blush swept upward. Could it be possible he was flirting with me? A man as handsome as him? As unobtrusively as possible, I sat up a little straighter to maximize my good points (large boobs) and minimize the bad (rest of the body).