Desire After Dark (11 page)

When she got home, Vicki hung her new jeans, skirt and dress on hangers and put them in the closet, along with her heels and handbag. She folded the sweaters and sweatshirts and put them in her dresser drawer, carefully concentrating on each task so she wouldn't have to think about what Ramona Heath had told her.

In the kitchen, she opened a can of soda, then sat down to read. After the first few pages, she put the book aside. She thumbed through a magazine, then went into the kitchen to get an apple. She washed it, then put it back in the fridge. Too restless to sit still, she went outside and started raking the leaves in the front yard.

It was a beautiful afternoon. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. The air was cool and crisp but not cold. The autumn leaves rustled beneath her feet as she raked them into a pile.

But all she could think of was yellow eyes and bodies drained of blood.

She shivered, suddenly chilled as she glanced over her shoulder. There was no one there, of course. It was broad daylight. Everyone knew vampires were active only after dark…

Tossing the rake aside, she went into the den and fired up her computer. She brought up Google in her browser, then typed “vampires” in the search window. The first page that came up read, “Web results 1–10 of about 2,310,000 for vampires.”

It was going to be a long day.

Settling back in her chair, she began to read. She found a wealth of information in the first ten sites alone!

One site claimed that everyone knew about vampires and also knew that there were no such things, at least not as portrayed in Hollywood. But there were vampires; however, they didn't suck the blood of humans, instead, they drained them of energy. According to one site, those who were thought to be vampires could have been merely people suffering from a variety of diseases, including acute anemia, which would leave a person looking pale, and catalepsy, which caused temporary paralysis so that the sufferer appeared dead. A person with catalepsy could see and hear but couldn't move. Vicki shuddered, imagining the horror of a relative who laid a loved one suffering from this condition in a coffin for burial, thinking they were dead, and then saw that loved one trying to rise from the coffin.

Another site suggested that many things that could not be explained in any other way were attributed to vampires. One of the most astonishing was the fact that some unlearned people believed that in the 1300s, vampires had caused the Black Death, which was, of course, bubonic fever.

In ancient times, it was believed that a baby born with a caul, teeth, or a tail was doomed to become a vampire, as was the seventh son of a seventh son, and anyone unfortunate enough to be bitten by a vampire. It was also believed that a child born out of wedlock would become one of the Undead. She had to laugh at that. If every child born out of wedlock in this day and age became a vampire, the world would be crawling with them.

She could only shake her head as she read about the various ways people had used to destroy vampires. Some believed in burying the body face down so that if it tried to escape, it would only dig itself deeper into the earth. Sometimes wooden stakes were placed above the grave so that if the vampire tried to leave, it would stab itself, hopefully through the heart. Other methods of ensuring that a vampire did not rise again were wrapping the body in cloth or a carpet, or tying its arms and legs together.

Another site, which she found fascinating, stated that vampires were not supernatural or immortal, but that the vampire trait was part of their DNA, and this trait was likened to a viral imperfection. Some believed this trait could be passed on, some said it could only be inherited. There was another theory that vampires were beings who could not accept their own death, and when their body died, their soul invaded the body of an infant at birth, thereby providing the vampire with a new body and a new life. It was believed that these vampires went through many bodies, and for this reason they thought of themselves as old souls. It was believed that these creatures were hardier than humans, healed faster when hurt or sick, had heightened senses, and were extremely sensitive to sunlight.

By the time she reached the third page, her mind was swimming with so much conflicting information that she didn't know what to believe.

After shutting down her computer, she went into the kitchen, surprised to see that the sun was setting. Amazing, how quickly one lost track of time while cruising the Web.

Standing in front of the refrigerator, trying to decide what to have for dinner, she happened to glance out the window. There was nothing there, but she went over and drew the curtains anyway, and then she went through the rest of the house, locking the doors, making sure all the windows were closed and locked, drawing all the curtains and drapes.

Feeling much better, she went back into the kitchen to fix dinner.

 

Feeling weary and utterly discouraged, Tom Duncan entered Ozzie's Diner. He took a seat at a table in the far corner, one hand idly exploring the bandage on the back of his head. In spite of his injury, he had spent the afternoon scouring the town for Dimitri Falco's resting place. Unfortunately, he hadn't found what he was looking for. Tomorrow, he planned to widen his search, perhaps take in Woods Hollow and Cottonwood. Of course, as swiftly as vampires could travel, Falco's hideout could be hundreds of miles away from Pear Blossom Creek.

With a sigh, Duncan picked up the menu.

He was still trying to decide what to have for dinner when the waitress approached his table.

“Hey there,” she said brightly. “Have you decided yet, or do you need another few minutes?”

Tom looked up into a pair of sparkling brown eyes and wondered why he hadn't noticed her before. “How's the trout?”

The waitress, Bobbie Sue, according to her name tag, shook her head. “Not tonight.”

“What do you recommend?”

“The fried chicken is looking really good.”

“All right, I'll have that.”

“Soup or salad?”

“Whichever one looks best.”

“Soup,” she said, and jotted it down on her pad. “Can I bring you a cup of coffee?”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

He watched her walk away, admiring the sway of her hips, surprised by the rush of desire that infused him.

She returned a few minutes later with his coffee. “Here you go.”

“Thanks. Say, I don't suppose you'd like to go to dinner and a movie some night?”

“I thought you were going out with Vicki?”

He shrugged. “It wasn't anything serious. Just dinner. What do you say?”

“Sure, I'd like that, as long as we don't have dinner here.”

He laughed. “We'll go anywhere you like.”

“Really?”

“Sure, why not?”

“My favorite restaurant's the Wayside Grill over in Woods Hollow. They have a new movie theater there, too.”

“Sounds good to me. Just say when.”

“I'm off tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night it is.”

 

Too nervous to relax, Vicki wandered through the house. She fed the fish, straightened a picture here, a figurine there. She glanced at the windows again and again, wondering if the vampire was out there, waiting, watching.

Finally, unable to resist, she went to the front window and peered outside.

And he was there, a stark figure standing on the sidewalk, his yellow eyes glinting in the darkness.

Vicki, come out to me
. His voice echoed deep within her mind.
You know you want to. Even now, you're wondering what it would be like to succumb to me.

“No!”

You can lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me.

“Go away!” She screamed the words.

You will be mine, Vicki Cavendish. Sooner or later, you will be mine. That weak mortal hunter, Duncan, cannot save you.

She was trembling now. His voice mesmerized her, tempting her to go to him, even as her own morbid curiosity urged her toward the door. No! She willed herself to stay where she was. Antonio would come. He would save her.

The sound of Falco's laughter rang out in her mind.

Battista can't save you. He's no match for me.

“He beat you the other night!”

The vampire's anger rolled over her in thick black waves until she felt like she was drowning in pitch. And then, to her horror, she saw him bending over Sharlene's lifeless body, his mouth stained with her blood, a lock of Sharlene's hair clutched in his hand. Gradually, the image altered, the scene shifted, and suddenly the body at his feet was no longer Sharlene's but her own, and she knew she was looking into the future as he saw it.

“No.” The word emerged from Vicki's throat in a choked whisper. “No.”

The eerie sound of his inhuman laughter engulfed her, beating against her ears, penetrating her whole being until she was shaking from the pain of it.

I would have made you my queen.
His voice was filled with fury.
Now, you will beg me for death before it comes.

She stood rooted to the spot, too terrified to move, unable to think. She was going to die at his hands, and there was nothing she could do about it. Why not go out and get it over with now?

She stared out the front window while the vampire's threat echoed like thunder in her mind. If she went to him now, maybe he would forgive her for her earlier insolence.

“Victoria!” A fist pounded on the door. “Victoria, let me in!”

The door, she thought. She should answer the door, but her feet refused to move.

“Victoria, I know you are in there.” His voice was quieter now, moving over her like cool water on a hot day, washing away her fears. “Open the door, my sweet one.”

Freed from her earlier enchantment, she moved toward the door and turned the lock.

Battista stood on the porch, his dark eyes filled with concern. “Are you all right?”

She shook her head, searching for the words to describe the awful terror that had engulfed her, and then she burst into tears.

Muttering an oath, Battista crossed the threshold. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to the sofa.

Vicki heard the door close. A distant part of her mind wondered how he had closed the door, but it was too painful to think and then it didn't matter. He was sitting down, cradling her trembling body against his broad chest, whispering to her in a language she didn't understand but found comforting just the same.

Gradually, her tears slowed and stopped but she didn't move, didn't ever want to move. His large hand lightly stroked her back. His breath fanned her cheek. She felt cherished, protected.

“How?” she murmured after a time. “How is it that you always show up when he's here?”

“Does it matter?”

With a sigh, she shook her head. “No.” All that mattered was that he was there now. Lately, it was only in his arms that she felt safe.

It was only later, after Antonio had tucked her into bed, that she wondered if Duncan was right after all. Maybe the reason Antonio always turned up on the same nights as Falco was because they were one and the same.

But somehow she was just too tired to care.

Dimitri Falco stalked the dark streets, his fury growing as he thought of the woman who had dared to defy him. She was a stubborn one, a fact she would soon regret. He had chosen her as his next victim, and he would not be denied. Try as she might, she would not be able to resist him indefinitely. Her defenses would weaken. In time, she would come to him when he called.

He spat an oath into the night. He could take her by force if need be, but the mere idea rankled. In a thousand years, he had never had to force any female to surrender to his will. He would not start now.

Returning to his lair, he ran his hands along his trophy wall, his fingers delving into the thick red strands of human hair. He remembered each kill, the delicious terror imprinted on each face, the sweet nectar of each throat, no two exactly the same, each unique in its ability to satisfy his insatiable thirst.

He licked his lips as the hunger rose up within him, at first no more than a thought, then a desire, then a need that would not be denied.

Soon, he thought. Soon she would be his. When that time came, she would regret the pain she had caused him by making him wait.

Vicki wasn't surprised to awaken the next morning and find herself alone in the house. Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling. Antonio had held her all through the night. He had been there when she woke in the dark, terrified by dreams of Falco hunting her down, his fangs savaging her throat even as his hand ripped out a handful of her hair. Antonio's voice had soothed her fears. His intoxicating kisses had chased all thought of the nightmare from her mind. Secure in his embrace, she had reveled in the touch of his hands and his lips, every nerve and cell in her body tingling with desire. She wished that he had stayed the night, that they had made love, that he was lying there beside her.

With a sigh, she pulled on her robe and padded into the kitchen. She opened the curtains on a morning that was gray and dreary. A rumble of thunder promised showers before the day was out.

She poured herself a cup of coffee, annoyed that another night had passed and she hadn't gotten around to asking Antonio anything about his past or his present. Tonight for sure, she promised herself, and wondered again what he did during the day. She knew it wasn't work that kept him occupied, so what was it?

The sound of rain drew her gaze to the window again. So much for working in the yard. Ordinarily, she loved the rain, but not today. She needed to be busy, needed something that would keep her from thinking about yellow eyes and vampires and bodies drained of blood.

Now, in the light of day, even a rainy day, it was hard to believe that beings like vampires existed. They were supposed to be creatures of myth and legend, the focus of scary stories told around campfires late at night.

With nothing better to do, she decided to clean out the fridge. But even that mundane task backfired on her when she dropped a bottle of ketchup on the floor. She stared at the red stain spreading over the tile and thought of Sharlene and the other women who had been killed. She hoped their deaths had come quickly, before they had time to be afraid.

Grabbing a rag, she wiped up the mess, then went into the bathroom. She filled the tub with hot water, added a generous amount of bubbles, and grabbed a book from the shelf. Settling back in the tub, she lost herself in the fantasy world of Frodo and Sam where good always triumphed over evil and the world of men prevailed in spite of overwhelming odds.

 

Tom Duncan glanced at his watch. Almost five. He'd have to hurry if he was going to make it back to Pear Blossom Creek in time to shower and change his clothes and make it to Bobbie Sue's house by six.

Bobbie Sue. She had been much on his mind this day, making it difficult to concentrate on what he was about. The thought of going out with her remained the only bright spot in what had been a decidedly unprofitable day. He had found nothing, nothing at all to indicate where Dimitri Falco might take his rest during the hours of daylight. With a shake of his head, Duncan wondered if he'd lost whatever gift for hunting the Undead he had possessed. Perhaps it was time to give up hunting and take up a new line of work, something a little less intense, like flipping burgers at McDonald's.

He muttered an oath when the small dirt road he had hoped was a shortcut to the main highway narrowed even further and then came to an abrupt end. He was about to curse his bad luck when he saw the points of a white picket fence barely visible behind a mountain of weeds and shrubbery. Glancing to the left, he saw a weathered sign that read
SHADY CORNERS CEMETERY
.

Feeling a rush of anticipation, he cut the engine and climbed out of the car. He went around to the trunk, grabbed a few necessary items, and made his way to the gate. It opened with a loud squeal of rusty hinges.

His footsteps made no sound as he moved among the graves, the majority of them overgrown with weeds and briars. Not surprising, he supposed, since the dates on most of the tombstones dated back to the early 1880s. Some were so ancient that time had erased the markings.

And then he saw it, a faint disturbance in the dirt near a crypt made of aged gray stone. A white marble angel sat on the top, sightless eyes staring into eternity.

Going suddenly still, Duncan paused outside the door of the tomb, his senses testing the air. A vampire rested behind the door. He knew it as well as he knew the sun would rise in the east.

The door to the sepulcher opened with a whisper of stone against stone. Peering inside, he saw a single coffin on a raised dais.

Duncan took a step inside, his nostrils filling with the lingering stink of death and decay.

Holding stake and hammer at the ready in one hand, he lifted the lid of the coffin.

The body inside rested on a bed of white satin, its skin almost as pale as the cloth that lined the casket. A bit of dried blood was caught in the corner of its mouth, the red standing out in stark contrast against the wan complexion.

Taking a deep breath, Duncan placed the sharp tip of the hawthorn stake over the vampire's heart and raised the hammer.

Muttering, “Die, you bloodsucker,” he drove the stake home.

The creature within the coffin shrieked as the stake penetrated its heart. Blood sprayed from the wound, splattering over Duncan, the vampire, and the walls of the tomb.

The vampire writhed in agony for several minutes and then, with a last hiss, the creature's body just aged away until there was nothing left but the vague outline of a body against the silk.

When it was done, Duncan turned away and wiped his face on his sleeve.

After days of searching, he had found a vampire.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the vampire he had been searching for.

 

Vicki hummed softly as she dressed for work that night. She was looking forward to getting out of the house. Anything was better than sitting at home thinking about vampires and listening to the rain pounding on the roof. She was anxious to see Gus and the other regulars, to hear people talking about mundane things like the weather and the price of gas. Here, at home alone, she had too much time to think about things she didn't want to think about.

Slipping into her coat, she grabbed her keys and her handbag and headed for the front door, only to pause with her hand on the latch.

Moving to the window beside the door, she drew back the curtain and peered out into the night. Was Falco out there, waiting for her in the darkness? She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she tried to see through the heavy curtain of rain.

A knock at the door caused her heart to leap into her throat.

“Victoria?”

“Antonio!” With a sigh of relief, she opened the door.

And looked into a pair of glowing yellow eyes.

Vicki stared at the vampire, her handbag and keys falling from fingers suddenly numb. His was a face she remembered all too well. Now, knowing what he was, it surprised her that his countenance was fair to look upon. A creature such as this, one who did such unspeakable things to the innocent, should be as ugly as the atrocities he committed.

He held out his hand and smiled. “Come to me, Victoria. It is your destiny.”

His voice, which should have been as cold as the grave, beckoned her softly.

She took one step forward, and then another. One more step and she would be at his mercy.

His breathing quickened. His lips parted in a parody of a smile. “Yes, yes,” he murmured. “Come to me.” His eyes blazed with anticipation as the toe of her shoe touched the threshold.

“No! Victoria, stop!”

Vicki shook her head as a wild cry, louder than the thunder that rolled across the heavens, reached her ears, breaking the vampire's enchantment.

Fangs bared, Dimitri Falco whirled around and hurled himself at the man standing at the bottom of the porch steps.

After slamming the door, Vicki ran to the window, but she could make out little of what was happening. Both Antonio and Falco were clad in black, making it difficult to separate one from the other. The rain blurred her vision. Thunder shook the earth. Lightning ripped through the lowering clouds. A short distance away, a tree went up in flames.

Needing to see what was happening, Vicki ran out onto the porch. She stopped at the edge, one hand wrapping around the post as she watched the battle below.

It was a strangely silent and graceful battle. Fangs flashed in the darkness, as blindingly white as the lightning that rent the skies.

Vicki pressed a hand to her heart, wishing she could see what was going on, praying that Antonio would emerge victorious, though she knew the odds were slim that he would survive a battle against an angry vampire. As the battle raged, they moved away from the porch toward the street, making it more difficult for her to see what was happening.

She shuddered, remembering bits and pieces of what she had read on-line—that vampires had the strength of twenty men, that they could change shape, that they could only be destroyed by driving a stake through their heart, burning them to ash, or cutting off their head. Somehow, she doubted Antonio had a wooden stake or a hatchet stuck in his back pocket, so unless Falco was struck by lightning, there seemed little hope that Antonio would destroy him.

Her fingernails dug into the post as the battle grew more intense. There was a sudden silence as the rain stopped. The thunder grew quiet in the skies, and it was as if the whole earth were holding its breath.

Into the stillness came a high-pitched keening cry more horrible than anything Vicki had ever heard in her life.

There was a flurry of indiscernible motion near the street, and then, in the blink of an eye, the fight was over and only one man remained, indistinct in the darkness. He stood there a moment, his back toward her, staring into the distance, and then slowly sank to the ground, his body sprawled on the walkway, his head and face covered by the folds of a long black coat.

Holding her breath, Vicki backed toward the door. She stepped over the threshold and into the safety of her house, her gaze never leaving the dark shape sprawled on the sidewalk at the foot of the steps.

Was it Falco? Or Antonio?

She watched for what seemed like an eternity before the man on the pavement moved. Overhead, the moon pushed its way through the clouds.

On the street, the man sat up, brushing his coat aside, revealing a head of thick black hair. With a sigh of relief, Vicki ran out the front door and down the stairs.

“Antonio!” Grabbing him by the arm, she pulled him to his feet, her gaze darting right and left. “Hurry, before he comes back.”

Staggering, he followed her up the stairs and into the warm haven of her home.

She quickly closed and locked the door, then turned to help him out of his wet coat.

“You're bleeding!” she exclaimed. In the light cast by the lamps, she could see that there was blood on the front of his shirt. He had a wicked-looking cut on his left forearm, another on his cheek, and still another on his neck. And he looked pale, so very pale. “You're not going to faint, are you? Here, sit down. Maybe we should go to the hospital. That gash on your arm looks like it needs stitching.”

With a shake of his head, he sank down on her sofa. “No need.”

“No need? It's almost to the bone. Did he have a knife?”

A faint smile tugged at Antonio's lips. “No, just his teeth.”

Frowning, Vicki went into the kitchen. She filled a bowl with warm, salted water, pulled a couple of clean dish towels from a drawer, then went into the bathroom for a tube of first aid cream before returning to the living room.

Antonio was sitting where she had left him, his head resting against the back of the sofa, his eyes closed. For one horrible moment, she thought he was dead. From where she stood, it didn't look like he was breathing.

“Antonio?” She hurried to the couch and sat beside him. “Oh, Lord, Antonio, please don't be dead.”

His eyelids fluttered open. “Undead,” he murmured with a wry grin.

“What?”

“Nothing. Do not worry about me, my sweet one.”

“But, you're hurt, bleeding.” She placed the bowl, towels, and cream on the table beside the sofa. “Let me help you out of your…” She stared at his arm. It had stopped bleeding. What had been a nasty gash almost to the bone only moments ago was now no more than a wide scratch on his arm. The cut on his cheek had disappeared. The one on his neck was closing, fading, gone.

Vicki looked up to find him watching her, his expression impassive.

She sat back on her heels while her mind tried to make sense of what she was seeing. She tried to tell herself it was nothing out of the ordinary, that some people just healed faster than others. But cuts as deep as the one in his forearm didn't heal in a matter of minutes.

She clasped her hands in her lap, willing them to stop trembling. “What?” she asked in a voice that sounded nothing like her own. “What are you?”