Embrace the Twilight (11 page)

“You wanted me to come back to you when I was nothing more than a spirit, a voice in your head. You didn't want my blood or my body then, because for all you knew, I didn't have either one. You wanted
me.
You loved
me,
Sarafina. I know you did.”

“I wanted company. A stray cat would've done just as well. But I've cured myself of that flaw, Willem Stone. I no longer need companionship. In fact, I revile it.”

He released her, and she released him. They sat back in their seats, staring at each other. “Then I guess I should leave,” he said.

“While you still can,” she advised.

He smiled slowly at her, got to his feet, reached for the cane beside the chair and walked out of the place without once looking back. Sarafina swallowed hard. God, she'd missed him so. She wanted him. Exactly the way she had told him she did, with one exception. She didn't want to kill him. He fascinated her, in spite of herself. She wanted his voice, his friendship, his comforting presence in her dark times, the way she'd had it once.

But those were desires she would not satisfy. He was a mortal. Not even one of The Chosen, just an ordinary mortal. She would not allow herself to become even passingly fond of a creature who would inevitably leave her alone. She knew that pain too well and had no desire to experience it again.

No. Not ever. And especially not with him.

Sarafina closed her eyes, turned her face toward the rear wall, and, for the first time in a very long time, she wept. Tears rolled down her cheeks against her will.

She still felt him with her. She didn't know where he was, but she knew he was aware of her crying. And she knew he was bleeding inside.

W
ill returned to the apartment. The vampire, Jameson Bryant, was there waiting.

“I thought you said tomorrow night,” Will asked, unsurprised when he walked in to see the creature there at his table. He helped himself to a beer, then turned, holding the bottle up in question.

The vampire shook his head no. “I never drink…beer.”

“So why are you still here?”

“I couldn't wait.” Bryant said, then frowned. “You looked more dead than I am, earlier tonight. Now there's color in your cheeks. If you were one of us, I would say you'd just fed.”

“That's disgusting.” Will took a long pull of his beer, then sat down.

“I used to agree.” Bryant shrugged. “You spoke with Sarafina?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Yeah.”

“And?”

Will met the man's eyes slowly. “You kept your end of the bargain. I'll keep mine.”

“I already surmised as much. But what happened between you and the vampiress?”

Will looked him dead in the eye, making every effort to let the vampire read his thoughts this time, if such a thing were possible. He let his expression tell the vampire that he was treading on sacred ground, and then he changed the subject. “Tell me about your daughter.”

Bryant smiled slowly, and Will knew he'd received the message loud and clear. “She's eighteen,” he said. “And she's not a vampire.”

Will was surprised by that statement. “How is that possible?”

“It's a long story, and one I'll tell you some day. I was mortal when she was conceived. My wife was not. Amber Lily is the only child of her kind, and those who hunt us would give anything to get their hands on her.”

He nodded slowly. “So she's…normal?”

Bryant shook his head left, then right. “Not exactly. She isn't a vampire. She ages normally, so far. She can go out in the sunlight. She doesn't need to drink blood. She can eat normal food, though she seems to require excessive amounts of protein—which is an extreme challenge now that she's declared herself a vegetarian.”

Will laughed out loud. He clamped his jaw to stop it at an impatient look from Bryant, but then the vampire grinned, as well. “It
is
rather ironic, isn't it?”

“Slightly,” Will said.

“Amber has the same antigen in her blood that all vampires had as humans—the Belladonna Antigen. Though from the tests we've run so far, it appears to be mutated in her.”

“What does this…antigen do? In those who have it, I mean?” Will asked. He was deeply interested in this now.

“Only humans who have the antigen can become vampires. If we attempted to change anyone else, they would simply die. It's very rare, and mortals who have it rarely live past the age of thirty.” His voice quieted when he said that last sentence.

Will thought of Sarafina, those first few times he'd seen her. How easily she had tired, and how she worried that she was becoming ill. It made sense to him now. Then he reminded himself that this man was speaking about his own child and jerked himself back to the present.

“You say the antigen is mutated in your daughter. So that may not be the case, right? And even if it were, couldn't you just make her a vampire like you and she'd be okay?”

“We have no way of knowing whether the antigen will cause Amber Lily to die young or not. Just as we have no way of knowing whether she would survive the transformation. As I said, she's one-of-a-kind.”

Will saw the ache in the other man's eyes. It was the same ache he would expect to see in the eyes of any man who was forced to consider the mortality of his own child. “I'm sorry.”

Jameson cleared his throat, busied himself removing a billfold from his pocket and opening it to a photograph of a teenage girl. He held it out to Will.

Will took it, looked, then looked again. “She's…stunning.”

“The photo doesn't do her justice. We thought her hair was going to be raven, like her mother's. But it's not. It's this rich, dark auburn—like fire when the light hits it at a certain angle. She has eyes of such a deep shade of blue that they appear ebony most of the time.” Bryant took the folder back. “She's stronger than ordinary girls. Faster. She's good at reading thoughts that are not guarded. And she seems to have some telekinetic ability, though it's far from under control at this point.”

“Telekinetic…you mean she can move things?”

“Mmm,” Bryant replied with a nod.

“Anything else?”

“Yes. She's stubborn as a mule. She's spoiled rather rotten. She's a hopeless romantic, and she is far too adventurous for her own good. Like us, she has a condition similar to hemophilia, though milder. If cut, she bleeds excessively, though eventually clotting takes place. Unlike us, she doesn't heal while she sleeps—but she does heal far more quickly than an ordinary mortal would. Other than that, I'm not sure what her vulnerabilities are. I hope to God I never have to find out. She's never been ill. She's never broken a bone. But then again, we've spent every moment protecting her. Watching over her.”

“No wonder she's so eager to get out of the nest.”

Jameson shot Will a look that should have incinerated him. He tried a smile in return. “Sorry. I was kidding.”

“Too accurately, I'm afraid.” He got to his feet. “She's booked at the Marriott Marquis on Saturday. Here's the flight information.” He slid a scrap of paper across the table. “Her best friend Alicia will be with her. She's a petite blonde. They'll be traveling as sisters under the name Howe. All right?”

“Got it.”

Bryant reached into his jacket again, this time pulling out a thick stack of bills, wrapped in a paper seal. “One hundred thousand dollars,” he said, slapping the money onto the table. “I know you said you didn't need it, but I can hardly expect you to work for free, now can I? My daughter's life is worth a thousand times this, and more. There will be another payment of the same size sent to you when she returns safely home.”

Will glanced at the money. “And she's in town for…?”

“One week.”

“One week.” Will pursed his lips, reached out and took the cash. “Two hundred grand for a week babysitting Super Girl. Hell, I'm robbing you, Bryant.”

“You may well demand more by the time we finish. I wouldn't quibble if you did.”

Will yawned, doubting he would have any trouble with the child.

“The most important thing is that she not know I've hired you. She must think she's on her own, otherwise this trip will be wasted and she'll be looking for some other way to try her wings.”

Will crooked a brow. “You
are
talking metaphorically, right? I mean, she doesn't actually
have
wings.”

The vampire sent him a look, but he only shrugged. Shit, if there could be vampires and teenagers with superpowers, why couldn't there be wings?

“I'm trusting you with my daughter's life, Willem. Don't let me down.”

“Don't worry,” Will told him. “This is the easiest assignment I've ever had.”

 

Amber and Alicia were on their feet, screeching at the tops of their lungs along with several thousand other teens while a shirtless young man whined and cussed about his terrible childhood with the help of massive speakers. His three companions hopped up and down, abusing their guitars and drums.

Will was exhausted. He'd barely been able to keep up with the two girls, and it was only their first day in town. He didn't know what he'd expected. Some whispy, ethereal, mystical creature or something, he supposed. Instead the vampire's daughter was far more frightening than that. She was a typical teenage girl.

The two girls had laughed and talked and danced their way through the airport, barely paying attention to anything around them. But
drawing
plenty of attention. They hadn't checked baggage. Their luggage consisted of a pair of backpacks stuffed to bursting, slung over their shoulders. They'd hopped a taxi to the hotel, spent approximately five minutes in their suite—yes, suite; Daddy vamp had deep pockets—and then they'd taken off again.

Apparently Amber had scored the concert tickets well in advance of her trip. It was a sold-out show, so the only way Will managed to get in was to slip into the security area and lift a T-shirt and ID tag. The face on the tag didn't resemble his, but that hardly mattered in the dark auditorium.

The bashing and banging and shouting on the stage—he refused to think of it as music—was deafening. It jarred his teeth
and
his foot. It had gone on for nearly two hours now, almost making him homesick for his former torturers, who'd inflicted far less pain.

The girls were having a ball, though. On their feet, arms over their heads, hair flying back and forth as they growled out the lyrics along with the singer, cuss words included.

Finally the band stopped playing, flipped off the crowd and headed off the stage. This only resulted in the loudest screeching, squealing round of applause yet. Then Amber was tugging Alicia out into the aisle.

He managed to hear her say, “Nah, Men in Chains
never
do encores. They're probably in their bus by now.”

Sighing, he headed out after them, equally glad to beat the crowd, most of whom were shouting for an encore, not being as in-the-know about such things as Amber Lily Bryant. Thank God. He would have lost them in the crowd for sure.

He was more likely to be questioned now, limping along with his cane, than he would have been inside, where he'd been mostly standing still, so he ducked behind a pillar and peeled off the yellow security shirt and name tag. He'd worn his own black T-shirt underneath. He dropped the stolen items into a garbage can and kept going, never losing sight of the two girls.

He was fortunate, he supposed, that they were such a striking pair. Alicia was platinum blond, and Amber's auburn hair was so dark it was more like black hair with maroon highlights. Tough to lose sight of those two heads weaving through the thickening crowd toward the exits.

They got outside. He did, too, trying to keep a safe distance. Amber was sharp. Twice she'd paused to glance behind her—almost as if she sensed someone's interest. She hadn't pegged him yet. She would if he wasn't very careful.

“So what now?” Alicia asked. “Back to the hotel to crash?”

“Are you kidding? We only have one week, girl. Let's go to a club and dance till they close it.”

Will moaned inwardly. Obviously he was going to have to resort to alternative means with these two. A week of this would kill him.

 

Frank Stiles eyed the men who had been tracking Jameson and Angelica Bryant and their freak offspring for the past several years. Every time they traced the couple to one area, the monsters would pack up and leave without a trace. This time, though, he had them.

“They put two teenage girls on a flight to New York under the name of Howe. We had operatives waiting. They trailed them to the Marriott Marquis.”

“And one of them is the girl we want.”

“Yes, but we aren't sure which one.”

“And why not?” Stiles asked, his good eye raking the men. “It shouldn't be that difficult to ascertain, if you've been watching them.”

“Sir, there's very little difference. They both go out in daylight, they both have been observed eating regular food, and so far neither of them has shown any signs of being anything other than a, well, a typical teenage girl.”

Stiles ran one hand over his face, a subconscious gesture. His palm moved from the smooth skin of the right side to the puckered, scarred flesh of the left, reminding him that vampires were nothing more than animals—rabid ones in need of putting down. His research was getting close to adding another weapon to the arsenal to be used against them. The most powerful weapon yet.

“She's not a typical teenage girl, gentlemen. She's the bitch pup of a pair of killer dogs. She may look human, but she's not. Keep it in mind. If you don't have the stomach for what needs to be done, then we have ways of dealing with that.”

The men exchanged glances. They were not stupid. Stiles didn't recruit stupid men. They knew no one left his group alive. He wasn't about to risk having former operatives running around telling tales.

“We'll take them both,” Stiles said, when he sensed his message had been delivered. “And then I'll find a way to determine which is the human traitor and which is the mutant half-breed.”

 

Willem was exhausted by the time the girls called it a night, which was far closer to his wake-up time than his usual bedtime. Still, Will knew he couldn't rest. Not yet. While the girls lay safely locked in their suite, sound asleep by all appearances, he had to move and move quickly. He had not expected them to be this much of a challenge.