Night's Surrender (8 page)

Pearl woke to find the hunter standing over her, gun in hand.

She looked across the room at Edna, then up at the hunter.

“Well?” he asked curtly. “What's your decision?”

“We'll do it,” Pearl said. “We'll give you the cure.”

He glanced from her to Edna and back again. “How do I know I can trust you?” He paced the floor for several moments. “Where is this cure?”

“At our home.”

“Where's that?”

“Outside Houston.”

He stared at her for several moments, then, muttering, “Dammit!” he took a key from his pocket and released Pearl. “You go get the cure.” He pressed the muzzle of his weapon against Edna's left temple. “You've got fifteen minutes. If you're not back by then, she's dead.”

Pearl smiled at Edna. “Don't worry, dear. I'll be back in plenty of time.”

“I'll be here,” Edna said dryly. She watched Pearl leave the room, then closed her eyes and sent out a desperate cry for help, praying, as she did so, that Derek would hear her this time, since he hadn't responded to any of her urgent calls last night.

 

 

True to her word, Pearl returned less than fifteen minutes later.

The hunter gestured at the small brown bottle in her hand. “Is that it?”

She nodded.

“How does it work?”

“You give it to your daughter tonight.”

“And then what?”

“When she wakes tomorrow night, she should be human again.”

“Should be?”

Pearl held out the bottle. “There are no guarantees.”

The hunter took the container and slipped it into his pants' pocket. “Sit down and put those shackles back on.”

“What? I gave you what you wanted. Now let us go.”

The snick of the gun being cocked sounded like thunder in the small room. “Do it.”

Eyes blazing indignantly, Pearl sat down. She hissed as she locked the shackles in place. “Now what?”

“If it works, I'll let you go.”

“And if it doesn't?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

Pearl stared at him. Why had she ever believed him, she thought, and then her eyes widened as Mara's son materialized behind the hunter. Before the man knew he was there, Derek plucked the weapon from his hand.

Exclaiming, “What the hell!” the hunter whirled around, his face going pale when he saw the vampire.

Derek nodded at Pearl and Edna. “Evening, ladies.”

“I knew you'd come!” Edna said, beaming at him.

Derek glanced from the hunter to Edna. “What's going on here?”

“He wants our cure for his daughter,” Edna explained. “And we agreed to give it to him, and then he said if it didn't work, he was going to kill us.”

“And what do you want me to do?” Derek asked.

Edna looked at him as if he wasn't too bright. “Get us out of here, of course.”

“I meant, what do you want me to do with him?”

“Nothing, dear,” Pearl said. “He's just a father worried about his daughter. Let him take the cure and leave.”

“Must be your lucky day, hunter,” Derek remarked. “What's your name?”

“Thad Rivers.”

“Turn the ladies loose, Rivers, and get the hell out of here.”

The hunter released Pearl and Edna and then, looking like a man who expected to be shot in the back with his own gun, he hurried out the door.

Edna threw her arms around Derek. “Thank you for coming.”

“No problem,” he said. “But you're not out of the woods yet. Word on the street says a coalition of hunters is offering a hefty reward for whoever killed the McDonald sisters.”

“Cindy was very tasty,” Edna murmured.

Pearl sent her a withering glance. “This is serious, dear!”

“It is that,” Derek agreed. “If I were you two, I'd make myself scarce.”

Pearl nodded. “Sounds like remarkably sound advice. It was good to see you again, Derek. Say hello to your lovely wife for us.”

“Will do. If you need a place to stay, call me.”

“Thank you again,” Edna said.

With a wave of his hand, Derek took his leave.

Pearl stared after him a moment, then looked at Edna. “I didn't think he was coming.”

“Me, either. I was so afraid. Maybe that kept him from hearing me right away. At least now I know the link between us still works,” she said with a grin. “Eventually.”

“Well, I guess all's well that ends well, dear. Let's get out of here.”

“Where are we going to go?” Edna asked. “If what Derek said is true, there's a whole pack of hunters looking for us.”

“We need a safe place to hide,” Pearl mused, tapping one finger against her cheek. “Somewhere no one will ever think to look for us. But where?”

With one eye on the clock, Abbey showered and shaved her legs, then spent thirty minutes trying on one outfit after another. In New York, she hadn't had much call for a lot of fancy clothes. She had spent her days at acting classes and auditions and most of her evenings at home, memorizing lines—or sitting in all-night coffee shops exchanging hopes and dreams and condolences with other wannabe actors.

She finally settled on a long black skirt with a modest slit in the side, and a silky white blouse with a V-neck. A pair of black heels and a hot pink bracelet completed her outfit.

At seven o'clock, the doorbell rang.

A thousand butterflies took wing in the pit of Abbey's stomach. Buoyed up with anticipation, she hurried to answer the door and came face to face with an enormous bouquet. “Nick? Are you in there?”

He peered around the flowers to hand her a two-pound box of chocolates tied with a big white bow.

“Flowers
and
candy?” Abbey asked, smiling. “Wow, what's the occasion?”

“You said you wanted to be courted,” he reminded her.

“So I did.”

“Just doing my best to please my lady.” He cocked his head to the side. “May I come in?”

“What? Oh, of course.” She took a few steps back, frowned at the odd vibration in the air when he stepped across the threshold.

In the living room, she put the box of candy on the coffee table, then reached for the bouquet. “Thank you for the chocolates. And the flowers.” She brushed her thumb over a velvety red petal. “They're beautiful. Why don't you sit down while I put these in water?”

Hurrying into the kitchen, Abbey searched for a vase. The flowers—three dozen long-stemmed red roses—must have cost him a fortune. Men had brought her flowers before, but never so many at one time—or as lovely as these.

She carried the vase into the living room and placed it on the table beside the sofa.

“I hope you like roses,” Nick said, patting the cushion beside him.

“They're my favorite, especially red ones.”

“I'm glad they please you.” He jerked his chin toward the box of candy. “I wasn't sure if you liked milk chocolates or dark, so I bought both.”

“Either one is good, but dark is definitely better.”

“I'll file that away for future reference. So, where would you like to go this evening?” he asked. “Dining? Dancing? Perhaps a walk in the moonlight?”

“A walk?” She glanced out the window. “I don't know if you've noticed, but it's raining.”

“True, but the moon is still there,” he said with a wry grin.

“Very funny. You won't mind if I get a jacket?”

He winked at her. “Not if you think you'll need one.”

Shaking her head, Abbey ran to get her jacket from the closet, then grabbed her keys.

She put the hood up as she followed Nick outside. “Do you do this often?” she asked, locking the door behind her.

“I like storms, the more violent, the better,” he said, taking her hand in his. “This little drizzle hardly qualifies as rain.”

“Why do you like storms so much?”

“The sound and the fury, I guess.” He sent her a wicked grin. “It appeals to me on some dark, sinister level.”

She punched him on the arm. “Stop that.”

“It's true. There's something primal about wind and rain, thunder and lightning. What about you? Do you like storms?”

“Yes, when I'm curled up in front of a cozy fire.” She jumped as lightning crackled across the sky, followed by a deafening crash of thunder that shook the ground.

Laughing, Nick pulled her into his arms. “Don't be afraid, I'll protect you.”

She looked at him curiously. “Would getting hit by lightning kill you?”

“I don't know. I never thought about it.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then reclaimed her hand and they started walking again.

“Vampires don't get cold, do they? I remember my dad used to put on a coat when it was cold outside even though he didn't need it. And he always wore wool shirts in the winter and T-shirts in the summer so he'd blend in with everyone else. He doesn't do it so much anymore.”

“It gets old, trying to pretend you're something you're not. So does relocating every twenty or thirty years, changing your name, trying to remember the last time you were in a particular city . . .” He shook his head.

“My parents have never done that. Well, we moved from Oregon to California, but they've never changed names.” She looked up at Nick thoughtfully. “What's your real name?”

“Niccola Desanto. I use it every hundred years or so to remind me who I really am.”

Brow furrowed, Abbey squeezed his hand. “I guess my folks will have to move, at least temporarily, in a few years.”

“Yeah, that's one of the drawbacks to living a long time. But you get used to it.”

“My dad said Mara's never changed her name,” Abbey remarked, then wished she could call back the words. If there was one thing she didn't want to discuss with Nick, it was her godmother. She was suddenly glad that Mara and Logan had gone back home.

“Mara's always been a law unto herself.”

“Were you in love with her?”

“I was never in love with her. But I was fascinated by her. She's a beautiful, bewitching woman, who's also arrogant, outspoken, and ruthless. I hated her for a lot of years.”

“And now?”

Nick pulled Abbey under the shelter of an overhanging rock. Tilting her face up, he gazed deep into her eyes. “There's nothing between Mara and me. Not love. Not hate. Just, I don't know, acceptance, I guess. She's my sire, and she'll always be a part of my past. I can't undo that. But like I told you before, she has nothing to do with the two of us. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I have a lot of years behind me,” Nick said quietly. “I've done a good many things I'm ashamed of, things I'd like to forget. But when I'm with you, none of that matters. It's like starting over.” His knuckles caressed her cheek. “Does that make any sense?”

“I'm not sure, but . . .”

“But?”

“I like knowing that being with me makes you feel better.”

A flame seemed to burn in the depths of his dark eyes as he drew her close, his arms like steel as they tightened around her. “Honey, you have no idea what you do to me.”

Abbey stared up at him, suddenly breathless as his body pressed intimately against hers, leaving no doubt of his desire for her. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

He grinned wryly. And then he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

Abbey's knees turned to jelly as his lips claimed hers. He had kissed her before, but never like this. The rain, the thunder, the lightning—all faded into the distance as his mouth ravished hers again and again. She felt his hunger for her, his need, and then, amazingly, images flashed through her mind—battlefields littered with bodies of the dead and dying, mounted knights jousting on the lists, banners flying, a stone castle high atop a windswept crag.

Nick drew back abruptly. “What the hell! How'd you get inside my head?”

She stared at him. “What are you talking about? That's impossible.”

“It should be,” he muttered. “What did you see?”

“I don't know. Just disjointed images. There was a castle on a hill and a battlefield . . . and knights jousting . . .” She frowned, then exclaimed, “One of them looked like you! It was you, wasn't it?” Her gaze searched his. “I was seeing your past, wasn't I?”

Nick scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “So it would seem.”

“You put those images in my mind, didn't you?”

“No.” How the devil had it happened? He could read her mind because he was a vampire. There was a link between them because he had tasted her blood, but it only went one way because she had never tasted his. So how the hell was it possible for her to slip inside his mind and glimpse scenes from his distant past? He took her in his arms again. “What do you see now?”

“Nothing.”

“Try harder.” They had been kissing before, he thought, and pressed his lips to hers.

He felt her presence in his mind like the flicker of a candle in a dark room, lighting dark, distant corners, illuminating bits and pieces of his life that he had tucked away and forgotten.

He broke the kiss, cursing softly. “Why didn't you tell me you were a mind reader?”

“I didn't know. It's never happened before. Anyway, I'm the one who should be upset,” she muttered. Whatever this power was, she wasn't sure she wanted it.

“I'm not upset.” It was only a small lie.

“Then what's wrong?” She tapped her finger against his temple. “Got something in there you don't want me to see?”

“Damn right.” He'd done things—horrible things that would likely make her despise him if she ever found out. He didn't like keeping secrets from her, but some of his escapades and exploits were best left buried.

Taking her hand in his, he started walking back toward the cottage.

Abbey slid a glance in Nick's direction. What was he hiding? He had admitted he had done things he was ashamed of. Being female, she couldn't help being curious about what those things might be, but she didn't really want to know.

She knew about Mara. What else was there?

When they reached the cottage, Abbey hurried inside. She felt chilled clear through and it wasn't because of the rain, she thought as she shrugged out of her wet jacket and hung it on the hall tree. She couldn't help being a little unsettled by the thought that Nick might be hiding some horrible secret, even though she was certain she was better off not knowing what, if anything, it might be. What was even more troubling was the knowledge that she had somehow slipped inside his mind. She wasn't psychic. She didn't have any paranormal talent. So how had such a thing happened?

She jumped when flames sprang to life in the hearth, though why it startled her, she had no idea. She knew Nick had the ability to ignite fire at his will. Everyone in her family had the same power.

“You should go change into some dry clothes,” Nick suggested.

“Yes, I think I will.”

“Do you want me to be here when you get back?”

“Of course. I won't be long.”

In her room, Abbey undressed quickly. After tossing her wet clothes in the sink, she pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a sweater, stepped into a pair of fuzzy pink slippers, shook out her hair. And all the while she wondered what was happening to her that she had been able to glimpse flashes of Nick's past.

When she returned to the living room, Nick and her father were standing on opposite sides of the room, not quite glaring at each other. They were both handsome men, both tall and dark, though Nick was a little taller, a little broader through the shoulders.

“Dad! What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Oh? Well, sit down.”

Nick moved toward the door. “I'll be going.”

“I'd rather you stayed,” Rane said.

Nick hesitated a moment, then sat on the sofa, his legs stretched out before him, one arm draped across the back of the couch. Abbey sat beside him, her hands folded in her lap. Her father took the chair.

“What's this about?” Abbey asked. “Is something wrong?”

Rane leaned forward. “I'm not sure. I went into Auburn to pick up some horse liniment earlier today. While I was there, Cal told me some woman's been going around town asking questions about your mom and me.”

“A former lover?” Nick asked, just to rile the other man.

Rane glowered at him.

“Sorry,” Nick said, serious now. “Probably a hunter.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Rane shook his head. “Cal said she had some old newspaper clippings from my days as a magician.”

“Maybe she's a reporter,” Abbey suggested, though she had no idea why a reporter would be interested in her father after all this time . . . unless, as Nick suggested, the stranger was also a hunter.

“Did you get the woman's name?” Nick asked.

“No. But whoever she is, I don't like it.” Rane stroked his jaw thoughtfully. “What really disturbs me is that the articles she showed Cal were written by Savanah.”

Nick whistled softly. “What do you plan to do about it?”

“I haven't decided. I'm not sure whether I should try to find out what she's up to, or just let it go.”

“If she's still in town, it should be easy enough to track her down and find out what she's after.”

“Yeah. I just came down here to tell the two of you to be careful. You, especially, Abbey. I know I used to tell you this when you were a little girl, but it's still good advice—don't talk to strangers.”

“I won't.”

“Well, then, I'll say good night, you two.”

Abbey followed her father to the door and gave him a hug. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too.” He glanced toward the living room where Nick waited. Then, looking back at her, he asked quietly, “Are you all right?”

“Of course.” Abbey smiled. “He's courting me. He brought me all those roses. And candy, too.”

Rane nodded. “Be careful, Abbey. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you.”

“Stop worrying. I know what I'm doing.”

“I hope so. Good night, honey.”

Returning to the living room, Abbey resumed her place on the sofa. “Good thing I don't always listen to my dad,” she mused, poking Nick in the ribs, “or we never would have met.”