Night's Touch (8 page)

Serafina waited until Anton had gone to bed, and then she left the house, her destination Anthony's secret lab located in an abandoned brick building on the outskirts of town. The front door was made of heavy steel. The windows were boarded up on the inside and barred on the outside, but she had a key. After unlocking the door, she stepped inside, then closed the door behind her.

She wandered from room to room before entering Anthony's laboratory. Save for a new state-of-the art computer and printer that Anton had bought to replace his father's old ones, the lab was just as Anthony had left it. Serafina ran her hands over the glass jars and test tubes, the beakers and flasks and funnels, and as she did so, she imagined she was touching him. She paused in front of a shelf that held several books on witchcraft, anatomy, and hematology. A small refrigerator, a microscope and an incubator shared space on a counter that stretched across half of one wall. A large gray metal file cabinet stood on one side of the door. A circle of power had been drawn on the floor in the center of the room. A gray metal table stood in the middle of the circle. A splotch of blood, now a dark, ugly brown, stained the floor.

She moved around the room, walking where he had walked, touching what he had touched. She didn't know what had happened the night her beloved Anthony died, but from reading his notes, she was certain that Roshan DeLongpre and his witch wife had been involved.

The story of Anthony's death had made all the papers. Speculation ran wild as to the cause of his demise and what had happened in the house the night he died. Myra's body had been found cocooned in plastic. There had been blood on the sheets on the bed, but it hadn't been Anthony's blood and it hadn't been Myra's. The newspapers had had a field day. The headlines screamed, "Witches Run Amok in City."

She had crossed the yellow police tape under cover of darkness, gathered up all of Anthony's journals, personal effects, and clothing, and taken them home. After the funeral, she had placed an enchantment on one of the gravediggers, directing him to return that night, dig up Anthony's coffin, and transport it to Anthony's lab where a stone crypt waited. When it was done, she had erased the memory from the man's mind and sent him on his way.

Nights when she was lonely for her beloved, she came here to the lab to talk to him. If only he had discovered . the secret of immortality, he would be with her now.

She made her way down a flight of stairs and unlocked the door to a large, windowless room that had once been used for storage. Anthony's tomb rested inside. Sometimes she opened the coffin and looked at him, and when she did, she saw him as he had been in life.

"Where are you now?" she murmured "Is your soul still in Summerland?"

She wondered if he was resting peacefully, recovering from the trials of his most recent life, or if he was reflecting on all the lives he had lived in the past. Perhaps he had rested long enough and he was already planning his next incarnation.

Hopefully he had not already been reincarnated. If so, her spell would most certainly fail.

The thought brought tears to her eyes. Sitting on the floor, she laid her head on his tomb and wept.

Vince moved silently through the dark city streets. Who would have thought that being immortal would be boring? He had always been a night person, but this was ridiculous. He hadn't expected to miss ordinary things like eating a hamburger or just walking down a sunny street. Not that he had taken that many walks when he had the chance, but he sure as hell missed it now that it wasn't an option.

His thoughts turned to Cara, as they so often did of late. She had brought a little color into his world, made him yearn for a normal life. He wondered where she was, what she was doing.

Almost without conscious thought, he found himself standing on the balcony outside her room. His senses told him the vampires who lived here weren't home, and he wondered again how a mortal happened to be living with the Undead. Was she their daughter? Had they been turned after she was born?

One of the French doors leading into her bedroom was partially open. Prevented by some vampire mumbo jumbo from entering without an invitation, he peered into her room. She was in bed, lying on her side facing his way, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. Her hair fell over her shoulder like a river of molten gold.

She made a small, sleepy sound and rolled onto her back, and he knew she was awake.

Cara bolted upright, her gaze darting around the room. "Who's there?"

"It's me, Vince."

"Vince! What are you doing out there?"

"I came to apologize for hurting your feelings the other night."

She folded her arms across her breasts. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you?"

"No. I think you'd better go."

"Is that what you want?"

"No." The word was little more than a whisper. She peered at him through the darkness. What was there about him that attracted her so? She hardly knew him, yet he had been constantly in her thoughts since the moment they met. "My father will have a heart attack if he comes in and finds you out there."

"I doubt it," he said dryly. "Besides, he's not home."

"How do you know?" She glanced at the clock beside her bed. It was three am. Where would her father be at such an hour?

She thought Vince shrugged, though she couldn't be sure. It was silly to sit here in the dark, she thought, and turned on the light on the bedside table. "You might as well come in."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

He pushed the door open all the way and stepped inside.

Cara looked up at him, her eyes widening. "You're bleeding!"

"What?"

"There," she said, pointing, "on your lower lip."

He wiped it away, thinking he would have to be more careful when he fed in the future. "I guess it's too late to go for a walk."

She laughed softly. "Just a little. Besides, I'm not dressed for a midnight stroll."

"Can I see you tomorrow night?"

"I'd like that."

He liked it that she didn't play hard to get, and that she didn't hold a grudge for the shoddy way he had treated her at the club. "What time should I pick you up?"

"Nine, at the library."

"What are you, a bookworm?"

"No, I'm a librarian."

"Really? I don't think I've ever met a librarian before."

"I love books. It's the perfect place to work."

"So, what does a librarian do?"

"Since our library is small, I do a little bit of everything."

"Like what?"

"Well, I read book reviews and publishers' announcements and catalogues to keep informed on current literature. I buy books from publishers and distributors. I keep an eye on Sarah Beth, who's my assistant, and make sure she keeps our database up to date. I'm in charge of the story hour, and sometimes I invite authors to come and speak. When there's nothing else to do, I help put books away."

"Sounds like you're pretty busy."

"Most of the time, but I like it that way."

He nodded. "So, where would you like to go tomorrow night?"

"Any place is fine with me."

"How about a late movie?"

She nodded. She didn't care where they went, so long as they were together. She gazed up at him, willing him to kiss her, disappointed once again when he didn't.

Tomorrow night, she thought; she would get that kiss tomorrow night or know the reason why!

Roshan paused in the shadows and drew his wife into his arms. "It's a beautiful night. Why do you look so glum?"

"I'm worried about Cara."

"Still?"

"I can't shake the feeling that something terrible is going to happen."

"What do you mean?" He had great respect for his wife's intuition. "Is she in danger?"

"I don't know. I just have this bad feeling and I can't shake it. It's dark energy…" She shivered. "Like Loken's. I always felt dirty when I was around him and that's how this feels." She looked up at him, her eyes wide and scared. "You don't think he's come back from the dead?"

"Brenna."

"I know, I'm being silly, but… I want to go out to the lab."

"Why?"

"I just need to see it, to prove he's not there."

"All right, if it will make you feel better."

A thought took them across town to the laboratory. Roshan sensed the magical energy that surrounded the place immediately.

"Someone's been out here," he said. "They've put a protective spell around the building."

"Can we cross it?" Brenna asked.

"I don't know."

He dissolved into mist and tried to slip under the door, but the spell was strong and it pushed him out. After resuming his own form, he walked around the perimeter of the building. In addition to the protective spell, the threshold shimmered with power. The lab wasn't a home, but someone loved the building and what it contained. Combined with the protective spell, it made a powerful, impassable barrier, one he couldn't cross even though he had been there before.

"Now I'm really worried," Brenna said. "Who would be interested in this place?" She frowned thoughtfully. Who indeed? Before Myra had showed her true colors, Brenna had spent a lot of time in her bookstore. Brenna had seen the way Serafina Bouchard looked at Anthony Loken when she thought no one was watching, but that seemed pretty far-fetched. Loken had been dead for over twenty years. That was a long time to carry a torch, especially for a dead man.

"Come on," Roshan said, taking her by the hand, "let's go home and check on our girl."

Cara was sleeping peacefully, as Roshan had known she would be. He was about to leave the room when his nostrils twitched with the scent of vampire.

Hands clenched, he glanced around the room. Not only was there a new vampire in his city, but the man had been in his house—in his daughter's bedroom, this very night.

Moving closer to the bed, Roshan examined Cara's throat and neck, relieved that there were no telltale bite marks. Of course, not all vampires drank from the same place. Some preferred a vein in the wrist, others liked the inside of an elbow, or the inner thigh where the marks were not so obvious.

Leaving the room, he went downstairs to tell Brenna to keep listening to her feelings.

Eager to see Vince again, Cara was waiting outside the library when he drove up the following night. "Wow," she exclaimed, "nice car!"

"Thanks."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised, since you own a garage. Where is it, anyway?"

He didn't want to tell her, didn't want her dropping by some afternoon or morning when he was taking his rest and wondering why he wasn't at work. Not that he couldn't come up with a plausible fib if he had to, but he didn't want to lie to her. "Over on Seventh and East Streets."

He opened the door for her, then slid behind the wheel. "I checked the paper. The late show starts at nine-twenty. I figure that gives us just enough time to get there."

Cara nodded, her gaze moving over him. Tonight he wore a long black coat over a white shirt and black jeans.

He was the most handsome man she had ever met. Just looking at him stirred a longing deep within her.