Night's Promise (5 page)

Pearl and Edna stepped out of the restaurant’s shadow. “That proves it!” Edna exclaimed, nodding.

“He ate a steak, dear,” Pearl said, strolling down the sidewalk. “That doesn’t prove anything.”

“Do I need to draw you a diagram? Vampires don’t eat, not anything! Ever! Don’t you see? The only explanation is the werewolf gene.”

“Or maybe it’s just that he’s half human, and the human part is kicking in. Did you ever think of that?”

“No.” Edna shook her head. “No, I don’t believe that.”

“Well, the moon is full and he didn’t shift, so let’s go home.”

“Not yet.”

“Why not? Why are you so obsessed with his becoming a werewolf? It’s not like he’d be the first vampire/werewolf in all of recorded history. Remember Susie McGee?”

“Of course.” Edna tapped her forefinger against her lower lip. “I wonder what ever happened to her?”

“She was both.”

“But not at the same time,” Edna said smugly. “She was a werewolf who was turned into a vampire. Derek could be both at the same time. It’s . . . it’s unprecedented!”

“So, what? You want to see him get furry, is that it?”

“Exactly.” Edna smiled. “We need to buy a camera!”

“And what if he rips our throats out while we’re watching?”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic. That isn’t going to happen, and you know it. I just have to know if he’ll go back to being a vampire once he turns into a werewolf. . . .”

“Assuming he becomes a werewolf,” Pearl interjected dryly. “The change might be permanent, like it was with Susie.”

“Well, that’s probably more likely,” Edna admitted. “But, whatever happens, I want to be there to see it.”

They were in a residential area now. Pearl stopped to peek into the window of a large house. Inside, a young man and woman were sitting side by side on a long white sofa. A large calico cat lay curled up next to the woman, purring softly.

“What are you looking at?” Edna asked, coming to stand beside her friend.

“Nothing, dear,” she said, a wistful note in her voice.

Edna tilted her head to the side. “They look cozy, don’t they?”

Pearl nodded. “Do you ever miss being married?”

“Sometimes late at night, I wish I had a man to hold me,” she said, sighing. “It’s been so long, I’ve almost forgotten what it was like being held, being loved.”

“They’re in love,” Pearl remarked. “You can tell by the way they look at each other.”

“Yes.” Edna sighed again. “Have you ever thought that we might be able to . . . Never mind.”

“Edna Mae Turner! Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking? At our age?”

“I might look old,” Edna said with a shrug, “but I don’t feel old anymore. I feel younger, better, than I did at twenty.”

Pearl clucked softly as she started walking again. She had to agree with her friend. She felt terrific. In all her years as a vampire, she had never met one who had been turned in their seventies. Most vampires tended to be turned in their youth and, naturally, turned others of a comparable age. After all, no one wanted to look eternally old no matter how good they might feel once the deed was done.

“We look awfully good for our ages,” Edna opined. “Some nice mortal, elderly men might find us attractive.”

Pearl stopped again, her gaze moving over Edna’s face. They had been turned over a quarter of a century ago. She had been with her friend every day since then, but had never really looked at her until now. Edna looked her age, and yet, in some remarkable fashion, the lines in her face were hardly noticeable. There was a radiance to her skin that belied her years. Her hair was thicker than it had been before she was turned, her brown eyes sparkled with vitality. “You know, dear, you’re really quite lovely.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

Edna regarded her friend for several minutes. “You know, so are you,” she said, smiling. “You look your age, and yet you don’t. Why, I bet we could find a couple of good-looking men in their fifties to keep us company.”

“Do you really think so, dear?”

“Why not?” Linking her arm with Pearl’s, Edna continued down the street. “There are lots of good-looking men in Hollywood. No reason why we can’t get ourselves some fancy new clothes and look for some nice gentlemen friends while we wait for the next full moon, is there?”

Curled up on the sofa, Sheree wiped the tears from her eyes. Sad movies always made her cry. Of course, most people didn’t think it was sad when Dracula was destroyed, but she couldn’t help feeling sorry for the monster.

Who was she kidding? She wasn’t feeling sorry for the vampire. She was feeling sorry for herself. She had finally found a man she wanted and she’d lost him before she had him.

She felt like a fool, crying her eyes out over a man she hardly knew. Maybe she should just go home, visit her parents, and give Ralph and Neil a second look. So, they weren’t tall, dark, handsome, and mysterious. They were settled. Her parents approved of them. Both men came from the same background as she did. She knew what to expect with them—boredom, she thought, sniffling. No matter how she tried to convince herself to give Neil and Ralph a chance, she just couldn’t do it. She wanted an alpha male, like Derek, not some wimp in a white button-down shirt and tie.

Earlier, she had considered going to the club to see if he was there, but her pride held her back. She wasn’t going to chase him, though she couldn’t help wondering what had happened between them the other night. One minute they’d been kissing like a couple of horny teenagers and the next he was driving her back to her car.

Sighing, she turned off the movie, switched off the lights, and went up to bed.

 

 

As he had once before, Derek sat in his car outside Sheree’s house. It was a nice place, two stories high, made of red brick with white trim and a bright yellow front door. A white picket fence surrounded the tidy front yard; colorful flowerpots filled with cacti sat on a ledge in front of the windows.

He stared up at her bedroom window. He didn’t have to see her to know that she’d been crying, that she was in bed, asleep. That she was dreaming of him, a strange dream, the jumbled images switching quickly from one scene to another. But, through it all, a tall, dark-haired man shrouded in a long black cape whose face sometimes resembled his own, and at other times that of actors who had portrayed Dracula, played a major part.

He found that disturbing on several levels. Was it merely her reaction to the Den? To the article in the morning paper? Or had she somehow sensed that he was not the man he pretended to be?

Gradually, the images slowed, became less chaotic, until it was just the two of them, alone on a dark moor, making love beneath a midnight moon.

Gathering his self-control, he jammed the car in gear and stomped on the gas, quickly putting some miles between them before he did the unthinkable, like materializing in her bedroom and making her dreams come true.

At home, he slammed into the house, his nerves on edge, his urge for Sheree riding him hard. Rationally, he knew he was in no condition to be with her. He paced for an hour, then slouched into a chair. Staring into the fireplace, he took slow, deep breaths in an effort to rein in his lust.

He was still seething inwardly when his mother and Logan appeared.

“You’re home early.” Logan removed his jacket and tossed it over the back of the sofa. Moving to a side table, he poured himself a glass of wine.

Derek grunted his reply.

Mara tossed her wrap on top of her husband’s jacket. Lifting her head, she took a deep breath. And frowned. She glanced at Logan, who nodded, indicating he smelled it, too.

Derek shifted in his seat, his gaze still on the fireplace, his hands clenching and unclenching.

Tension sizzled in the air.

Glancing from mother to son, Logan drained his glass. “I’m going up to bed.”

“I’ll be up soon,” Mara said.

Nodding, Logan left the room.

Mara regarded her son for several moments before asking, “What’s worrying you?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me,” she said sharply.

Derek scowled at her. One of the first things she had taught him was how to block others from reading his thoughts. It was a talent he rarely used at home, but he was grateful for it tonight.

He should have known it wouldn’t save him.

“You’ve eaten mortal food,” she said thoughtfully. “I can smell it on you.”

He didn’t deny it.

“And the moon is full.” She sat on the arm of his chair. “Are you craving raw meat again?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I can make you tell me, you know.”

It wasn’t a threat. Simply a statement of fact.

He blew out a breath, then nodded. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“It’s happened before.”

“I know, but I wasn’t fully a vampire then. Why now? I shouldn’t be craving food.” He snorted. “Maybe I’m reverting.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then what’s causing it?”

“I wish I knew.” She placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

“I hope you’re right.” He didn’t want to be mortal, yet even as the thought crossed his mind, he wondered if that was true. If he was mortal, the biggest obstacle to being with Sheree would be gone.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Yeah. Stop treating me like I’m your little boy.”

Bending down, she kissed the top of his head. “Sorry, love, but you’ll always be my little boy.”

With a shake of his head, Derek set her on her feet, then stood. “I’m going to bed.”

Mara stared after him, more worried than she had let on. It wasn’t normal for vampires to crave mortal food. She had dismissed it as some sort of hormone thing when he was a teenager, some crazy aberration because he was half human. But she couldn’t ignore it now.

Troubled, she followed him up the stairs.

Logan was waiting for her in their room. After closing the door, he took her in his arms. “What do you think’s wrong with him?”

“I wish I knew!”

“Could he be reverting?”

Shrugging, she laid her cheek against his chest. “If anything happens to him . . .” She let out a long, shuddering sigh. She loved Derek more than her own life. The thought of him in pain, the thought of losing him . . . Tears stung her eyes. She had killed the man who’d kidnapped her son when he was a baby, killed Thomas Ramsden without a qualm, as she would kill anyone who hurt what was hers. But this . . . there was no one to fight.

Lifting her head, she sniffed away her tears, then shook her head. “I don’t believe he’s reverting. Except for me, I know of no other vampire who has ever reverted.” She shook her head again. “He wasn’t made a vampire. He was born a vampire.” She grinned ruefully. “It’s in his blood. He can’t change what he was born to be.”

“Then what is it?”

“His father was mortal. Maybe as Derek grows older, he’ll be able to consume mortal food.” She lifted her chin. “I’m not going to worry about it until I know there’s a problem. What are you grinning at?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I know you, darlin’. You’re gonna worry over this like a dog with a bone until you figure it out.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do!”

“Darlin’,” he said, wrapping her in his arms, “I know you better than you know yourself.”

Closing her eyes, Mara surrendered to his kiss. Though she would never admit it out loud, Logan was right. In all her long existence, no man had understood her, or loved her, as he did.

She sighed when he lifted her in his arms and carried her to bed.

“I know just the thing to take your mind off your worries,” he said, a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Yes.” She grinned when he stretched out beside her. “And a wonderful thing it is.”

Derek rose with the setting of the sun. Still troubled by his need for more than blood and not wanting to talk to his mother about it, or see the worry in her eyes, he dissolved into mist and materialized outside, in his car.

Once he was out of the hills, he hit the freeway. Putting everything out of his mind, he stomped on the gas and lost himself in the thrill of barreling down the road at 140 miles an hour. Not surprisingly, he soon had a cop on his tail.

Slowing, he pulled off the road, put the car in park, and waited.

“I guess you know why I pulled you over,” the cop said.

Derek nodded. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

The cop flipped open his ticket book. “You’re under arrest. I’ll need to see your license and proof of insurance.”

Looking up, Derek trapped the officer’s gaze with his own. “You don’t want to arrest me, officer, or give me a ticket. A warning will do.”

“A warning, yes, of course.”

“Thank you, officer.”

Looking slightly confused, the cop closed his ticket book and returned to his car.

Derek tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he watched the patrol car pull into traffic. He would have been happy to give the guy his driver’s license, only the one he carried was fake. He didn’t have insurance, or a birth certificate, either. As far as humanity was concerned, Derek Blackwood didn’t exist. Usually, he didn’t give it a thought, but sometimes, like tonight, it made him feel like the invisible man. It was a lonely feeling.

Swearing a pithy oath, he put the car in gear and drove back toward Hollywood.

Without conscious thought, he found himself in front of Nosferatu’s Den.

 

 

Sheree sat at the end of the bar, listening to the music and wondering what insanity had brought her back here. Only three nights ago, she had decided it wasn’t safe to frequent Goth clubs like this one. She had phoned her mother to let her know that she planned to come home, and would probably be there in a week or two. At least at home, she would never be bored. Life with her parents was like living on a merry-go-round. If they weren’t on the golf course or playing tennis at the club, they were out on the boat, or dedicating a new wing at a hospital, or holding a charity auction to raise money for one cause or another. There were always parties to host and plays to attend, gallery openings, nights at the opera. Life was often hectic, but never dull.

She had left home because she wanted something different, wanted to spread her wings and try living on her own. Her parents had frowned on her decision, but it wasn’t up to them. She had her own money, thanks to a healthy inheritance from her great-grandfather.

Living by herself had been satisfying, in its own way, but also extremely lonely. She didn’t know anyone in California, didn’t have the skills to get a good job. And looking for a vampire hadn’t been as exciting as she had hoped, until she’d met Derek.

Damn. She had sworn she would not think of that man again.

“Can I get you a refill, miss?”

“What? Oh, no. Wait. I’d like a Vampire’s Kiss.” One last drink, and then she was going home to pack. It seemed fitting somehow that it would be the drink Derek had recommended.

The bartender grinned at her. “Coming right up.”

The bartender had just served her drink when two men approached her. Both were built like linebackers, tall and broad shouldered. One had a long scar on his left cheek. They both wore long black coats.

Sheree felt a shiver of apprehension when the scar-faced man sat on the vacant bar stool beside her. He had blond hair, worn long, and eyes that were an odd color, not yellow, not brown, but something in between. The second man stood behind her.

“Could we talk to you for a moment?” Scarface asked.

Sheree shook her head. “Sorry, I was just leaving.”

“This won’t take long.”

“Sorry.” She stood, but the second man blocked her retreat. “What do you want?” She told herself there was nothing to be afraid of. She was in a room filled with people; the bartender was only a few feet away.

“We’d just like to ask you a couple of questions.”

“What kind of questions?”

“You were in here earlier in the week.”

“Yes.”

“We’re trying to get in touch with the man you were with. He’s a friend of ours. We were hoping you could tell us where he lives.”

“I thought you were friends?”

Scarface smiled. There was no warmth in it. “He moved recently and we lost touch.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you. I just met . . .” She paused at the eager look in the man’s eyes when she started to say Derek’s name. “I just met him.”

Scarface looked at his companion, then shook his head.

Sheree glanced around. If she yelled for help, would anyone come to her aid?

“All right, let’s go at this from another angle,” Scarface said. “What do you know about him?”

Sheree shook her head. “Nothing. I told you, we just met.”

“Did he do anything that seemed unusual?”

“Unusual? In what way? We had a few drinks, we danced. That was all.”

Scarface looked at his companion again. “We’re wasting our time here. She doesn’t know anything.” He nodded at Sheree. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

Sheree watched the two men as they made their way to a table in the back corner, where they sat with their heads together.

She grabbed her handbag and practically ran toward the door. When a hand closed around her arm, she let out a startled cry.

“Let’s go.” Scarface pushed her out the door. “Where are you parked?”

“D-down there. The-the blue one.”

Fear choked her as the second man wrenched her purse out of her hands and unlocked the doors.

“Keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you,” Scarface warned, crowding her up against the side of her car.

“Please, let me go!” Sheree implored. “I don’t know anything!”

Scarface opened the rear door and pushed her inside.

With a cry, Sheree lashed out at him, raking her nails across his cheek, kicking out at him as hard as she could.

But Scarface was bigger, stronger.

He hit her once and she fell back on the seat, certain her life was over.

 

 

Derek had been sitting in his car across from the Den, debating whether he should go inside or head back home, when he saw Sheree exit the club, a man on either side of her. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and filled with fear. Her heart was pounding so loudly he was sure he would have heard it even without his preternatural senses.

The men had turned left, herding Sheree toward her car, which was parked at the end of the block.

Derek muttered, “What the hell?” when the scar-faced man started to shove her into the backseat, grinned when she fought back, even though it was a losing fight.

When the scarred man struck her, Derek went into action. Faster than the eye could follow, he raced down the street, grabbed the man by the hair, and slammed his forehead against the car. The man dropped like a stone.

The second man whirled around, his hand reaching inside his coat.

With a low growl, Derek broke both of the man’s arms and shoved him out of the way. Whimpering, the guy fell to the pavement, all the fight gone out of him.

“Sheree?” Derek touched her shoulder lightly. “Sheree, are you all right?”

She stared up at him, her mouth agape.

“Come on.” Taking her by the hand, Derek settled her into the passenger seat. “We need to get out of here.”

She didn’t argue.

He picked up her fallen handbag, dropped it in her lap, then fastened her seat belt.

Moments later, he pulled away from the curb.

“Who were those men?” Sheree asked, unable to keep the quiver out of her voice.

“Beats the hell out of me.”

“They said they knew you.”

Derek shook his head. “I never saw either one of them before.” He slid a glance in her direction. Her pulse was still a little rapid, but the color had returned to her cheeks. “Did they say why they were looking for me?”

“No.” She glanced out the window. “Where are you taking me?”

“To your place.”

“What about your car?”

“I’ll pick it up later.”

“I could have driven myself home.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

She turned her head away from him, her hands clasped in her lap, obviously nervous in his presence. He supposed he couldn’t blame her. He’d seen her a few times and then left her with no explanation, but hell, what was he supposed to say?
I’d love to pursue a relationship with you and get to know you better, but I’m a vampire and you’re prey and I really don’t see this ending well for you.
Yeah, right.

“How’ve you been, Sheree?”

“Fine. I’m going back home to my family.”

“Because of what happened tonight?” The thought of her leaving filled him with a sudden sense of loss.

“No. Because . . . just because it’s time.”

His hand tightened on the steering wheel. “Where’s home?”

“Philadelphia.”

Pulling into her driveway, he put the car in park, then cut the engine.

“Thank you for driving me home,” Sheree said.

Before she could open the door, his hand closed over her arm. “Don’t go.”

“It’s late. I’m tired.”

“I mean, don’t go home. Stay here.” The words
with me
hung unspoken in the air.

Sheree took a deep breath, then turned to face him, her gaze probing his. “Why?”

Releasing her, Derek raked a hand through his hair. “I know I behaved badly. Treated you badly. I’m sorry. There are things you don’t know about me, things I can’t tell you. . . .”

“Like why those men were looking for you?”

“Yeah, like that.”

“Were those men cops? Are you in trouble with the law?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Nothing like that. It’s just that my life is . . . complicated.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re not married, are you?”

“No, not even close.”

Sheree turned her head away again, hiding her expression from him.

Derek drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Only minutes before he had convinced himself there was no future for the two of them. If he was smart, he would listen to his own good advice and let her go before she got hurt. He had no doubt those two men were hunters. They hadn’t asked for him by name, so they didn’t know who he was—just that he was a vampire. It was a unique talent some hunters possessed, being able to ferret out members of the undead community.

Still not looking at him, she said, “Good night, Derek.”

“Dammit!” Grabbing her by the arm, he forced her to look at him.

And then he kissed her.

And she forgot all about going back to Philadelphia.

When Derek released her, Sheree blew out a deep breath. “So,” she asked, “where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know.” He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, then trailed his fingertips down her cheek. “All I know is that I need you, and I hope you’ll stick around long enough to give us a chance to get to know each other better. It’s up to you.”

Her gaze searched his, but there was no hint of deception in his eyes, nothing but a look that bordered on fear. Puzzled, she wondered what he had to be afraid of.

“It’s okay,” Derek said, drawing back. “You’re smart to keep your distance.”

Taking his hand in hers, she murmured, “I’m not going anywhere. Walk me inside?”

Feeling reborn, Derek got out of the car, then opened Sheree’s door. Slipping his arm around her waist, he walked her up the steps to the front porch.

“It’s not as late as I thought,” she said. “Would you like to come in for a while?”

He hesitated, wondering if it was safe. He’d not yet fed and her blood called to him ever so sweetly. His gaze moved over her. Slender shoulders, a tiny waist, softly rounded hips.

She glanced back at him, her hand on the latch. “Derek?”

“Maybe for a little while.” He followed her inside, felt the power inherent in the threshold move through him like an electric shock. It was something he still hadn’t gotten used to, that jolt of supernatural juice capable of keeping creatures like himself from entering mortal homes uninvited. Even Mara, with all her power, couldn’t breach a threshold uninvited.

He stood inside the doorway, watching Sheree move around the room, turning on lights, straightening the newspapers and magazines scattered on the coffee table, folding the blanket lying on the chair.

She gestured at the sofa. “Please, sit down.”

He sat at one end of the couch, his gaze sweeping the room. The furnishings were decidedly feminine, from the flowered sofa and matching chair to the frilly pink curtains at the window and the collection of dainty ballerina figurines on the mantel.

“Are you going to join me anytime soon?” he asked.

“Sorry.” Biting down on her lower lip, she perched at the other end of the couch, her fingers toying with the hem of her jacket.

Derek smiled inwardly. Now that she had him here, she wasn’t sure what to do with him.

“Would you like something to eat? Or drink?”

His gaze moved to the hollow in the base of her throat. He’d love something to drink, but he was pretty sure she wasn’t offering what he needed. “No, thanks.” He draped his arm along the back of the sofa. “Do you want me to go?”

“Go? No, of course not.” Her brows drew together. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s obvious that my being here is making you nervous.”

She laughed self-consciously. “Why should I be nervous?”

“You tell me.”

She chewed on a fingernail a moment, gathering her thoughts, wondering if she should put them into words or keep them bottled up. But holding back never solved anything. Best to get it out in the open now.