Night's Touch (35 page)

He kissed her and caressed her until her eyelids grew heavy.

"Go to bed, darlin'," he said, lifting her to her feet.

"I don't want you to go," she murmured drowsily.

"And I don't want to go," he said, "but it's late and you're half asleep."

"No, I'm not," she protested, smothering a yawn.

Vince laughed softly. "Go to bed, darlin', and dream of me."

With a sleepy sigh, she lifted her face for one more kiss.

"Good night, my love," he whispered, though it wasn't good night, but good-bye. He held her close, knowing it was for the last time, and then he let her go.

He walked out of the house, a great emptiness in his chest where his heart had been.

Sliding behind the wheel of the Mustang, he backed out of the driveway, then headed for a deserted stretch of highway. Putting the pedal to the metal, he pushed the car as fast as it would go. He was doing the right thing and he knew it, but dammit, why did it have to be so hard and hurt so damn much? She was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. He had lost his humanity; he shouldn't have to lose the only woman he had ever loved, or would ever love, as well.

Of course, he wasn't leaving town just yet. He would hang around until the creature was no longer a threat to Cara's safety, but he wouldn't see or speak to Cara again. It was for her own good, he told himself, and for his, as well.

But he didn't have to like it.

The creature stirred with the coming of night. Disoriented and confused, it wandered through the house, oblivious to the foul stench rising from the bodies piled in a careless heap in a corner of the living room floor.

Anton woke with a start. He had spent most of the last twelve hours searching for an enchantment that would allow him to summon and then control the creature his mother had raised. Rubbing his eyes, he stared at the book on the floor in front of him. If he remembered right, there had been an incantation on one of the pages that had sounded promising, but he had fallen asleep before he finished reading it.

Picking up the book, he thumbed through the pages again. Where was it? Ah! There it was.

Following the directions, he fashioned an altar from an old wooden crate and placed a photograph of his father on it, along with his father's wand and a cloak he found in his mother's closet.

Next, he found a box of salt and drew a summoning circle on the floor; then, using his own wand, he wove a strong protective spell around the circle. He added lavender, cinnamon, and wormwood to the center, as well as a sliver of wood shaved from his father's wand.

When that was done, he took a piece of chalk and drew a second protective circle on the floor a few feet away from the first.

Then, taking a deep breath, he picked up a small silver bell and spoke the necessary words.

"Wandering spirit, blood of my blood, come to me now as this bell I ring, come to me now as this bell I ring, come to me now as this bell I ring."

He waited, listening.

When nothing happened, he repeated the charm again, and then again.

In the dark house on the hill, the creature that inhabited Anthony Loken's body paused in its restless wandering. Lifting its head, it turned this way and that and then it left the house, following an invocation only it could hear.

It was coming! Anton felt the creature's nearness in the very marrow of his bones. In his hand, the wand began to vibrate.

Filled with excitement and trepidation, Anton stepped into the protective circle he had drawn, his gaze riveted on the basement door.

He heard the front door open upstairs. Footsteps moved across the floor, down the stairs, and then the creature was there, walking toward him. As soon as it stepped into the center of the summoning circle, Anton spoke the words to close the circle and bind the incantation.

The creature stood there, arms hanging at its sides, soulless eyes staring at him, waiting.

Feeling weak, Anton could only stare back. The zombie was here, called at his command. But would it do his bidding?

"Raise your right hand."

The creature stared at him a moment, then, slowly, raised its right hand.

Damn! A thrill of power ran through Anton. "Lower your hand."

Again, the creature obeyed.

Mindful of the creature watching his every move, Anton fought down a rush of exultant laughter. The creature was his to command at his will.

At last, he had the means to avenge the deaths of his mother and father.

Revenge would be his at last.

Frank Di Giorgio was waiting for Cara when she entered the kitchen the following morning.

"I'll be driving you wherever you want to go again today," he said.

Cara nodded. She didn't have to ask why. The creature was still out there somewhere. She hoped it had left town, then felt guilty for doing so. Who knew what havoc it might cause in another city? Then again, maybe they were all worrying for nothing. For all they knew, it might be harmless now that Serafina was dead.

Cara fixed breakfast for herself and Frank, put the dishes in the dishwasher, left a quick note for her mother, and grabbed her handbag.

Di Giorgio followed her outside and held the door to the Lexus open for her. "Where to?" he asked.

"Vince's."

Cara stared out the window as Di Giorgio pulled out of the driveway. She had spent a sleepless night tossing and turning as she replayed Vince's leave-taking in her mind, unable to shake the feeling that he hadn't been saying good night but good-bye. She told herself she was wrong, that he wouldn't walk out of her life like that again, but she didn't believe it. She was certain he was hiding something from her, but what?

She was out of the car before it came to a full stop, a surge of relief sweeping through her when she saw that the security door was open. He was still here! Chiding herself for her foolish fears, she hurried inside, only to come to an abrupt halt when she saw that his car was gone. Then she noticed that his big red toolbox was also missing, and that Cat wasn't curled up on a corner of the desk.

"Can I help you, miss?"

Cara stared at the man walking toward her. He wore a pair of overalls and carried a paintbrush in one hand. "Who are you?"

"Max Felton; I own this building."

"I'm looking for Vince Cordova," she said, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Vince, yeah. He called me late last night and said he was moving out and he wouldn't be back." The man shook his head. "I got here around seven this morning and he was already gone. He must have taken off in the middle of the night."

"Do you know where he went?"

"Sorry, I sure don't."

She swallowed the lump rising in her throat. "Did he leave any messages for anyone?"

"Not that I know of."

"Thank you." Feeling as though her heart was breaking, she walked back to the car.

Di Giorgio was there to open the door for her. "Where to now? "

"Just take me home. My home," she clarified.

With a nod, Di Giorgio closed the door.

Cara stared out the window, scarcely aware of anything around her. He was really gone this time, with no goodbye and no hope of her ever seeing him again. This time it was final; she felt it in the deepest part of her being.

A short time later, Di Giorgio pulled up in front of her place. Opening the door, he handed her out of the car and followed her up the walkway and into the house. He went from room to room, making sure everything was as it should be.

"I'll be right outside if you need me," he said.

Cara nodded. She felt suddenly old and dried up, as if all the life had been sucked out of her body.

Frank patted her shoulder, his eyes filled with compassion. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

She nodded again, too numb to speak. All she could think of was that Vince had left her. Again. Only this time it was for good. She moved woodenly through the house, watering her wilted plants, dusting the furniture, vacuuming the carpets, and all the while, the words, "he's gone, he's gone," repeated themselves in her mind over and over again.

After putting the vacuum away, she went into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. She stared at the floor, more unhappy than she had ever been in her life, hardly aware of the tears that trickled down her cheeks.