Secrets of the Night Special Edition (109 page)

"What have you done with her?”  Every muscle tense, Galan stared at the fiend.

Enthroned at the long trestle table, Moloch toyed with the stem of his goblet, his look cruel and cunning, his gaze boring into Galan.” If you're speaking of the mortal woman, I haven't the vaguest idea where she is, and furthermore, I don't give a damn. It's up to you to surveil your Godforsaken woman. Why should I--?”

"You son of a bitch!”

Moloch jerked to his feet, sending his chair crashing to the floor.” You dare to speak to me with such disrespect? I could destroy you--"He snapped his fingers-- "just like that!”

"But you won't,” Galan said.” You need me, don't you? Who else can you groom to supervise the Society of the Undead? What other nightwalker would want to assume your duties? Not a one. So there you have it. Now, if you'll tell me where the mortal woman is--"

"For the last time, I don't know!”

"Bastard!”

Is he lying? Careful to mask his dejection, Galan stalked out of the hall. Return to
Miami
, find Stevie!

A silent plea penetrated his consciousness. Galan, save me!

In a split second Galan disappeared from the room, then reappeared below ground.

* * *

Galan, please save me!

Within the dank, gloomy dungeon, Galan stopped to concentrate and finally homed in on Stevie's presence. Water dripped from the ceiling, the walls slimy with green mold. A powerful stench assaulted his nose, a smell that made him choke.

"Stevie!”

Galan!

A rush of happiness clashed with deadly anger when he found her chained to a wall, covered only with a thin blanket. Who had done this to her? If not Moloch, for God's sake, who? 

"Stevie, my darling!” Galan knelt beside her and gingerly drew her into his arms, feathering kisses from her forehead to her neck. Alarm jolted him as he held her frail, unresponsive body in his arms and noted her closed eyes, her faint heartbeat. A frisson of fear raced through every cell in his body, finally settling in his heart, freezing all rational thought except one. Was it too late to save her?

Her lips moved, but no words came. Like a wilted rose, she lay immobile in his arms, as cold as the snow that blanketed the
Alps
. Mindful of the need to warm her, he ran his hand across her arms and down her legs. In absolute fury he found the rusty shackle that bound her to the wall, the manacles that fettered her hand and ankle. Thankful he'd recently fed and now had the strength of twenty men, he jerked at the shackle and tore it loose. The massive pin on the wall fell to the floor with a loud clatter. He tugged at the manacles and broke them open.

"Now you're free.” With gentle fingers, he smoothed lank strands of hair from her face while he murmured endearments to comfort her. More worried by the minute, he sat down next to her and felt her carotid artery. So weak. So very weak.

"My dearest,” he whispered, “I’m going to take you home now.” Eyes closed, she lay as silent as a corpse, her lips blue with cold. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, her skin stretched taut across her face, as if death had already claimed her. When had she last eaten or drunk? God, it might have been days ago since she'd consumed food or water.

A fresh spurt of anger erupted inside him. Who had done this? God, who? When he found out, he'd kill the bastard. Moloch had denied knowledge of her imprisonment, but the fiend was a crafty bastard and a skilled liar, a monster with no scruples. Later, he'd ask Stevie, but he feared she wouldn't know.

Giving up his quandary for now, Galan saw his chance to cure her of her horrible affliction, now while she lay near death. He'd give her his blood, for the rich, red liquid had recuperative powers beyond anything the blood of puny mortals contained. He'd do it now . . . no hesitation, no equivocation.

He raised his wrist to his mouth and bit down hard on the radial artery, watching the blood flow and drip onto the stone floor.

"Stevie.” Gently, he shook her and held his wrist to her mouth.” Drink my blood. It will revive you.” With infinite care, he lifted her head and pressed his wrist to her mouth.” Please, my darling.” After several entreaties, the pressure of her lips on his wrist told him his offer had found acceptance.

He monitored the amount until he judged she'd drunk enough to ease her thirst and cure her illness. Satisfied, he withdrew his hand. In no time, his bleeding stopped, the skin mended. Clasping her slender body in his arms, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed it across her mouth.

Her eyes blinked open, a frown creasing her forehead.” Galan? How . . . how did you find me? How did you know I was here?” 

"Sweeting, you should know by now that an invisible cord binds you to me. You are a part of me, and whether or not you accept me for what I am, I want you to know I'll always be near whenever you need me.” As if she were a fragile porcelain vase, he lifted her in his arms, tucking the blanket close around her, holding her close to his chest.

"Now I'm taking you home.”

* * *

"Here we are, sweetheart . . . home again.” Galan's voice, as sensuous as an ocean breeze, aroused Stevie from her slumber. Still clad in her flannel nightgown, she blinked her eyes open and looked around in hazy recognition. Settled on Galan's lap, she nestled against his hard chest, drawing comfort from his strong arms holding her and the smooth cotton of his shirt grazing her cheek. Back home again, in her own bed!

After another dazed glance around, she asked, “How’d I get back here?” 

His arms tightened around her.” I transported you, darling, first putting you to sleep.”

She moistened her lips.” But the dungeon . . . how--?” 

"Don't you remember? I rescued you from your cell, where I found you near death.” An expression of tenderness gentled his sculpted features as he kissed her on the cheek.” Can you tell me how long you were imprisoned?” 

"I lost track of the time . . . several days, I'm sure.”

She shuddered.” The cell--"She rubbed her arms and shuddered, as if she'd never get warm again.” Galan, that cell!”

"Please put it from your mind,” he said with another light kiss on her cheek.” You're home now, safe again.”

She raised her head to gaze at his ebony eyes, those eyes that held a thousand secrets but revealed nothing but love. With only a dim light by her bed, his dark eyes appeared even blacker, as if all the mysteries of the cosmos had gathered in their depths. The lamplight cast a silvery sheen on his hair and imparted a distinct hue to his face, masking its usual pallor.

She stretched her arms and legs, another question puzzling her.” How can I feel so much better after being in that crazy cell for so long? My arthritis--it's gone.” She flexed her fingers, opening and closing them. Pure joy made her want to dance, sing, fly around the room! She ran her hand from his chest up to the nape of his neck, tangling her fingers in his curly hair.” I don't need to tell you how happy I am, but I still don't understand about my cure.”

A long pause ensued, then he clasped her hand in his strong one and bent to feather a kiss on her lips.” I gave you a few drops of my blood. It was the only way--"

"Your blood?”  She jerked back.” But how can that make me well again?” 

"My blood has healing powers. While you languished in the dungeon--and frankly, starving to death--I saw my chance to cure you of your dreadful affliction.” He kissed her again, harder this time.” Now, we will say no more about it, only that it gladdens me to see you healthy again, as you were when I first knew you.” His gaze flew to the curtained window, where a slow dawn lightened the east, and the chirping of robins announced the dawn. Time for one last embrace.” I must leave you now, but I shall come again tonight. There are things I want to know.”

* * *

After Galan left, Stevie stood under the shower, luxuriating in the warm spray of water that sluiced onto her head and down her body, washing away the dungeon filth. Even now, in this short amount of time, she missed Galan, missed his sexy voice, those dark, mystical eyes of his, everything about him.

In familiar surroundings again, she felt better than she had in months, and tomorrow she'd return to her job at the bookstore. She could resume her karate lessons, too, something she definitely missed.

Thankful for all Galan had done for her--he'd saved her life and made her well again--she realized she couldn't base a lifelong commitment on gratitude. If he asked her to marry him, there was only one answer to give. Tell him "no", even though it would break both their hearts. No matter how much she loved him--and she did love him, no question about it--she wouldn't marry him. She wanted a normal life and children, and how could she have that if she married a vampire? Imagine telling her dad about Galan. Dad, I'm in love with a wonderful man. Only one problem. He's a vampire.

* * *

"We have much to discuss,” Galan said that evening after a long, passionate kiss she wished would go on forever, a poignant kiss, too, because she knew she had to end their relationship. She wasn't the kind who played with a man's feelings . . . even if that man wasn't mortal.

They sat on the sofa, his arm around her shoulder.” One thing I must know--who in God's name kidnapped you? If not Moloch--"

"Moloch?” 

"Forgive me for throwing that name out when you are not familiar with this, uh, person. Moloch heads the Society of the Undead--vampires, in other words.”

Shivers raced across her arms and legs. Was this the same creep who'd scared the daylights out of her?”  An older, skinny ma--, er, vampire with long, bushy hair?” 

"The same,” Galan said with a puzzled look.” But how do you know of him?” 

"If he's the one you're talking about, I've seen him a couple of times when I was out on my nightly run, and other times outside my apartment. He looked as if he wanted to kill me! But Galan--"

"Why have you never told me about him?” 

"How was I supposed to know you knew him? But he's not the one who kidnapped me. It was a woman, called herself Rosalinda.”

"Rosalinda? She's dead.” He turned away for a moment.” I mean, truly dead.”

"That's the name she gave me. She's got long, black hair and her nails--"Stevie shuddered-- "her nails were like claws.”

"By St. Aidan! Either Lilith lied, or Rosalinda didn't truly die.”

"I'm not following you.”

"A thousand pardons, sweeting. This must all seem bewildering to you, especially after your recent ordeal. Lilith and Rosalinda are two vampiresses who hate each other. Lilith supposedly killed Rosalinda, or so she said. Apparently, she was mistaken, for she had no reason to lie.” He scratched his chin, looking worried.” So--"

"Rosalinda! She told me you were lovers once.”

He turned away for a moment.” A couple of centuries ago.” He faced her again, his voice low and reassuring.” But no longer. Please dismiss the thought,” he said, squeezing her hand.” Now, let us continue. You are still in danger, once that vampiress discovers you didn't die in the dungeon. We must take you to where Rosalinda can't touch you.”

"Where would we go?”  She sighed.” So many things I wanted to do, now that I'm well again--return to the bookstore, do all the things I couldn't do before.” She traced her finger down his cheek, storing all his features in her memory.” I'll always remember that you rescued me and made me well again, but I hate to leave here.” Another sigh.” Are you sure Rosalinda would look for me again?” 

"Let me put it plainly,” he said, harsh lines etched on his face.” If Rosalinda finds you're still alive--and that may well happen--what she'll do to you will be infinitely worse than leaving you to starve in a dungeon.”

"What could be worse than starving to death?” 

"You really want to know? She could torture you--burn you to death or put you on the rack. That same prison you languished in has a rack, didn't you see it? Other possibilities--she might turn you into a vampire or worse, transform you into an empty creature with no mind or soul. Do you want to hear more?”

"No, that's enough!” She peered into his face.” You got any ideas? Where can I go so Rosalinda won't find me?” 

"The question is not only where, but when.” He reached for her hand again, his voice low and soothing.” I intend to take you back to the fifteenth century--"

She jerked in his embrace.” What?” 

"Take you where Rosalinda can't get you,” he said, an expression of calm assurance on his face. As if his expression assured her!

"You've got to be kidding!” This was all getting nuttier by the minute.

"Time travel poses no problem for me. However, Rosalinda can't go back to the fifteenth century because she wasn't born yet.”

"Neither was I, obviously.”

Galan spoke with cool nonchalance.” Ah, but since I was born before that time, I can take you back with me. I need only to hold you in my arms--an exercise I greatly enjoy--and transport you.” 

She shoved a lock of hair from her forehead.” This has got to be the craziest travel idea since the Children's Crusade.”