Secrets of the Night Special Edition (117 page)

He cast a loving glance at his wife.” If he ever found out about me, it would be just like that demon to go after the very ones I hold most dear--my wife, two sons, and a daughter. I could not bear it if any harm came to them. But more important, we must protect other humans from his evil influence. So get rid of that demon and come back with proof of his destruction. Then, and only then, will I give you a potion that will restore you to mortality.”

Galan suffered a barrage of doubts and emotions.” You are asking me to destroy--"

"--a monster! Moloch has ruined so many lives. He must not be permitted to exist.” 

Galan switched topics.” This potion. . .”

"The effects of this elixir are truly painful--mortifying, if I may use that word. Many who have taken it have not been able to bear the pain, finally driving a stake through their own heart to end their agony. And once you swallow this concoction, you cannot undo its effect. There is no antidote.”

"I see.” Galan clenched his hands in his lap. He considered the enormity of all he must do. Eliminate Moloch. Thou shalt not kill. For centuries, he'd refrained from killing any beings, mortal or vampire. Now, in order to become mortal again, he must murder his nemesis. Kill him in cold blood. Cold blood, he repeated to himself. The irony of those last words taunted him, their veracity a painful reminder of his vampirism, of what he must remain if he failed to get rid of the monster.

No matter that Moloch was evil, that he deserved to perish, Galan didn't know how he could lower himself to the demon's level. But if he didn't get rid of him, he, Galan, would remain a vampire throughout eternity, destined to exist only in the world of the undead, never to see Stevie again.

By all that was holy, what should he do?

* * *

Stevie sat with Mark on the sofa, his arm around her waist, his look deep with longing. He drew her closer to kiss her.

She tried, oh, she tried, to lose herself in his kiss, to enjoy the taste and touch of him, especially after the wonderful time they'd shared on their date this evening. But another man intruded on her efforts, a man with dark hair and ebony eyes, his face etched with harsh lines and sharp angles. A man who could tempt her with just a look.

After long moments, Stevie eased away, knowing she couldn't deceive Mark any longer, couldn't pretend something she didn't feel.

A look of hurt bewilderment crossed his face.” Stevie, what is it?” 

"Mark, I . . .”

"No, you don't need to tell me.” He gave her a sharp look.” It's someone else, isn't it? The guy who came here to your apartment.” He smirked.” Barged in is more like it. Frankly, Stevie, I don't understand what you see in him.”

I see his basic goodness, she wanted to say. I see the most wonderful man in the world, one I can never have, because he's not even human. A man I will always love.

She sighed.” Mark, I think it's best if we stop going together and--"

"God, is that what you really want? Never to be with each other again? Is that all I mean to you?” 

She twisted her fingers in her lap.” It's because you mean a lot to me that I think we should break off--"

"You're not even making sense.” With one quick movement, he pulled at his tie, jaw clenched, his hand shaking.

"Just listen to me.” She ran her finger across his shirt collar, but he jerked back. Licking dry lips, she tried to hide her hurt.” It's not fair to you for me to continue to see you, when I lo--, when there's someone else on my mind. Believe me, I appreciate all the good times we've had, and I'll always remember you, but--"

"Well, thanks a lot!”

"--but let's make a clean break of it, with no hard feelings.”

"Right! If that's the way you want it.” With one last angry glance, he sprang from the sofa and stormed out of her apartment.

After the door slammed behind him, Stevie remained motionless for a long time, pressing her hand to her throbbing forehead. She wanted to cry for all she'd lost, for a good man she'd never see again. Still, she knew she'd done the right thing, knew it wasn't fair to string Mark along when he'd never be more than a special friend.

She stared around the room, trying to absorb its restful atmosphere, to expel Mark's harsh words from her mind. Hoping to distract herself, she inhaled the nutmeg scent of a phalenopsis on the coffee table, one of the orchids Galan had given her. A hundred memories swamped her. Why couldn't she forget him? What would she gain by thinking about him all the time?

She slipped off her black slingbacks and stretched her stockinged feet out on the wide coffee table. Her glance flew to her porcelain rabbits--gifts throughout the years--that had finally found a home in a one-shelf pine bookcase she'd recently bought at a yard sale. Unable to shrug off Mark's bitter words, his hurt looks, she unbuttoned the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons of her blue silk dress, then pulled her gold-plated ear rings off, dropping them into her lap. She went through these movements with careful precision, as though to pretend everything was normal, as if her heart wasn't breaking.

Aren't you glad Galan's out of your life?  her brain challenged. Liar! her heart cried. She missed him every minute of every day. He's out of your life, her brain repeated. Time she got used to his absence.

Carried on a wave of despair, she gathered up her shoes and ear rings and headed for her bedroom. It was getting late, and she was going to the early church service tomorrow, so--

The phone rang, yanking her from her reverie. Alarm froze her steps. It was after midnight. Something had happened to her father! More likely a wrong number, she prayed as she retraced her steps and set her shoes and ear rings on the coffee table. The phone rang again.

Her hands shook as she picked up the receiver.” Hello.”

"Ah.” A low, hissing sound came over the phone, like a snake that's zeroed in on its prey. The sound increased, as if a thousand starving snakes were trapped in a pit. The temperature in the room dropped, or was that only her imagination?

She gripped the receiver.” Who is this?” 

Another hiss.” Don't you know?” 

Chills raced down her neck and back, then along her arms, down to her fingertips. Warily, she looked around the room as her eyes focused on every corner. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her hand pressed to her stomach. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She exhaled slowly. She would not let the fiend sense her fear.

The hand that held the receiver trembled, but she spoke with determination.” Hey, you scumbag, why don't you meet me face to face?” 

"I intend to. You won't get away from me now,” the scratchy voice warned.” This time tomorrow, you'll be dead.” 

Send the mortal woman to hell--tonight!

Moloch raised the lid of his casket and climbed out, his fingers gripping the edges, skeletal feet touching the stone floor. He sat down to tug on his short leather boots, then strode toward the trestle table to pour a goblet of burgundy as problems crammed his mind, especially the mortal bitch. Galan had promised to leave her alone, but what assurance did he have the nightwalker would keep his word?

The wind tossed Moloch's bushy hair about his face as he drained his goblet, resolved to settle the matter of the mortal woman once and for all. Hunger stalked his body, a fierce agony that demanded satisfaction now. His deprivation weakened him unbearably, but he would soon assuage his need . . . with the human slut.

He stared off into space, fearful he'd consume all his remaining power in his journey across the ocean. Ah, but the lure was too great, his goal too enticing. His painful hunger would render her blood all the sweeter.

Diabolical delight pulsated inside him as he shoved the goblet aside, his hand shaking and knocking the goblet over, where it rolled to the floor and shattered into a hundred pieces. He pushed away from the table, the chair scraping on the flagged stone floor.

Time to kill the woman!

* * *

Alone in her apartment, Stevie moved restlessly from one room to another, each room brightly lit at this late night hour. Terror courted her each step of the way. Her gaze covered every square foot, every corner of the living room. She continually checked behind the draperies and stared outside her window.

A thick haze hung over
Miami
, spawned by a widespread fire raging in the
Everglades
. Even inside her apartment, she smelled the smoke. The smog hindered her vision, and she could scarcely see outside her windows, an impediment which only intensified her fear.

Since last night's phone call, one idea after another raced through her brain. How can I defeat this monster? But maybe there was no danger at all. For all she knew, the call was only a malicious prank.

What if she phoned the police? Why, yes, she could hear herself now.” A man called last night and threatened to kill me. By the way, he's a vampire.” Right.

No, face the fact that she must face the fiend. There was no escape. He would find her anywhere.

In her jeans and gray sweatshirt, she rubbed her arms and jumped at every nighttime noise--a neighbor's dog barking, loud music from a car whizzing past. A cold weight settled in her stomach. Chills raced down her arms, legs, and back. Perspiration sheened her forehead.

Well, no point in sitting around, waiting for the threat, she thought as she headed for the kitchen. After she slipped on plastic gloves, she grabbed bleach from under the sink and scrubbed the counter, pushing canisters, knife rack, and her CD player aside to sponge every inch of the kitchen space. The smell of the bleach made her eyes burn, and she rushed through the job, her hands shaking with agitation. Finished with the gas burners, she glanced at the wall clock. Hours remained before dawn.

She couldn't call Galan. He had his new love, no room in his life for her. On leaden feet, she made her way back toward the living room, where her gaze moved in all directions and focused on every corner. Would her skill in karate save her? She could hope. Without that skill, she'd be as helpless as a three-legged rabbit in a python pit. What about one of her sharp knives? She'd left a knife lying on the counter, just in case. A knife against a vampire? Hardly.

Forget the stupid phone call. Some people had a morbid sense of humor, and--

"Oh, no!” Horror flashed through her body when she saw the fiend. She raised ice-cold hands to her cheeks.” Please, God, no!” A tightness gripped her chest, sucking all the air from her lungs.

"You won't get away from me now.” An old man in a long black robe approached from a far corner of the living room, his emaciated features chalk white, the same creep she'd seen before, the one who'd terrified her all these months. Here, in her apartment, now! A stench of decay clung to him, of sickness and death.

In an unconscious gesture of prayer, she pressed her hand to her heart. God, help me!

His face! Evil! His emaciated arm extended toward her, as if to gather her in a deadly embrace and crush all the life from her.

"You think you can escape me?” he snarled in his raspy voice. Long strands of tangled gray hair fell past his gaunt shoulders, like scraggly weeds on a mountainside. A large hooked nose jutted out from his narrow face, a face creviced with tiny wrinkles. His hands ended in talons, long, clawlike nails that made a clicking sound whenever he touched his fingers to his wide leather belt. Click, click. Gems studded his belt, flashing with every movement.

But his eyes, oh, God, his eyes! Narrowed and crafty, they were as black as the darkest night, his expression as brutal as a starving alligator. A pendant dangled from his neck, brilliant beams flickering in the bright lights.

She stepped backward, rubbing sweaty hands along her hips. Terror wrenched her stomach in knots.” You stay away from me!” His thin lips twisted into a sneer.” As if you can stop me!” Like a snake, his gaze slithered over her, teasing her, as though to say, I can kill you whenever I choose. He tapped his belt. Click, click.

Another step back almost tripped her over a magazine rack, but she caught herself in time. She had to reach the kitchen, had to get the knife.

Galan! she silently called. But she was on her own. The fiend hissed, a cloud of steam exiting his mouth.” You have tried my patience long enough.” He ran a thick tongue along his bottom lip. Sharp teeth gleamed like daggers, his look like the bestial rage of an animal gone mad.

"What have I ever done to you?” she cried as she played for time. Desperation drummed inside her. If she could only divert him . . .

"Galan. You won't leave him alone.” The words sprayed out like acid poison.

"I haven't seen Galan in ages.”

"Don't lie to me.” With taunting slowness, he inched closer.

"I'm not lying!” Another backward step, her aim to lure him into the kitchen. Her heart pounded against her ribs like a pile driver against concrete. Shivers shook her body, but she reached her destination, the knife in sight. She had to kill him, had to! She would not die, would not let him suck all the blood from her body.