Secrets of the Night Special Edition (93 page)

He grinned her way.” Not as often as I'd like to . . . with you.” 

Would their friendship end with this night? Or would they have more times together? His words sounded promising.

They stopped at a red light, and her stomach growled again, her face warming with embarrassment.

He smiled his toothpaste bright smile.” Stevie, it would please me very much to offer you dinner. There's a fine restaurant a short distance away, La Paloma.” Another smile in her direction.” Does that suit you?” 

"Sounds great.” 

Once there, a protest formed on her lips.” This restaurant looks awfully--"She started to say "expensive" but caught herself, reluctant to question his ability to pay "--nice.”

"So I've heard. I've never eaten here, but this gives me an opportunity to spend more time with you,” he said as the valet came around to open her door.

Although they had no reservations, the maitre 'd quickly led them to a small table in a corner of the dimly-lit dining room with turquoise walls and glistening crystal chandeliers. Every linen-topped table was full, she noticed, with lots of well-dressed older people, but a few young people, too.

She studied the meat, fish, and poultry selections on the menu, hoping they wouldn't have a long wait for the entree. She was dying of hunger! Fingering a pink carnation in a crystal vase, she saw that Galan had already set his menu aside.

"What will you have?” he asked after she placed her menu on the table.

"Chablis for now. The chicken a la
Kiev
sounds good.”

Galan ordered her Chablis and red wine for himself, and when the drinks came, he gave the waiter her dinner order.

She looked at him in surprise.” You're not eating?”

He raised his glass.” Only the wine. I'm not hungry now. But please, don't let that keep you from enjoyment of your meal.” The pale overhead light softened his features, moderating its harsh lines and muting the pearlescent quality of his skin. It was an arresting face, but one that never betrayed his thoughts.

There was so much about him she wanted to know. Unsure where to start, she reached for her glass, her gaze on him.” I remember you told me you don't work downtown,” she said.

He sipped his wine, then set the goblet down.” I work at home. I'm a writer.”

"A writer! Science fiction, mystery, or--"

"Non-fiction. History. I'm writing an account of the Battle of Hastings.”

"Ten sixty-six,” she interjected.” History was my favorite subject in high school.”

He nodded.” I feel that I know so much about the battle, it seems as if I actually fought in it.”

"I've often felt it was a shame the
Normans
won,” she said, “when right was on the side of the English.”

"King Harold should have prevailed! We--uh, the English held the high ground.” He studied his wine glass, his face creased in misery.” But the English lost the battle to the deceitful
Normans
, and thus, lost
England
.”

He sure sounds as if he fought the battle, she thought as she selected a roll from the bread basket and buttered it.” You almost finished? With your book, I mean.”

"I've several more Chapters to go, but it's coming along quite well. There's a publisher in
New York
who's already expressed an interest.”

"Wow! That's great! I'll want an autographed copy when it's published,” she said with a smile.

"It would be my pleasure. I shall make certain you get a copy.”

She bit into her roll, puzzled as ever by Galan's speech. She couldn't put her finger on it, but certain words and phrases he used sounded stilted. And the more she heard him speak, the more she caught a trace of an English accent.

"Did you ever live in
England
?”  She sipped her Chablis, keeping her eyes on him.

"A long time ago. Enough about me. Tell me, will you go home for the holidays?” 

"Can't take time off from my job.” 

"Then your loss is my gain. I wondered if you'd enjoy seeing The Nutcracker.”

"I'd love it! I've never been to a ballet.” She thought for a moment.” Can you get tickets this late?” 

"I've already bought two tickets.”

"Oh.” She didn't know what else to say. Was he so sure of himself?

He seemed to be able to read her mind.” If you hadn't been able to go, I intended to go by myself.”

She finished her roll and wiped her hands on her napkin.” You wouldn't want to waste a ticket.”

He gave her a steady look.” Indeed, it is my good fortune.”

Her salad arrived, rendering her momentarily silent while she dipped her fork into the most luscious combination she'd ever tasted, a vegetable melange with a light dressing, topped with watercress. Boy, did that taste good!

He rested his arms on the table, fingers entwined, silver cufflinks gleaming. His eyes seemed to probe her, as if he could see into her soul, discern every secret.” Tell me about yourself. I know you work at the bookstore, but have you any special interests?” 

"I help the homeless and--"

"The homeless--why?” 

"Because I want to. Well, I help them as much as possible, and I try to get them jobs.” She sighed.” Not always successful there. Whenever I get a chance, I spend a little time talking with them, even after I work late in the evening.”

He frowned.”
Miami
's a dangerous place at night, as you should well know.”

She knew he was thinking of her mugging the night they'd first met.” I'm more careful now.”

"'Careful' doesn't count for much.
Miami
is full of criminals. I see so many. . .” He paused, as if he'd said too much.

"So many--what?” 

"Crimes!” His face darkened.” Criminals everywhere!”

"How do you see all these so-called crimes?” 

"I see them,” he replied in a voice that brooked no contradiction.

"Maybe you don't realize it, but in this country, a man is innocent until proven guilty.”

He shook his head.” I see all the proof I need.”

"Well, I don't want to argue about that now. . . .” She thought quickly.” My father . . .”

"Yes?” 

She twisted her napkin in her lap.” He's a lawyer, and he once made a deal--took a bribe, in other words--that kept many poor people from having adequate housing. Helping the homeless is my way of making up for it.”

"You are not responsible for your father's sins.”

She shrugged.” I do what I can.” She sipped her Chablis, looking up as the waiter brought her entree.

"Let's talk about something else,” he said.” Do you like poetry?” 

"I don't like--"She made a fluttery movement with her hands"--poetry that doesn't rhyme.”

"Well, I think you'll like this one.”

"It was many and many a year ago

In a kingdom by the sea--

"Edgar Allen Poe!”

Smiling, he nodded.

"That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee. . . .”

She concentrated on every word, fascinated by his deep, rich voice, as smooth as a butterscotch sundae. His voice, like his eyes, had a mesmerizing quality. Hearing him heightened all her senses, as if she'd never really lived until now. If only his voice had that effect on her, what might a kiss do?

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee

And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride

In the sepulcher there by the sea

In her tomb by the sounding sea

"That was very impressive!” She returned to her dinner, unaware until this moment that she'd forgotten her meal, forgotten everything except his voice and the poem. It seemed as if they had the restaurant to themselves, just Galan and she.

"Perhaps I should go on the stage,” he said with a self-deprecating smile.

"You'd be a hit!”

Galan studied her while she ate, every gesture, every facial expression. He liked the way her eyes lit up when she talked, no matter her mood. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a simple gesture but exquisitely enchanting. Even by the dim light, her skin glowed with life, and the sweep of her eyelashes, the gleam of her blonde hair by candlelight captivated him. Inhaling her lilac scent, so many memories burst in his mind, of meandering streams and grassy meadows, of the white chalk cliffs of
Dover
.

In spite of himself, he observed the pulse at the base of her throat, the pumping of her blood that tempted him almost beyond endurance. He wanted to reach across the table and touch her warm, delicate skin, but if he did, he'd be lost, helpless to deny the hunger that clawed at his insides. No, he could never hurt Stevie, an enchanting woman who meant so much to him. Willingly, he would give his life--such as it was--before he'd let any harm come to her.

As he drained his glass of wine, he struggled to constrain his appetite. He'd have his own dinner later, after he drove her home. Hunger tortured him, a deep, urgent desire for food. Yet he longed for some nebulous attribute that went beyond mere sustenance, a goal forever out of reach. He gazed at her while she ate, seeing all he'd never have, everything denied him, from now until eternity.

After Galan paid the waiter, they left the dining room, descending a few steps to the entrance, where a crowd of patrons waited to be seated. There, glass cabinets lined the walls, each filled with porcelain dishes and figurines, a pleasant attraction she'd missed when they first arrived.

"Oh, look at the pretty porcelain!” Stevie headed for one of the cabinets, catching her reflection in the glass.

He came to stand beside her.” Quite an interesting collection.” 

She saw him next to her but she didn't see his reflection in the glass. What? She looked at the glass again. Strange.

With a muttered exclamation, he lurched back, away from the cabinet.

She turned in his direction.” You okay?” 

"Yes, of course. Why shouldn't I be?” 

"I don't know. . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she, too, stepped away from the cabinet, wondering why she hadn't seen his reflection. A trick of the light, she supposed.

What else could it be?

The last faint stars disappeared from a slate blue sky as Stevie stepped off the bus in downtown
Miami
, the Miami Herald clutched in her hand, her leather purse slung over her shoulder, and a lot of worries plaguing her mind. What made her so tired?  she agonized, trudging along
Biscayne Boulevard
, thinking how worn out she'd felt for weeks. Adjusting her purse strap, she sighed. She supposed she'd have to see a doctor, but she sure didn't want to, especially since she had no medical insurance.

Later this evening, she had karate class, but she didn't feel up to that, either. Should she cut the class? Better not; she was becoming pretty good at defending herself, and here in
Miami
, you never could tell when that skill might come in handy.

Huge Christmas wreaths bedecked light poles, and silver garland added an extra holiday touch, brightening the streets and lightening her mood.

She glanced at the newspaper in her hand. The headline screamed at her. UNEXPLAINED DEATHS--VAMPIRE MURDERS? She skimmed the article, her throat suddenly dry.” A number of mysterious deaths . . .”

A sick feeling churned in her stomach, slowing her steps. The dead man from several weeks ago jarred her memory, his skin milk white, as if all the blood had been drained from his body. Now, more, similar deaths.

Of course, she didn't believe in vampires.

* * *

Alarm jolted Galan as streaks of lavender and rose tinged the eastern horizon, a precursor of the deadly dawn, when all of the undead must take refuge in darkness. If he didn't hurry home . . . He shuddered. After a visual check convinced him the street remained deserted, he felt the slow pulse of his victim and rose from his feeding, leaving the man in a weakened, hypnotic state.

Sounds and aromas bombarded his senses. He smelled the salt water of
Biscayne Bay
, a pleasant smell he'd become used to. The sweet fragrance of fruit the vendors sold several blocks distant floated up his nostrils, but too quickly, a car's exhaust nullified the delectable scent.

Mindful of the urgent need to transport himself, he caught sight of a form down the street, about a quarter of a mile away. With lightning speed, he covered the distance, only to discover a dead body, its skin alabaster white, sightless eyes staring up to heaven. He raked his fingers through his hair. When had this happened, and how could he have missed it?