Secrets of the Night Special Edition (99 page)

Then he stopped, his lips pressed to a spot on her neck. He licked the spot, his teeth nibbling at her skin. A low growl erupted from deep in his throat, a savage sound that sent a jolt of alarm racing through her.

She felt his shoulders tense beneath her fingers.

"Galan . . . what is it?”

"No,” he moaned.” Oh, no!”

Slowly, he drew back and stared down at her, a look of agony twisting his handsome face. How could he stop now, just let her go?

"I must leave now,” he whispered.

"Leave, already?”  Desolation twisted inside her.

"Stevie, I'm so sorry.” After one last embrace, he was gone down the walkway before she could ask him what troubled him. So quickly, she'd hardly had time to comprehend his words.

Chest heaving, Stevie grasped the doorknob as she watched him climb into his car and drive off. She stared at the Mercedes until the taillights disappeared around the corner. Her body throbbed as silent moments slid past. A cat screeched from the backyard next door, interrupting her troubled musings. What was the matter with him? She unlocked the door and stepped into the dimly-lit living room, where the sofa, chair and tables dwelt in shadow. She'd never known a guy like him, never in her life.

She slumped into a chair and unbuttoned her coat, then slipped off her slingbacks. Why bother dating him? No sense in going with a man so full of secrets you never knew what he thought or felt. A man whose actions often bordered on the bizarre. A man who always left her aching for more.

* * *

Mindful of his promise to Galan, Octavius headed for Schloss Omerau. How could he distract Moloch, make the fiend leave Galan alone? He scratched his chin, a plan forming in his mind. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. But could he stand before Moloch without stammering or shaking? The demon had always terrified him.

Arriving at the castle in the early evening, he found Moloch at the long trestle table in the great hall, a flagon of wine and a crystal goblet half-full of burgundy in front of him. Moloch's skeletal fingers clutched the glass, as if it were the elixir of youth, his ticket to eternal happiness.

A gust of wind through the open windows sent the purple velvet draperies whipping away from the wall, the glass of the crystal chandelier tinkling, like a thousand miniature chimes. In contrast to the splendor of the room, a black feline reposed in a far corner as it daintily licked its paws, the bloody remains of a rat at its feet.

Clad in a long black robe and short leather boots, Moloch threw Octavius a sullen look. Octavius swallowed hard, his stomach knotting. With his perpetual frown and downturned lips, the master looked like a starving dog deprived of its last bone.

"What do you want this time?” Moloch said in a deceptively mild voice.

Octavius bit his bottom lip. This time? 

Moloch slammed his hand down on the long wooden table, knocking the goblet over. The wine spilled across the table and onto the stone floor, where it formed a crimson puddle.

"What's the matter? Lost your tongue? Tell me what you want!”

Don't let him upset you. He's only a vampire, like you.” I don't want anything. But Morcar--"

"Morcar! That troublemaker!”

"My feelings exactly. It seems he's spreading rumors about you again--"

"Again?” 

Octavius nodded.” As he did a couple of centuries ago. Back then, Galan stopped him with a threat, very convincingly, I assure you. Now, Morcar's saying you've been at this position too long, that you're too stuck in your ways. 'Your fossilized' thinking, I believe is the term he used.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. Had he gone too far?”  Morcar believes he could do a better job as leader. So--"

Moloch half rose from his chair, his long, slender fingers clenched on the table edge. His mouth hissed steam.” Where did he say this?”  Black, piercing eyes stared at Octavius as he sank back down.

The maverick's legs shook under his toga, and he took a deep breath.” At a recent party in
Paris
. Hundreds of nightstalkers attended, more than I could count. He made no secret of his opinions, going from one vampire to another, spreading his vicious lies.” Would the fiend believe him? Octavius forced himself to breathe evenly. After all, it was the truth.

Moloch sprang to his feet, the chair falling back on the stone floor, echoing like a clap of thunder in the room. He nodded with determination, his dark eyes flashing venom.” You leave him to me.” He snapped his fingers.” You're dismissed.”

* * *

On a cold, frosty morning a few days after the New Year, Stevie dragged out of bed, feeling tired and listless, wishing she had a thermometer. I don't feel like going to work today, she agonized as she slid her feet into her fluffy slippers and headed for the kitchen.

A short while later, after grabbing her beige slacks from the closet, she rested on bed. Forcing her legs into the slacks, she thought about Galan and their last date, his every smile, his kisses. She'd never figure him out, this guy with his moody personality, his secrets.

Her fingers trembled as she zipped her pants, then she headed for the chest of drawers to get her blue cotton sweater. Outside her window, she heard the rumble and whistle of the Florida East Coast Railway train in the distance. She pressed her hand to her throbbing head, hoping she'd make it through the day.

She tugged at the drawer, her fingers so stiff she could barely grasp the knobs. Damn, damn, damn! She tugged hard, sending a Lladro angel toppling. After checking the angel for nicks, she set it aside and tried again. One deep breath and a hard tug opened the drawer. She'd suffered from fatigue for months, and now this! For the past several weeks, she'd lost her appetite, and now her clothes hung on her like garments on a broomstick scarecrow. A rush of alarm chilled her arms and legs. She'd have to see a doctor.

In the narrow aisle of the Bookworm's Delight, Stevie tried to shelve a volume between two other books while she clutched a pile of new arrivals.

"Damn!” The book fell to the floor with a hard thud, barely missing her foot, followed by other volumes. She stifled a cry as she leaned over to retrieve the books, bending cautiously as a sharp pain shot from her knees down her leg.

"Oops, looks as if you have a problem here.” A tall, good-looking man with light brown hair and a pleasant smile crouched beside her to help pick up the books.” There!”  he said, setting them within a bare spot on the shelf. In brown wool pants, a white shirt and a beige sweater--cashmere, if she wasn't mistaken--he presented a picture of studied casualness, reminding her of photos she'd seen of English country gentlemen. He probably carried a pipe in his pocket. His face was familiar, too.

He grinned.” Now I know what they mean when they say 'heavy reading. '"His hand supporting her elbow, he helped her rise to her feet.” You okay, now?”

Stevie leaned against the bookcase.” Yeah, guess I just tried to do too much all at once,” she said with a smile.” Thanks for your help.”

"You're welcome.” He paused.” By the way, I'm Mark Farrell. Come here whenever I get a chance. But I won't take up any more of your time.” He nodded, backing away.” See you later, then.” After another nod and a smile, he left the store.

What a nice guy, Stevie thought as she watched him walk out. A gentleman, too, and you don't see much of that kind anymore. A gentleman, like Galan. She sighed, wondering why she hadn't heard from him.

One of the employees hurried over from across the room, a worried frown on her face.” What's the matter, Stevie? I've noticed lately you're not your usual cheerful self.” Julie gave her a close look.” Not pregnant, are you?” 

"Pregnant?”  Stevie wished she could laugh but feared it would hurt too much.” Hardly.” Tired and feverish, she rested against the bookcase. A week had passed since she'd noticed the stiffness in her hands, and look at her now. A lot worse!” Been a little tired lately. Don't know why. Getting old, I guess,” she said with a wan smile.

"Old?”  Julie laughed.” No one gets old anymore. We all stop aging at twenty-five. But seriously, if you have problems . . . do you want to talk about it?” 

"I just don't feel good.” Stevie shifted her weight to ease her sore joints. Might as well have it out in the open.” I kept thinking I'd get better, but sometimes I have to drag myself out of bed in the morning. Guess I'll have to see a doctor.” She brushed her fingers across her forehead.” Don't want to, though.”

While customers milled about the aisles, taking books down from the shelves and turning the pages, Stevie touched Julie's arm.” Here, let's move out of the way.” They headed for a far corner.

"There's a lot of flu going around,” Julie remarked next to a shelf of romance paperbacks, “and if you have something contagious, you know the rest of us won't mind helping out until you feel better.”

Stevie changed her position again, her knees aching like crazy.” Probably a good idea to take time off from work. You can take my place until I come back. Maybe a week or so. Hope it's no more than that. I'll tell the others.”

She'd ask the brothers at Camillus House, the Catholic shelter for the homeless, if she could use the free clinic. Since she often served meals to the men and women there, they wouldn't charge for a checkup, would they? And if they did? Well, then, she'd have to dip into her savings.

In spite of her pain, a rush of emotion made her catch her breath as she thought about Galan. She wanted to be in his arms, feel his mouth on hers, his body close to hers. How was it possible to miss someone so much, that you thought about him every minute, day and night? But she didn't want him to see her like this. She'd wait 'til she got better. And she would get better, wouldn't she? 

* * *

Like an explosion, the alarm clock jolted Stevie out of a restless sleep. Flat on her back, she ached in every joint.

Come on, girl, get up! With a moan, she forced herself out of bed, and after dressing, headed downtown to Camillus House. If they let her in the back door, she could avoid a long wait. After a half-hour's ride on the bus and a short walk to the shelter, she got into the doctor's office right away, thank God for small blessings. In the small, plain office, she related her symptoms.

The doctor fiddled with his fountain pen.” Could be rheumatoid arthritis, but we'll--"

"Rheumatoid arthritis?” 

He made a few notes in a file folder.” We'll need to take X-rays and do a blood test. Then it'll be three days or so before we get the results. . . .”

A short time later, Stevie left the clinic, not knowing any more than before. Three days to wait. Like three years.

Aching in every joint, she tried to walk normally, telling herself that many young people had much more serious ailments. So quit feeling sorry for yourself, she thought, walking along the dirty, trash-laden streets. Easier said than done.

* * *

I must see Stevie again. By St. Aidan, he missed her so, every minute away from her a constant torment, worse than the most desperate hunger. Unable to reach her by phone, Galan didn't want to arrive at her home unannounced, as he had on his first visit. Worry about her kept him awake during the day and haunted his dreams when sleep finally came.

He surmised Rosalinda spent her time with Octavius now, but the unruly vampiress was as unpredictable as a roulette wheel, damn the bitch. What if she weren't with Octavius now? What if she posed a danger to Stevie, as he'd feared before? He must never let his guard down.

Even if Rosalinda left Stevie alone, Moloch had an army of vampires and revenants to destroy her. Revenants! Monsters, neither living nor dead, not even undead, but creatures caught somewhere in limbo between life and death.

One quick glance at his desk clock told him Stevie would be sound asleep. His intuition warned him--he'd better go to her, now!

Within seconds, he found himself in her bedroom, and--Rosalinda! Red-hot rage exploded inside him. God! He wanted to destroy the bitch, drive a stake through her wicked heart. A neutral expression fixed on his face, he forced himself to stay calm, knowing he could think more clearly if not blinded by anger. But it wasn't easy.

Unaware of Galan, Rosalinda approached Stevie's bed. Bloody saliva dripped from her mouth, her hands poised to strike, long, sharp nails curved like tiger's claws. Clad in a red and black striped silk dress, she wore her hair in an upsweep, a jewel-encrusted dagger tucked among the coiling tresses of the crown.

Fearful of waking Stevie, Galan whispered, “Rosalinda.”

She swung around, shock plain on her face, but guilt, too.” What are you doing here?” 

"That's my question for you.” 

She shot him a defiant look.” I can go wherever I want, whenever I want. Nothing and no one can stop me.”

By God, how he hated her. To think they'd once been lovers! He struggled to smile.” I thought you spent your time with Octavius now.”

She smirked.” He's so boring. Not nearly as exciting as you. Besides, he's having a little altercation with Morcar. Morcar's been spreading lies about Moloch, in case you didn't know.”