Twilight Hunger Part 22

"-told me about you as soon as I got here, but I just-I can't get over it."

Max understood the reaction only too well. "I've been looking at Morgan all night, and I still can't get over it, either," she said. "I didn't know I had a sister at all, much less a twin."

"Neither did I," Sumner admitted.

They reached the kitchen, where Max smelled coffee brewing and made a beeline for it. She didn't see Lydia anywhere and wondered where she'd gone. The two men sat at the table, and she poured herself a coffee and joined them. "I'm sorry, I guess I'm still unclear on your relationship with Morgan, uh, David, is it?"

"Yes, David. I'm... well, an honorary uncle. I've known Morgan ever since she was a year old. If they'd been religious types, I suppose I would have been named Morgan's G.o.dfather, but that was never formalized. When they died... well, I was all she had."

"You also produced her vampire films," Lou observed, picking up a cooling, half-empty cup of coffee and sipping its contents.

"Yeah, well. I'll tell you, I didn't expect them to be as good as they were. When I saw that first script, I swear to G.o.d, I told her she should shop it around. Get a bidding war going among the real heavy hitters, you know? But she wouldn't do it. She wanted me to make her first film. So I cut her in for half the profits and did the best I could with it. She deserved more. But as it turned out, the films grabbed a following right out of the gate, and the momentum built to the success of this third one."

Lou nodded slowly. "So how was she, the last time you saw her?"

"Not like this." David glanced at the watch he wore. "I can't reach her doctor before ten. I'll call him then."

"Then she has been ill?" Lou asked.

David drew a deep breath. "Listen, Morgan's star is just starting to rise. I don't want this getting out."

"We're not looking for a story to sell to the scandal sheets, David," Max told him. "If we were, then the missing twin angle would be plenty. There's something not right here, and I-we only want to help her."

Lowering his head, David said, "I'm afraid there's not a lot that can be done for her. She, um... she has a rare condition. An antigen in her bloodstream that has medical science baffled. No one seems to know why, but individuals who have this antigen in common begin to weaken and fade in their mid to late twenties and rarely live beyond their early thirties."

"What... what are you saying?" Max whispered, meeting his eyes. "That she's... "

"I'm sorry. I know this must come as a shock." David sighed, lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "She's known about this since she was a teenager," he went on without looking up. "h.e.l.l, it's what made her so driven, and why she was so determined to get a screenplay produced right away, at such a young age. She knew she didn't have a lot of time."

Max sat there staring at him. Her eyes were burning. Her mind spinning. "That's... that's wrong, that's not-that can't be true."

"Max," Lou began.

"That's not it, Lou!" She shot a look at David Sumner. "You're telling me she's dying?'"

"We didn't expect it to get this much worse this soon, but-"

"Oh, G.o.d," Lou muttered.

Max just sat there, getting angrier and angrier. Finally she pounded a fist on the table. "This doesn't make any sense whatsoever. Look, I don't know what else might be wrong with her, but the reason she's in the state she is right now is because she was attacked by a vampire last night."

David Sumner was silent, just looking at her, then Lou, then her again. "That's not very funny."

"I saw the marks on her throat. I looked while I was sitting up with her and she was asleep, and when she woke up I called her on it, and she admitted it to me." She was speaking too rapidly now, and she could see that she was scaring the s.h.i.t out of Sumner. "Dante is real. She admitted it! Although she insists he's no threat to her."

Sumner got slowly to his feet, looking nervous.

"Maybe now that I'm here you two should move along. I'm really grateful for your help but-"

"Now he thinks we're crackpots, Maxie. Sheesh, you ever hear of being subtle?"

She shot Lou a look. "You brought the CD, didn't you?"

"I brought it."

"Well, show him. Just f.u.c.king show him."

Nodding, Lou got up as if his limbs ached. They probably did, from that chase the night before. He glanced at David Sumner. "Give me a half hour of your time, Sumner. If you still think we're a pair of lunatics when I finish, we'll leave. No fuss, no muss. Okay?"

Sumner licked his lips, looking from one of them to the other. "I... suppose so."

"Good. Is there a computer around this place?"

"In the study, but Morgan keeps it locked. She hates anyone going in there." The words made Maxine's antennae quiver. "I have a laptop in the car," the big man added.

"Then let's go get it." Lou glanced back at Max. "You better go take a nap, huh? You didn't sleep all night. The bed in your room was still made up this morning."

She nodded, her eyes heavy. "Maybe I'll do that," she said. "Where's Lydia, anyway?"

"Went out first thing. Into town for supplies, she said. She'll be back."

Max frowned and thought about going for a walk around the grounds-maybe the fresh air would wake her up. But her eyelids and muscles disagreed with that plan, so she sucked down her coffee as if it were lifeblood and refilled her cup again. She had no intention of taking a nap.

Morgan was weak, groggy, when she woke. And there was an empty, hollow feeling emanating, echoing, from somewhere deep in her center. A yearning... for Dante. It was beyond simple desire. It was beyond human love. It was an ache, a desperate, endless need. The soul-deep hunger of a woman on the brink of death by starvation.

Clenching her teeth against the emptiness, she got up, took note of the daylight still flooding in through the thin curtains on the French doors and silently cursed it. Even if Dante had survived-G.o.d, please!-he wouldn't be able to come to her. Not now. Not in daylight.

She dragged herself tiredly into the bathroom, wanting a fast shower, knowing she lacked the energy to take one. There was no hopping in, scrubbing down, rinsing off and hopping out. No, but she did manage to crank on the taps and peel off her clothes. She stood under the spray with her hands braced on the shower wall and her head hanging down. She couldn't get through the day like this. Jesus, she needed...

She knew what she needed. She needed Dante. She needed him inside her, his fire burning life through her veins. He had taken too much from her. Not to hurt her, G.o.d, she knew that. He was going to do what she asked. Make her what he was. Drain her and then refill her with his own life. Stiles's interruption had cost her dearly.

Something, some sense that was very much like hearing a sharp noise but not quite, made her lift her head and listen. Was someone else in the house?

G.o.d, those strangers from last night? Were they still here?

She had to admit to a softness toward the woman who claimed to be her sister. But anyone who meant Dante harm was her enemy. She would protect him, no matter what. No matter who she had to fight.

Reaching for a towel, she stepped out of the shower, feeling cleaner but no stronger, and only a little more awake. She paused to look into the full-length mirror at her body, dropping the towel to the floor and wondering how Dante could want her as she was. Skinny. Weak. Pale. Lifting her chin, she looked at the place on her throat where he had pierced her. Her body tingled all over at the memory of the sensations that had rushed through her then. The ultimate possession. She had been completely his-and relishing it.

Then she narrowed her eyes, her fingers dancing over the skin of her neck. There were no marks. No punctures, as she knew there had been the night before. Moving closer, she looked again, frowning. Very faint marks, barely pink against the white of her skin, betrayed the place where his incisors had been embedded in her flesh. The holes and the bruising around them were gone. The marks that remained... even they seemed to be fading before her eyes.

"It was real," she whispered. "I know it was."

She pulled on a robe, a different one, scarlet satin, hoping to draw energy from the color. She brushed her hair, although the act was exhausting, and finally she crept down the stairs to face the intruders. She had to convince them that she was all right and get rid of them. Otherwise Dante would never be able to come to her again.

At the bottom of the wide curving staircase, Morgan paused, staring across the foyer to the open doors of her haven. Her study. The place she let no one invade. She thought of the floorboards beneath the rug, the hidden s.p.a.ce below, where, for all she knew, Dante might have taken refuge last night Her heart stuttered, and anger pushed it into a faster pace than before. She surged across the foyer, into the study.

Maxine stood there, looking beautiful and alive and healthy. She was staring at the drawings of Dante that lined the walls, not touching anything, not searching, just staring.

"These doors are kept locked for a reason," Morgan said, her voice low, her anger in check.

Max jerked in surprise, her eyes wide as they met Morgan's. "You're right, I'm sorry, I just... couldn't help myself." She came forward, a hand going to Morgan's arm. "You shouldn't be up. You're still so weak."

"I'm fine." She pulled her arm away, willed herself to stay angry, not to soften again toward the woman. "This is my private study," she said. "I don't let anyone in here."

"So I was told. That's why I had to come in." She shrugged. "Look, I know I invaded your privacy. I thought maybe I'd find something in here that might help me save your life."

Morgan couldn't hold Max's eyes then, because the sincerity she saw in them touched her, though she didn't want it to. "Nothing can do that. There's nothing."

"You have to have more time," Max said. "You have to, Morgan. I just found you."

Morgan turned her back and denied the bolt of pain those words sent through her. "I spent a lot of time wanting that to be true. It only leads to disappointment, Maxine. I don't want to want it again. I've accepted the facts." And she had, she thought. But not the facts as her sister knew them. Morgan knew that living a normal life was no longer an option. She had thought accepting death was her only choice, but now she had another option. A new life of endless night. It might be possible. If she could only last long enough to make it happen.

Max was silent for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was thick. "These drawings-they're stunning."

Morgan turned, managed to face her again now that Max was attempting a lighter subject. "Thank you. They're just what my imagination tells me my character looks like."

Max blinked. "Come on, Morgan, we're past that. You admitted last night that he was real. Don't you remember? When I saw the marks?"

Pasting an innocent expression on her face, Morgan lifted her chin, let her hair fall back and parted the collar of her robe. "What marks?"

Max frowned, moving closer and inspecting her neck. "But... but they were there. You covered them up." She reached out and dragged a forefinger across the place where the marks had been, but when she looked, Morgan knew, she saw no traces of makeup. "I don't understand."

"You don't need to."

"Morgan, if this vampire is... is feeding on you, then whatever time you have left will be even less, don't you see that? David said the last time he saw you, you were-"

"David?" Morgan flinched. "David?"

"Don't you remember? I told you last night he was coming."

Morgan frowned, trying to sort out the confused muddle of her mind.

"He's here," Max said. "In that small parlor off the living room with Lou."

Morgan started out of the study, then turned to take Maxine's hand and tug her along. "How did you get into the study?" she asked.

Sheepishly, Max tugged a key from her jeans pocket. "It was on your nightstand. A lucky guess."

Taking the key, Morgan turned to close and lock the study doors. Clutching the key in her palm, she moved slowly across the parquet to the small parlor, wondering what was going on between Lou, the policeman, and her beloved David. When she walked in, the two men were huddled over David's familiar laptop, and they both looked up.

"David," she said, forcing a warm smile.

"Oh, baby." He surged to his feet and wrapped her in a warm bear hug. "Honey, how are you? You looked so bad when I arrived that I-"

"David, I need to talk to you. Alone." She turned to Maxine. "Please."

"Sure. We're not the Gestapo, Morgan. We only want what's best for you."

Lou got to his feet and left the room, joining Max in the living room. Morgan closed the door on them and turned to David, a man she knew would do anything for her. Anything. She met his eyes and said, "I want them out."

Max was stunned when a quiet, slightly guilty-looking David Sumner asked them to leave. Morgan had gone straight back to her bedroom, barely sparing her a glance on the way, and then David stood there in the large living room and told them they were going to have to leave.

Lou nodded just slightly. "I understand."

"I don't!" Max scowled at the man. "And you shouldn't, either, David. Not if you care about her. My G.o.d, I'm her sister. The sister she didn't even know she had. Her twin, for G.o.d's sake!"

"I know. I'm sorry, Maxine, it's just-it's what she wants."

"Do you really think that was her talking to you in there? It wasn't," Max insisted. "It was him. That vampire. He's got her under some kind of-"

"Max, come on." Lou cut her off gently. "I'm on your side, and even to me that sounds over the top."

"You think so?"

David touched her shoulder, so she switched from glaring at Lou to glaring at him. "I have to admit," David said, "the evidence you two have is... well, it's compelling. I'm not saying I believe it, but I can see where you might. But Morgan is extremely agitated and totally unlike herself."

"Gee, I wonder why," Max muttered.

"I just think, given her condition, it would be better if we humored her in this. At least until we can get to the bottom of what's going on here."

Max stopped frowning and slowly lifted her brows. "It sounds like you don't really want us to leave."

"Frankly, I don't." He pushed a hand through his hair and paced away from them before turning back. "I know phonies when I see them, and you people are the real deal. I know that. It's just that she's so d.a.m.n sick, and so out of it right now. I don't know if I can handle whatever is happening to her on my own."

"And yet you're throwing us out."

"Out of the house, yes. But I'd like you to stay in town for a couple of days. Can you do that?" He held up a hand when Max would have replied. "I'll pay whatever you want for your time. And I'll put you up in town. There are some accommodations that are really quite pleasant."

Max felt a hint of relief. "I'll take you up on the room. But not on the-"

"She'll take you up on all of it," Lou cut in.

"She's my sister," Max said.

"She's rich. You're getting by, I'm retiring, and Lydia's sc.r.a.ping." Then he frowned. "Where the h.e.l.l is Lydia, anyway?"

"She hasn't come back yet. We'll have to find her before we leave," Max said, a bint of worry gnawing at her belly. Then she turned her attention back to David. "You're going to have to watch her closely. Especially at night. We could come over, you know. Stake the place out, keep our distance."

Drawing a breath, David cast a nervous glance toward the stairs. "It seems wrong, spying on her. And yet... I'm worried." Sighing, he said, "I don't want to betray her. I'll watch her closely. Maybe even get her doctor to prescribe something when she sees him this afternoon. A sedative, something to help her sleep through the night."

Max wanted to argue. Lou stopped her. "We'll go. Just be sure you call us if you need to. And we can't stay up here indefinitely, either."

Max drew a breath, shaking her head. "I don't like this."

"I don't either, to be honest," David said. "Why don't you go on upstairs and say goodbye, Max?"

"If she wanted to say goodbye to me, she'd have said it down here." She looked from one man to the other, then sighed in exasperation. "I'll try."