Vampire - Dead By Dusk Part 39

"Come," she said.He followed her to the nurses' station, and she leafed through the charts.

"He is on no special diet. There are no instructions. Dr. Antinella will be around to see him very soon. He has been good through the night, and this morning, yes?"

"You've checked in on him?"

"But of course," she a.s.sured him. "You have been sleeping," she said, a small smile curving her lips. "A good friend you are, though. Trying to stay awake."

"Yeah, well..." He flushed. d.a.m.n, but he hated it when he flushed. He turned really red. "I'll be back. I'm going to try and find my buddy a steak."

"Ciao!" she said cheerfully.

"Ciao." He waved awkwardly. d.a.m.n, but she was cute.

A tremendous feeling of well-being swept through him. Doug was better already. The world was good.

No, it wasn't, he remembered.

There had been a human, arm left in front of Grant's cottage last night. And he was supposed to find his way to the mortuary and see... see if he could identify it as Gema's.

His stomach churned.

Good thing he was getting the steak for Doug, and not himself.

Antoinette smiled and hummed as she worked, her notepad in her hand. She had received a promotion to her recent position just a few weeks ago, and she was still very proud and pleased. She wasn't just head nurse for her shift now, but supervisor of her area.

That meant, of course, that she now had greater responsibility, and that she was required to know the extent of their supplies at all times, know when they were low, what must be ordered. Naturally, she was responsible as well to make sure that none of her fellow employees slipped out at night with any drugs.

There were many that could just give one a great high for an evening. Drugs that saved life could also be exceptionally entertaining in the recreational area.

She took her responsibilities very seriously, but not fretfully. This was a small place. It was tightly run. The employees took pride in it, and when a bad egg came along now and then, well... he or she didn't usually last very long.

When she first heard the sound at the door, she didn't even look up.

"Yes? I'm busy, as you can see."

She felt the touch on her shoulder first. Her first instinct was irritation. Who in the world! Did someone think that she, of all women, would be interested in an intimate little tete-a-tete in the supply room? And if not, did they think they could get her to let them slip out with supplies that belonged to the hospital?

Indignant, she spun around.She inhaled, ready to be firm, angry, and definitely indignant.

Antoinette!

She heard the caress of her name, heard it as if it had been spoken inside of her, as if it were a stroke against her naked flesh.

She stared ahead into... fire.

"Yes?" she said, and it was a rasp.

She was aware of the smile. Of the euphoria that swept over her.

She heard the commands, and she obeyed.

Every last one...

When she woke up, she was on the floor. She looked at herself in horror and embarra.s.sment, scrambled to her feet. Stunned and confused, with no memory of the last twenty minutes, she hastily made repairs to herself.

And then, she saw the supply room.

And she began to scream for help, still tucking her hair back into her cap.

Sleep was good. Delicious. Stephanie was aware of the warmth of Grant's body, and somehow, even sleeping, aware as well that beyond the darkness of the room, it was daylight.

Rest was wonderful.

And then...

She began to stir, aware that at her side, Grant was tossing. His flesh seemed on fire.

Grunts, sounds-words?-she couldn't understand suddenly began to tumble from his lips. His muscles tensed, lengthened, tensed again. His fingers wound tightly into fists, and he pounded the bed at his side.

She just stared at him at first.

Then she jumped out of the bed, stunned at the violence in the thrashing of his body. He shouted, and again, the sounds seemed like words, but she couldn't understand anything he said.

Suddenly and abruptly, he went still.

Then he sat up, jackknifed to a sitting position. His eyes were open, and he was staring ahead in fury and anger. He shouted out again, threatening someone. Vaguely, she was aware that she recognized the language.

She even thought she understood the words.

"Grant!" she called softly. He was dreaming; he had to be dreaming. She didn't know whether to shake him or maintain her gentle approach. And she was afraid to get too close to him; his volatility could send her flying if she didn't wake him fully and instantly.

He screamed something out again, something she couldn't discern, then leapt out of the bed. Stark naked, he strode for the doors, and fought with the billowing drapes. Ripping them open, he slammed against the gla.s.s.

"Grant!"

Back to her, b.u.t.tocks and thigh muscles bronze and taut, he was pressed against the gla.s.s.

"Grant!"

She leapt up, suddenly heedless of physical danger, desperate to get him away from the gla.s.s before a young mother with a child or children looked up from the beach and decided to have him arrested for indecent exposure.

"Grant!"

Stephanie threw her arms around him, dragging him back. For a minute, it was terrifying. He was a powerhouse of heat and energy. With all her strength, she tried to draw him in. She fell back on the bed beneath him. His weight was smothering. She shoved him off her, dug her way out from beneath him, and, gasping, made it to her feet.

"Grant!"

He lay flat on the bed, silent and still, eyes closed.

To her absolute amazement, he rolled into a more comfortable position, just as if he had been easily, restfully sleeping all along.

Puzzled and frightened, she bit her lower lip, then realized that she was standing naked in front of an uncovered picture window.

Groaning, she went for the drapes. As she tried to stuff them back around the rod, the whole thing fell down on her again.

"Steph, what on earth are you doing?" she heard Grant ask.

Turning, she saw him, hair tousled, yawning, eyes only half open against the light, staring at her as if she were the one losing her mind. But then, his gaze became troubled. He rose, untangling her from the wrecked curtains once again, returning them to the rod. He drew her to him, and stood still, just holding her for several long moments.

She determined not to prompt him, to give him time on his own.

"I remember..." he murmured.

"I remember... and then I lose it." Shaking his head, he stepped away, heading for the bathroom. She heard the shower, and let him be, straightening the bedding. He came out in one of the resort's terry robes, and told her, "I'll put on more coffee."

Her turn in the shower. She ran in, glancing at the clock. They'd had about five hours sleep. It was going to have to be enough.

When she emerged, showered, hair clean and damp, some makeup to minimize the effects of sleeplessness and wear and tear, she hurried down the stairs. The coffee was made. He wasn't downstairs, but he hadn't left. She ran back up the stairs, and found him standing out on the balcony, looking toward the west where the sea met land, and the mountains could be seen, climbing almost to the sky.

"I dreamed I was there," he told her, aware that she had come, that she was watching him.

"You-have been there," she reminded him.

He shook his head, and strangely, looked at his hands.

"No... I heard the screams, the clang of steel... I was watching a battle through the eyes of someone there. I felt the rush of a horse beneath, the weight of chain mail and armor... I..." He turned and stared at her. "I saw the demon dogs." She was silent for a minute, then said, "Maybe it was a very natural dream. We were up for hours and hours, listening to things so fantastic, that even now, with just a few hours sleep, seem to be impossible. But the events all those centuries ago were what we were talking about, right before we went to sleep. Your dream was... normal, I think."

"It was in vivid color. I could smell the blood, feel the steel. I was looking through a visor... and it limited the field of vision. I was fighting, and somehow... I was learning as I went along. Learning how to fight. Not how to fight men-I seemed to know that. I could feel the ache in my muscles as I swung a sword. But the dogs... they had to lose their heads, or they wouldn't stay down."

She came and put a hand on his arm. "It was a dream, Grant. I was next to you. It was worse, though, than any that you had before, back home, in the States," she said. She stepped around, standing in front of him, seeking his eyes. "You were with me, all along. It was a dream. I was next to you. I have to make a real, concerted effort to wake you up from now on."

He shook his head slowly. "I hate it. I'm-I'm afraid of it. But don't wake me up. You can't wake me up because... I have to get to the end of it."

A real sense of fear suddenly filled her. "I-I don't think you should get to the end of it."

"I have to."

"Listen, a good psychologist or psychiatrist would find us fascinating subjects-and explain away a great deal, I'm certain. But I've heard things about dreams, and, of course, I don't know if they're true or not, but... I don't want you dreaming about this.

Everyone died in those hills and tors that day. I don't want you to dream... that you die," she told him.

He smiled suddenly, and cupped the back of her head tenderly with his hand. "I know this sounds ridiculous, but it's almost like going back. Like being there. And I might be able to see the truth of what went on."

"Dreams are what we make of them!" she whispered.

He pulled her close. "Are you forgetting the wee hours of the day?" he asked huskily. Then he pulled away again. "We have a friend who's a vampire, remember? And, hey, his best friend is a werewolf."

"I haven't forgotten. It's just that now... after sleeping... the total absurdity of it all is coming home, and I don't know what I believe." She hesitated. "What do you believe?"

"I believe you're in danger. Maybe I'm in danger, too, but... Stephanie, if this horrid creature exists, and they're right, for some reason, he wants you."

"Grant, I promise you, I have no feeling at all about ever being in this area before. I love it here-well, I did love it, before people started... dying. Grant, I haven't been sick a day. The others have been sick. Gema was the one taken."

"You need to call Reggie. You have a number for her, don't you?" Grant demanded.

"I have a cell number, of course. But she never answers. You've known me long enough to know how Reggie is," she reminded him.

"Call her. Tell her it's important that she call you back."

"Why?"

"Don't you at least want to know where she is?" he asked.

"Reggie is not the reincarnation or whatever of an evil witch!" Stephanie insisted."I repeat-don't you at least want to know where she is, and what she's doing? Try her cell. If we don't reach her, we'll talk to Arturo," Grant insisted. He kissed her forehead. "I'm going to get dressed. In my old clothes so I can go over to my place and get clean ones. Then... I think we should go check on Doug right away, what do you say?"

She nodded. "All right. I'll try to reach Reggie."

Reggie didn't answer when Stephanie dialed her cell number, but in a few minutes she called back.

"Darling, I know I've been just terrible about communication," Reggie told her, "but then you had this number, so I a.s.sumed that if you were having any problems, you'd call me. But I talked to Arturo. Such dreadful things are going on!"

"Yes," Stephanie said, feeling a little guilty. Grant had gone to his place to get clean clothing; if he'd been there, she'd be giving him a filthy look right now that said I told you so. But then, actually, Lucien had been the one convinced that there was something out of the ordinary with Reggie. "Did you know Maria Britto? And I don't know when you talked to Arturo last, but it seems that a body part left in front of Grant's doorway belonged to Gema Harris."

"I never met Maria, or even Gema," Reggie said. "Of course, I feel horrible. Just horrible. I hired Gema, so her death is certainly my fault."

"No, Reggie. It's the fault of the heinous person who did it to her," Stephanie said.

"She wouldn't have been here if I hadn't hired her, so... it is my fault. I'm in Belgium. I was getting together another tour group... there was supposed to be a group coming in from the U.K. on Tuesday, but I've managed to get them rescheduled. If they prove today that a piece of Gema's body has been discovered, why, of course, I intend to offer your actors severance pay, and give them the option to go home. Unless, of course, they can find this psychotic killer. When I first heard about Maria, they said she'd been killed by wild animals! Well, it's apparently an animal, all right. And I heard that Lena had gotten ill, but was better, and that Suzette had a bad day-and that Doug nearly died!"

"Doug is doing much better," Stephanie said. "Reggie... you didn't come in with the group from Germany the other night, did you?"

"Why on earth are you asking that?" Reggie asked.

"I could have sworn that I saw you."

"I told you, dear, I'm in Belgium."

"Yes... I know."

"What is Grant doing there? I thought you were so anxious to come to Italy to spend some time away from him!"

"He didn't know I was here. He came to be part of that dig."