Vampire - Kiss Of Darkness Part 13

"To drive over, park, get to the floor?" he said, staring at her. "Twenty to thirty minutes. My guys are only human." "Maybe I should head back over myself?"

"An officer will be there just as quickly as you can get there."

She sighed. "I guess you're right."

"So what's wrong?"

"I just should have thought of it before," she murmured. Then she grimaced at Sean. "So...should we head over to his lecture?"

Jeremy had been awakened several times. The nurses had been in and out.

Mary's folks had been and gone, her father insisting her mother had to spend time with the rest of the family, too.

The doctor had been in, and the news had been encouraging.

Mary was holding her own. Even though the doctors couldn't understand why her blood platelet count wasn't completely stabilized, it was getting there.

Jeremy had decided he wasn't leaving that night, even though everyone seemed to think she was out of the woods. His mind was in such turmoil that he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, anyway.

He would just keep waking up, thinking he should be here.

So he watched reruns on TNT. He talked to Mary now and then, and made himself comfortable on the visitor's chair. He'd already drifted in and out of sleep several times. He didn't want to sleep, but he couldn't fight it.

Sleeping brought on dreams.

And the dreams were always the same.

He was back in the old ruined castle in Transylvania. Watching, paralyzed, forced to see the scene replay over and over again, except in his dream, he was watching the film again, but it was playing on the hospital television set.

Mary was there, but not in the bed, on the screen. She was awake and smiling, at the mirror and unafraid. She was brushing her hair, her movements sensual. She turned, knowing that someone...something...was in the room.

Jeremy felt the leaden darkness, like something that sat on his chest, stealing his breath, stealing his resolve, his thoughts...his humanity. Whatever had entered the room was evil.

But Mary welcomed the presence. She turned, as sensual as a cat, eyes hooded, wicked, waiting. She longed for the touch of darkness. The breeze came, lifting her hair, baring her throat, her breast. The gossamer gown drifted low.

She ripped the cross from her neck.

He struggled to awaken, to stop her.

The shadow moved closer, enveloping her. She lifted her chin, rapture in her eyes. She waited....

No, no, no, it was a dream.

"No!" He cried the word aloud, startling himself awake. The television had gone to static.

He jerked his head around. Mary was still in her hospital bed. He looked across the room, feeling a cool breeze, as if the windows had been opened.

A chill had entered the room. Not from the too-efficient air-conditioning.

This was a different kind of chill.

But no windows were open. They were sealed shut, he reminded himself, probably to keep patients from jumping.

He realized then that the door to the hallway was ajar.

He looked at Mary. Her eyes were opened, but she was staring straight ahead, as she always seemed to do now.

But something was different.

His blood turned to ice as he realized what had changed.

Mary was smiling.

He stood, walking to her side, taking her hand. She didn't protest; she just kept smiling.

"It's all right," he a.s.sured her.

It was then that he noticed her silver cross, the chain broken, lying on the floor. A tap at the door made him jump.

A police officer was standing there. "Hey, son, I just wanted you to know I'm out here, if you need anything," the man said.

He was a big guy.

With a heavy silver cross only half-hidden beneath his uniform.

Jeremy nodded. "Thanks, but why are you here?"

"Lieutenant said his friend, some psychologist, was worried about you all. So I'm here. And everything is going to be okay."

"Sure."

Jeremy wondered why he was so certain that everything wasn't going to be okay, that in fact it had already gone straight to h.e.l.l.

And Mary just kept smiling.

7.

B ryan MacAllistair was an excellent lecturer. Not only did he know his subject, but he could be grave, then allow laughter, then drive home the seriousness of a point in a way that a straight diatribe could not.

He was also strikingly handsome, Jessica thought, not for the first time.

She felt a stir of something in her heart; a glimpse of a long-gone memory she couldn't touch. She shook her head.

The rest of his charm was in his voice, in the grin he offered now and then, even the absent way he pushed back a lock of stray hair falling over his forehead now and then. Watching the man speak, Jessica realized he literally seduced his audience.Whatever they were paying him, he was worth it.

"He came straight to see you, and you were given orders from the mayor's office to speak to him?" Jessica whispered to Sean.

"He's apparently been instrumental in solving occult murders all over the world," Sean said. "You really are suspicious of this guy.

Why can't he be just what he seems?"

Jessica stared at MacAllistair again.

"Because."

"Because why?"

She shook her head. "He's after something. He's dangerous. I can feel it."

Sean sighed, shook his head and looked at the stage again. "We'll put him to the test," he said after a moment, his voice deep and teasingly dramatic. "We'll gather all our friends and put him in a room with them. If there's something...not right about him, he'll give himself away and we'll know it. And then we'll see."

"That's a brilliant idea," Jessica said.

When the lecture was over, the room burst into applause. To her genuine annoyance, he even received a standing ovation.

Standing and clapping, Sean looked at her with amus.e.m.e.nt. "It's not like he crept into town anonymously," he said with a laugh.

"We'll put him to the test tonight. How's that?"

"What? You're going to throw an instant party?"

"A small one. Let's invite him to my house. Nothing big-just the four of us. I'll call Maggie. We'll have coffee and beignets or something."

"Okay." Jessica agreed.

"He might say no," Sean warned.

But the man of the hour didn't refuse the invitation. It seemed as if they had to wait forever for his throng of admirers to dissipate, but when they were finally able to reach him, Sean did the talking, issuing the invitation.

Bryan MacAllistair smiled slowly and looked at Jessica. "Sure."

She felt as if they'd thrown down a gauntlet-and he'd picked it up with tremendous amus.e.m.e.nt.

The house was beautiful, a true old Southern plantation. Maggie was equally beautiful, Bryan thought, the perfect mistress of such a place, with a regal stance, thick hair of vibrant auburn and mystical hazel eyes. She and Sean had three children, two boys and a girl, who were quick to throw their arms around their father and Jessica, and just a shade reticent when they saw him. Then they gravely shook his hand before being sent off to bed.

Maggie Canady seemed pleased to have him in her home; she was friendly and gracious, but Bryan knew that she was studying him as curiously as her husband and Jessica did. As suspiciously.

Not a problem. They were welcome to be just as suspicious as they chose.

He could wear a smile, and he knew how to be on guard."This is quite a house," he told Sean, after being shown the downstairs. It was the kind of place that might have been a stop on a tour of historic New Orleans, antebellum, with a graceful staircase, ma.s.sive foyer and comfortably proportioned side rooms meant for entertainment.

"And you're wondering how I can afford it on a cop's salary?" Sean inquired dryly.

"Actually, I was just admiring it at the moment."

"The house has been in Maggie's family for a couple of centuries," Sean told him.

"The house, the kids...your wife is really something."

The look on Canady's face as he smiled was something Bryan envied. Here was a man who didn't just love his wife but was still in love with her, as well. "She's a miracle worker. She has a shop in the Quarter, too. All back in full gear now, after the storms.

We have help around the house, though."

"Hey, guys, coffee is on, unless you prefer tea," Jessica said, appearing from the kitchen.

She held her head at an angle, smiling as she spoke. Her beauty was delicate and fine, the structure of her face perfect, her blond hair a captivating frame for it. He felt something stirring deep within himself. A memory, a nostalgic longing. But that was the past.

Long over and dead. He knew that.

Still, she aroused him in a way he hadn't felt in ages.

"Coffee," he said. "And thanks."

He and Sean followed her back into the kitchen. There was a formal dining room, but they gathered around the large table that sat not far from the giant hearth, once used to cook meals for both family and servants. "I hear the house has been in your family for years," he said, addressing Maggie as he took the chair she indicated. "That's a gorgeous painting at the top of the stairs. You really resemble your ancestor."

"Thank you," she murmured. "Pecan pie? Brownies?"

He waved a hand. "Thanks. Just coffee is fine."

"It's the best pecan pie in the world," Jessica commented, a subtle smile still curving her lips.

"You made it?" he asked Maggie.

"I made it," Sean announced. "I can't tell you how many cops actually watch the cooking channel."

Bryan laughed and accepted a piece of pecan pie.

"How are you doing with my new bathing suit?" Maggie asked Jessica. "She's got a great eye for fashion," she went on, turning to Bryan.

"I've done some sketches. Sorry, I've been slow," Jessica said.

"No problem, but you should know that I'm thinking of carrying as many as you can make in my shop."

"Sounds good," Jessica said.

Then Maggie suddenly looked sharply at Bryan."So you're a professor?"

He nodded. "Yes, I'm lecturing at the university for a few months."