Vampire - When Darkness Falls Part 17

And though he was eight years older than his new wife- fifty to Liz's forty-two-he hadn't gone and married a woman young than his own daughters, something Shanna had seen men do.

For herself-though she adored her father-she knew she'd never marry an old fart.

But Liz was okay. She hadn't planned the twins, and she'd been embarra.s.sed to tell the girls about them. And she tried never to be a burden on her new husband's first family.

Shanna adored the twins; so did Jade. They were like practice.

Almost like having her own little moppets without having all the p.o.o.p and vomit all the time.

"But it's okay, I'll give Jade a try." Liz's voice continued.

Jade? No, no, not this morning. Jade should be sleeping with supercop. Not a good morning to leap out of bed and off to the home front She staggered up and answered the phone. "Liz, I'm here." "Shanna?"

"Yes, I'm here," she repeated, looking at the phone. Who else would it be?

"I'm so sorry, Shanna-"

"Liz, what is it?"

"I know this is terribly short notice, but Petey's got an ear infection, his temperature has just gone up and up, and he's got to go to the hospital, and your dad has been out since about four this morning. He's involved in a story for the paper, and I can beep him, but-"

"Liz, you need me to watch Jamie?"

"Only until I can reach your father."

"You don't need to get Dad. I'll be there right away."

"Oh, bless you, Shanna. I don't know what I would have done without you girls."

"No big deal, Liz. The little guy is my half brother. I'll be right over." Just don't wake Jade up. Not this morning! she thought.

She breezed in and out of the shower, hopped into jeans and a T- shirt, and ran out of the house with her sandals in her hands. Rather than go through the wait of getting her car out of the garage, she hailed a cab for the ride to the Garden District She made it to her old home in record time. Liz, a pretty, slender brunette, was in the doorway with a crying Petey in her arms. She looked very upset and worried.

"Don't you go trying to drive!" Shanna told her stepmother. "Get in that cab, and give me a call when you know what's up."

Jamie started to cry as his mother left. Shanna picked him up, letting him wail a minute, then telling him how she'd read him Dr. Seuss-he adored Green Eggs and Ham-and they'd make pancakes.

She kept her promise, reading first, then sitting Jamie in his chair in the kitchen, letting him stir batter with her, and keeping up a chatter all the while. He missed Petey already-he kept looking at his twin's empty chair. She knew what he felt; she and Jade weren't twins, but she couldn't begin to imagine life without her sister. They'd gone away to separate schools, and learned then just how close they were. When she'd gotten the awful call from Scotland a year ago-and had not known just what had happened to her sister-it had been the most awful thing in the world.

She poured pancake batter onto the griddle and thought about how strange it was to be here-home. It was a grand old house, and had been here at least ten years before the Civil War. The rooms were big, and there was a porch with large white pillars and an old swinging chair. Her rocking horse was upstairs in the attic; there were still pictures of her mother on the walls. Liz had never touched those. But the house ...

The silver was Liz's. The cookware, even the griddle. The kitchen was different. For a moment Shanna missed her mother with all her heart.

The kitchen had been far more cluttered when her mom was alive.

There had always been pictures all over the refrigerator, "artwork" by her and Jade. Their latest essays had been attached to the fridge as well by several silly, cheap magnets. Liz was not a clutter person. There weren't even snapshots of the twins on the refrigerator. Those were neatly kept in frames out in the parlor.

"Here you go, baby," she said, turning to Jamie with a plate of fresh pancakes.

"I'm not a baby!" he told her.

"I'm sorry, of course not. Want me to cut it up for you?"

He scowled at her. "I'm not a baby."

"I know. Silly me. You're almost three."

The great thing about a kid his age was that a scowl didn't last.

Jamie beamed at her now. He pointed at the kitchen window with his fork. "There's a man, Shanny." He might be almost three, and not at all a baby in his own mind, but he still didn't have her name quite right. He always called her Shanny.

"A man?" she spun around. There was no one there. "I don't see anyone, kiddo."

The scowl came back. "Saw him! Looking in."

"I'll see," she said. She exited the kitchen, walking through the dining room to the open hallway and the front door. The wooden door had been left open; the screen door had been latched. She opened the screen door, stepped out to the porch, and looked around. "h.e.l.lo? Is anyone there?" She saw no one. "Can I help you? If you're there, show yourself!"

The phone started to ring.

"Liz!" she said, running back inside. The screen door swung. Shut, open, shut.

Open. She raced into the kitchen and checked to see that Jamie was still safely in his seat. She all but wrenched the kitchen extension off the wall.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Shanna! I was getting worried."

"I'm here."

"You're breathless."

"I was running a bit."

"It scared me when you didn't answer. So many awful things happen these days ... that's why your father was out so early. His job is to edit these days, not walk the streets, but ... well, never mind. I'm on my way home. They gave Petey some magical shot, then left me in one of the little cubicles in the emergency room with him for an hour. They told me that if the shot didn't help him, they'd have to admit him. But it worked; his temperature is normal, and he's much better."

"Liz, that's great. But we're fine. You don't need to hurry."

"Frankly, I'm exhausted. I'll be glad to get back home."

"We'll be here."

"Great. Keep the place locked up tight, okay?" Shanna felt an odd, creeping sensation. "Why? I mean, I will, but I grew up here, Liz. This neighborhood is as safe as they get."

"Oh, I know. It's just that.. . I'm not sure what's going on, but something very bad has happened in the city, and your father is out because they're not sure what they want in the media. I mean, they're not trying to hold back freedom of speech or anything, but there was a murder, I believe, and they don't want the public to know the details."

"We're locked up. We'll be careful. See you soon." She hung up, grimaced at Jamie, and went racing back through the house.

The screen door was wide open, welcoming any kook who happened to be walking by.

"Shoot!" Shanna said under her breath. She quickly closed and latched the door.

She walked back in. Jamie was munching pancakes. "Mommy's coming. With Petey?"

"Yep. Petey's a bunch better. They're both coming home right now."

She shivered. She accepted the piece of pancake he insisted she take. "Only a sister would do this, kiddo," she told him, ruffling his hair.

She shivered and looked around.

The house had grown cold. Really cold.

No. She was imagining it.

"Cold, Shanny," Petey said.

"Ah. Cold, eh? We'll light a fire then, and wait for Mommy."

Rick tossed and turned, and tossed and turned, nightmare images of the kid who'd gone into the tree and then through the windshield filtering through his dreams. The kid talked to him.

"Hurts, man. Hurts."

"I keep trying to teach you guys to stay away from drugs, and watch the alcohol."

The kid's head was detached from his body, floating above it. "You don't know. You really don't know. Man, I saw it. Bad scene. I wasn't so drunk. Just driving fast. Running. But you can't run fast enough, you know? No, you don't know, you don't know...."

Go away, please go away, oh, man, kid, you look just awful!

"You don't know who I am. You don't know what I saw. How hard I ran ..."

But the kid's image faded from his fevered dream.

Suddenly a different face was in front of him. Much better. It was the tourist. The beautiful, dark-haired tourist who had been so lost the other day.

"h.e.l.lo, Rick. I'm so sorry to see you suffering."

Her voice was so gentle. Sweet. She was just stunning. All that dark hair framing the perfection of her face ...

She was floating, too. Just outside his window.

It was a second-floor window, but that was okay. She was much, much better than the decapitated kid haunting his sleep.

"Just a cold, I think. Sore throat. Thirsty," he said politely.

"I'll just bet you are," she said sweetly. "Did you get where you were trying to go the other night?" he asked.

"I'm getting there, bit by bit."

"It's a great city," he said. "You'll want to take your time. See everything." "Oh, I think I will." Her tone was silky, so soothing. "Rick!"

The kid with the detached head seemed to be floating by his bed.

"Kid, go away. She's a much better delirium."

"You don't know, you don't know, you can run-"

"Rick!" she said softly. "It's cold out here. I need to come in."

"Of course. Come in."

The kid was gone again. Thank G.o.d. His head floating ... his neck all chopped up, his face bloated ... it had been bad.

"I rang the bell, Rick," she said, climbing through the window. "You didn't answer."

"Sorry. I'm sick. Really sick. Sore throat. I just got it the other night."

"Poor dear."

"Well, of course you were cold," he told her, staring at her, amazed.

Now this was a dream.

She was naked. Stark naked.

"You have no clothes on."

"No clothes? Oh, dear."

"It's all right. It's quite all right." And it was. Wow. She was stunning. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were swinging, perfect globes, peaked with rosy red, large, hard nipples. She had a will-o'-the-wisp waist. Flaring hips.

Long, shapely legs. A black thatch of short, silky hair at her crotch. She was ...

"You can ... uh ... borrow a robe. Or a coat. Or a shirt," he told her.

She smiled. "That's okay. I don't think I'll need one." She sat by his bed, smoothing back his sweat-dampened hair. "Poor dear. You're cold."

"No, no. I think I'm burning up. And you're an invention of my fever." He looked her up and down again, amazed. "And I'm not usually this inventive. Wow. Wait till I tell the guys at work. No, maybe not," he amended.

"Um. Maybe you are hot. Hot-blooded, hum, Officer? Well, I'm cold, so cold. You'll share with me, right?"

She sc.r.a.ped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s over his chest, rubbed her body against him.

He sprang to with an erection that would have done a p.o.r.n star proud. "You are cold," he whispered as she crawled over him.

"And you're hot...." She leaned over him, engulfing him. "So, so, hot... thanks ..."