Vampire - When Darkness Falls Part 18

"Thanks?"

She was moving over him. This was really delirium. "Thanks for ... ?"

"Inviting me in," she whispered against his lips. Then she was kissing him. Moving, bringing him to spasms, kissing him . . .

His fever must have worsened. His hallucinations faded....

He blacked out after thinking that his dreams were fantastic, but his throat hurt worse than ever.

When the phone rang later, he didn't hear a thing.

Shanna was really ready to run right out by the time Liz made it back. The day had worn on long enough now.

She could stop by Jade's house.

But Liz wanted to talk, and so she forced herself to be patient, playing with Petey for a few minutes, glad to see him so much better.

Then Liz put the kids down for a nap and made a cup of tea. Shanna declined, itching for a good, strong cup of coffee, but not wanting to wait long enough now to brew any.

"I really want to thank you. So much," Liz told her. She was already cleaning up her kitchen. Apparently, though Shanna had washed the griddle, she hadn't cleaned the counter sufficiently. "Sometimes I just feel so bad. . .."

"Liz, why?" Shanna said, struggling for patience. She suddenly wanted to leave really badly. This wasn't her home anymore. It hadn't been for a long time. There wasn't anything wrong with Liz; she was a good human being, a good mom to Petey and Jamie. Shanna just felt acutely uncomfortable.

Cold.

The fire hadn't done a d.a.m.ned thing.

"I don't know," Liz murmured, mopping down the counter, then meeting Shanna's eyes. "Last year . . . your sister had given your phone as an emergency number rather than this number, your father's number.

You went after her when there was trouble, and your dad didn't even know what had happened until Jade was home." "Liz, Jade didn't mean to hurt anyone's feelings. The kids were really little then. Jade didn't want Dad leaving you when . . . when ..."

"Jade's having survived a terrible ma.s.sacre wasn't important enough for him to leave us for her?" Liz said softly.

"She never meant to hurt your feelings," Shanna said. "I never meant to hurt your feelings."

"Then . . . well, then, quit doing it!" Liz said. She suddenly squeezed her sponge out over the sink with enough force to cause it to become a gusher.

Shanna stared at the sponge, then at her stepmother. "Excuse me?"

"Quit being so polite to me. Treat me like I am a member of the family. Don't tiptoe around me all the time. Let your father know that you need him sometimes. Make the twins go without now and then so that you can have some of his time-or our time."

Startled, Shanna sat back. She nodded. "All right. All right then.

You quit apologizing when you ask me to help with my baby brothers."

"I ... well, I can hardly expect-"

"Yeah, you can. If you want to be a real family."

Liz smiled slowly, nodding. "Okay. But if you hadn't wanted to get up, I would have called Jade. She's more of a morning person."

Shanna grinned suddenly. "Oh, no, not this morning. I think she might have finally slept with that great cop she's been dating."

"Really!" Liz's cheeks suddenly turned very red. She looked down.

"Would you have ... would you have said that to your mother?"

Shanna thought a minute. "Yes, actually, I would have. But, Liz . . ."

"Yes?"

"I wouldn't say it to Dad. So that was between us, huh?"

Liz agreed, still blushing. A minute later Shanna told her that she really had to go. After giving the boys huge, sloppy kisses, she hugged Liz warmly. She had never felt closer to her stepmother.

And still, she was eager to go. The house was so cold. Colder than outside. And it was a bone-chilling, damp kind of cold today.

Liz offered to drive her back, but she insisted that she didn't mind taking a taxi. She was still so chilled, though, that when she reached the French Quarter she had the driver drop her at a coffee shop rather than at her home, or at Jade's, where she was heading next.

She walked to the counter, just wanting a rich, French-roast coffee. Someone came up beside her. He was obviously cold, too. He warmed his hands before him. He looked pale, and he was slim, as if he had been ill awhile.

A good looking guy, though. Different from the muscle-bound, blond good looks of a guy like Rich Beaudreaux. This one was . . .

Hm. Tall-and wickedly lean. Cunning, maybe. Like a fox. All right, so his hair had a red tinge to it, and it seemed he had a few freckles.

A scholarly, sly red fox. He was cute.

And he offered her a very inviting smile.

"Darned cold out there for the Deep South, isn't it?" he said. Nice voice. Very nice voice. Deep, rich ... exciting. She felt like getting closer to him, just because of the sound of his voice.

"It's all the water. The temperature isn't that bad, but it's damp."

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess."

Her coffee arrived. She curled her fingers around the cup.

"My name's .. . Dave," he told her.

"Dave. Hi. I'm Shanna."

"You're gorgeous," he said.

She grinned deeply, enjoying his blunt appreciation. "Thanks."

"I realize I'm a total stranger... but I'd like to see you."

"You might be fun to get to know."

"Oh, I can promise you-I'm different."

"I'll bet."

He smiled, but he suddenly started coughing and backed away.

"Sorry, I guess I'm getting something."

"Seems to be going around. You look like you need to be in bed."

"I do," he agreed.

"Well, if you do get some sleep and decide you feel better ... I'm going to the old Mel Gibson re-release at the movies tonight," she told him.

She'd had no intention of going to the movies. Until now, of course.

Because she would like to see him again. And she wasn't fool enough to invite a stranger over.

"I'm sure as h.e.l.l going to try to be there," he told her. "But you know ..." "My last name is MacGregor. My phone number is in the book."

"Great. Is that an invitation?"

"Sure. Please do call."

She didn't want to appear too eager. She raised her coffee cup to him and left quickly. She felt elated.

She looked back, though, and frowned to see that he had doubled over.

A laughing crowd of teenagers suddenly pa.s.sed her, blocking her view of him.

Worried, she hurried back to the coffee shop.

He was gone.

As if he had disappeared into thin air.

Chapter Six.

In the days that followed, Lucian learned his first defeat at Sophia's hands.

A young Viking with a rich blond beard and bright blue eyes became his teacher, his mentor, his guide-and then his friend. Lucian learned that the woman Sophia had lived among their people for many years- the man's father's father's father had acquired her during a raid on the British Isles years ago. No one was sure where she had originally come from, but when they raided and ravaged her village, they found that they had seized far more than they had imagined.

They made peace with the captive who nearly slayed them all. Two of the other vampires at her beck and call were very old, nearly as old as Sophia herself, older than the Viking could remember. The third man, Darian, she had brought home from a raid not long ago. He was dangerous, more vicious than any berserker, crafty, cunning, mean. And learned. He knew history from all over the world. He knew about legends, G.o.ds, G.o.ddesses, sorcerers.

The Viking crew sailed the seas with the vampire and her followers.

They gave their masters victims. In turn, they kept the riches they plundered.

And their lives.

Their families were allowed to live as well.

The Viking's name was Wulfgar. He was careful of what he said, but there were times when Sophia was gone- really gone from the ship-and at those times Wulfgar lowered his voice and told Lucian more.

Aye, Lucian was dead. Wulfgar said so sorrowfully, and regretfully.

Well, not exactly dead.

Now he was undead.

He must have blood to survive. Aye, it could be animal blood-he had seen Sophia drinking the blood of such creatures as seals, racc.o.o.ns, and more-when good human sources could not be found.

She was not happy upon such occasions. She looked at them-the living among them- in such a way at those times as to make their spines chill until they thought they would snap. . . .

She kept certain of her own kind with her at all times, thus the three men who were vampires as well. Always one was closest-a true protector, as Darian was now. There had been a leader before Sophia, she had told them once, but she had grown stronger, and destroyed him.

She had learned from him, and though the bite of a lamia or vampire could create a new one of such kind, there was a law among the undead that no such creature could create more than two of their own kind every hundred years.

There were other rules.

They were not to kill one another. They were not to be found, to be caught in the act of vampirism, by any great power or strong government. They were not to bring so great a wrath against themselves that stronger forces could defeat them. They did have their weaknesses; they could be killed. Their bite was infectious-they could create others of their kind with such a touch, and with their appet.i.tes their numbers had to be limited. "That is why the heads must be removed.

Too many victims would awaken." Wulfgar shrugged. "As you awoke yourself."

"I had heard legends. The undead walk by night," Lucian told Wulfgar. "Sophia moves by night and by day-"

"While you lie exhausted," Wulfgar said. "She is strong, very strong. She is old. She has learned, tested, and taught herself. Time will give you greater strength." He hesitated. "Blood gives you strength. She is also best, more powerful, at night. Sometimes the sunlight drains her."

"But it doesn't kill her." "Set her afire to disappear as dust? I fear not."

"But I had heard-"

"There are many legends. Some true. Most not. In time, you will need to feed. But not so often. Meat as other men eat can fill your stomach." Wulfgar shrugged. "It's easy. You will not care if your lamb is cooked or not. Your situation has its advantages. Lift a cow off a field and bite in, no cooking fires needed. Rain would not matter."

He tried to smile. Lucian did not.

"You could live forever and ever," Wulfgar told him.