Night Novellas: Night Thief & Night Angel

by Lisa Kessler

  In the evenings, Kane had watched her working at his desk, using his quill, and felt his heart swell, aching in his chest, while he wrestled with her request for immortality.

  Selfishly, he would love to know she would be with him forever. The thought that he could share his world with Rita for eternity was the greatest temptation he’d ever known.

  But what if she regretted her decision?

  There would be no turning back. Immortality often brought on madness. He’d witnessed it many times with vampires. Mortals brought their weaknesses, vices, and insecurities with them into eternity. Endless nights often magnified their shortcomings. Would Rita grow to hate him for taking the sun and her humanity from her?

  Not to mention he’d never made another Night Walker.

  He had no idea what to expect. He assumed an exchange of his blood would bring on the change, transferring his immortality into her body and changing her forever.

  But he wished he knew for certain it would work. If something went wrong and he lost her, the guilt would be crushing and without end.

  He’d avoided her for the past few days, telling himself he was giving her space to consider her options without pressure from him. Gerard kept him alerted to the offers of employment that had come for Rita. If she chose not to abandon her humanity, she would be able to care for herself without his help.

  That did not stop him from hoping she would still choose to be with him instead.

  He didn’t take time to feed. As an ancient, his body no longer needed replenishment each night. What he needed was Rita.

  She stood beside the table, talking with Gerard. She turned toward him, and he found himself tongue-tied for a moment. Instead of the black she wore to mourn her cousin, Rita wore a royal blue gown, matching her bright blue eyes.

  Her hair cascaded down her back in ringlets that tempted him to tangle his fingers inside them while claiming her lips.

  She smiled and tipped her head slightly. “Bonjour.”

  He crossed the room and took her hand. “Kíichpan.”

  The word slipped out before he realized he would speak.

  His native language felt foreign on his tongue.

  Rita and Gerard cast quizzical looks to one another.

  “Bonjour, Monsieur.” Gerard nodded his greeting and vanished into the kitchen.

  Before Rita questioned him, Kane kissed her knuckles and pulled her closer, stealing a tender, slow kiss. “The moon will pale in the light of your beauty.”

  “You flatter me.” She rocked up on her toes to steal a kiss of her own, making his pulse jump with desire. “I am sure gossip will swell when they see the color of my dress, but I refuse to wear black. I know he did not perish, and I am not mourning his passing.”

  The fire in her eyes warmed him. “I believe he has fled from Paris. No one in the city seems to have memory of seeing him since his estate burned.”

  “Good.” Rita placed her hand in the crook of his arm, glancing up at him. “After the ceremony, perhaps we might visit the lake?”

  He rested his hand over hers. “I would like that very much.”

  When they reached Notre Dame, Kane remained at the rear of the church. He wasn’t there to pay respects to the artist; he came to support Rita while she welcomed the mourners and helped them remember the artist and man Antoine had once been.

  After the hymns were sung and the Mass read, the mourners filed out. Rita remained up front, lighting a candle.

  He stood to go to her, but something outside caught his attention.

  The sweet scent of blood wafted through the door.

  Frowning, he turned to investigate. Outside, he let his senses guide him. Around the back of Notre Dame, he paused and reached for Rita’s mind.

  Stay inside on hallowed ground. I will return soon.

  Marguerite froze, surprised to hear Kane’s voice in her mind.

  With the church empty of parishioners, the temperature inside dropped. She pulled her wrap tighter around her shoulders and glanced at the door. Hallowed ground.

  Kane must have found Antoine. Immediately, she focused on repeating the Lord’s Prayer over and over in her mind. If Antoine lurked in the city, she didn’t want him reading her thoughts.

  The grisly image of Kane’s chest, bloodied with a wooden stake plunged through it flashed in her mind. Her pulse thrummed. She couldn’t sit here in the cathedral and wait while Kane raced into danger on her behalf. A vision of Callia covered in Antoine’s vicious bites assaulted her, and Marguerite clenched her jaw.

  This was not Kane’s fight.

  It was hers.

  She clutched her crucifix necklace, glancing around the cathedral for any potential weapons. The glass bottle caught her eye, but she hesitated. Stealing from wealthy men in order to escape a vampire didn’t trouble her conscious, but this was the house of God.

  She wavered for a moment before deciding her Lord would want Antoine stopped.

  With a prayer for forgiveness on her lips, she pilfered the candle cabinet, retrieving a tiny glass decanter. Pouring out the oil, she raced toward the door and filled the glass bottle with holy water. At the door, she took a deep breath and steadied her nerve. Kane would not face Antoine alone.

  Outside, she freed her satchel from her waistband and scooped some dirt inside. She had no idea if it would help, but it was technically hallowed ground. It couldn’t hurt.

  Marguerite hustled around the church, hoping she wouldn’t be too late.

  After wandering the back streets of Paris for nearly an hour without finding Kane or Antoine, Marguerite sighed and turned back. Maybe Kane hadn’t found Antoine after all. He might be back at Notre Dame searching for her.

  Her boot heels clicked on the cobblestoned street, the thud of the wood and leather echoing down the alley.

  A lonely sound. She frowned, glancing at the darkened windows. It was early for the inns to be closed. Fog swirled around her ankles like invisible snakes. Her fingers closed around the crucifix at her neck, and she picked up her pace.

  The corset hampered her breathing, and stars danced at the edge of her vision. Irrational panic threatened to overwhelm her. Marguerite slowed, forcing air into her lungs.

  And Antoine chose that moment to step into her path.

  “Bonsoir, strumpet.”

  His voice curdled her stomach. She lifted her chin in defiance, brandishing her crucifix. “Stay back, demon. Where is Kane?”

  Antoine laughed, but he did take a step back. “I was hoping you knew. I have been looking for him.”

  “You have been hiding from him. You should have left Paris when you had the chance.”

  “I have missed your defiant tongue, Marguerite.”

  Antoine circled her. The moonlight glinted off a silver dagger sheathed at his waist, catching her well-trained thief’s eye.

  “There is someone I would like for you to meet.”

  “Everyone you know believes you perished in the fire.” She kept her gaze locked with his, allowing her coy smile to cover any trace of fear. “Tonight they offered me condolences after your funeral mass.”

  “This is a new friend who is well aware that the rumors of my death are untrue.”

  Marguerite’s fingers twitched at her side. “I am not interested in meeting anyone who enjoys your company.”

  “That is too bad because she is eager to meet you.” He glanced at the door of a darkened inn. “Suzette. Come to me, my darling.”

  A woman emerged out of the shadows and Marguerite’s jaw went slack for a moment. Suzette sauntered to Antoine’s side, an almost perfect reflection of Marguerite. Suzette was the same height, the same build; her hair shared the same flaxen tone. Only her eyes betrayed her, brown instead of blue.

  A dark liquid ran down from Suzette’s lip, and suddenly her tongue darted out to catch it.

  Antoine slid his arm around her waist. “Did you have enough, darling?”

  She nodded running her hand up his chest. “I thought so, but she s
mells…”

  “I know she does.”

  Marguerite watched his attention shift to the woman at his side. His chest swelled like a proud parent, matching his smug, overconfident smile. His arrogance was a weakness she could exploit. Moving forward, Marguerite shoved playfully at Antoine’s chest. “I most certainly do not smell.” Her fingers slid down the ruffles of his shirt and deftly plucked the dagger free of its sheath. “You used to adore my scent.”

  She moved away before he could entrap her, the dagger tucked behind her back.

  Antoine licked his lips, clutching his lady-friend closer.

  “Have you noticed how quiet this street has become?” He glanced at the closed doors and dark windows and met Marguerite’s gaze again. “Do you know why?”

  Before Marguerite answered, Suzette grinned. “Because they are all dead.”

  Marguerite tightened her grip on the dagger.

  The blonde blurted out, “I ate them.” She smiled, displaying her pointed incisors. With her free hand, Marguerite made the sign of the cross. Suzette winced. “Oh darling, make her stop.”

  Antoine threw his head back and laughed. “Your faith cannot save you. I would have saved you from death, but you shunned my offer.” He glanced at the blond vampire at his side. “Suzette was wise to accept it. I had to travel far from Paris, but finding her made the journey worthwhile.”

  He stared at the darkened windows and sniffed the air.

  “Young ones are so thirsty. Ravenous.”

  The look in his eyes, hatred, rage, and loathing, chilled her. “You have gone mad, Antoine.”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. I accepted your refusal.”

  Faster than she could see, he was at her side, his cool lips pressed against her ear. “And when she feeds from you, Suzette will know every part of you that pleased me.”

  “Go to Hell!”

  Marguerite slammed the dagger into his neck and ran.

  Suzette grabbed for her, catching her wrist. Marguerite spun around, throwing the holy water at her face. The vampire released her, squealing and rubbing at her eyes.

  “Antoine, help me. Everything is black.”

  The vampire’s eyes were white like a blind woman, burned from the water.

  Antoine plucked the dagger from his neck, twisting his head while the gaping wound healed. “This ends now.”

  “I agree.” Kane approached and stood beside Marguerite, his hand at the small of her back. “I have always known vampires to be cowards, but this…” He gestured to Suzette, who now crawled on the ground searching for her master. “You hide from me, and then dispatch your infant blood drinker to protect you?”

  Antoine helped Suzette up. “Your eyes will heal, silly girl.” He glared at Kane. “I drove a stake through your heart with my own hands. How is it possible that you survived?”

  “Enough talking.” Kane knocked Antoine to the ground.

  “He has a dagger!” Marguerite moved to help Kane, but Suzette pounced on her from behind. She jerked Marguerite around to face her. Blood tracked down her cheeks and one eye remained clouded. Marguerite’s stomach retched.

  “I am so hungry.” Suzette licked her lips, opening her mouth to bite.

  “Eat this!” Marguerite jammed the satchel of dirt from Notre Dame’s courtyard into the vampire’s jaws.

  Suzette fell to the ground, dragging Marguerite with her.

  Dirt lined the inside of her mouth, choking her. As she spit out the satchel, Suzette coughed and sputtered. Her free hand clawed at her neck, blood seeping through her fingers while the other still latched on to her prey. Marguerite screamed, trying to wriggle free of the vampire’s grip, turning away from the gore as Suzette scratched and tore open her own throat with her free hand.

  Marguerite wrenched her arm out of the vampire’s grasp and stumbled away from the carnage. Suzette’s throat gurgled, but still she lived. Marguerite averted her eyes and saw Kane and Antoine rolling on the cobblestones, leaving a trail of blood behind them.

  For a moment, indecisiveness gripped her. She wanted to help him, but if Antoine got her, he would use her to hurt Kane. Her clouded mind cleared, and determination settled in. Marguerite ran inside the inn.

  The stench of death assaulted her the moment she opened the door. She gagged, tugging her skirt up to cover her nose and mouth, grateful for the lack of light. How long had these people been dead? She moved with her hand outstretched, until her fingertips brushed the back of a chair.

  Gripping it, she tugged until something slid off and thudded against the floor.

  She didn’t want to consider what it might have been.

  With all of her strength, she swung the chair against the doorframe, splintering the wooden frame. One more hit and the chair fell apart. On her hands and knees, she patted the ground, searching for a piece. The moment she clutched a shard, Marguerite ran back outside.

  Bathed in the moonlight, Suzette lay on her back in a pool of blood, panting. Marguerite approached, her stomach turning when she saw the vampire’s spinal column where her throat should have been. She raised the stake over her head and slammed it to the ground, burying it in the vampire’s chest.

  Suzette let out an inhuman screech, her hands opening and closing until finally, her body went still.

  Kane felt his strength ebb. How many times had the vampire stabbed him before he knocked the dagger away?

  Too many.

  Struggling to keep Rita in his sight, he was too distracted to finish his opponent. When she disappeared into the inn, he hoped she would stay hidden, but the moment she drove the stake through Antoine’s puppet, Kane’s focus returned.

  With the last of his energy, he kicked his legs and twisted, rolling Antoine underneath him.

  He sat up, his legs straddling the vampire, pinning him to the ground. “Enough.”

  Kane plunged his hand through the vampire’s ribcage, his fist clutching the creature’s black heart. Antoine’s eyes widened as Kane yanked his arm back, plucking his heart free of his chest.

  A Night Walker’s death.

  While Antoine’s body withered, his flesh wrinkling, hair whitening, and limbs atrophying, Kane stumbled back, allowing the heart to slip from his fingers. Rita rushed to his side, her arm wrapping around his waist.

  “You are weakened.”

  He nodded, relief swamping him while he gazed down at her. Safe. “I need to feed.”

  Rita’s wrist shot up in his face. “Drink.”

  He winced, shaking his head while his body ached with temptation.

  “You said you would not drink from me until I asked it of you.” She offered her wrist again. “Now I am asking.

  Please take what you need.”

  “What I need is to be certain you are safe and uninjured.”

  Kane wiped Antoine’s blood on his pants and took her hand, inspecting the scraped palm. Kane raised it toward his lips, but she jerked away.

  “I will not allow you to heal my scratches while you are weakened.”

  “My wounds will heal.” He pulled her into his arms and held her for a moment, treasuring the closeness. “I asked you to stay on hallowed ground.”

  She withdrew from his embrace. “You did no such asking. You ordered it.” She crossed her arms, her face alight with defiance. “This was my fight, not yours. I would not have your blood on my hands.”

  “You solved this by bloodying your own hands.” His chest tightened. Although incapable of following his simple directions, this fragile, amazing woman fought not only for her life, but for his as well.

  She lifted her dirty chin, looking regal in spite of the blood and bruises. “I solved it by killing a hungry vampire.”

  How could he not love this woman?

  His lips curved into a crooked smile, pride shining in his eyes. “Come, vampire killer, we have much work to do.”

  He left Rita with the withering husks of the vampires while he entered the inn. Even without the benefit of candlelight, Kane saw perfe
ctly in the darkness. There were at least twenty dead bodies in varying stages of decay. All of them bore the same wounds to their throats.

  He moved behind the bar and located a decanter of lamp oil. They would need to burn the building with the bodies inside. There was no other way to mask the vampire’s destruction. Knocking all the bottles of alcohol from the shelves, he soaked the floor and snatched a few white phosphorous matches. With the decanter of lamp oil in one hand, he lit a match and dropped it to the ground.

  The inn erupted in hot flames.

  Kane ran outside, followed by the roar of the fire and explosions of glass. “Come, we must hurry.” He pulled Antoine and Suzette’s corpses together before dousing them with lamp oil.

  “What are you doing?”

  He glanced over at Rita. “We have to hide the bodies from the humans.” He struck the match and dropped it.

  Flames exploded to life, feeding on the vampire remains.

  Rita stood, frozen, staring at the morbid scene. Kane took her hand. “Sunrise is coming. We must finish this.”

  He sensed her exhaustion pushing her toward catatonic shock. Her defiance had cooled, but she needed to stay alert.

  Placing the matches in her hand, he guided her to the inn across the street.

  “I will go inside and pour the oil. Wait for me here to light it.”

  She nodded, but didn’t reply. Kane kissed her forehead.

  “This is almost done.”

  They burned three businesses. Antoine and Suzette had fed on nearly one hundred humans. One hundred lives he might have saved if he had found the vampire sooner.

  Bitterness soured his stomach. Rita shivered, pulling him back to the present. Kane glanced up at the stars, gauging the hours before sunrise. He still needed to feed, but there would be time. He removed his frock coat and helped her slip inside before bending to pick her up. Rita stopped him.

  “No. I would prefer to walk with you.”

  Flames and smoke billowed into the air around them, but it was the fire in her gaze that warmed him. “We will draw attention with our torn, bloodstained attire.”

  The corner of her mouth curved up. “Let them stare. We walked into the jaws of Hell and made it to the other side.”