Suddenly the girl laughed a little too loudly, probably the result of too much to drink.
He saw the man set money on the bar and whisper to her.
She smiled and flushed.
They started out the door together, hand in hand.
Mark followed.
There was a loud boom, like a burst of thunder.
Lauren started up, alarmed, awakened from a deep sleep.
The French doors had crashed inward. The drapes, white and billowing, were floating like ethereal clouds.
A flash of lightning brightened the darkness.
And he was there. Stephan. He was tall and impossibly forbidding. He wore a black cape that billowed behind him, dark against the white of the drapes.
“Ask me in. Ask me to come for you,” he said.
“No. I’ll never ask you in.”
“I know you read the article,” he said softly.
“What does that matter?” she demanded sharply.
“I know the fortune-teller,” he assured her.
“Susan…” she murmured, fear leaping into her heart. Susan had been terrified. She had known about Stephan.
“I haven’t hurt her—yet. But I know she gave you the article.”
“It says nothing about you,” she told him.
“You didn’t read it properly,” he said, and smiled, the gleaming gold of his eyes offering something that was almost tendern. “You want to come with me. You know you do. You know what I can offer. With me, you’ll have everything. You need to turn away from him. He is the evil one.”
“No.”
“He’s a liar, you know.”
“No.”
Then he began to laugh, that awful laughter she had first heard issuing from the crystal ball.
“I’m coming for you…. I’m here for you.”
The couple seemed to be heading for one of the large hotels on Canal Street.
At first it was easy enough to keep his distance and still keep them in sight, but the closer they got to Canal, the more difficult it was for Mark to keep track of them in the crowd without being spotted. Eventually he saw them enter the lobby of one of the hotels, and he had no choice but to follow closely. He walked to the desk and asked the clerk on duty for directions to the Square. As he pretended to listen to what the man was telling him, he watched the elevator as they entered it, glad that no one else got in withj them, and saw where it stopped. The fourth floor.
Mark pretended to head nonchalantly away, then made for the stairs. Taking the steps two at a time, he reached the fourth floor hallway and swore softly. It was a big hotel and there was no indication what room they were in.
There was nothing to do but tread lightly and listen.
A television blared from one room; rock music sounded from another. He kept moving. Then he heard it again.
That too-loud laughter. At least she was still alive and apparently well. Even enjoying herself, apparently.
He found the room from which the sound had come and there paused. He heard the low hum of teasing voices. More laughter.
And then a gasp.
Followed by a scream.
Mark burst into the room.
For a moment he paused, frowning.
The guy was on the floor, the girl straddling him, pressing his arms down. For a moment Mark was about to back out of the room in embarrassment. How the hell could he have been so wrong?
Then saw that he hadn’t been wrong after all. She laughed again, and in the soft light of the room, her fangs glowed. Dripped saliva…
She stared at Mark as the man beneath her began to let out a terrified mewling sound.
Mark swore, tore across the room and tackled her, forcing her off the man on the floor. She was strong and tough. She fought hard, trying to grapple him to the ground as she had the other man, while, he tried to reach into his pocket for his weapon.
She shoved, and he crashed into the wall, but quickly recovered. She let out a screech of fury and threw herself at him.
He was dimly aware of it when the guy rose, staggered to his feet and went stumbling from the room. Then Mark looked into the gleaming, maddened eyes of his mini-skirted opponent as she started snapping at him, trying to sink her fangs into any part of his flesh that she could.
He threw her off and nearly reached the holy water in the pistol in his pocket, but she came at him again.
He ducked, but not quickly enough, and they both crashed down together. The water pistol went flying. He swore.
She was on top of him, but he gritted his teeth, flexed his muscles and threw her off. She landed on the water pistol. With a howl and a hiss, she leapt up, staring at it, then then him.
She started to laugh again. “You are no match for Stephan,” she told him. “You…with your silly weapons. He will have you. He will torment you. He will take all that you love. You think you can hurt him? You think you have hurt him? Never. He knows how to move in the world, how to feed. He knows how to take what he wants. You are nothing! Nothing at all. In the end, you will be nothing but blood. Blood, blood and more blood. There will be a spill of blood, a rain of blood. It will be just like a blood wedding,” she cackled.
“Your woman will die. And then she will live. Not like Katie. Katie is dead. Katie is blood. Just a memory of blood. But he will have her, and we who have served him will reign.”
Enough.
He made it to his feet and practically flew across the room.
He hit her with such force that they slammed against the window together and shattered it. Then they were falling…
Falling into the night, into the abyss.
No, no, no! It wasn’t happening. She had to fight it.
At last, with a jerk and gasp, Lauren managed to shake herself awake. In a raw panic, she stared around the room.
The windows were closed.
The drapes lay still.
There was no man standing inside her room.
She inhaled, exhaled, and realized she had tangled the covers in her nightmare. She was sweat slicked and clammy, and her heart was thundering.
“It was a dream,” she told herself aloud.
Just a dream.
But she remained afraid. She rose and turned on the light, then went into the bathroom and turned on the light there, before splashing her face with cold water.
She breathed deeply again, staring at her face in the mirror. She looked like a wild woman. She smoothed down her hair, washed her face a second time for good measure, and looked again. The wide-eyed panic was at last fading from her eyes.
But a sense of somehow being violated stayed with her.
She left her room and went down the hall. Heidi’s door was ajar. She peeked in. Heidi was curled beneath the covers, hugging the extra pillow. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully.
Lauren continued down the hallway. The door to Lauren’s room was open. Big Jim was no longer on duty, but Bobby was there, reading a gun manual.
He looked up. “Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey. Is everything all right?”
“Fine. Deanna woke up hungry again. She seems to be doing just fine.”
“Thank God.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Bobby asked her.
“Yes. I just can’t sleep is all.” She walked closer to Deanna. Her friend’s color was much better. She was breathing deeply, and seemed to be sleeping peacefully. No dreams were plaguing her.
“I told you. She’s fine,” Bobby said.
“I believe you,” she said, smiling as she turned and stretched. She was still tired, but there was no way in hell she was going to go back to sleep. “Hey, why don’t you go to bed? You have to go to work in the morning, I assume.”
He grinned. “Actually, I’m assigned to the house right now.”
“I can’t sleep, Bobby. You might as well get some rest.”
“Are you sure?”
“I promise you, I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep.”
She thought about telling him about her dream. No. She didn’t want anyone to worry about her when there was so much going on. Besides, talking about it would make it seem more real in her own mind, and she wasn’t about to make Stephan any more real than he already was.
When she saw Mark again, she would tell him. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe, by day, she could get to a library. She would ask someone to go with her, find some excuse.
Was she actually distrusting Mark? she asked herself. Because of something that Stephan had said to her in a dream?
No, she assured herself, thought it was true that she didn’t really know him.
Yes, she did, she argued with herself.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Bobby asked.
“Absolutely. Honestly. Go—get some rest.”
He nodded and left her.
For a few moments she moved restlessly around the room. But then she decided to read for a while. Bobby’s manual didn’t seem very interesting, but there were all kinds of things to choose from in the bookcase. She chose one on pirates in New Orleans and took a seat in Bobby’s chair. She glanced at Deanna again and was glad to see that her friend was still just fine.
With a sigh, she began to read, then gave herself a shake and realized she wasn’t comprehending anything she was reading. She was falling asleep.
Great. She had to stay awake.
She turned on the television that sat on top of the dresser, glad that every room had a TV and cable. Robin Hood: Men in Tights was on. A comedy. Good.
She looked at Deanna again to make sure the television wasn’t disturbing her. It wasn’t. She sat down again. Between the book and the television, she should manage to stay awake.
And she did. But when the movie ended and Bram Stoker’s Dracula came on she rose quickly and switched the channel to the news.
But the news was about the fact that police up and down the Mississippi River were still looking for the murderer responsible for the deaths of at least three women, and she quickly changed the channel again and found an old episode of Lassie. Big surprise, she thought. Timmy was in trouble again.
She tried to read, but once again her lids grew heavy.
I will stay awake, she vowed to herself. I will.
Down, down, down…
They crashed to the pavement, and he landed on top, but despite that, she was apparently unhurt and only laughed again.
Mark looked up and down the street. Far away, down near Harrah’s, there seemed to be activity. In the other direction, the T-shirt shop next to the hotel apparently never closed. Light was streaming from the door. But there was no one immediately near them.
She started clawing for his throat again, so he put his fingers around hers.
She fought. She struggled.
He used all his strength. All the tactics he had learned. She was unbelievably strong, but finally he felt the snap. He’d broken her neck. She was still looking up at him, but now her head was tilted at a gruesome angle.
“Blood, blood, blood!” she repeated.
There was some discarded construction material lying out by the curb. He kept a grip on her and rolled toward it.
She saw his intent and tried futilely to straighten her head.
Too late. He found a ragged two by four and thrust it into her chest as hard as he could.
From somewhere nearby, a woman screamed in horror. “Murder!”
The girl beneath Mark stared up at him, her eyes growing wide. Her deep gasp sounded like a balloon being deflated. Blood gurgled from her lips as she began to turn black…
And exploded into soot beneath him.
Covered with it, blackened, Mark rose. He heard the wail of a police cruiser in the distance, and he turned and ran, the shadows.
He found one, aware of footsteps pounding behind him as he disappeared into the darkness.
He couldn’t be accused of anything, because she had been old. Very old. There would be no murder charge because there would be no body….
He headed down the street. In the distance, he could still hear the woman screaming about murder.
She could hear a rapping.
No, it was a pounding.
It broke into the deep and dreamless sleep into which Lauren had fallen, curled into the comfortable chair.
She opened her eyes.
Yes, it was pounding. And it was coming from…
The front door.
Her eyes flew open, and she immediately looked over to the bed.
Empty!
Lauren sprang to her feet and raced into the hall, then down the stairs. Deanna was standing at the front door. And it was open.
Hair disheveled, looking barely awake, Stacey—with Bobby at her heels—nearly crashed into Lauren.
“Deanna!” Lauren cried.
As she spoke, a man stumbled in. He was wearing jeans and a Killers T-shirt.
He was covered in blood, and he crashed to the floor in the entryway.
Jonas.
15
M ark thanked God that the city hadn’t changed much. He was able to make his way back into the Quarter easily enough. Once there, he realized what time it was.
Daylight would come soon. He needed to get back to the house on Bourbon Street, steal a few hours of rest and get moving again. It occurred to him that he should be circling the lake looking for Stephan’s lair.
It was a huge lake, so he needed to get started early. If he could just get a little sleep and then get going, he could cover a lot of ground.
It wasn’t yet morning when he arrived at the house, but he felt every muscle tense as he stared up at the beautiful old manor on Bourbon Street.
It was ablaze with light.
He started to run, opened the gate and sprinted for the front door. He was shocked to find it unlocked.
He pushed it open, then frowned as he closed it and looked around the foyer.
They were all there: Big Jim, Bobby, Stacey, Lauren, Heidi—and Deanna. Along with someone else.
Jonas.
The vampire, bare-chested as Stacey washed his wounds, sat in a chair, evidently describing whatever had brought him to his current state. Deanna was seated at his feet, holding his hand, looking up at him with wide and adoring eyes.
Big Jim and Bobby noticed Mark first, followed by the others. Lauren let out a little cry, staring at him.
“I’m all right; it’s…grime, that’s all,” he said. Then he looked at Jonas and knew his voice was thick with suspicion when he asked, “What the hell happened to you?”
“I killed him!” Jonas said triumphantly.
“Stephan?” Mark said.
Jonas’s smile faded. “No,” he admitted. “But one of his right hand men. And he’s dead now. Deader than a door nail. He went up in a puff of…” He paused, getting a good look at Mark. “Soot,” he said weakly.
“He’s hurt,” Deanna said reproachfully. “Leave him alone.”
Mark stared at her sharply. She looked much better than someone who’d just woken up from a coma had a right to.
He stared at Big Jim. “Who let him in?” he demanded. Too harshly, he thought with a wince.
“I did,” Deanna said, carefully getting to her feet.
“Oh?” He looked at the others.
Lauren stepped closer, staring at him. She was tall, wearing a plain sleep shirt, yet she looked as elegant as a queen. Her eyes were such a brilliant blue, and her hair was like a cascade of the sun’s rays down her back. If she were differently dressed, if it were a different time, she really might have been Katie.
But she wasn’t Katie. She was Lauren. Just as beautiful. Articulate, talented, her own person. He kne
w that. And she had come to mean everything in the world to him.
Life, love…salvation.
“I fell asleep,” she said. “Then Jonas knocked…and Deanna heard him first.”
“I’m glad to see you’re doing so well,” Mark told Deanna.
“We’ve got everything under control,” Big Jim told him. “In case you want to shower.” He looked pointedly at Mark’s grimy clothes.
The sun would come up soon, and they did seem to be fine, Mark thought. Apparently Jonas had been in the house for a while, and nothing dire had happened. And Big Jim was there—ready to rip him to pieces if he caused any trouble.
“All right. I’ll shower.” He turned to Jonas. “Then you and I are going to have a talk.”
“He’s hurt!” Deanna said again.
“He’ll be just fine by the time I’m out of the shower.”
“I’ve got some clean clothes you can wear,” Bobby told Jonas. “You might want to wash away some of the stuff on you, too. The blood and the, uh…whatever.”
Mark nodded curtly to the lot of them and started up the stairs to his own room, where he stripped off his clothing, knowing he wouldn’t wash it or have it cleaned—it was going in the incinerator. He stepped into the shower.
As he turned the water, he heard the door to his room open. And he knew who it was.
He waited, standing beneath the hot spray, grateful for the sheets of water raining down on him. And the heat. The heat seemed to cure all the little aches and pains.
“Mark?”
He didn’t say anything, just watched her come closer.
“You’re angry at everyone, but you shouldn’t be. Jonas coming into the house…was my fault.”
Finally he said, “He’s in now. Fault doesn’t matter.”
“But I thought you believed Jonas was…good. Not evil.”
He ignored her implied question and said, “If you’re going to torment me, you might as well get in here.”
She hesitated, but a second later she stepped in beside him. The water seemed to heat up a notch. Hotter, harder. No. It wasn’t the water. It was his senses. It was her.
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