by Lisa Kessler
She lowered the tarp and got up, wiping her eyes and praying Lukas was right.
Gretchen drifted in and out of sleep all day. She was too restless to remain lying there and too afraid to get up. When the evening shadows covered the tent, she couldn’t stand to lie there any longer. She had to see if Lukas was all right.
As carefully as she could, Gretchen sat up. She didn’t feel any different. Was she supposed to? She didn’t know.
How could you possibly tell within a few hours if you were pregnant?
She got off the cot and lay on the floor, building her courage to lift the tarp. With a deep breath, she lifted the edge, peering into the darkness. He was still on his side with his back facing her. There were no sleepy snores or deep breaths to fill the void of silence closing around her. His shoulders didn’t rise and fall. He looked dead.
Maybe he was.
Her eyes welled with tears. “No,” she whispered. “Please, no.”
Gretchen pushed in closer, under the cot, and reached to touch his cheek. His skin felt cold against her fingertips. He didn’t move. But it’s dark as pitch outside.
She bit back a sob. A tear spilled down her cheek as she rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes.
“It’s not supposed to be this way. You don’t find the one person you were meant to love and then…”
She couldn’t finish the sentence. Her words were swallowed up by quiet tears. Her father’s death had devastated her, but losing Lukas… Losing Lukas felt like she had lost her own heart. She felt empty inside, barren.
And then he rolled over, his hand caressing her cheek. “Why are you crying?”
She gasped, and wrapped her arms around him, relishing the feel of him pulling her close. “Lukas.” She kissed him. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m feeling much better.” Lukas drew back to meet her eyes, a tender smile warmed his lips. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
Gretchen thought about it for a moment, her eyes still brimming with tears. “Oh my god… We’re having a baby.”
Epilogue
Gretchen walked along the water’s edge, staring up at the purple sky. The Pacific Ocean wasn’t very warm this early in the year, but the cool waves felt good pooling around her ankles. Calming. Calisto and Kate talked her into staying with them at their beach home in La Jolla. San Diego was a beautiful, friendly city. Big enough to lose herself in, and small enough for people to smile when passing each other on the street.
It wasn’t just the city, though. She enjoyed the company, as well. For most of her life, she’d been a loner, busying herself with research instead of spending time with friends. Until recently, Lukas was probably her only real friend in this world.
But all of that had changed.
Lukas and Calisto were getting better acquainted, and Lukas’s dislike of his maker seemed to vanish, forgiveness filling its void. Meanwhile, Kate was quickly becoming one of the closest friends Gretchen had ever had. It was good to see Kate’s strength returning, and thankfully, Calisto’s chest wound from the flare gun had healed. Gretchen could look at him now without feeling crushing guilt on her shoulders.
The horror of the struggle with the Night Demon in the jungles of the Yucatan finally started to fade.
But a new battle grew inside of her. The fight to continue her pregnancy, to bring an immortal into the mortal world.
She sighed, trying to push the thought from her mind. It was an impossible task these days. She couldn’t ignore the changes that were happening to her body and mind. Although she’d only been carrying the child for a little over three weeks, her body was already transforming. Her eyes burned in the sunlight, her skin blistered. She could no longer eat vegetables without becoming violently ill, and fruit was something she could only enjoy in small portions.
Zafrina assured her that it was impossible for her to become a Night Walker without a large infusion of immortal blood, but Gretchen was having doubts. How could a mortal body incubate and nurture an immortal? More than once she wondered if the baby would survive if she went into labor prematurely. When did the immortality kick in?
Gretchen stopped walking. Her gaze spanned outward, wandering across the large expanse of ocean before her. Watching the waves crest and crash back into the sea soothed her. Witnessing something so massive, so eternal, as the ocean made her worries and problems seem smaller. Insignificant.
She closed her eyes and inhaled the salty air, heaving it out of her lungs with a sigh. Exhaustion crept up on her, and she felt helpless to stop it. Each day she slept less and less. Vivid nightmares haunted her each time her eyes drifted closed.
She saw faces of people she’d never met, and yet somehow she knew who they were: Night Walkers. She could see the fire in their eyes. Some of the faces were screaming, blood pouring from their nose, mouth, and ears. She felt like she watched them die as Mulac died.
But there was one shadowed face that terrified her. Tattoos of snakes slithered around his neck and down his arms. His red eyes haunted her dreams, looking for her, watching her. He wanted to find her. Even now, he searched.
Gretchen shivered. It wasn’t really her that he wanted.
“You can’t have my baby,” she whispered as her hands unconsciously moved to cover her abdomen.
Suddenly the ocean didn’t provide any comfort.
She ran a hand back through her hair, taming her red locks from the breeze that seemed intent on obscuring her view. A smile gradually curved her lips when she heard another set of footsteps in the water behind her. Lukas’s arms slipped around her waist, his large hands tenderly resting over her stomach.
“I missed you,” he whispered into her hair.
Gretchen leaned her head back against his chest, tipping her chin up to see his face. “What took you so long?”
He grinned, and she felt warm all over. “Sorry about that. Blame the sun. It took forever to set tonight.” He nuzzled into her neck. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m all right.” Her lullaby was already humming inside her mind. Normally, she welcomed the closeness of feeling Lukas inside her mind, shadowing her thoughts, but since the nightmares started robbing her of sleep, and foods that she used to love now made her violently ill, she found herself shielding her thoughts. Distancing herself from him.
Her intentions were good. She didn’t want him to worry. There was no turning back now, anyway. What use would it be for him to be concerned for her safety?
Lukas straightened, his hands moving to her shoulders. His fingers massaged her gently before turning her around to face him.
“I’m worried about you.” His eyes searched her own. “Are you all right? And this time, don’t tell me what I want to hear.”
She raised a brow. “Why would I do that?”
“You tell me.” His eyes searched hers. “You’re the one who started shielding your thoughts from me again.”
Gretchen sighed. “This isn’t exactly a typical pregnancy, but Zafrina says I’m doing fine. I’ll take her word for it.”
“You’re still dodging my question.”
Gretchen lifted her gaze to look into his eyes. “I’m scared, that’s all. I’ve been having these horrible dreams. There are other Night Walkers out there. I’m not talking about Kane and Colin and Issa, or Marguerite, but others that we don’t know. And they’re looking for the baby.”
“How do you know?” His brow furrowed. “Has someone contacted you?”
“Not yet, but I know they’re coming.”
“Other Night Walkers are not the only ones searching for an immortal child,” Calisto said as he approached them. “Forgive me for eavesdropping, but I received this tonight.”
He handed a folded parchment to Lukas. Gretchen noticed the signet seal, frowning as Lukas carefully unfolded the letter. There was no salutation and no closing. It said, simply:
What have you done? God have mercy on us all.
Gretchen looked up at Calisto. “Wh
ere did this come from?”
“This is the seal of the monastery in Spain that sent me to the New World.”
“How could he possibly know about the baby?” Gretchen asked. “This note is about the baby, right?”
Calisto nodded. “I think so. There has only been one immortal birth in this world, when God became flesh and walked among us. The second coming is supposed to lead to the final end for this world.”
“But how could they possibly know?”
“Perhaps dreams? Visions?” Calisto shrugged, his expression somber and heavy. “But I think it is safe to say they also have an interest in the child.”
Gretchen took a deep breath, shaking her head. “It’s scary enough being pregnant with a child that everyone I care about needs in order to survive. Knowing people are looking for me and the baby makes it even worse. Much worse.”
Lukas drew her into his arms, kissing her hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He looked over at Calisto. “We should call the others back. We need their help to protect Gretchen.”
The logistics wouldn’t be easy. Kane and Marguerite had returned to their home in Paris. Colin accompanied them on the private jet back to Europe. His arm had healed, but he would never fly again.
Zafrina was always nearby. Her senses seemed attuned to Gretchen’s location at all times. It was unsettling to say the least. Usually Zafrina would make a nightly visit to lay her hands on Gretchen’s still-flat abdomen. Zafrina would tell her that the baby is growing and strong, and gradually Gretchen caught herself looking forward to the visits.
Issa, however, remained unaccounted for. No one had heard from him since the night she conceived the child. Kate said she remembered him kissing her cheek and telling her goodbye, but beyond that, his whereabouts were a mystery. Mulac had mentioned in his ramblings that Issa had hidden himself under the sands of Egypt for a thousand years. Gretchen hoped he hadn’t gone back there. No one deserved that kind of isolation and loneliness.
“If you call to them mentally, won’t the other Night Walkers from my dreams hear?” Gretchen asked.
Calisto nodded with a sigh. “Probably.”
“So, we call them the old-fashioned way.” Kate took Calisto’s hand. “We use the telephone. Marguerite and Kane have a business in Paris. Surely they have a phone.”
The others talked and planned around Gretchen as if she weren’t standing right there between all of them. She didn’t really care. In the two weeks since they’d been staying with Calisto and Kate on the San Diego coast, her sleeping hours had dwindled, until she was in a constant state of exhaustion. Even though her body needed nutrients, fruits and vegetables made her ill, and now she was certain her dreams were real.
She was being hunted.
Her hands unconsciously covered her abdomen as she looked at each of their faces. Lukas, Kate, Calisto—all of their lives rested squarely on Gretchen’s shoulders. She sighed inwardly, staring down at her hands as they rested over her stomach. Her pregnancy was far from textbook. She didn’t have to be a doctor to know that her life was at risk. Her body had different needs than her baby.
How much longer could both of them coexist?
“Gretchen?” The sound of Lukas’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts and back into the present. “Come on, you should eat.”
One hand slid from her stomach to take Lukas’s. Their fingers entwined as they started down the beach, when Gretchen stopped with a gasp.
“What is it? Are you all right?”
Gretchen looked up at Lukas with tears in her eyes. “It shouldn’t be possible. Not yet.”
“What’s not possible? What’s wrong?”
She smiled up at him, bringing his hand to rest on her abdomen. “Can you feel it moving?”
He stood quietly with his hand on her skin, patiently waiting, but there was no more movement.
Gretchen sighed. “Maybe it was my imagination.”
Lukas kissed her forehead. “I’m sure he’ll be moving very soon.”
But he had moved. Gretchen was certain of it.
Further down the beach, a shadow slithered along the edges of the dark tide pools. A serpent with red eyes had a cold smirk on its lips. The woman was right. The baby had moved. And soon, it would be his…along with all of the Night Walkers.
It was only a matter of time.
Acknowledgments
This book was an adventure to research and write, and I couldn’t have done it without the help of others. First off, I’ve got to thank my fabulous Entangled editors, Danielle Poiesz and Theresa Cole. You ladies are the best, and your input always makes me a better writer.
I’m also grateful to my publicity team at Entangled for all their efforts to get the word out about Night Demon and the entire Night Series. Renee, Sarah, and Jessica, you are the bomb!
Thanks to Liz Pelletier for believing in the series and to Heather Howland for the fabulous covers.
To the Night Angels, you are the best! Thanks so much for all your support. I’m very lucky to have you in my corner. I can’t imagine a better author street team!
Panda and Reno, I will never forget our trip down to Cancun to explore the Mayan ruins. I have the best memories of adventuring with you two! And Reno, thanks for getting me back down off that pyramid. You’re my hero!
And to Ken, thanks for always being there for me and believing in me. I couldn’t chase my dreams without your love and support.
I love hearing from readers! You can find me here:
Lisa-Kessler.com
facebook.com/LisaKesslerWriter
twitter.com/LdyDisney
goodreads.com/LisaKessler
pinterest.com/LdyDisney
Night Novellas
Night Thief & Night Angel
LISA KESSLER
Night Thief
The Night series
LISA KESSLER
A beautiful thief, an undiscovered destiny, and a love for all time.
After the fall of the Mayan civilization, Kane, an immortal Night Walker, has taken refuge in France for over 800 years.
The modern world holds little interest for him until the night he meets the Golden Thief and is robbed of much more than his pocket watch.
Marguerite Rousseau is living a double life. By day she is the assistant to an eccentric French artist, Antoine Berjon, and by night she dons elegant evening gowns to woo French dignitaries before lifting their wallets.
Sparks ignite when Kane captures the thief, but Marguerite harbors a dark secret that could ruin them both.
For my daughter who continues to chase her dreams and inspires me to go after my own.
This one is for you, Panda.
Chapter One
Paris – 1840
Marguerite followed the tall blond gentleman with broad shoulders, careful to keep her presence hidden. As he approached the crowd at the edge of the Champs-Élysées, she hitched up her skirts to move faster.
If he got too far ahead, she’d lose him and his gold, gem-encrusted pocket watch in the mass of Parisians.
He’d first caught her eye at a gala nearly a month before.
That night, he wore the watch on the front of his vest, and the telltale bulge in his pocket hinted at a healthy money pouch.
With any luck, his deposit would bring her goal within reach.
Hope made her bold, but even so, she’d lost him before she made his acquaintance.
She hadn’t seen him since. Until tonight.
Now he stood only a scant distance in front of her, as did the rest of Paris, awaiting the processional carrying Napoleon’s remains under the massive Arc de Triomphe on its way to Les Invalides. She needed to get closer.
The hearse carrying Napoleon’s body to its new tomb circled underneath the Arc, and the crowd surged closer to the black coach. The gas lamps glowed overhead and extra torches cast long shadows, marking its route. Cheers deafened her, and the stench of unwashed bodies and old wine assaulted her nostrils when the sweat drenc
hed horses passed by. Their long route from the seashore to the center of Paris was nearly at an end.
Marguerite rose on her toes, struggling to catch sight of her gentleman, but none of the fair-haired men in the street had shoulders as broad as his, and none of them were tall enough.
She’d lost him again. Damn.
There was no time for self-pity. She took in her surroundings and made her way toward a portly gentleman standing at the edge of the crowd.
He stood with his back to the Seine River, one foot cocked and his chest puffed out. His light blue silk jacket, shirt with gold-trimmed ruffles, and buffed and polished shoes said he was no commoner.
Perfect.
She plucked her fan from her bosom and flicked it open, sauntering toward him with an extra sway to her hips.
“Bonjour.” She tipped her head slightly, gazing up at him from beneath her lashes. “Pardon. I must catch my breath.
There are so many people. I feared I might topple over and be trampled.”
He drifted toward her, wetting his lips. Taking her elbow with a demanding grip, his greedy gaze lingered over her cleavage. “Surely you did not attend the funeral alone.”
Marguerite allowed him to lead her a few steps from the crowd. “Oui. My husband is ill, but I promised to tell him every detail.”
She stayed close to the man, in spite of the heavy perfume that failed to mask his body odor. She fluttered her fan and brushed against him, but the purse eluded her until he leaned over and caressed her arm, giving her the opening she needed.
Lifting her shoulder, she parted her lips, keeping his attention on her mouth, while she caught the bulge of his coin purse in his jacket and traced the edge of the pocket.
“The hearse is making its way closer now.” His hot hand ran up from her elbow, across her back and around her waist.