Night's Mistress (Children of the Night)

by Ashley, Amanda

  “You’re right. I didn’t stop to think.”

  “That’s always been your problem, dear.”

  Edna stuck her tongue out at her friend. “I guess you think we should have stayed and given him a chance to stake us.”

  “Of course not.”

  Edna sipped her drink, and then sighed heavily. “I’m just sorry we never made it to California.”

  “There’s always tomorrow, dear,” Pearl said cheerfully. “After all, we haven’t avenged Travis’s death yet.”

  “Now, why didn’t I think of that?” Edna said, her mood lifting.

  Pearl raised her glass. “Here’s to tomorrow. And to all the tomorrows to follow.”

  Chapter Forty-five

  Kyle grabbed the bars and pulled himself to his feet when the vampire entered the room. He had known this night was coming. He had felt it, deep in his bones. So be it. If he was to die, it would not be cowering on the floor. Gathering his courage, Kyle met the monster’s gaze.

  Ramsden cocked his head to the side as he regarded the pitiful mortal. He could smell the man’s fear. It rolled off him in waves, yet he stood tall and straight, his eyes filled with hatred and defiance. You had to admire that kind of grit, but then, mortal men were often at their best in the face of unbeatable odds.

  For a moment, Ramsden regretted having to kill the man, and then he shrugged. The destruction of one more human meant nothing to him. He had seen death in all its ugliness far too often to feel either queasiness or remorse at the thought of taking a human life.

  Still, the man had courage.

  Feeling generous, Ramsden said, “I’ll make this as quick and painless as I can.”

  “I won’t.”

  At the sound of her voice, Ramsden whirled around, his eyes going wide with disbelief. “Mara!”

  Kyle’s voice echoed her name as he sank to his knees. Thank God, the cavalry had arrived just in the nick of time.

  Mara swept into the room, her bearing that of a queen paying a call on a peasant. “I’ve come for my son, Doctor,” she said imperiously. “For your sake, I hope he’s well.”

  Ramsden shrugged. “He was fine, last I saw him.” He moved away from the cage, putting his back to the far wall. “If you’ll excuse me, I was just leaving.”

  Mara glanced at Kyle. She breathed in his scent, and knew he was dying. “I’m sorry, Doctor, but you’re not going anywhere.”

  Ramsden’s eyes narrowed. “How did you find me?”

  “I followed my son’s heartbeat. All the witchcraft in the world will not save you now.”

  Ramsden looked past her to where Logan stood in the doorway. “Two against one? Not very sporting of you.”

  “Logan won’t interfere.”

  “And if I win?”

  Mara smiled, baring her fangs. “Then I won’t be here to stop him.”

  “Can’t we talk this over?” Ramsden asked, his hands outstretched in a gesture of goodwill. “The brat’s fine.”

  It was the wrong thing to say.

  Her eyes narrowing with rage, Mara flew at him, her fangs fully extended, her hands like claws.

  Logan watched the battle impassively. Ramsden fought valiantly, but Mara was a mother defending her young. Almost, Logan could pity the doctor. Ramsden was as helpless as a fledgling to defend himself against Mara’s wrath. His claws and teeth savaged her flesh, but, thanks to Logan’s ancient blood, her wounds healed almost instantly.

  Like a cat with a mouse, she toyed with Ramsden until she tired of the game, and then she slammed him against the wall with such force, it shattered the plaster. Eyes blazing with hell’s own fury, she pulled a stake from her skirt pocket, the very same stake she had pulled from Janis’s body outside.

  A harsh cry of denial rose in the doctor’s throat as she plunged the stake deep into his heart and gave it a sharp twist.

  Ramsden slid helplessly to the floor. He clutched weakly at the stake protruding from his chest, but only for a moment. With a sigh, his eyes glazed over. His hand fell away from the stake. It was over.

  Inside the cage, Kyle smiled faintly, then toppled onto his side and lay still. Mara was there. She would rescue their son. He could stop fighting. Help had arrived at last, he thought dully, only it had arrived too late for him.

  Mara was at Kyle’s side in an instant. Ripping the door off the cage, she ducked inside and dropped to her knees. Murmuring Kyle’s name, she cradled his head in her lap. Guilt rose up within her. It was her fault he was here, her fault he was dying. Ramsden had fed off him. And not just Ramsden, she thought, scenting the air, but Edna and Pearl as well. They would pay for that, she vowed. Sooner or later, she would find the old biddies and she would make them pay dearly for what they had done.

  “Kyle, hold on.” She stroked his brow. “You can’t die. Our son needs you, now more than ever.”

  At the sound of her voice, his eyelids fluttered open. “I always loved you,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “Even when I hated you.”

  “Save your strength. Let me bring you across.” There was no time to lose. His life force was ebbing away with each breath he took, each beat of his heart.

  Kyle glanced at Logan, who stood a few feet away. “He turned you back.”

  “Yes, that’s how I found you. It isn’t so bad, being what we are.”

  “No . . . no. One kiss . . .” he murmured weakly. “One kiss . . . of farewell . . . to send me on my way.”

  She thought briefly of bringing him across against his will, but she knew in her heart he would hate her for it; knew that Kyle, like Jeffrey Dunston before him, would destroy himself the first chance he got.

  With tears in her eyes, Mara gathered him into her arms. Lightly pressing her lips to his, she swallowed his last breath. His body went limp as his life ebbed away. Her fault, she thought, all her fault. He would never have been involved in any of this if not for her.

  She sat there a moment, lightly stroking his hair, until, from somewhere down the hall, she heard a baby’s cry.

  “Derek!” Sliding out from under Kyle’s lifeless body, Mara gained her feet and flew out of the room and down the hallway. “Derek!” Bending over the crib, she gathered her son into her arms and held him close. “Oh, my sweet baby boy,” she wailed. “What have they done to you?”

  “Is he all right?”

  Turning, Mara looked at Logan over the baby’s head. “They fed off of him!” she exclaimed, her eyes flashing with anger as she kissed her son’s cheek. Her baby, once plump and pink, was now pale and thin, so thin. “Don’t worry, my love,” she cooed. “I’ve come to take you home.”

  “Mara.”

  “What?”

  “You go on ahead. I’ll take care of the bodies.”

  Mara nodded. In her joy at seeing her son, she had forgotten about Ramsden and his wife. It would never do for their bodies to be found. It would lead to too many questions about why they had been killed, and who had killed them. “Bring Kyle home with you.”

  Logan stared at her a moment, then nodded.

  Mara hugged her son tighter. Tomorrow night, she would bury Kyle in the tiny graveyard up in the mountains. But for now, she needed to take her baby home, to wash him and feed him and hold him close, to breathe in his sweet baby scent, to kiss each tiny finger and toe, to assure herself that no permanent damage had been done to her child, the only child she would ever have.

  Logan prowled the living room of the house Mara had shared with Kyle. He had expected her to go back to her house in the Hollywood Hills, but the baby’s things were here. Watching her with her son, seeing the love in her eyes, her tenderness as she gave the baby a bottle, her gentleness as she rocked the boy to sleep, stirred a never-before-felt emotion deep within him. He wasn’t sure what it was. Jealousy, perhaps, that he would never sire a child, never experience the unbreakable bond that existed between a parent and a child.

  He and Mara had spoken little since leaving Ramsden’s lab. Seeing her with the baby, Logan
wondered again if Mara was regretting her decision to accept the Dark Trick, and yet she had been convinced it was the only way to find her son. No doubt she had been right. After seeing what Ramsden had done to his wife, Logan had no doubt that the doctor had planned to dispose of the kid and Kyle, as well. And what of the other two vampires who had been there? Logan had detected their scents though he hadn’t recognized them. But Mara had.

  “Edna and Pearl,” she’d said. “They were vampire hunters until Rafe turned them some years ago. Troublesome creatures.”

  Bored and impatient, Logan went down the hall to the nursery and peered through the half-open door. Mara sat in a rocking chair near the window, the baby cradled in her arms.

  Sensing his presence, she looked up. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, I just wondered what was keeping you.”

  “I can’t bear to put him down.”

  Logan nodded. No doubt it would be weeks, maybe months, before she felt comfortable letting the baby out of her sight.

  She glanced around the nursery. “We’ll have to leave here as soon as I get everything packed up.”

  He nodded. Now that Edna and Pearl knew about the house in Porterville, moving was the smart thing to do. Not that Mara couldn’t handle the two old broads, but she had the baby to think about, and it was better to be safe than sorry.

  Returning to the living room, Logan gazed at the painting of Mara and Derek hanging over the fireplace. Bowden’s signature was in the lower right-hand corner. Logan had no doubt that, in spite of everything, Kyle Bowden had loved Mara dearly. It was evident in every brush stroke.

  Muttering an oath, Logan began to pace again. He didn’t belong here, in this house. Maybe he didn’t belong in Mara’s life, either. She had planned to give the baby to Kyle, but that was no longer an option. There was always the chance that she would let Savanah raise the boy; they had discussed it before, but now . . . He shook his head. After everything that had happened, he doubted that Mara would let anyone else raise her son.

  Selfish creature that he was, he couldn’t help wondering where that left him. He didn’t like admitting, even to himself, that he was jealous of every minute Mara spent with the boy. But he was. And how sick was that, to be envious of an infant?

  He was muttering to himself, calling himself a worthless, useless, fool, when he realized he was no longer alone. Feeling like an idiot, he turned to face her.

  Looking amused, she met his gaze.

  Had he been capable of it, he would have blushed.

  “Why are you a worthless, useless fool?” she asked, closing the distance between them.

  “You make me that way.”

  “Do I?” She ran her fingertips down his cheek.

  “I’m jealous of every minute you spent with Bowden, and every second you spend with your son. I love you, and I don’t want to share you with anyone. If that doesn’t make me a fool, I don’t know what else to call it.”

  “I can’t help loving him. He’s mine.”

  “Am I?”

  With a sigh, Mara said, “I can’t talk about this right now. It’s too soon. Too much has happened.” She glanced at the picture over the fireplace, remembering the night Kyle had painted it. And now he was dead, and it was her fault. If she had never cared for him, never married him, he would still be alive. In all her years as a vampire, she had rarely experienced remorse or guilt, but now both emotions weighed heavily on her conscience.

  Moving past Logan, she sat on the sofa. Tomorrow night, she would bury Kyle. And after that, what? She considered asking Rane and Savanah to take care of Derek. Not long ago, she had been convinced that she didn’t want her son to grow up the way Cara had, not knowing the truth about her parents until she was grown, but now . . . now she wasn’t sure she could let someone else raise her son. Did she really want her baby to call another woman Mama? Did she want to miss out on watching her son take his first step, miss hearing him speak his first word? Was she being selfish to want to keep Derek? Would it be better to let Savanah raise him, or should she perhaps give him to a mortal couple who could raise him in a normal home? But what if Derek wasn’t a normal child? What if, like Rafe and Rane, he carried vampire blood that manifested itself when he reached puberty? Human parents would be ill-equipped to handle such a thing.

  Mara blew out a sigh. She didn’t know what to do, didn’t know which decision would be best.

  She glanced at Logan as he sat down beside her.

  “It’s a hard decision, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Yes. I want to do what’s best for Derek, but I don’t know what that is. Would it be selfish of me to keep him?”

  “He’s your son,” Logan said quietly. “He belongs with you.”

  He belongs with you. Four words that sank deep into Mara’s heart, and in that instant, she knew she could never let her baby go.

  The following night, Mara laid Kyle to rest in the small graveyard located in the woods behind her house in the mountains. It was an old cemetery, surrounded by a white wrought-iron fence with an arched gate. A wooden sign, carved with the words, REST YE IN PEACE, hung from the top of the gate. No one had been buried there in over fifty years.

  A full moon shone down on the mourners, splashing the tops of the trees with silver. Standing there, with her son cradled in her arms, Mara couldn’t help thinking that the scene at the graveside looked like something out of an old horror movie, but instead of humans digging up a vampire to destroy it, vampires were burying a human who had died too soon.

  Brenna and Roshan were there to comfort her, along with Vince and Cara, their sons and their daughters-in law. Logan stood at Mara’s side. She held a quietly crying Derek in her arms. Did the baby somehow know that his father was dead? Was that why he cried?

  Father Lanzoni presided. He glanced at the mourners, his gaze briefly touching each one. “I wish that we were meeting under happier circumstances this evening,” he said with quiet reverence. “Though we do not like to think of it, we know that death eventually comes to us all. Mortal or vampire, sooner or later death comes. At this time, we mourn the loss of our friend, Kyle, who was taken from us too soon. Even so, he will not be forgotten. He will live on in our memories, and in the life of his son, Derek.”

  Pausing, the priest lowered his head a moment, as if in prayer, before going on.

  “At this time, we lay the body and soul of Kyle Bowden to rest, confident that he will rise in the resurrection of the just. Amen.”

  Mara hugged her son as the men lowered the casket into the ground. Overcome with guilt, she turned away as they began to shovel dirt into the hole. She should have been a better wife. She should never have married Kyle at all.

  Later, they gathered at Mara’s house. After Mara and Savanah put their children to bed, Logan opened a bottle of wine and offered a toast. “To Mara, welcome back to the fold.”

  Rane lifted his glass in agreement.

  “And to Derek’s safe return,” Rafe added.

  Mara smiled at each of them in turn. They were good friends, something she had never truly appreciated before.

  Later, Cara took Mara aside. “Is everything all right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You look troubled.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Did it upset you, when you learned your parents were vampires?”

  “Yes, at first. It came as quite a shock, learning that they weren’t human. Of course, it explained a lot, like why they didn’t age, and why they never attended any of the school functions that were held during the day, and why I never saw them eat. But the real shock was learning that I had been adopted. It’s a hard thing, learning that your own mother didn’t want you.”

  “When did they tell you that you were adopted?”

  “I think I was seven or eight at the time.”

  “Does it still bother you?”

  “Not now, but it troubled me for a long while. I don�
��t know anything about my natural mother except that she gave birth to me in an alley, and then gave me away.” Cara laid her hand on Mara’s arm. “You’re thinking about Derek, aren’t you? Savanah told me you had talked to her about raising him.”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now . . .” Mara shook her head. “He belongs with me,” she said, repeating Logan’s words.

  “I think you’re right. Have you tried going out in daylight since Logan turned you?”

  “No,” Mara admitted, frowning. “I just assumed that, being newly made, I wouldn’t be able to.”

  “You’re unique among our kind,” Cara said. “You were Nosferatu far longer than any other vampire we know of, and you are far stronger than any of us.”

  “Yes, but that was before. Ramsden thought accepting the Dark Gift again would kill me.”

  “Well, he was wrong about that, wasn’t he?”

  Mara nodded. She felt as strong and capable as she had before she’d lost her powers. She was able to be awake during the day to look after the baby, so why did she still hesitate to go outside when the sun was up? Because of Ramsden, she thought. Instead of trusting her own instincts, she was letting a dead man influence her.

  “I think you’ll be just fine,” Cara said. “You’re a survivor. You’ve proved that.”

  Cara was right, Mara thought. She was being foolish. She was no longer human. She was her old self again, as strong and powerful as she had ever been. There was nothing to fear. She would walk in the sun’s light. She would be a good mother to Derek. She would spend the rest of her existence with the man she loved. She smiled inwardly as a wave of self-confidence routed the last of her doubts and fears.

  Later, after everyone had left for home, she went down to her lair to check on Derek. She would have to redecorate, she thought as she leaned over the side of the crib. Get rid of her Egyptian art collection and replace it with something more youthful and cheerful. Or maybe not. She could decorate one of the rooms upstairs for the baby. Paint the walls blue, buy a pretty oak crib and a matching changing table and rocking chair. The baby could use the upstairs room during the day, then sleep in his bed in her lair at night until he was a little older.