Tonight and Always

by Linda Lael Miller

Daisy nodded. "He came to the Halloween gig," she answered. "Hi, Max. How are the kids?"

  "Great," Max replied with another grin. "How's the wolf?"

  It was a rhetorical question; no one expected a reply, and Daisy didn't offer one. She was already prowling around the shop, looking at things, assessing the situation. Finally she turned to Kristina again. "Obviously the guy didn't break in, he broke out. What the hell happened here?"

  Kristina led the way to the settee and chairs on the other side of the shop, where she and Max had sat talking on another occasion. Daisy took one of the chairs, Esteban settling against her chest and pushing a thumb into his mouth, and Max sat down beside Kristina, on the settee.

  Slowly, quietly, Kristina told her friends about the night she'd turned the unwelcome visitor into a doorstop. She admitted that Valerian had warned her that the spell could wear off, and that she had always meant to do something about the thing, but she'd procrastinated.

  Now it was only too obvious that the brass monkey had come back to life, torn the shop apart, and left.

  "He'd be scared to bother you again, wouldn't he?" Max reasoned. His elbows were braced on his knees; he'd interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on extended thumbs.

  Daisy sighed. "As a rule, these guys aren't real smart. That's one of the reasons they commit crimes—because they can't work out the cause-and-effect equation—i.e., 'If I knock off this convenience store, the cops are going to catch me if they can, and then I'll end up in prison.' They don't think beyond what they want at the moment."

  Kristina shivered. She hadn't seen the last of her would-be assailant; he'd be back. And now her magic was so weak as to be almost nonexistent. Was she finally going to die, after a hundred and thirty years? And what if Max got in the thief's way, trying to protect her?

  She covered her face with both hands and groaned. "Valerian warned me. I should have listened!"

  "It's going to be okay," Daisy said. She sounded so certain. Daisy was that kind of person; she never seemed to doubt anything. "First of all, I'm going to bring Barabbas over to keep you company for a while. You could use a pet anyway. And when Valerian—" She glanced briefly at Max, then went on. "When Valerian wakes up, I'll ask him to find this guy."

  Max took Kristina's hand and held it tightly between both his own. She felt strength and reassurance surge into her. She saw such love in his eyes that her heart ached with the effort to receive and contain it all.

  "My folks could keep Bree and Eliette for a few more days—until this is resolved," he said. "In the meantime, I'll stay at your place. I don't want you alone, even with a wolf to protect you."

  Kristina promptly vetoed the idea. "Not a chance, Max," she said. "I won't allow you to endanger yourself that way. Valerian will have some suggestions, and, besides, Barabbas is no ordinary wolf. He'll be a perfectly adequate bodyguard as long as I need one."

  Daisy nodded in agreement, but said nothing. There was new respect in her eyes as she looked at Max.

  "What are my options here?" Max demanded. "Where this lame-brained plan is concerned, I mean?"

  "You don't have any," Kristina said. "If you refuse to let me do this my way, then I'll have no choice but to find this guy and confront him. I have to act, Max. I can't sit around and wait."

  A look of horror dawned in Max's handsome face. "You expect this bastard to come to your house,'' he rasped.

  "It won't go that far," Daisy interjected. But she was the only one who felt confident. She stood, easily lifting the now-sleeping child in her arms.

  "How do you like motherhood?" Kristina asked, desperate to change the subject. Max's friend, the contractor, had arrived. Max went to join him at the front of the shop, where the two men conferred about the broken door.

  Daisy beamed and kissed the dark, silken hair on top of Esteban's head. "I like it fine," she answered. "Valerian is having fits, though—it upsets him that the little guy sleeps on the floor and hides food and stuff. You'd think in six hundred years he'd have learned some patience."

  "Not Valerian," Kristina said, with a wan smile. She was anxious to see the vampire again, although she knew a heated lecture was inevitable. He had warned her, after all, about casting frivolous spells and failing to follow up on them. "What about your work as a PI? Are you going to give that up?"

  Daisy shook her head. "I'll be cutting back a little for a while, but I'm a career woman at heart," she said. "We've hired a nanny, through one of those swanky agencies. She came from Brazil, so she speaks perfect Portuguese, as well as English, of course. And Valerian has given up his magic act in Vegas, at least for the time being." She paused and grinned mischievously. "He'll come as quite a shock to the PTA once Esteban starts school, won't he?"

  Kristina chuckled, grateful for a few moments of distraction from the new and difficult problem she faced. "I just hope the nanny can deal with your—er—unconventional lifestyle." She thought of the loyal Mrs. Fullywub, who had worked for Kristina's parents for many years, and been fully aware that her employers were vampires.

  Daisy shrugged. "Given what we're paying her, I doubt she'll ask all that many questions. Besides, we're not half as weird as some of the people you see on TV talk shows. Listen, I've got to go, but I'll have Barabbas at your place before the sun goes down, I promise. And you can expect a visit from Valerian, too, of course."

  Kristina thanked her friend, and Daisy left.

  Max introduced Kristina to the contractor, whose name was Jess Baker. Arrangements were made, and Jess prepared to board up the door, until it could be replaced with a new one the following day.

  Back at Kristina's house. Max insisted that she sit in the Blazer until he'd gone through the whole place, room by room and closet by closet, to make sure it was safe. Finally he came to the door and signaled that she could come in.

  "Are you sure you won't let me move in for a day or two?" he asked, helping her out of her coat.

  "Positive," she answered. "Max, we can't keep seeing each other. It's too dangerous—"

  He put his arms around her and drew her very close. "Just try to get rid of me," he replied, and kissed her.

  Kristina lost herself, lost her troubles, in that sweet, brief contact. "Oh, Max," she said when it was over. "I need you to hold me, to make love to me."

  "I think we can arrange that," he answered gruffly.

  They went upstairs then, Kristina leading the way, returning to her room. The bed was still rumpled from their last encounter.

  Slowly, garment by garment, savoring every moment, every stolen kiss, they undressed each other and lay together on the musk-scented sheets, having flung the covers to the floor. Beyond the windows snow fell, great, fat flakes swaying from side to side, taking their time.

  Kristina was filled with a sense of peace, unwarranted as that was, for while Max was touching her, kissing her, holding her, there was no sorrow in the universe, no pain or treachery or vengeance.

  "I love you," she said on a breath as Max moved over her.

  His body spoke eloquently, but he did not say the vital words, and even in her need, Kristina took note. And she grieved.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 13

  « ^ »

  It was still snowing when nightfall came, and Valerian appeared soon after the earth had reached that crucial degree of turning, the white wolf at his heels. Max felt his hackles rise, but he wasn't sure whether it was the animal that provoked this primitive response in him or the vampire. He suspected there wasn't a whole lot of difference between the two of them—both were ferocious, both were cunning, both were wild, and, as hard as it was to admit, beautiful in a lethal sort of way.

  There had been nothing particularly dramatic about their arrival, however—the vampire rang the front doorbell, and the wolf crouched at his heels. The animal's silver-white pelt glistened with flakes of snow; Valerian, too, wore a dusting of the stuff, glimmering in his shaggy chestnut hair and on the shoulders of his expensively cut overcoat. Both the wolf and
the vampire studied Max with a hungry glint in their eyes, as though ready to pounce.

  He stepped back to admit them. "Kristina is in the living room," he said, gesturing. He was sure Valerian knew the way, and that he had never bothered to ring the doorbell before. Popping in unannounced was more his style, according to Kristina.

  The vampire stepped over the threshold and shed his coat in a graceful, shrugging motion, then handed the garment to Max, as though he were a footman or a butler. Amused rather than offended, and understandably fascinated, Max offered no protest.

  The wolf, in the meantime, shook himself off in the middle of the entryway's Persian rug, then trotted, puppy like, toward the living room. Valerian gave Max a long, assessing look, then followed the beast.

  Max hung up the coat, next to his own ratty ski jacket, and went to join the party.

  Valerian stood with his back to the living room fire, which Max had built to a comforting roar, warming his hands. Kristina rested on an elegant Victorian chaise, the pages of an ancient manuscript spread across her lap. The wolf had taken his place on the floor beside her, strange blue eyes watchful, muzzle resting on paws as white as the snow drifting past the windows.

  Max bent over Kristina and kissed the top of her head. "You're sure you don't want me to stay," he said. It wasn't a question really, but a statement. He hated the thought of leaving her, but she'd already made her wishes more than clear.

  She looked up at him, touched his lips and then his chin with one index finger. Hours had passed since they'd made love, showered together, and gotten dressed again, but he still felt the aftershocks of passion deep in his groin.

  "I'm sure," she said.

  He met the vampire's gaze, which was level and patently unfriendly, then looked down at Kristina again. "You'll call if you need me?''

  "I'll call," she promised, trying to smile. She was looking fragile again; Max wondered if their lovemaking had merely added to the strain of her other concerns, rather than lending comfort.

  With a nod to Valerian, Max turned and left the room, collecting his coat and the gym bag containing his dirty clothes on the way out of the house. He sat in the Blazer for a long time before turning the key in the ignition, backing out of the driveway, and heading toward home.

  "You've really done it this time," Valerian said when the front door closed behind Max. The vampire's nostrils were slightly flared, and Kristina knew he had had trouble containing his temper until they were alone.

  Barabbas whimpered.

  Kristina closed her eyes. She'd found the volumes she'd asked to borrow from Maeve's personal library waiting on her desk, when she and Max had come downstairs after making love, and searched the pages for a spell that would get her out of this mess. "How do you mean?" she asked with exaggerated innocence, finally making herself meet Valerian's furious glare. "By letting the doorstop come back to life, or by getting involved with Max Kilcarragh?"

  "It's obviously too late to do anything about your infatuation with that mortal, and, as you pointed out the last time we talked, it would be hypocritical of me to condemn you for loving a human being." He paused, pacing along the edge of the hearth, striving hard to retain his composure. "Great Zeus, Kristina—I warned you about that damnable, silly spell, didn't I? Have you tried to find this—this doorstop of yours?"

  Kristina bit her lower lip and nodded. "No luck," she said. She tapped the manuscript. "But I did come across an incantation that might turn him back into a brass monkey. At least for a little while, until we, or the police, can find him."

  Valerian stopped his pacing and arched one eyebrow in plain contempt. "The police! What would you say to them, Kristina? That you changed a man into a doorstop in a moment of pique and now it's all come undone and he's on the streets, looking to commit mayhem and maybe murder?"

  She shrank against the back of the chaise, properly chagrined. "Can't you find him?" she asked after a long, difficult silence and at a very heavy cost to her pride. "My powers are dwindling, but yours—"

  He shook his head. "I have already tried. Something is veiling him from me—probably a warlock. And he may have powers of his own, this brass monkey of yours."

  "He was an ordinary mortal!" Kristina protested. It was too horrible to think of that ghoul using magic.

  "I have summoned Dathan," Valerian said, taking an exquisite pocket watch from his vest and flipping open the case. The soft, tinkling notes of a Mozart composition sprinkled the room, light as the evening snowfall. "If there are warlocks involved in this muddle, he'll know about it."

  In virtually the next instant Dathan materialized, clad in kidskin breeches, a ruffled shirt, and a waistcoat. The rather dashing outfit was completed by a pair of high, gleaming black boots.

  "Did we interrupt a costume party?" Valerian inquired archly.

  Dathan was not amused. He dismissed the vampire with a sniff and turned to Kristina. "Have you come to your senses, my beloved?" he asked, taking one of her hands and brushing the knuckles with the lightest pass of his lips. "What a splendid pair we should make."

  Valerian made a sound that rather resembled a snort. Another affectation, of course, for his lungs had not drawn breath since the Middle Ages. "How I hate to dash your hopes," he said with a complete lack of conviction, "but you're too late. Alas, our Kristina loves a mortal. I fear it's one of those eternal things, rather like my alliance with Daisy."

  Dathan turned at last and leveled a look at his old adversary. Barabbas, who had been watching the warlock intently ever since his appearance, lifted his magnificent head and growled, making it abundantly clear whose side he would take if hostilities escalated.

  "I hardly think you invited me here to tell me about Max Kilcarragh," Dathan told Valerian coldly, ignoring the wolf. "I know all about him, as it happens." Here the warlock paused and looked down at Kristina. "He's buried his heart with his dead wife, your Max. He might want very much to love you, but he is incapable of it. Contrary to the stage magician's assessment of the matter, Mr. Kilcarragh's soul mate was—and is—the mother of his children."

  Kristina couldn't help remembering that she'd told Max that she loved him that very afternoon, in a most intimate moment, and that he hadn't answered in kind. Max was too honest to offer false vows. "Maybe you're right," she conceded. "In any case, I have other business with you. And it has nothing whatsoever to do with our bargain."

  Dathan ran his gaze over her slender form. She was wearing a simple silk caftan of the palest ivory. "Why are you lying there like an invalid? Are you ill?''

  Kristina sighed. She'd tried several of the spells she'd found in her mother's books over the course of the afternoon, hoping one of them would work on the escaped doorstop, and the effort had weakened her. The worst part, of course, was not knowing whether or not she'd succeeded.

  "No," she said. "I'm just tired, that's all."

  A charged silence ensued. Valerian was clearly holding his tongue, though his eyes glittered with malicious amusement, and Dathan actually flushed. No one needed to explain to Kristina that both of them knew what had happened between her and Max.

  Kristina gathered the parchment pages of the ancient volume and set them carefully aside. Her relationship with Max was her own damned business, and she resented both the vampire and the warlock for daring to have any opinion at all on the matter. Quietly, evenly, she explained about the intruder to her shop, telling Dathan how she'd transformed the miscreant into an inanimate object, intending to deal with him later. When the tale ended, Valerian spoke.

  "Tell the truth," he said to the warlock, "if that's possible for you. Is any of this your doing?"

  Dathan flung out his hands in a gesture of supreme exasperation. Again the wolf growled. "What would I have to gain by such a stunt?"

  Valerian had a reply at the ready, as usual. "You could 'save' Kristina, thus painting yourself as a hero, perhaps hoping to win her heart. Brave warlock rescues fair damsel, etcetera, etcetera."

  "You forget yourse
lf, vampire," Dathan accused, glowering at Valerian. He was not afraid of Barabbas. probably because he could have broken the beast's neck with a simple motion of his hands. "You are the one who delights in high drama, not I."

  "Do not provoke me," Valerian warned in a quiet voice that would have spawned abject fear in almost any other creature. "Kristina is in danger. Were it not for the possibility that you can be of assistance, I would just as soon see you bound in barbed wire and thrown into hell as look at you."

  Kristina closed her eyes again. The room fairly crackled with animosity, and the tension was smothering.

  "This is not helping," she said.

  Valerian turned his back to Dathan and leaned against the fireplace mantel. The mirror above it did not show his reflection. The warlock drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, in an obvious bid for patience.

  "I'm sorry, Kristina," Dathan said, putting just the mildest emphasis on her name, so that there would be no mistake, no suggestion that he was apologizing to the vampire. "Naturally, I will do whatever I can to help. And let me assure you—I've had nothing to do with any of this."

  Kristina believed him; Dathan, though he could be devious when he chose, was also arrogant. He seldom questioned his own intentions and thus felt no need to disguise them. He was used to power; among warlocks, his word was law. "Can you find him?'' she asked.

  "I shall certainly try," he promised.

  Valerian spoke again, in a more moderate tone than before, but with no greater affection. "Look among your own ranks," he said.

  "I would offer you the same advice," Dathan replied. "Beginning with Benecia and Canaan Havermail.''

  Kristina felt a chill and exchanged glances with Valerian. Dathan had struck upon a possibility she had not considered. Perhaps the doorstop had not come back to life at all. Perhaps, instead, the little fiends had found out about the spell somehow and taken the brass monkey to use against Kristina, or simply to spite her. Benecia, after all, had been furious at Kristina's refusal to consider her as a bride for Dathan.