At Twilight
Page 14
be very upset with you.”
He frowned, but didn’t ask her not to go.
“Promise me you’ll come straight home afterward?”
“Yes, Daniel,” she said with exaggerated submissiveness.
He dug in his pocket and brought out a set of keys.
“Take the Cadillac. I don’t want you stranded in that old car of
yours.”
“And what if you end up stalling the Bug alongside the road
somewhere?
” “I’ll have Curt follow me home.”
He held the keys in an outstretched hand and she stepped forward and
took them.
She dropped them into her purse, extracted her own set and handed them
to Daniel.
He gave her a long look, seemed to want to say something, but didn’t.
He left with a sigh that told her he didn’t like the idea of her going
out at night.
It was worth it, though.
For three wonderful hours she and Hilary lingered over every course,
from the huge salad and the rich hot soup to the deliciously rare
steaks and baked potatoes with buttery baby carrots on the side, and
even dessert—cherry cheesecake.
Tamara ordered wine with dinner.
It was not her habit to imbibe, but she had the glimmering hope that if
she had a few drinks tonight, she might be able to sleep when she got
home.
She allowed the waiter to refill her wineglass three times, and when
dinner was over and Hilary ordered an after-dinner seven-seven, Tamara
said,
“Make it two.”
The conversation flowed as it had in the old days, before the
nightmares and sleepless nights.
For a short time she felt as if she were a normal woman with a strong,
healthy mind.
The evening ended all too soon, and she said goodbye reluctantly in the
parking lot outside and hurried to Daniel’s car.
She took careful stock of herself before she got behind the wheel.
She counted the number of drinks she’d had, and then the number of
hours.
Four and four.
She felt fine.
Assured her ability was not impaired, she started the car, pulled on
the headlights and backed carefully out of the lot.
She’d take her time driving home, she thought.
She’d listen to the radio and not think about the things that were
wrong in her life.
When she got home, she’d choose a wonderful book from Daniel’s shelves
and she’d lose herself in reading it.
She wouldn’t worry about vampires or brainwashing or insane asylums.
The flat tire did not fall in with her plan, however.
She thanked her lucky stars she was near an exit ramp, and veered onto
it, limping pathetically along the shoulder.
She stopped the boat-sized car as soon as she came to a relatively sane
spot to do so, and sat for a moment, drumming her fingers on the
steering wheel.
“I never replaced the spare,” she reminded herself.
She looked up and spotted the towering, lighted gas station sign in the
distance, not more than three hundred yards from her.
With a sigh of resignation she wrenched open the car door, and hooked
the strap of her purse over her shoulder with her thumb.
She spent one moment hoping the attendant would be a chivalrous type,
who’d offer her a ride back to the car.
and maybe even change the tire for her.
She almost laughed aloud at that notion.
She knew full well that a few minutes from now she’d be heading back to
her car, on foot, rolling a new tire and rim along in front of her.
Oh, well, she’d changed tires before.
She walked along the shoulder, glad of the streetlights in addition to
the moon illuminating the pavement ahead of her.
Her cheerful demeanor deserted her, though, when a carload of laughing
youths passed her, blasting heavy metal from open windows despite the
below-freezing temperature, and came to a screeching halt.
Two men—boys, really—got out and stood unsteadily.
Probably due to whatever had been in the bottles they both gripped.
She turned, deciding it would be better to drive to the station, even
if it meant ruining the rim.
As soon as she did, the rusted Mustang that seemed to have no muffler
lurched into Reverse and roared past her again.
It stopped on the shoulder this time and the driver got out.
He came slowly toward her.
The object in his hand that caught and reflected the light wasn’t a
bottle.
It was a blade.
She stiffened as they closed in on her, two from behind, one dead
ahead.
No traffic passed in those elongated seconds.
She considered darting off to the side, but that would only put her in
a scrub lot where they’d be able to catch her, anyway.
Better, she decided, to take her chances here.
Any second now a car would pass and she’d wave her arms.
step in front of it, if necessary.
She glanced over her shoulder at the two youths.
One wore tattered jeans and a plaid shirt, unbuttoned and blowing away
from his bare, skinny chest in the frigid wind.
The other wore sweats and a leather jacket.
Both looked sorely in need of a bath and a haircut, but she couldn’t
believe they’d hurt her.
She didn’t think either of them was old enough to have legally bought
the beer they were swilling down.
She caught her breath when her arm was gripped, and she swung her head
forward.
The one who held her was no kid.
His long, greasy hair hung to his shoulders, but was rooted in a
horseshoe shape around a shiny pate.
He was shorter than she and a good fifty pounds overweight.
He grinned at her.
There were gaps in his slimy teeth.
Without a word he took her purse, releasing her arm to do so, but still
holding the knife in his other hand.
She took a step back and he lifted it fast, pressing the tip just
beneath one breast.
“Move it and lose it, lady.”
He tossed her purse over her head, where the two boys now stood close
behind her.
“Her big Caddy has a flat. You two get it changed, and we’ll have
ourselves a little joyride.”
“There is no spare,” she took great pleasure in telling him, thinking
it might thwart his plan to steal Daniel’s car.
“But you were on your way to buy one, right, honey?
” She didn’t answer, as the boy in the leather jacket pawed the
contents of her purse.
“Ninety-five bucks and change in here.
” The man with the knife smiled more broadly.
“Take it and go to the station. Take the Mustang. Bring the tire back
here and get it changed.”
He traced her breast with the tip of the knife, not hard enough to cut,
but she winced in pain and fear.
“I’ll just keep the lady company while you’re gone.”
She heard the patter of their feet over the pavement, then they were
past her, on their way to the noisy car.
They spun the tires as they headed for the gas station.
The man turned her aro
und abruptly, twisting one arm behind her back.
He shoved her down the slight slope toward the brush lot.
“We’ll just wait for ‘em down here, outta sight.”
“The hell we will.”
She struck backward with one foot, but he caught it with a quick uplift
of his own and she wound up facedown in the snow with him on her
back.
“You want it right here, that’s fine with me,” he growled into her
ear.
She cried out, and immediately felt the icy blade against her throat.
Her face was shoved cruelly into the snow, and then his hand was
groping beneath her, shoving up inside her blouse, tugging angrily at
her bra.
When he touched her, her stomach heaved.
My God, she thought, there was no way out of this.
Claniel wouldn’t worry.
He thought her out with Hilary.
Even if he did come looking for her, he’d never look here.
She’d only used this exit because of the flat.
Her normal route home was three exits farther on the highway.
His breath fanned her face.
With one last vicious pinch he dragged his hot hand away from her
breast, and tried to shove it down the front of her jeans, while his
hips writhed against her backside.
He’s going to do it, she thought.
White panic sent her mind whirling, and she fought for control.
She couldn’t give up.
She wouldn’t allow herself to feel the hand that violated her.
She refused to vomit, because if she did, she’d likely choke to
death.
She needed help.
Calm descended as Eric’s face filled her mind.
His words, soothing her with the deep tenor of his voice, rang in her
ears.
I’d never harm you.
I’d kill anyone who tried.
She closed her eyes.
Had he meant what he’d said?
Have you realized yet, his voice seemed to whisper in her mind,
drowning out the frantic panting of the pig on top of her, that you can
cry out to me, across the miles, using nothing but your mind?
Could she do it?
Would he answer if she did?
If you need me, Tamara, call me.
I will come to you.
He had managed to unbutton her jeans.
The zipper gaped.
He rose from her slightly, removing his filthy, vile hand, to fumble
with his own fly.
She squeezed her eyes tight and tried to make her thoughts coherent.
Help me, Eric.
Please, if you meant what you said, help me.
At the sound of his zipper being lowered she felt the oddest sensation
that her mind was literally screaming through time and space.
It was a frightening feeling, but not unfamiliar.
She’d felt it before.
in her dreams.
The urgency of her thoughts pierced her brain with a high-pitched
pain.
/ need you, Eric!
For God’s sake, help me!
Eric paused in swirling the liquid in the test tube, and his head
tilted to one side.
He frowned, then shook his head and continued.
“So what’s this hocus pocus?”
He glanced at Roland, one brow raised.
“I am trying to isolate the single property in human blood that keeps
usj alive.”
“And what will you do then? Develop it in a tiny pill and expect us to
live on them?” ” It would be more convenient than robbing blood
banks, my friend.
” He smiled, but it died almost instantly. His head snapped up and
the glass tube fell to the floor and shattered.
Roland jerked in surprise.
“What is it, Eric?”
“Tamara.”
He whipped the latex gloves from his hands as he moved through the
room.
The white coat followed and then he raced through the corridors of the
enormous house, pausing only to snatch his coat from a hook on the way
out.
By the time he reached the gate he was moving with the preternatural
speed that rendered his form no more than a blur to human eyes.
He used the speed and momentum to carry him cleanly over the barrier,
and sensed roland at his side.
He honed his mind to Tamara’s and felt a rush of sickening fear, and
icy cold.
Minutes.
It took only minutes to reach her, but they seemed like hours to
Eric.
He stood still for an instant, filling with rage when he saw the
bastard wrench her onto her back and attempt to shove her denims down
her hips as his mouth covered hers.
Her eyes closed tight, she twisted her face away, and sobbed his
name.
“Eric… oh. God, Eric, please…”
He gripped the back of the thug’s shirt and lifted him away from her,
to send him tumbling into the snow.
He bent over the stunned man, pulled him slightly upward by his
shirtfront and smashed his face with his right fist.
He drew back and hit him again, and would have continued doing so had
not her soft cry cut through the murderous rage enveloping him.
He turned, saw her lying in the snow and let the limp, bloody-faced man
fall from his hands.
He went to her, falling to his knees and pulling her trembling body
into his arms.
He lifted her easily, cradling her, rocking her.
“It’s over. I’m here. He can’t hurt you now.”
He pressed his face into her hair, and closed his eyes.
“He can’t hurt you. No one can. I won’t allow it.”
She drew one shuddering, slow breath, then another, and yet another.
Suddenly her arms linked around his neck.
She turned her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder and she
sobbed—violent, racking sobs that he thought would tear her in two.
She clung to him as if to a lifeline, and he held her tightly.
For a long while he simply held her and let her cry.
He whispered into her hair, words of comfort and reassurance.
It was over now.
She was safe.
With an involuntary spasmodic sob she lifted her head, searched his
face, her eyes brimming with tears and wide with wonder.
“You came to me. You really came to me. I called you…”
He blinked against the tears that clouded his vision, and pushed the
tangled hair away from her face.
“I could not do otherwise. And you should not be so surprised. I told
you I would, did I not?”
She nodded.
“I cannot lie to you. I never have, and I swear to you now, I never
will.”
He studied her, knowing she believed him.
Her blouse had been torn, and hung from one shoulder in tatters.
The fastenings of her denims hung open.
She was wet from the snow, and shaking with cold and with reaction, no
doubt.
He carried her up the slope to the pavement.
Roland moved around the automobile.
Eric saw that the tire lay on the pavement.
Roland had the jack and its handle in his hands and he tossed them into
the open trunk.
When he reached the car he glanced down at Tamara once more.
She still clung tightly.
“Are you injur
ed? Can you stand?”
She lifted her head from his shoulder.
“I’m okay. Just a little shaky.”
) Eric lowered her gently to the pavement, and opened the passenger
door of the car.
He kept hold of her shoulders as: she got in.
Roland had just tossed the flat tire into the trunkj and slammed it
down.
Eric called to him.
“Where are the others?”
Roland answered mentally, not aloud.
Ran like rabbits, my friend.
You let them go?
Roland, you ought to have thrashed them for this, Eric answered
silently, falling into the old habit of speaking that way with his
friend.
What of her attacker?
Did you kill him?
Not yet.
His anger returned when he thought of how close the bastard had come to
raping Tamara.
But I intend to, and then those sorry curs that helped him.
Murder doesn’t suit you, Eric.
And the other two were mere lads.
Leave this as it is.
It will be for the best.
Tamara rose from her seat in the car, and Eric realized he hadn’t
closed the door.
Her hand came to his shoulder, and with surprising calm she said,
“Roland is right, Eric.
They were just kids.
When they see the shape you left their friend in, they’ll realize how
lucky they were tonight.
And you know you can’t go back there and murder that man in cold
blood.
It isn’t in you.
” Both men glanced at her, Roland’s gaze astonished.
He lifted his brows and spoke aloud.
“This will require getting used to.
It is odd to think a human can hear my thoughts, although I assume it
only occurs when I am conversing with you, Eric.
She hears what you hear.
” Eric nodded.
He slipped his coat from his shoulders, and arranged it over her like a
blanket.
“She hears what I hear,” he repeated.
“She can feel what I feel, if she only looks deeply enough. She can
read my thoughts and my feelings. I can keep nothing from her.”
He spoke to Roland but his words were for Tamara’s ears.
He longed to have her trust.
“I’m going to drive her home. Care to ride along?”
Roland took a step away from the auto as if it might bite him.
“In that?”
Tamara smiled.
Her gaze slid to Eric’s and he smiled, as well.
She would be all right.
‘ “I am glad you both find my aversion to these machines so highly