Night's Kiss

by Amanda Ashley

  That's what he had told his mother, too, but she'd always been able to tell when he was lying and he hadn't fooled her for a minute.

  "Why can you not see her?" Brenna asked.

  "Why not?" he cried, his voice rising. "Why not? I'm a vampire, that's why not!"

  Brenna shrugged. "Roshan is a vampire." Jimmy stared at her. "So?"

  "So, he goes out and mingles with people and no one is the wiser. Can you not do that as well?"

  Jimmy shook his head. "No. I saw Cathy soon after Mara brought me across. I looked at Cathy and all I could think of was how much I wanted to…" He looked at Roshan. "You know how it is, man. I don't trust myself to be alone with her."

  The vampire nodded. "It is difficult, at first. But it grows easier, with time."

  "We can't have a life together," Jimmy said dully. "She wants to get married, have kids. It's better to end it now before I…" He looked at the other vampire, his eyes filled with misery and bitter regret. "Before I kill her, too."

  "You killed someone?" Brenna asked.

  Jimmy nodded. "I didn't want to." He looked pleadingly at the other vampire. "You know how it is. I tried to stop, man, but I couldn't!"

  Roshan nodded.

  Judging from the expression on Roshan's face, Jimmy knew the other vampire understood all too well.

  "I've told you all I can," Roshan said. "The rest is up to you."

  "I don't know what to do, man, where to go. I don't have a job. I'm almost out of money. How am I supposed to live?" He laughed, a short humorless laugh. "Live! That's a good one!"

  "If you need money, you can find a job working nights."

  Roshan said, annoyed by the boy's self-pity. "You can live your life as a vampire the same way you lived as a mortal, if that's what you want. Many humans work nights and sleep days. It's an adjustment you have to make. With time, the lust for blood becomes easier to control."

  "I just feel so lost."

  "Like everything else," Roshan said, not unkindly, "that will pass, in time." Reaching into his pocket, Roshan withdrew a couple of one hundred-dollar bills and placed them in Dugan's hand.

  "Hey, man, I don't want your charity."

  "Think of it as a loan. Between brothers."

  "Thanks, man," Jimmy said, turning away before the vampire could see the tears of gratitude in his eyes. "I'll pay you back."

  Deep in despair, Jimmy walked to his car and slid behind the wheel. He couldn't live like this any longer. He missed Cathy. He missed his mother and his old man. If there was any chance that he could be human again, he was prepared to take it, even if it meant seeing Anthony Loken one more time.

  It might be risky to see the warlock again, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 16

  Brenna glanced out the rearview window as Roshan pulled onto the road. "Do you think he will be all right?"

  "That's up to him."

  "How can you not care what happens to him?" she asked, frowning.

  "I can't play nursemaid to the world. If he listens to what I said, he'll be fine. If he doesn't…" He shrugged. "I've got all I can handle just worrying about you."

  She wasn't sure what to say to that. He had saved her from a horrible death, had made love to her in the most tender, incredible manner, but it had never occurred to her that he worried about her. It was a nice feeling. No one had worried about her since her grandmother passed away.

  "What if it is possible?" Brenna mused. "What if Loken really has found a way to make Jimmy mortal again?"

  "It isn't possible," Roshan replied. "Being a vampire isn't a disease. You can't cure it like an infection."

  "But what if you could? Would you not like to be mortal again?"

  It was a question he had never truly considered. He had known the only cure for the Dark Trick was to willingly end his existence. He had accepted that fact and moved on. There was nothing to be gained in wishing for something that could never be. Now, he found himself pondering Brenna's question: what if? Did he want to be mortal again? Would he accept such a transformation if it was offered to him? What would it be like to walk in the sun's light after so many years of darkness, to enjoy a full-course meal in a fine restaurant, to live a normal life, father a child? As a vampire, such ordinary pursuits were forever out of reach. On the other hand, he didn't have to worry about sickness or disease, aging, dying, or any of the other ills that plagued humankind.

  "Well?" Brenna prompted.

  "I don't know." Would he willingly give up the supernatural powers that were second nature to him now? Being mortal meant being weak, vulnerable.

  "I do not understand your hesitation," Brenna said.

  "I doubt I could explain it to you. To be a vampire is both a curse and a blessing. In centuries past, we were hunted like animals, killed without compunction or regret. Since we were not considered human, it was assumed we had no feelings. Things have changed for the better, with time. Most people no longer believe in vampires, and so we live in the shadows of the night, careful to hide our true nature from the rest of the world."

  "It still seems a lonely life to me," Brenna said. "What good is long life without love, without family, without children?"

  Roshan nodded slowly. All that had been taken from him when Atiyana died, had been forever denied him when he succumbed to Zerena's dark kiss. He looked at Brenna, young and vibrant with life, her skin radiant with good health. He had made love to her last night, buried himself in her sweetness. Now, suddenly, it seemed like sacrilege that one such as he had dared to touch her, dared to hope he could love her and that she might love him in return. What right did he have to take pleasure in her embrace? What right did he have to defile her?

  He thought of Jimmy Dugan. What if the boy was right? What if the warlock had found a way to return vampires to mortality? In his heart, Roshan was sure that such a thing was impossible, but what if he was wrong?

  He looked at Brenna again and knew he would willingly give up his dark powers for the chance to share one lifetime in her arms.

  The attraction that ever hummed between them grew stronger when they reached home.

  Brenna stood in the living room, shivering a little. She was about to spell the fire to life when Roshan did it with a wave of his hand.

  She tensed as he came up behind her, acutely aware of his nearness as he slipped her coat off her shoulders and tossed it over the back of a chair. His breath fanned her cheek, his hands rested lightly on her shoulders, then slid down her arms. She shivered with pleasure at his touch, felt a sharp pang of regret when he moved away from her.

  Slowly, she turned to face him, wishing she had the courage to ask him if they were going to make love again.

  "It's late," he said quietly. "You should get some sleep."

  She nodded, disappointment sitting like a lead weight on her heart.

  "Promise me you won't go near the bookstore or Loken unless I'm with you."

  "I promise," she said. "But only if you promise me you'll help Jimmy Dugan."

  "What else do you want me to do?"

  "I do not know. Just do not turn him away if he comes to you again."

  "All right. I'll do whatever I can." His gaze moved over her, hot and hungry. And then, unable to resist when she was so near, he drew her into his arms and kissed her. The hunger rose quickly within him, clawing at his vitals, reminding him that he had not fed this night A seductive voice in the back of his mind whispered that there was no need for him to go out for sustenance, not when she was in his arms, warm and vibrant with life.

  Abruptly, he released her and turned his back to her. "I'm going out," he said, his voice gruff. "Lock the door after me."

  Before she could reply, he was gone from her sight.

  He hunted with single-minded intensity, refusing to think of Brenna, refusing to think of anything but the hunger that must be fed.

  A scream from outside an apartment building drew his attention. When he arrived, he saw a
man and a woman thrashing around on the ground. At first glance, they appeared to be in the throes of passion, but then the woman cried out again, her voice filled with fear and loathing.

  "Shut up, you whore!" Sitting back on his heels, the man struck the woman across the face, splitting her lower lip. The scent of fresh blood wafted through the air.

  "Let me go!" she shrieked. "Help me! Someone, please help me!"

  The man cursed as Roshan's hand closed around his shoulder. After dragging the man off the woman and spinning him around, Roshan drove his fist into the man's face. There was a satisfying crunch as the man's nose broke. Blood sprayed through the air. Roshan inhaled deeply, then tossed the man aside like so much rubbish.

  The woman stared up at him, her eyes wide, no doubt wondering if he had come to her rescue, or if he intended to finish what the other man had started.

  "Are you all right?" Roshan asked.

  She nodded. "Y-yes, I think so."

  His gaze moved over her. She was in her early thirties, with brown hair and blue eyes, one of which was already turning black from where she'd been hit. There was a nasty bruise on her left cheek; blood oozed from the cut on her lower lip.

  "Do you live here?" he asked, nodding at the apartment building behind her.

  "Yes. I was just coming home from work. I'm a nurse…" She recoiled when he offered her his hand.

  "I'm not going to hurt you." He kept his voice low, reassuring. Hypnotic. "Do you live alone?"

  He was a stranger. It was in her mind to lie, to say she lived with a roommate, but she couldn't lie to him, not when his gaze was locked with hers.

  "Yes, alone."

  Taking her by the hand, he drew her to her feet, men picked up her handbag and offered it to her.

  "Come," he said. "I'll see you safely home."

  "Yes," she said. "Safely home."

  She lived in a modest one-bedroom apartment that, while small, was clean and neat. There were several paintings on the walls. Vases of dried flowers on the mantel and the table.

  Once inside, Roshan closed and locked the door, then took her by the hand and led her into the bedroom. Sitting her on the bed, he went into the bathroom. He found a washcloth, wet it, then went back into the bedroom and wiped the blood from her face. He offered her a drink of whiskey that he found in the kitchen cupboard, then drew her into his arms, his mind melding with hers, wiping away her fear. He fed quickly, then erased his memory from her mind. Tomorrow, she would remember only that she had fought off an attacker.

  Leaving her sleeping peacefully, he left the apartment building and returned to the Nocturne. He paused at the entrance, sniffing the air until he picked up Anthony Loken's scent.

  It led him to a large one-story brick building located on a patch of weeds on the outskirts of town. The windows were covered with boards on the inside and barred on the outside. No light showed through the cracks.

  Anthony Loken's scent was strong here, and so was that of Jimmy Dugan.

  Roshan circled the building, noting that there was only one entrance. It, too, was barred. Had this been Loken's home, Roshan would have been unable to cross the threshold without an invitation, but this was an abandoned place of business and the threshold had no power over him.

  Dissolving into mist, Roshan slipped under the narrow opening beneath one of the boards. Once inside, he resumed his own shape. Though the building was dark, his vampire sight allowed him to see everything clearly, though there was precious little to see—a wooden chair, a metal desk, a file cabinet.

  An open door led to a long hallway flanked on either side by doors that opened into empty rooms. A narrow staircase was located at the far end of the corridor.

  Roshan paused at the head of the stairs. Loken's scent was still strong, and mingled with it was the scent of blood and fear. And violent death.

  Treading softly, Roshan descended the stairs.

  And the scent of death grew stronger.

  There was only one door at the bottom of the stairs. Roshan tried the handle, knowing instinctively that it would be locked.

  Again dissolving into mist, he floated under the crack beneath the door. He hovered there a moment before taking on his own shape once more.

  The scent of blood was overpowering now, awakening his hunger in spite of the fact that he had just fed.

  The room was a laboratory. Metal shelves crowded with glass jars, test tubes, beakers, flasks, funnels, slides, and vials lined one wall. A rack held several test tubes filled with blood. Another shelf held several books on witchcraft, anatomy, and hematology. There was a small refrigerator on a long counter, along with a microscope and an incubator. A large gray metal file cabinet stood on one side of the door, a desk with a state-of-the-art computer and printer was on the other side. A circle of power had been drawn on the floor in the center of the room. And in the center of the circle there was a stainless steel operating table that held Jimmy Dugan's remains. His arms and legs were bound to the table with silver manacles. A thick wooden stake protruded from his chest. A long rubber tube was attached to the boy's left arm, slowly siphoning the blood from his body into a large glass container.

  Walking toward the table, Roshan felt a whisper of dark energy as he stepped inside the circle. So, Anthony Loken was not only a warlock but something of a scientist, as well.

  Roshan stared at Dugan's body. "Foolish boy," he muttered. "Why didn't you get the hell out of town while you had the chance?"

  Turning away from the table, Roshan walked over to the desk, quickly perusing the warlock's notes, most of which he found indecipherable.

  Roshan glanced at what was left of Jimmy Dugan. Had the boy's blood provided Loken with any of the answers he was searching for? Would it enable him to come up with a formula for eternal life?

  Dissolving into mist, Roshan flowed out of the laboratory. Dugan had trusted the wrong man and it had cost him his life.

  Materializing outside the lab, Roshan stared up at the sky, at the millions of twinkling stars that faded away into infinity. Until now, even though he had known it was impossible, he hadn't realized how badly he had been hoping that Jimmy Dugan had been right, and that Loken had found a cure for the hunger that plagued him.

  Without conscious thought, he followed the warlock's scent across the city to a house located on a hill. A high wrought iron fence surrounded the yard. Lights shone in the windows. A plume of blue-gray smoke rose from a red brick chimney.

  Roshan stared up at the house for several minutes, men, lost in thought, he turned and headed for home.

  He had told Brenna to go to bed, but he found her curled up on the sofa in the living room, waiting for him. Morgana slept in the crook of her arm.

  "You're up late," he said, dropping into the chair beside the sofa.

  "I could not sleep. I kept thinking about Jimmy Dugan. Do you think he will take your advice and leave town?"

  "He's dead."

  Her eyes widened. "Dead? How do you know?"

  "I saw his body."

  "But… what happened? How did he die?"

  "I'm not sure, but Loken's draining the blood from the boy's body."

  Her face paled. For a moment, he thought she was going to be sick. "You saw him?"

  He nodded curtly.

  "Poor Mr. Dugan. If only he had listened to you."

  Roshan grunted softly, surprised by his regret at the boy's death. Usually, the lives of others, especially mortals, meant little to him. He fed on them when necessary. Until Brenna entered his life, he had cared little for humanity's woes collectively or individually. But Jimmy Dugan hadn't been mortal. He had been a vampire, and though Roshan had scoffed at Jimmy's notion that they were brothers, he felt an uncharacteristic need to avenge the boy's death.

  "Well," Brenna said, gathering Morgana in her arms, "I think I will go to bed. Good night."

  "Good night."

  He watched her leave the room, his gaze lingering on the sway of her hips. His little witch had changed his li
fe in ways he had not imagined, made him yearn for things he had thought forever behind him. Now, looking at her, he found himself wanting to spend his life with her, to plant his seed within her, to watch her womb swell with new life.

  Simple dreams for a mortal man.

  Impossible dreams for a vampire.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 17

  She was walking down the street outside the Wicca Way Coffee Shop and Bookstore when Anthony Loken fell into step beside her. Smiling, he took her hand in his and led her down the street. They walked until the city was far behind them. She frowned as they approached a large brick building. As they drew closer, she began to shiver as all her instincts warned her not to enter the building. The door was made of steel. The windows were boarded up on the inside and barred on the outside.

  She could smell death inside.

  With a cry, she tried to wrest her hand from Loken's, but his fingers tightened on hers as he dragged her inside the building and shut the door. Desperate to escape him, she tried to gather her will around her in order to repel his hold on her, but her magick was useless against him.

  An evil laugh rose in his throat as he dragged her down a flight of stairs to the basement. He opened a door and flipped a switch, flooding the room with light, light that did little to dispel the blackness that gathered around her, a darkness so thick she could feel it crawling over her skin.

  A long metal table stood in the middle of a magick circle. Jimmy Dugan's corpse lay on the table, obscene and withered in death. A stake had been driven into his heart. His body had been drained of blood.

  She turned to look at Loken, her insides going cold with terror when she saw him, really saw him, for the first time. He was neither man nor warlock but some creature out of a nightmare. His eyes were blood red, his ears long and pointed, more like horns than human ears. His teeth were white and sharp.

  She looked back at the table, her eyes widening when she found herself staring into Jimmy Dugan's eyes. And then, to her horror, the young vampire's appearance began to change. His hair turned from brown to black, his eyes from dark brown to the deep blue of midnight. His shoulders grew broader, his legs longer, and suddenly it wasn't Jimmy Dugan's body chained to the cold metal table but Roshan's.