Nightshine: A Novel of the Kyndred

by Lynn Viehl

  His expression turned bleak as he turned his back on the security camera and took her hand. “I could use a hug,” he said, shifting his eyes up. As soon as she gave him a decidedly reluctant embrace, he put his mouth next to her ear and murmured, “Any surgical equipment?” Quickly she shook her head. “Good.”

  She didn’t know whether she agreed, especially since the nearest hospital might as well have been on the surface of the moon. “Just don’t burst an appendix anytime soon, okay?” she muttered back.

  He kept one arm around her as they left the treatment room and went down the hall to the master bedroom suite. Once inside Samuel went directly to the wall speaker to inspect it, giving Charlie a moment to compose herself.

  The stress of the last twenty-four hours combined with discovering that the rich, handsome stranger whose life she’d saved was someone she had considered her closest friend in the world had begun to grind on her. Her EMT training was the only reason she hadn’t dissolved into a puddle of helpless feminine goo, and now that Sam had miraculously recovered she wasn’t too sure how much longer that would keep her from going all girly on him.

  Some of it was on him, Charlie decided. He’d kept far too much from her. Although the group had agreed that concealing their identities and locations was an important safeguard, she and Paracelsus had grown close enough to share more than a few intimate details of their lives. He’d always listened whenever she’d needed to vent, and had given her advice on how to handle the loneliness and depression that came with being Takyn. She’d even trusted him enough to tell him about her last disastrous attempt at a relationship.

  He told me he wanted to go to the nightclub so we could dance, she’d typed one night via IM. But he only took me there because he had a bad day, and he wanted to get loaded and flirt with everything in a skirt. You know what he had planned? A threesome. Me, him, and some waitress he wanted more than me.

  At least he showed you his real character before you got serious about him, Paracelsus had replied. Imagine how you’d feel if you were living with him and he’d brought that waitress home.

  You’re right, I know, and it’s better that I found out before I got too involved. She hesitated before she added, Don’t you get tired of it? Always being by yourself, never having anyone to love?

  Of course I do, he admitted. Everyone does. When I feel lonely, I remind myself of how fortunate I am to have friends like you. I may live the rest of my life without a partner, but I never have to be alone. I carry you and the others with me in my heart, Magdalene.

  Sure he does, she thought, pushing the memory out of her head as she went back to watching him examine the speaker. Right next to his platinum credit cards.

  “This is wired to a radio receiver behind it in the wall.” He gestured to the perforated plate. “It was not set up to transmit.”

  “Maybe he didn’t need it to.” As a warning, she glanced up at the cameras.

  “It’s more than that.” He took her over to the glass wall, turning her so that they both stood with their backs to the cameras. “When I touched the speaker, I saw the technician who installed the equipment. The cameras transmit only a video feed, and there are no other monitoring devices in the villa.”

  “So the son of a bitch is watching us, but he can’t hear us. I guess when you’re making homemade porn you don’t need the audio.” She leaned forward to press her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes. “God, I hate this.”

  “You must be exhausted.” His hand cupped the back of her neck. “You should rest for a few hours.”

  “No, I’m fine.” She straightened at once. “He could come back in a few hours. What we need to do is—”

  “Buenas tardes, Señor Taske, Señorita Marena,” the man’s voice said from the speaker. “We are happy to see you becoming familiar with your new home. As you have now discovered, you have everything you need to live comfortably at Séptima Casa. Since Señor Taske has completely recovered from his injury, you may now begin your new life together.”

  “Our new life.” Charlie wanted to throw something at the camera. “You don’t decide how we live, you jackass. You hear me?”

  “Señor Taske, if your companion has not yet informed you of this, there are two rules you both must obey,” the man continued. “The first is that you must never attempt to escape the island. The second is that you and Señorita Marena are to have sexual intercourse at least once each day.”

  Charlie felt like screaming. “What’s the matter, you pervert? Can’t you get off unless you watch someone else doing it? Why don’t you just go buy some dirty movies?”

  “Charlotte.” Sam gestured for her to be quiet.

  “… ignore these rules,” the man was saying, “you will be punished.”

  Samuel waved his hands at the camera, and then said very slowly, “We must speak with you. Why are we here? What is the punishment for breaking the rules?”

  “You said he can’t hear us,” she reminded him.

  “He may be able to read my lips,” Samuel replied.

  Several moments of silence passed, and then the man’s voice spoke again. “Buenas tardes, Señor Taske, Señorita Marena. We are happy to see you becoming familiar with your new home… .”

  “It’s a recording, just like yesterday.” Charlie sat on the floor, propping her elbows on her knees as she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “How can he punish us when we’re stranded alone on an island?”

  “You’re assuming we’re alone.”

  “If the pervert or anyone else was around, I’d have sensed them last night.” Aware that she’d just given herself away, she got up, opened the sliding door, and walked out onto the patio.

  Samuel joined her at the railing. “Either your hearing is exceptional, or you’re some sort of a telepath.”

  “Telepaths can communicate back and forth. I’m more like a satellite dish. All I can do is pick up thoughts.” She rubbed her tired eyes. “Don’t waste any time thinking of your favorite color, either, because it only works at night. During the day I’m as oblivious as any other ordinary woman.”

  Her sarcasm seemed to elude him. “A nocturnal em-path.” He sounded thoughtful. “Does your ability have any other limitations? Range, for example?”

  Her mouth twisted. “Not many.” Sunlight pierced the foliage beyond the patio, revealing something she hadn’t noticed before. From the position of the sun, Charlie knew it would be setting soon. She glanced around until she spied the cover fitted over the large hot tub, and took his hand. “Come on. Let’s see if that Jacuzzi over there works.”

  He frowned. “Charlotte, you really should try to get some sleep.”

  “Oh, I plan to.” She threaded her fingers through his. “After we have sex.”

  PART TWO

  Seventh House

  Chapter 6

  September 29, 1987

  Malibu, California

  “The attorney called.” Brent Collins handed his T wife a snifter, his hand shaking so badly that the inch of dark Calvados at the bottom threatened to slosh over the rim. “There is nothing more he can do for us.”

  “Not since he’s run through the retainer. Bastard.” Randa Collins drank half the brandy before cradling the delicate crystal bowl between her manicured hands. She thought of the List, her mental tally of their wealthy, influential, and elite friends. Too many names had been crossed off in the past week, but there was always someone left. Someone in need of her personal attention … “I’ll get in touch with Howard. Under the circumstances, certainly he can arrange a reasonable loan—”

  “Howard’s dead, darling. He ate a bottle of pills last night.” Brent put a hand on the top of her head briefly before wandering over to the deck window. “Ron’s gone to hide in Barbados; Carl’s already filed and intends to move in with his parents.”

  Randa refused to believe it was this bad, and set aside the drink. “What about Jerry? He was your best friend at Yale.”

  “He’s
testifying before Congress next week.” Brent tucked his hands into his pockets. “One of the many conditions attached to his plea agreement.”

  “Mommy?”

  The low, sweet voice grated against Randa’s ears, and she had to take a moment to compose her expression before she turned to look at her daughter. “Emily, you’re supposed to be asleep by now.” A resentful corner of her heart added, And you weren’t supposed to be so big, or dark, or whiny.

  “I know.” The six-year-old hung her head. “But no one came to kiss me good night.”

  “Daddy and I have been busy.” Randa rose, absently smoothing down the folds of her dress before she picked up the house phone and pressed nine. When Emily’s nanny answered, she said, “Mary, Miss Collins has come downstairs. She needs to be taken back to the nursery.” She ignored the nanny’s hurried apology and replaced the receiver.

  Brent walked over to crouch down in front of their daughter. “We didn’t mean to forget you, sweetheart. Mommy and I just … needed to talk about things.” She slipped into his arms and buried her face against his neck. “Did you have another bad dream?”

  Under his chin, her untidy black mop moved from side to side. “Miss Mary is upset. She’s going away in the morning.”

  “What did you say?” Randa’s heels made sharp sounds as she strode across the imported marble and grabbed Emily by the arm. “Did she tell you she was leaving?”

  “No, Mommy.” Her daughter cringed. “It was the fairies again. They told me she was.”

  “For God’s sake.” She let go of Emily with a contemptuous fling of her hand. “I’ve told you a dozen times, there are no such things as fairies.”

  “Randie.” Brent looked up and shook his head a little. To Emily, he said, “You just stop listening to those fairies and go to sleep like a good girl, all right?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  The disheveled nanny came through the doors and hurried over to take Emily’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Collins. I thought she was already asleep. I did check on her before I went to bed, and—”

  “I’m sure you did. That will be all.” Randa gave the door a direct look.

  When the nanny began walking Emily out, the little girl dragged against her arm and looked back at her parents. “You’ll come up to tuck me in, Daddy?”

  Brent smiled. “In a few minutes, sweetheart.” As soon as the child and the nanny left, his expression faded into bleakness. “We’ll have to call Chicago first thing in the morning.”

  “I already did,” Randa told him. “They won’t take her back, not now. They’ve destroyed the paperwork, but we have to deal with getting rid of her.” She might as well tell him the rest. “I called an adoption attorney, and he’s been looking for a girl her age. He says he can place her with a wealthy couple in Mexico.”

  “My God.” Brent whitened. “Randa, she’s just a little girl. None of this is her fault.”

  Randa knew her husband. Brent, an only child, had been worshiped by his parents since the moment he’d been yanked from between his mother’s legs, and after they died he’d gone looking for new groupies. She’d been happy to cater to him for the duration of their courtship, but she’d never been interested in wasting her life playing his adoring fan. A child had been the logical answer, but rather than destroy her body she’d arranged Emily’s adoption.

  Randa didn’t care what happened to Emily now, but she had to think about her future. “Darling, it’s better this way. I’m sure she’ll be well treated by these Mexicans. After all, they’re probably her people.”

  Brent began to pace. “We’ll turn her over to the authorities. They’ll put her in foster care here in the States.”

  “You mean, drop her off at the nearest police station?” Randa felt a surge of bitter amusement. “I think they’ll want to know who you are and where you found her. Are you going to tell them how we bought her, or why you can’t take care of her anymore?”

  His expression turned stubborn. “It doesn’t have to be me. I’ll pay Mary to take her to them after we leave in the morning.”

  She rested her head against her hand. “Where do you think we’re going, lover? The money’s gone. Our friends are wiped out. At least Howard only swindled you. If you’d been in bed with him, they’d be coming after you now.” She saw his expression and shot to her feet. “Oh, for God’s sake, Brent. How could you be so fucking stupid?”

  He hung his head. “Howard needed more investors, and I had the connections. He made me a partner and tripled my percentage. It shouldn’t have fallen apart so quickly. He swore to me—”

  “Swore to you?” she shouted. “Don’t you see, you idiot? Howard is dead, and Ron is testifying. That leaves you to be the fall guy. They’re going to come after you for all this now. You’ll be the one they splash all over the papers and parade on television and drag off to prison.”

  Brent wouldn’t look at her. “It doesn’t have to be like that for us.”

  Time to cut her losses. “It won’t be for me.” She looked around. “Where is my purse?”

  “I was wrong.” Brent strode over to her. “You aren’t leaving me and Emily now. We’re a family, and whatever it takes, we’re going to stay together. We need you. We love you.”

  Randa closed her eyes briefly before she smiled at him. “Darling, this may come as something of a shock, but I don’t need you. Or your shit. Or that little monkey-faced bitch.”

  He hit her, his open palm slamming into her face, and Randa stumbled away as she pressed her hand to her burning cheek.

  “I’m your husband. Emily is your daughter,” he told her as he took hold of her arms. A strange calmness seemed to settle over him, erasing the lines of strain from his face and most of the emotion from his eyes. “You can’t abandon us.”

  She had never loved him, but now she hated him. “If you try to stop me, I’ll testify against you.”

  “You’re still my wife.” Brent’s eyes grew sad. “Emily needs her mother.”

  Randa would have laughed at that, but her husband’s slim hands encircled her throat, choking off her voice and then her breath.

  “You can’t leave us,” he whispered again into her ear. “We’re a family. We have to go together.”

  Chapter 7

  Charlotte’s distrust had been difficult enough for Samuel to manage, but her brisk decision to go to bed with him was nothing short of utterly confounding.

  “I don’t wish to upset you,” he said as she led him across the deck to the hot tub. “But I believe the stress of our situation has affected your judgment.”

  “Alas, mío, you believe wrong.” She knelt down to unfasten the cover and glanced up at him. “Will you get the other side, please?”

  Automatically he walked around and bent to pick up the edge of the canvas cover, folding it back onto itself before he shifted it away from the Jacuzzi. The water inside the tub was clean and clear and, when Charlotte pressed a button on the tub’s console, began to bubble rapidly.

  “I don’t think we’ll need the heat.” She slipped her legs over the edge and lowered herself into the tub until the water reached her waist. “Nice and cool. For now, anyway. Get in.”

  He tried not to look at how her sarong soaked up the water. “I should go and collect something for us to eat. You must be hungry.”

  “You can’t be shy.” She held out her hand. “Come on. I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

  Samuel sat down on the edge of the tub, intent only on persuading her out of it. He didn’t expect her to pull him into the water, or to wrap herself around him as soon as he planted his feet.

  “There,” she said, linking her hands behind his neck. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

  “It feels amazingly good.” So did she, and he gave himself a moment to enjoy the sensation of her voluptuous body pressed to his. “You’ve a generous soul, Charlotte, and I am beyond flattered, but—”

  “You are gorgeous, but you talk too much.” She leaned close to kiss his
cheek, and whispered, “There’s a man hiding in the brush about thirty yards off the deck to your right. Don’t turn your head when you look.”

  Samuel spotted the shadowy figure at once. “I see.”

  “The sun will set in a few minutes, and then I’ll be able to do my thing,” she said. “The closer he is, the easier it’ll be for me to read him. So let’s give him a reason to stay there, all right?”

  Taske should have felt relieved, but he was too furious with himself and their captor. “I could go and have a few words with him.”

  “He could be armed, and I don’t have any more blood to spare.” She drew him back to the wide bench seat under the water, reversing their positions and pushing him down so that his back was to the man watching them. “Take off my top,” she murmured, “and throw it on the deck.”

  Taske did as she directed, his anger making him tear the lacy fabric in the process. “Forgive me.”

  “No, that’s good. Very convincing.” As she straddled him, she brought her face close to his, keeping their lips only a whisper apart, but looked to the left of him. “He’s moving closer,” she breathed against his mouth. “Now pretend I’m a skinny little heiress and tell me how much you want me.”

  “Why would I do that?” He put his hands on either side of her waist, both to steady her and to keep her from rubbing against the erection straining under his shorts.

  Her smile tightened. “With how I look I know it’s a stretch, but try.”

  “I meant, why would I pretend you were someone else?” He threaded his fingers through her thick hair as he looked all over her face. “Seeing you, I understand why some men invaded countries and defeated armies and conquered emperors to have one woman. Helen of Troy must have been as strong and fierce and desirable as you.”

  “Oh, she was?” Her expression turned ironic. “In all the movies I’ve seen about Troy, Helen is a gorgeous little blonde.”