Silver Dagger

by T. L. Sinclare

  I should have fed before coming here.

  He'd decided to wait, knowing he would be going to Madeleine's tonight. Some perverse part of his mind had wanted to delay feeding until he was with her—the taste of her, the feel of her trembling would be a sharp spike to a hungry body.

  That had been a mistake. He could have at least eased the physical hunger. Then maybe Madeleine's scent wouldn't be so tempting, or the steady beat of her pulse so intriguing. Strangely, he found himself angry at Madeleine. He'd never struggled with controlling his hunger, not since the first time. Until she'd entered his life.

  "Mr. Smith?"

  Again Stephen looked up. Damn. That was twice.

  "I apologize. My mind is off on other things." He gave the apology with no true feeling. He propped his elbows on the arms of the chair and formed his fingers into a loosely constructed tent. "You said you had some questions."

  Through the weave of his fingers, he looked at Madeleine. She'd regained her control and with its return had come a temper. The skin around her eyes was tight with anger. She seemed to sense his covert examination and turned her gaze to him. The defiance was back. She pressed her shoulders back and straightened her spine once more.

  "Mr. Smith." Lambert stepped into the corner of his vision, trying to capture and hold some of Stephen's attention. "You have a lot of vampire information around your house." Lambert paused, waiting for an answer.

  Stephen glanced to the side of his hands. "That's a statement. Not a question. And I have no idea how you want me to respond."

  Madeleine was poised on the edge of the couch, back stiff, knees firmly clenched together, eyes boring into him, watching him for any reaction. Stephen almost laughed at the questions he could see swirling through her mind. She wouldn't have started the interrogation in such a nebulous way. She would have walked in and accused him of being a vampire and dealt with the consequences.

  His admiration grew another step. She was proud, defiant, gutsy. It's almost too bad she's human.

  "Do you believe in vampires, Mr. Smith?"

  Stephen tapped his fingers against his lower lip as he thought about the answer. "As in how? Do I believe there are dangerous men dressed in long black capes, stalking helpless virgins, and drinking their blood? No. But I find the concept of vampires fascinating. The idea of living forever but paying the price for it is…interesting to me. What kind of creature would desire life so much that he would sacrifice his humanity for it?" He looked over his hands and drilled Madeleine with his gaze. She swallowed convulsively, understanding the threat to his words.

  "Do you think you're a vampire?" The detective's abrupt question startled Stephen, though he was sure no sign of his surprise had shown on his face.

  So, Maddie doesn't actually believe in vampires. She thinks I'm crazy. Stephen momentarily thought about his answer. Honesty seemed appropriate.

  "No, I don't think I'm a vampire," he answered, throwing the proper amount of scorn into his voice. I know I am, he added silently in his mind.

  "You have two large wooden boxes in your basement," Lambert continued. "They have dirt in them. What are they?"

  "The ones that look like coffins?" Stephen asked with a slight smile. "Window boxes."

  "Those are awfully large window boxes," Madeleine interjected. Stephen looked up from his hands. A shiver assaulted her body as their eyes met.

  "I have awfully large windows," he said, daring her to contradict him. "At my other house," he explained. She scowled back at him. You can't win. I've been playing these games for two hundred years. You can't win.

  It was time to end this. As entertaining as it was to tease Madeleine, he didn't need the hassle of human police in his life right now. With so many other things happening, this one could be eliminated. Madeleine's presence in his home was sure to be noticed.

  "Do you want to talk about gardening now, Detective? How about you, Madeleine?" Irritation created an edge to his voice.

  "Mr. Smith, can we keep to the subject at hand?" Lambert asked with polite firmness.

  Madeleine tensed under Stephen's accusing glare, refusing to look away. Uh oh. He's getting cranky. Fire flashed in his eyes but she held firm. She wasn't going to let him intimidate her. Still, her breath released in a sigh as he turned his heated glare from her to Scott.

  She continued to watch Stephen, looking for some sign that he was as crazy as she thought him. Unfortunately, he seemed way too sane.

  As if he knew the image it would create, as if he knew how to best display the power and control of his body, he slowly placed his hands on the arms of the chair and pushed himself to a standing position. Power, intimidation, and anger radiated from his body with each deliberate movement.

  Chills ran over Madeleine's arms and turned into tiny fires in the pit of her stomach. She squeezed her lips together to contain her gasp. How can anyone make standing up seem sexy? There was nothing sexy about his movements. He was pissed. That didn't stop her body from responding. His strength and power called to her.

  She closed her eyes for a moment and willed her body to relax. Now was not the time to sink into another erotic daydream. The one earlier had hit her with such force. And it had been a new dream. Stephen and her, still together, different bed. The fantasy had begun at the precise moment of Stephen entering her body. She opened her eyes to see Stephen move fluidly across the room.

  "I thought you were investigating a death, Detective. Why you question me about vampirism is beyond my comprehension. If you're that fascinated with the subject, I have several good books I can loan you."

  Stephen's hands curled briefly into fists, clenching for a moment before relaxing and hanging comfortably by his side. Madeleine watched each movement. He hadn't threatened Scott, but the implication was there.

  Scott leaned away from Stephen's approach.

  "I think that's about all I need," Scott announced. Madeleine felt her mouth drop open. Scott was going to give up. But… but there are so many more questions to ask.

  She jumped up, no longer able to remain quiet. "Do you drink blood?"

  Stephen turned his glare from Scott to her. She forced her body to stay standing in the face of Stephen's anger. Gone was the man who had arrogantly coerced entrance into her house. In his place stood a powerful, dangerous creature who, on a bad night, Madeleine could imagine drinking the blood of his victim.

  "What?"

  "It's a simple question." Madeleine took a step forward.

  "It's an insane question," Stephen shot back.

  "One you still haven't answered. Do. You. Drink. Blood?"

  "Maddie, you're obviously not getting enough sleep at night." Stephen brushed off the question with the right amount of disgust and mockery. A thin line of tension traveled through his body so quickly she almost thought she'd imagined it. Then she saw the fire in his eye. She folded her arms over her chest and stepped in front of him. He hadn't answered her question and she wasn't moving until he did. He sighed. "No, I don't drink blood."

  "I heard you talking to Nick last night."

  "Is that what this is all about?"

  A cynical half smile curled his lips. His brief, mocking laugh didn't fool Madeleine. He was completely controlled, giving no indication that he was anything more than amused by her accusations. Still, something didn't sit right. Something about the way he carried himself screamed "I'm lying!"

  "I see, now, Detective, the curious line of your questioning." Stephen stepped around Madeleine and walked to the window. He smiled as he leaned against the frame. "Madeleine was able to convince you I'm some kind of monster that feeds on the blood of sweet, young virgins." He glanced at her for a brief moment. He didn't need to say anything—she could tell what he was thinking.

  She'd never been a sweet, young anything. Stephen ignored her glare and addressed Scott.

  "Did Madeleine tell you she'd been hit on the head last night?" Stephen folded his arms across his chest and waited. He looked arrogant and powerful. Sexy.
>
  A solid punch of desire tightened in her stomach. She pushed away the hollow feeling and tried to focus on the conversation.

  Scott shook his head.

  "Yes," Stephen continued. "She was mugged not far from here. Nicholas happened to be out walking and came to her rescue. She was unconscious when he brought her inside." He raised his eyebrows and looked from Scott to Madeleine. "I don't know that much about head wounds, but I believe they can cause hallucinations."

  "Madeleine, is this true?"

  "Well," she turned to face Scott, but she kept Stephen in the corner of her sight, unwilling to let him get fully behind her. "Yes, to a point. I did get attacked." She looked over at Stephen. "Call it a mugging if you want." Her gaze bounced back to Scott. "And I did hit my head, but I know what I heard." She spun around to face Stephen again. "I was not hallucinating."

  I wish they were on the same side of the room, she thought. I'm getting dizzy. Her head still hurt from the night before, but she decided now would not be a good time to mention that.

  "I apologize," Stephen offered. Madeleine had to fight to keep her sneer contained. He sounded so contrite, so penitent she wanted to scream. "I didn't mean to suggest that you were hallucinating. I merely think that in your confusion, you might have misunderstood something that was said."

  "How do you confuse drinking blood?" Madeleine demanded. She looked to Scott for support but saw only skepticism on his face. "Scott, I heard him."

  "I don't doubt that you did," agreed Stephen. When both Madeleine and Scott looked at him, he shrugged. "I might very well have been discussing this topic with Nicholas. I honestly don't remember." He spoke past Madeleine to Scott. "I was concerned with Madeleine's welfare, you understand." His arrogant courtesy made her skin itch.

  "If you were so concerned, why didn't you call for help? Call an ambulance."

  Stephen directed another condescending smile her way. "You seem to have recovered quickly enough."

  "So, you were discussing vampires and blood," Scott interrupted.

  Madeleine crushed her irritation and watched Stephen, hoping to see something in the way he reacted, something in the way he moved that would give her the truth.

  "Yes, but you must realize the context." He went to the coffee table and picked up a magazine. Below it lay another Vampire Warrior comic book, similar to the one Madeleine had seen on her first visit. Same vampire, same blood, no woman. Stephen picked it up. "Nicholas is a comic book artist. Every month, he produces another exciting episode of Vampire Warrior for the thrill and edification of America's youth. He and I often discuss plot lines and story problems. It's quite possible Madeleine overheard one of these conversations while she was recovering and misinterpreted what she heard."

  Madeleine felt her neck muscles tighten as she listened to him. He was lying. She'd heard him. And he hadn't been talking about the plot of any comic book. She turned to protest to Scott. The look on his face stopped her. He didn't believe her. He would never believe her now. He'd made up his mind.

  The kitchen door burst open. Cassandra backed through it carrying a wooden tea tray.

  "Fine, let's go," Madeleine announced with a frustrated toss of her hands. She walked to the hallway and waited for Scott to finish his apologies to Stephen.

  "I'm sorry if we've caused you any undue annoyance, Mr. Smith," she heard him say.

  "It's no problem. I'm sure she truly believed what she heard. And she can be very convincing when she tries."

  "Thank you for your time." Scott stopped at the front door. Madeleine stood on the steps waiting for him. "Mr. Smith, I don't believe you're a vampire, but I'm not altogether sure you didn't have something to do with Danielle's death. Don't leave town."

  "I hadn't planned on it, Detective." Stephen followed them to the door. Resting against the door frame, he watched them walk away. The streetlights barely illuminated the darkened sky. I'll see you later, Maddie, he whispered.

  She paused as the quiet voice reached her ears. Scott didn't stop. As if he hadn't heard it. She looked over her shoulder. Stephen still watched them—a dreadful light flickering in his eyes.

  Madeleine hurried after Scott as he stalked toward the car, his shoulders taut with anger. Without speaking, he savagely cranked the key in the ignition and pulled onto the street. Madeleine buckled her seat belt and waited.

  "Why didn't you tell me about being hurt?" he snapped moments later.

  "It didn't seem relevant."

  "Didn't seem relevant?" Scott alternated between watching the road and glaring at Madeleine. "You were mugged and hit on the head. Then you come to me with a crazy story about vampires, and you didn't think it was relevant?"

  "I wasn't hallucinating," Madeleine bit out. "And I don't think I was mugged. I think he was waiting for me." She didn't remember it all. A voice—talking to her, calling her by name?

  "A comic book artist," Scott continued as if Madeleine hadn't spoken. "His roommate draws comics for a living. How am I going to explain this to my lieutenant when he asks what we found? 'Well, sir, we found a couple of boxes. They looked like coffins, but you know, it's okay. In the end it was nothing. Call off the National Guard. Just some gardening tools.' And the rest of the search crew. They all thought we'd found a coven of vampires…"

  "I don't think vampires form in covens," Madeleine said with a shake of her head. "I think they move in packs, like wolves."

  "Whatever!" Scott shouted. He stared straight down the road. "I'll just have to tell them it isn't a true gaggle or pack or whatever it is of vampires. Just an eccentric comic book artist and his friend who hopefully won't decide to sue us."

  "Stephen's lying," Madeleine protested. "He wasn't talking about a comic book. I heard him."

  "When, Madeleine? When did you hear him? What were you doing?"

  "I told you. I was in the living room, and they were in the kitchen."

  "Was this just after you were unconscious?" Scott sighed. "There is no connection whatsoever between Stephen Smith and your cousin, except that his roommate used to date her."

  Madeleine sat up straight in her seat. "What about Bob? He told me he saw Stephen pick Danielle up at our building a few nights before she disappeared."

  "No, he didn't. I talked with Bob today, and he said he'd never seen Stephen Smith until you brought him home."

  Madeleine felt her jaw fall open.

  "He's lying. He told me…"

  "What, Madeleine, is everyone lying? Bob's lying, Stephen's lying. Everyone is lying except you. You know all the answers."

  Madeleine watched Scott's profile as his agitation grew. She wasn't going to change his mind. Stephen had already done that.

  "I wasn't hallucinating." Her voice was calm, quiet. She had no energy left to fight. "And I know Stephen knew Danielle. I'd bet on it."

  "Well, it looks like I already did. I'll have to find a way to explain this to my lieutenant."

  Anger filled the car. Madeleine concentrated on keeping her breathing steady. She had to get home. She had to be alone. Someplace where she could scream.

  Scott's car pulled up in front of her building. He stopped at the curb and waited for Madeleine to climb out.

  Stephen walked to me to my door, Madeleine thought, holding back a hysterical giggle.

  "Good night, Madeleine," Scott said in a neutral voice.

  "Good night, Scotty." Madeleine got out of the car and watched Scott's taillights disappear into the dark. She might have ruined a friendship over this.

  The need to be inside, under bright lights and behind the safety of her locks, hurried her into her building. She took the elevator up, something she rarely did. Stepping into the hall, she clutched her keys in her fist and walked slowly toward her door. She was alone, but another presence hovered about her. She shook her head to clear it. She was going to end up as crazy as Stephen if she wasn't careful.

  Sounds of imagined footsteps followed her down the hall. Her hands shook slightly as she inserted the key in the lock.
Panic welled up in her throat. She looked left, then right. She was alone. She jiggled the key, willing the door to open.

  Finally, the lock gave. With a sob, Madeleine slipped inside.

  She slammed the door behind her, leaned against it and stared into the dark apartment. Each labored breath calmed her pounding heart. The realization that she was home safe settled into her body and her mind, allowing her muscles to relax. She shook her head and smiled at her vivid imagination. Pushing away from the door, she stepped toward the kitchen.

  Something stopped her. Like a wall of black air, surrounding her.

  She couldn't see it, but she could feel it. She stepped back. It was behind her. Around her. Frozen, unable to move, barely able to breathe, she opened her mouth.

  A hand reached out from the dark and grabbed her throat, cutting off her scream.

  "Maddie, you've been telling secrets."

  Chapter Five

  By the dim light from the street lamps outside, Madeleine stared into Stephen's eyes, inches from her own. Barely banked fires of anger glittered back at her. For a moment his eyes looked red. Blood red. She gasped, trying to force air through her constricted throat. His hand relaxed enough to allow her to breathe. She swallowed and reminded herself to inhale while she had the chance. He stepped closer, his body trapping her against the wall.

  "How did you get in here?" she whispered, hoping he wasn't real, wasn't inside her apartment.

  "You invited me."

  She opened her mouth to protest. The hand tightened.

  "Don't scream, Maddie. I can kill you before anyone even thinks about coming to your rescue." His voice was the same husky whisper that had haunted her dreams. Tonight, his goal was clearly not seduction.

  He eased the grip on her throat but didn't step away. His body lightly brushed hers, holding her captive by its presence and power. His fingertips caressed the line of her throat, a subtle reminder to keep silent.

  "You went to the police, Maddie. I'm very disappointed." His deep voice whispered close to her ear. "Do you know what kind of difficulty my friends and I could find ourselves in if people started to believe our little secret?" One fingertip circled the pulse point at the base of her neck. The teasing touch clouded her instincts, lulling her, soothing away the terror she knew she should be feeling.