Fury and sympathy threatened to overwhelm her. She crushed the emotions and concentrated on releasing the cuffs. A strange calm settled over her as she worked, her mind free from the panic that lurked at the edge of her consciousness. Finally, the last band opened. He was free, but they were still on the side of the hill.
She slipped his hand underneath the blackout curtain as a line of sunlight inched across the green grass toward them. She didn't know how it all worked—if any part of his body was touched by sun, would he die? Or was she too late? She couldn't deal with the future. She had to get Stephen to safety.
Madeleine slipped her hands under his arms, scooping the curtains under him to encircle his body, and dragged him down the hill. The sun was fully up by the time she'd managed to haul his body over the lip of the trunk and snap the lid closed.
Her chest rose and fell in tortured breaths as she rested. How the hell she'd managed to get a two-hundred-pound body down a hill and into a trunk she didn't know, but at least he was inside. Out of the light, I have to get him completely out of the light.
She drove to Stephen's house, circled around back, eased the car into the garage, and closed the door.
She considered leaving Stephen's body in the trunk but gagged at the idea. If she left him there, it would seem like he was just a body.
Appalled shivers moved over her skin in tiny waves. Best not to think about it.
Making sure he was fully covered, she pulled him through the house and down the stairs. Exhaustion hit her as she stepped inside the vault. She couldn't move him anymore. She dropped his shoulders and stood up.
The curtain still covered his body. She left it there. She couldn't bring herself to look at him.
With a sigh, she shut off the light and closed the door. Her legs wobbled as she climbed the stairs. She needed sleep but knew it was impossible.
They would come for Stephen once they realized he'd escaped.
She didn't know what the night would bring, but she had until sunset to make Stephen's house a fortress against the undead.
Chapter Thirteen
The sun was almost fully set, taking with it all trace of light and color. Whatever happened, it would be soon. The vampires would be waking and they'd be looking for Stephen. Madeleine paced the elegant carpet in the living room and hoped she was ready.
She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around her stomach. Her day had started at sunrise, and it wasn't over. She'd borrowed Stephen's car and purchased supplies, using a credit card that now bulged near its limit. Then she'd spent the day fortifying the house.
She'd combined everything she'd learned from Stephen and Nick, library books, and the Internet—a mixture of reality, legend and Hollywood. If it was supposed to ward off vampires, she'd used it. Stephen's house looked like something out of Sleeping Beauty.
Rose stems, twisted around one another, formed thorny covers for the windows and doors. Madeleine had ruined two pairs of gloves braiding the stems and stapling them to the house. It was impossible to pass through any of the house's openings without running into a rose stem. Cloves of garlic and pouches of wolfsbane littered the windowsills and were interspersed through the rose thorns. Silver knives and forks were taped and glued to the insides of the windows, designed to scratch anyone who made it through the thorns. Garlic paste covered the doorknobs. If there was any truth to the legends, they were at least marginally safe. As long as they stayed inside.
All that was left was to check on Stephen and find out if she'd been in time.
Exhaustion lurked at the edges of her mind, threatening to overwhelm her. Her body ached from physical exertion. She'd monitored her body all day, watching for the changes Nick had predicted. She hadn't noticed any differences. Was it too soon? Or had she been freed? If Stephen had died from the sunlight, if she'd been too late, she was fully human again. And alone. She shivered.
The sun had set. It was time. If Stephen was alive, he'd be waking soon. The hand crank on the vault spun easily in her hand, and the door swung open. Stephen was somewhere in the darkness.
The adrenaline spike that had sustained her through the day was fading. Even the caffeine from her four cups of coffee was beginning to wane. All that remained was courage. And she didn't know how much she had left.
Gulping in a deep breath, she flicked on the light and listened to the silence.
"Stephen?" She kept her voice soft. No answer.
She stepped into the vault. The weak light barely illuminated the room. The curtains still covered him. He hadn't moved.
"Stephen?" She stopped directly over him and placed her hand on the cover. Taking a deep breath, she clutched it tight and waited. One. Two. Three. She jerked the curtain back.
Stephen lay still, silent, and pale.
She extended her hand toward him, trying to ignore the shaking in her limbs.
His eyes snapped open. Insanity stared up at her. The blue of his eyes was gone. Blood red stared back at her.
He snarled, mouth open, teeth bared, canines extended. Madeleine screamed and jumped back. Stephen sat up. His clawed hand shot out and latched onto her throat. The grip of his fingers slowly tightened.
She fought him with all of her remaining strength. Giving up was not an option. Too much had happened to end this here. She tore at his hands, prying her fingers underneath his grasp. She struggled against the unrelenting pull as he dragged her downward toward the piercing whiteness of his teeth. With a full swing, she kicked out and planted her tennis shoe against his breastbone. The force knocked him back. And she was free.
She spun away and bolted for the steps. Her legs shook and wouldn't listen to her panicked commands to run. She peddled up the stairs on hands and feet, her breath coming in tortured gasps.
Claws raked across her back.
"Aah!" She kicked out behind her. She didn't look back to see where she'd hit him, but she was once again free.
A sob of relief broke from her lips when she reached the door and slammed it shut behind her. She leaned her back against the wood while her shaking hands turned the bolt in place.
A heavy thud hit the other side of the door. She jumped back and stared at it, waiting for Stephen to break through. An erratic thumping beat against the wall.
My God, what happened to him? She waited, listening as the pounding subsided. A howl reverberated through the door and pierced her soul. Madeleine closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to the wood.
She sensed him on the other side. They stood in silence.
"I'm sorry, Stephen," she whispered and backed away from the door.
Moments later, she heard heavy footfalls on the steps as he went back down the stairs.
She stabbed her fingers through her hair and paced across the living room, the ache in her throat a continued reminder of Stephen's fall from sanity. This was the one scenario she hadn't imagined. She'd figured he would either be alive or dead, but never insane. I can't handle an insane human, let alone a crazed vampire.
There was only one source of help for this—another vampire. Nick would be no help. Not against a crazed Stephen. She needed a vampire.
Damn. First they're everywhere, now I can't find one when I need them.
Nick was still asleep in the garage. She hadn't moved him after they'd returned home. She'd checked on him several times, but the exhaustion she'd seen him battle seemed to have won.
She walked the length of the living room. She hadn't had time to replace the curtains, but the vines and silver blocked peeping eyes—human eyes at least. She needed help, but how was she supposed to find any of the others? Look in the phone book under "vampires?" She smiled then stopped. Stephen probably had speed dial. Madeleine picked up the cordless phone and hit the first speed dial number. It rang twice.
"This can't be Stephen, so who the hell is it?"
She recognized the voice—Gayle—though none of the flirtation and teasing remained.
"Madeleine? Is that you?"
Gayle had d
eclared himself Stephen's only friend. Madeleine clenched her hands into indecisive fists. She would be trusting him with Stephen's life. She had to trust someone. She couldn't handle Stephen alone.
"Yes."
"What's going on? Why are you at Stephen's house?"
How did he—? Then she realized he probably had caller ID. She wasn't going to be able to hide. But she also wasn't going to give him any warning. "I need your help. I need you over here."
"Why?"
She thought about Stephen and his attitude. He didn't ask—he commanded. "Just get over here. Now." She hung up the phone before Gayle could respond. That will get him here.
Seconds later the phone rang and the caller ID flashed Gayle-Cell.
"Hello?"
"I'm here."
Madeleine walked to the window and looked out.
Gayle stood on the front steps and waved. He didn't look happy. Madeleine hung up the phone. She'd dealt with unhappy vampires before. She could do it again. She clutched her silver dagger, ready to use it to protect herself. And Stephen.
She opened the front door and peered through the vines and silver but made no move to step outside. Gayle folded his arms on this chest and smirked at her.
"I love what you've done to the place."
"I like it."
"Hmm, yes. I bet the neighbors are going to be thrilled."
"They'll live."
Gayle cocked his head to the side. "Yes, but will you?" Gone was all semblance of the light, flirtatious man from the club. His eyes glittered with power and anger. And intelligence. He was going to be a dangerous enemy. Madeleine swallowed and reminded herself why she was doing this. Stephen.
"I see you've decided to take over his home."
Gayle clearly thought Stephen was dead. "He would have wanted me to have it."
"What do you want, Madeleine? We're going to have quite a busy night. The execution of a vampire makes everyone a bit edgy, and that's good for business." He sounded snide and sarcastic, but she thought—hoped—she heard a faint trace of regret and anger in his voice.
"Come in."
"I can't."
"I just invited you," she snapped. She was too tired for this. She didn't have time for any more stupid vampire rules.
"Yes, but you've also booby-trapped the door. I'm impressed." He scanned the web of vines. "Not many people know about the rose thorns. And I smell garlic but I don't see it."
"It's on the doorknobs."
"Of course." He looked through the rose thorns and leveled his gaze at Madeleine. "What are you protecting?"
"You'll have to come in and see." She held the silver dagger in one hand, making sure Gayle saw it. She didn't want any misunderstanding about her trust. Taking one of the work gloves she'd used to braid the rose stems, she grabbed the middle section of vines and pulled it to the side, leaving a small opening, barely large enough for a man Gayle's size to slip through. He bent down and slid into the opening.
When he'd made it through the maze, she dropped the vines and pointed the knife blade at Gayle's chest.
The smug look on his face as he leaned against the wall irritated her. He didn't think she'd do it. Didn't think she would actually hurt him. Two weeks ago, she might have agreed with him, but after the day she'd had…
She turned the knife and slapped the flat of the blade across the back of his hand. Instantly, a red streak appeared across the skin. Gayle snatched his arm back and curled his free hand into a claw.
"What the hell are you doing?" he snarled, his fangs bared.
"Just checking."
"Excuse me?"
"Someone is killing vampires with silver daggers. I just wanted to make sure it wasn't you."
Gayle raised an eyebrow, but Madeleine ignored the silent question and thrust her chin forward. Stephen obviously had a reason for not telling Gayle about his immunity to silver. She wasn't going to share the secret.
"Can we get to the point of my visit here? As I said, it will be a busy night at Death's Door."
Madeleine heard the subtle threat in his words and felt a shiver slide down her back. A decision faced her. One that could cost Stephen his life.
"Madeleine? What's going on?"
She took a deep breath. "Stephen's downstairs."
"What? He was left for the sun. No one could save him…" His voice drifted away, but then the light appeared in his eyes. "Except a human."
Madeleine bowed her head in acknowledgment. "Matthias was watching. How did you get past him?" Gayle was obviously as suspicious of her as she was of him.
"Matthias and I came to an agreement."
Questions flittered over his face, but he stayed silent.
"Where is he?"
She raised her chin to the door leading down to the basement. "In the vault. He's not right."
"They're going to be pissed when they discover he's gone." Gayle said it almost to himself. "What's wrong with him?"
"I went downstairs at sunset, and he attacked me. I barely got away." She showed Gayle the bruises on her neck. They didn't hurt as much as she would have expected.
Gayle nodded. "He's starving. He hasn't fed properly since you came into his life." Madeleine's hand automatically lifted to the base of her neck. The tiny marks left by Stephen's teeth were gone when she'd awoken yesterday morning. After he'd converted her. Stephen hadn't fed except with her. She couldn't stop the tiny flash of pleasure—purely possessive, feminine pleasure. "Exactly." Gayle shook his hair back away from his face. "Fine. I'll handle him."
She started toward the door, intent on going with him. She wasn't going to leave him alone with Stephen. Not when someone was killing vampires. So Gayle couldn't touch silver—that didn't mean there wasn't another way.
"I'll come with you."
"No. Stephen will hear your rapid little heartbeat, and we'll spend the next ten minutes prying his fangs out of your flesh. I'll go alone."
The strong, commanding voice was a direct contrast to the flighty persona she'd seen at Death's Door. She didn't know which personality was real or if either of them could be trusted. She waited until he'd started down the stairs and then she followed. She wasn't going to let him hurt Stephen. Not after everything she'd been through.
She inched down the steps and crept to the edge of the vault door. Gayle knelt with his knee pressed on Stephen's chest, holding a weakly struggling Stephen to the floor. Gayle slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a tiny black case. With a quiet snick, a blade appeared. She was too far away to stop him.
"No!" she shouted seconds before the blade slashed across Gayle's wrist. He turned and glared at her over his shoulder. Stephen struggled harder, reaching past Gayle.
"Damn it, Madeleine, get out. I'm not going to hurt him." Blood dripped down Gayle's arm. He slowly lowered it to Stephen's mouth. Stephen avoided it, his focus on Madeleine. The red glow of insane hunger still burned in his eyes.
"Get out," Gayle reiterated.
This time she nodded and backed away. Stephen had looked at her with all kinds of desire, but never like this. He didn't even recognize her.
Stephen's harsh voice filled her head. You'll kill then. It won't matter who, it won't matter where. The need will overcome you, and all that you've ever thought of yourself will fade.
He hadn't been able to see through the hunger. She stumbled up the stairs and entered the living room. What did she do now? There was nothing to do but wait. She didn't like it. It gave her too much time to think.
That poor creature. She wouldn't think of him as Stephen—Stephen would never hurt her. Even as she thought the words, she knew they were true, and the last little bit of fear eased inside her.
She loved him. A vampire.
A creature like her.
She allowed her mind to consider the impossible. If it came down to it, could she do it? Could she actually bite someone? She tried to imagine herself with fangs. And a long black cloak that swirled in the wind. A chuckle that bordered on hysteria rattl
ed out of her throat.
The rapid tap of a fist on wood snapped her from her thoughts. Cautiously, she peered down the hallway to the front door. A shadow moved outside the thin, etched-glass windows that framed the door.
Vampire!
She stared at the door, waiting for it to open. The knock sounded again.
A polite vampire? One who couldn't enter Stephen's house? But no, she had enough garlic, silver, and rose vines wrapped across the door that whoever was knocking was probably getting bloody knuckles doing it. She walked down the hall, waiting to see how persistent the human was.
She shook her head at the thought. She'd already divided the world into humans and vampires.
She peeked out the edge of the window. A large male body filled the frame, his hands shoved into his pockets as he scanned the street.
Madeleine moved without thinking and jerked the door open.
"Scott, what are you doing here?"
She had to look at him through the crisscross of rose stems and silverware.
He turned. He looked pale and tired. Madeleine felt an empathetic pang. Her own mind was hazy from exhaustion and stress.
"I was looking for you. What the hell is all this?"
"It's a little hard to explain."
"I think I deserve some answers, Madeleine."
She nodded. He was right. He did deserve the answers, but she couldn't be the one to give them to him.
"Scott, I need you to understand and just hold off. I'll tell you all I can when I can."
He looked like he would object, but he just shook his head and put his hands on his hips. "At least tell me you're okay. I've been trying to reach you since yesterday. Charlotte's frantic. Just what the hell is going on?"
"Listen, Scott—"
"Madeleine, I don't think you know what kind of people you're dealing with." He hunched down and lowered his voice. "I didn't believe you before, but I do now. I think Stephen had something to do with Danielle's death. In fact, I think he killed her himself."
The long mind- and body-numbing day hadn't dulled her senses enough to avoid the spike of pain that hit her. She shook her head.
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