Sundown

by Linda Winstead Jones

  His hands settled on her hips, slipped around to her backside and pulled her close so she could feel his response. Perhaps instinctively he knew this wasn’t a first kiss, maybe he knew her body and his were meant for one another.

  Finally, he ended the kiss with a sigh. “You have to go out with me now.”

  “Maybe tomorrow.”

  He jerked away from her. “Really? You’re not yanking my chain?”

  She had such a hard time keeping up with all the new slang and phrases, it changed so fast, but this one she knew. “I am not yanking your chain.”

  “Lunch?”

  “Dinner. I can let Remy and Margaret run the bar for a couple of hours.”

  “Hot damn.” In spite of his exhaustion, he gave her a true smile.

  “I have to go back to work.”

  “Me, too. When can I talk to your piano man?”

  She’d been so caught up in the kiss, she hadn’t realized that the piano was silent. “Sounds like he’s on a break right now.”

  “Good. Let’s get this over with.” Leo allowed her to lead the way down the hallway. Everyone, human and vampire, was watching as they walked into the bar from the back room. Remy was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Margaret. One of the regulars, a human who was in the bar at least four nights a week, had taken over behind the bar and was doing an acceptable job, but Abby was furious.

  “Where did Remy and Margaret go?” she asked hotly.

  “They left a few minutes ago.”

  “Together?” Leo asked.

  “No.” An older man who sat in the corner, as usual, responded. “Remy skedaddled, and Margaret took off after him. You know how that girl loves her some Remy.”

  “I gotta go.” Leo leaned down and gave Abby a warm peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” And then he was gone.

  After the door closed behind Leo the bar seemed horribly empty and silent. No music, no laughter from bubbly Margaret. Everyone stared at Abby, and she couldn’t blame them. The vampires were surprised that she’d taken up with a human, and the humans had never seen her with a man before.

  Abby relieved the customer who’d taken over the bar; she polished a glass that did not need polishing. Where would she go next? Up north, she supposed. Perhaps for a while she’d stay in a place even more isolated than this one. No more caves, no more farms, but there were many places in this big country that were basically off the map. There was also Europe, but it wasn’t quite time to head back in that direction.

  Though she craved time by herself, time to plan for what might come next, she didn’t stay alone for long.

  Charles hadn’t been in Budding Corner more than a month. He’d gravitated here looking for a peaceful way of life, hoping to learn the control required for a long existence. It wasn’t love of a weaker species that made him cautious. Like her, he wanted to exist as peacefully—and invisibly—as possible. He was a pretty boy, with blond hair almost as long as Remy’s and amber eyes that had once been dark brown. He had a dry sense of humor but didn’t say much. Everyone liked him well enough.

  Most vampires had some sort of power that was revealed to them as they came to terms with their new bodies and minds, and Charles was no exception. He saw snippets of the near future, but had not as yet learned to control his power. He was young, still, not much more than seventy years old. Visions came and went, most of them of no concern to an immortal who had no love for the humans. The women he dallied with meant no more to him than the carton a human’s milk might come in. He kept them alive, he drank from them carefully without ever revealing who and what he was, but to him they were containers. They were necessary.

  “Got yourself a human, I see,” Charles said.

  “That’s none of your business,” Abby snapped.

  “They are handy,” he said, not taking the broad hint. “I remember sex from before the change, and it was pale in comparison to a vampire’s experiences. There’s nothing at all wrong with having sex with a human, but I suspect you’re looking for more from our local detective.” He shook his head.

  “What do you want?”

  Charles shrugged his shoulders, obviously unconcerned. “I just had a vision and it concerns your new friend. I thought you might want to know, but if you don’t…”

  “Tell me!”

  Charles shook his long, pale hair and gave her a tight smile. “All right. The next time you see your cop boyfriend, he’ll be dead.”

  Chapter 5

  L eo parked his car in front of his crappy rented house at the edge of town, turned the key to shut off the engine and stepped out, a too thin manila folder clutched in one hand. The night was dark, tree limbs overhung the dirt drive, and his place was so isolated there wasn’t another house in sight. He’d thought Budding Corner would be temporary, but since Abby had kissed him…maybe it wasn’t temporary after all. He couldn’t very well bring her here. She deserved better.

  He’d hoped to catch Remy in the parking lot or in his apartment, but had had no luck. For now he’d take another look at the case file, hoping to see something new before the ABI came in and took over. Come hell or high water, he would talk to Remy Zeringue tomorrow.

  She was sitting on the front porch steps. He didn’t see her right away, since the front porch light was burned out.

  “Abby?” How had she gotten here so fast? Why did she look so worried? She stood slowly, and he was shaken by the certainty that something was wrong. She looked different. Something was off. “What are you doing here?”

  “I missed you,” she said, whispering. Didn’t exactly sound like her voice, but then he was tired, and it was late, and nothing was as it should be.

  “How did you get here so fast?”

  She walked toward him. The usual white blouse and long skirt were damn near painted on her, showing him every curve, every tempting swell. “Shortcut. I ran.”

  Dressed like that? “But…”

  “Don’t ask so many questions.” She smiled, and he relaxed. “You know what I want.”

  He knew what he wanted, but Abby had never shown much interest in him, until tonight when she’d asked for a kiss and accepted his invitation for a date. When she relented she really relented. Nice.

  She walked into his arms, and he quit asking so many questions. Abby was here. He’d be a fool to question that.

  She was cool. She squirmed against him as if she could not get close enough. He loved the feel of her, but something was wrong; she didn’t smell right. Abby always smelled good, sweet and clean and tasty. At the moment there was something sour about the way she smelled, something wrong. He was about to release her when she lifted her head and kissed his throat. She licked the side of his neck, and he went very still, enjoying the sensation. Maybe the sour smell was coming from the woods; that couldn’t possibly be Abby. She took the folder from his hand and dropped it to the ground. He didn’t care. Pages fluttered. A gentle wind caught Abby’s sketches and took them away.

  And then she bit him. He felt her teeth sinking into his skin, the sharp bite of invasion. Too late, he heeded the warning, he heeded the smell. He tried to fight her off, to push her away, to get her the hell away from his throat, but even though she was tiny compared to him, she was stronger than he was, much stronger, with arms and jaws like steel. She held him in place with incredibly, impossibly strong arms while she sucked on his throat. She gurgled; she slurped his blood, and Leo felt the life draining from him. His knees went out, but Abby held him up. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his entire body shuddered. She slammed him to the ground, her face buried in his throat as she sucked the life from his body. He smelled his own blood, as well as the stench that came from her skin. In the midst of the violence a fleeting but coherent thought crossed his mind. Was this the way Marisa Blackwell had died? Had Abby, the woman he had fantasized about and dreamed about and kissed, torn Marisa’s throat apart and sucked out her blood? Impossible…and yet here he was.

  Dark hair covered his face,
blocking out the night’s gentle light. Right before everything went black that hair turned to blond.

  A trill of laughter that was not Abby’s filled the night.

  Abby ran, following Leo’s trail, drawing on the connection she had formed with him when she’d drunk his blood. With a vampire’s grace and unnatural speed she all but flew, a blur in the quiet neighborhoods, and then beyond, where the homes were far apart and the trees grew thick. Dogs barked. The cool night air washed over her, and she listened, trying to find Leo’s heartbeat among all the rest.

  There it was. Too slow, too unsteady. A thump. Seconds later another thump. And then…nothing.

  She did not stop but continued on. All was quiet. Too quiet. If she’d been able to shed tears, tears would’ve come. Amazingly, she found she was capable of experiencing deep sorrow, still, after all this time. It hurt. Leo Stryker was a good man and she should’ve been able to save him.

  If she hurried, perhaps she still could.

  She ran into the side yard of a small clapboard house, his house, her eyes on the two forms in the dark driveway. Leo lay on the ground, motionless. Dead, as Charles had said he would be. Margaret stood over him, licking her lips, laughing.

  “Why?” Abby screamed as she rammed into Margaret and spun the vampire who was warm with Leo’s blood back against his car. The metal of the driver’s door crunched and crinkled beneath Margaret’s weight and Abby’s force.

  The young vampire laughed. “You’re asking me why? Hypocrite. You didn’t leave me much. He was barely an appetizer.”

  “I could’ve loved him.” The words Abby spoke surprised her with their power and their truth.

  “He was going to tie Remy to Marisa’s death,” Margaret argued. “I couldn’t allow that.”

  “Remy can take care of himself!” Abby glanced down at Leo’s body, so cold and still and pale. It was wrong; he should be alive and laughing and flirting. He should be on the trail of a killer who’d broken the rules of his world, rules he had sworn to keep. She didn’t want to believe it was possible but she had to ask, “Did Remy kill Marisa?”

  “Yes,” Margaret said. “And no.” The young vampire shimmered, and instead of Margaret pinned to Leo’s car it was Remy.

  Or at least, the form appeared to be Remy until it spoke.

  “He was sleeping with her,” Remy’s body with Margaret’s voice said. “Night after night after night. I don’t mind that, really, because I knew he was feeding from her. Pigs’ blood will do in a pinch, but it doesn’t compare to human blood fresh from the donor. But he started to like the twit too much, and I couldn’t have that. We’re going to be together, Remy and I, as soon as he comes to his senses.”

  Abby slammed Margaret against the car once more. The figure shimmered, and once again she appeared in her true form. A beautiful monster. “You finally found your gift, I see.”

  “I did. And isn’t it a doozy?” Margaret smiled. “This is really going to come in handy.” The vamp’s gaze remained steady. She was not afraid—and that was a mistake. “You don’t teach the fledglings that to take all the blood from a human is so exhilarating,” she said. “I’ve tried to adapt, as you have, but I always remembered what it was like in those wonderful, free, early days. When I took the last of Marisa’s blood, I was washed in a flood of power. I felt her life inside me, I knew everything, I felt her love for Remy and her confusion that he had killed her, because of course she saw what I wanted her to see, just as your Leo saw you in his last moments.”

  It infuriated Abby to know that with his last breath, Leo believed that she’d killed him. She didn’t have much time to make amends for that. But first she had to handle the current problem. She couldn’t release Margaret. The young vamp had tasted the power of taking a life and she’d liked it too well. There would be no stopping her now, and with her newly discovered gift of illusion no one was safe. No one. A young vampire’s unstoppable hunger would bring the human world, Leo’s world, on a hunt, and Abby would be at the center of it all. Even rogues practiced some restraint, some caution. Margaret would not.

  Margaret was tough, and recently fed, and in the midst of finding her own powers. But she was not as old and strong as Abby. She seemed to finally remember that, as Abby raised her right hand and allowed the nails there to grow into five-inch razor sharp claws that curved upward.

  Realizing what was about to happen, Margaret shimmered once more. To Abby’s eyes it looked as if Leo stood before her, alive and mortal and beautiful. “He loved you, you know.” Margaret’s voice coming from Leo’s mouth was wrong. “Until the end, when he thought you’d ended him, he loved you. He wasn’t even sure why, the love was just there. Humans are silly that way, I suppose.”

  Abby ignored the face before her and remembered Margaret’s form, and where Margaret’s heart would be. With a cry that was loud in the night her blade-fingers sliced into Margaret’s chest. So damaged, so violated, the young vampire could not maintain her illusion.

  Abby grasped the dead heart within Margaret’s chest and ripped it out.

  Even though it did not beat, without the heart the vampire could not survive. Margaret looked at her own heart, she screamed, and then she and the heart turned to dust and a sudden night wind took it all.

  Abby dropped to her knees beside Leo. His face was pale as death. It was death. He had not been dead long, there was time, but still, it was a risk. Only the strongest could survive being turned, and some were different after the change, as if who they had been inside did not survive. If the man she loved wasn’t present in the monster she created, would she be able to end him as she’d ended Margaret?

  With the nails she’d used to rip out Margaret’s heart, Abby sliced a vein in her wrist. Blood dripped, and she quickly led that wrist to Leo’s colorless lips. “Drink, love,” she whispered. “There is life in my blood. Take it. Drink it. I swear, I don’t want to live in a world without you in it.”

  Drops of blood hit his tongue, those drops seeped through his mouth, down the throat. After an agonizingly slow passage of minutes his heart beat once, weakly. Only Abby could hear it. It beat again, and a few minutes later again. His eyes snapped open and that heartbeat stopped with a final thud.

  For a moment he was terrified of the face above him, and Abby understood why. For all Leo knew she had been the one to kill him. But she watched as his expression changed. Terror, suspicion, confusion, then relief. “Blonde,” he said hoarsely. “Not you.”

  “Yes, dear,” Abby said sweetly. “Blonde. Not me.”

  “You smell like cookies. She smelled like death.”

  “Cookies?”

  He nodded weakly.

  “Leo, darling, I want you to drink something.”

  “Drink what?” he asked, still ignorant to what was happening, to what he had become.

  “Me,” she said, lying beside him and placing her wrist against his mouth. “Drink of me.”

  Leo instinctively latched his mouth to her wrist and suckled there. Gently at first, and then harder. He was starving, and did not know how or why. A basic survival instinct urged him on, forced him to drink long and deep. They lay on the ground entangled, joined in a new way. He took too much; she did not care, not even when she passed out.

  Abby had not slept in more than four hundred years; she had not needed sleep. But then this was not sleep, it was oblivion, a result of the loss of blood. Eventually, Leo slept, too, when he had drunk his fill. She knew he slept because he joined her in her dream world. They were together in her mind and soul, and in his. They were linked. She would never again return to an existence where she was alone. In her dream she clung to him. Though she had only recently discovered the depth of this bond, she knew that to be without it would be worse than death.

  Hours after she’d passed into oblivion with his mouth at her wrist, she woke slowly to find Leo on top of her. He kissed her healed wrist, licked her throat, rubbed his body against hers. Already he had discovered a vampire’s enhanced sensitivity,
and a new urge drove him. Without a word he pushed her skirt up, over her hips. With insistent hands he spread her thighs, he touched her intimately, his fingers dancing on and inside her. He freed himself and filled her quickly, thrusting inside her as if that connection was as necessary for him as the blood with which she’d given him life.

  She came almost instantly, sending yet another cry into the darkness of the night. Her body shook; she trembled in an entirely human way, and yet she did not think it a weakness. Leo’s movements slowed. He was still hard, still moving in and out of her in a fine, easy rhythm.

  “Everything has changed,” he whispered.

  “Yes, love.”

  “I see, even though it is dark. I see you with a startling clarity, and you are more beautiful than you have ever been. For a while I was gone, gone from everything, and then I woke with your scent in my nostrils and when I touched you I found you warm. Not cold, as you have been in the past, but warm.”

  “I will always be warm to you now.”

  “Yes. Nothing has ever felt so incredible, so right. I’m inside you, you’re inside me. I do not know where one of us ends and the other begins.”

  “We are one,” she whispered, knowing it to be true. Beyond the physical joining of bodies, to the pit of their souls—if they had souls…

  He moved faster, harder, and then he, too, came.

  Leo lifted his head and looked down at her. He had already found his vampire eyes, and he saw her very well. “Abigail Smythe.”

  “You remember.”

  “I remember everything now. I see everything.”

  “I could not let you go,” she whispered. Would he hate her? Would he hate what he had become when he understood fully how his life—his existence—had changed?

  “I could never hate you,” he said gently.

  “You read my mind.”

  “Did I?”

  A vampire who found his gift so quickly could only be a very powerful one. Then again, perhaps it was only her mind he could read, since they were so close. No, more than close, they were one being sharing two bodies. She had tasted his blood; he had tasted hers.