After Dark (The Vampire Next Door Book 2)

by Titus, Rose

  “I’m sorry.” She sat on the expensive black leather couch and sunk into it and listened.

  “Never wear my wedding ring anymore. Can’t look at it. I’ve got boxes of her things in the basement of my place. Sometimes I go down there. It’s like she’s still there, somehow. We don’t get cancer, don’t get heart attacks, strokes, or any of the things I see taking people around me. We live a good long time then around three hundred or so start to rapidly decline. If I could give my life for hers I would have, a hundred times over. I wish it was me and not her.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  Slowly he awakened with the coming dusk; a night bird sang peacefully outside his shuttered window. He wanted to rise and open the shutters, let in the cool evening air and the bird’s song. But no. Instead he rested placidly in the warm darkness of his small room.

  I will not travel with that blood drinking monster! The sudden shrieking wail shattered his silence. He stirred; his eyes opened weakly.

  “But you must; he is the only one who can protect you. My father is too old.”

  “Wench, your father is a heathen and a fool. If it was up to me I would have them both executed by the most painful means possible!”

  “Please, Highness! He is a good man!”

  “He is not so good he will lead me home and away from this hovel.”

  Pavel sat up to listen. He could hear Yelena crying.

  He would not enjoy this journey.

  Reluctantly he rose up and looked at the last slight sliver of weak golden sunlight that leaked through the shutters. It was softly beautiful, even to his eyes, though he could not look at it for long. He turned away to slowly face the darkness.

  “I will not go anywhere with that—”

  It was a warm autumn night; a good night for travel.

  “And furthermore, that creature you call your betrothed—”

  He would need to saddle the horses, if Yuri had not already done so. Probably he did, to have a reason to leave the house.

  “But please, do not say such. He is kind.”

  “Do not dare contradict me!”

  Pavel stepped on the brown pelt of the bear he killed last winter and slowly wandered out to greet the women in his bare feet.

  The heat from the hearth was intense and the fire was bright; the sudden light stung his eyes. He nearly tripped over the little boy and girl; they huddled fearfully by the doorway to his room and watched their sister as she struggled to defend him.

  “Do not say such. He protected you.”

  “Olga! Stop it!” he barked.

  “You will not order me—”

  “That is enough. Now go outside and wait for Yuri to bring the horses. Go!”

  She said nothing and swiftly left.

  “Yelena—”

  She silently looked away from him.

  “I should never have brought her here. I should have left her to rot in that hell. If she is any more trouble, tell me. It will be the end of her.”

  “Will you kill the princess?” It was little Anastasia, sitting on the floor next to her brother Ivan.

  “Yes! I will have the harlot for my supper. Now! Go and help your father!”

  “Our father doesn’t want any help,” said Ivan. “What’s a harlot?”

  “Then go and help your mother!”

  “She went back to the burned village to find our dog,” said the little girl. “Will she bring him back soon?” Anastasia always believed Pavel knew everything.

  “Yes, soon. Now, then. Go and help the princess find her way home.”

  “We’re afraid of the princess!” whimpered Ana.

  “So am I. Let me talk to your pretty sister, little ones. Go along now.”

  “You are falling asleep on me,” he said. It was a statement, not a question.

  She sat up, suddenly becoming alert. “What?”

  He was still standing there, staring out the window into the darkness as he spoke.

  “Oh no, I just closed my eyes to try and imagine. How long was I asleep?”

  “Not long. Only minutes. Go back to sleep. It’s all right. Listen while I speak, then when you sleep I’ll let myself out. You’ll wake up in the bright morning and I won’t be here. It will be as if I never was, as if you dreamed I was here, talking to you.”

  A wolf howled in the cold dark night. Then another. Together their voices filled the forest.

  “And, what were you doing in that castle, woman?” he asked quite suddenly. He knew she would not answer easily.

  She said nothing.

  He only heard the slow rhythm of the horses’ hooves against the ground. “I risked my own life to save yours. I brought you to safety. You owe an explanation.”

  “I owe nothing to a blood drinking godless heathen. I have heard of such foul night creatures, but thought it only to be the tales told by ignorant old peasant women.”

  “I never knew any woman could be so ignorant as you.”

  “How dare you!”

  “How dare you, Highness. Your own ancestors made blood sacrifices at that same altar. Yuri’s ancestors were high priests who themselves lived in palaces. If it were then, and not now, as a woman from a royal house you would be handed over—”

  “What?!”

  “But do not worry. I do not believe any of us would even want someone so unpleasant. But yes, it is true. It is only quite recently that we are held to be foul night creatures, as you say. The princes wish to rob the people of their land and what little they have. They need to destroy the last thing that can stop them. After all, their heavily armed soldiers fear very little.”

  “They do not fear you.”

  “Indeed they do. More so than any old peasant woman. You notice we were not followed out of there once it was clear who I was. Now! What were you doing in that dungeon when you should have been safely in your father’s own palace?”

  “I was being held for ransom. What is it to you?”

  “And how were you taken? Does your royal father not have his own soldiers to protect you?”

  The wolves howled again. She fell silent.

  “We will be at the town soon. There, we will find an inn. You may rest. I shall find food, one way or the other, then I will rest in the morning.”

  When they arrived at the inn a servant took care of their horses; they went inside and the innkeeper’s wife offered them food. Pavel politely declined, and so the innkeeper’s wife brought the princess a bowl of stew. At first Olga demanded, “What is this swill?” But she soon gave in to hunger and devoured it swiftly and wanted more. She finished the next portion quickly and still asked for more, and more bread.

  Pavel sat across from her and was amazed. “I have never seen such a small woman eat so,” Yelena ate well, but she worked hard also.

  “I have never seen a man who drinks what you drink,” she snarled.

  “Which reminds me,” he rose up from the table, “I must go and seek my own supper. Alas, I venture out into the cold night, while you rest in comfort. Sleep well, my lady. We shall travel together again tomorrow at dusk.”

  “So you can devour me in the dark forest and throw my body away to the wolves?”

  “I have told you, none of us would want you. Nor would the poor hungry wolves.” He left her side and quietly informed the innkeeper that an old friend was in the town and that he was going to seek him out. The innkeeper nodded and said someone would let him in when he returned.

  He went to the stable and took his bow and quiver, which he had earlier told the servant to put in the stall with his horse. He saddled his coal black stallion and mounted. The horse was tired from traveling, but in the morning he could sleep the day. Pavel rode silently out of the city gates and headed for the forest…

  He saw them with the brightness of the moon’s soft silver light; two vampiresses knelt under a fir tree at the top of a hill, each with a bow in hand. He came up behind them and they turned to see him. “Greetings, my beautiful sisters! And I thought I was al
one in the forest, in this world, for I have not seen my own kind for nearly a century.”

  They stood slowly as he dismounted. “Where are you from?” the dark haired one asked. “We have never seen you.”

  “The other side of the hills.” He gestured slightly toward the forested hills that were directly under the bright full moon. “Where the temple was, where it still is. I remain by it, the last to stay there, though only a few remember me.”

  “The last?” the fairer one said. “But such a lonely place. Stay with us, do not return there. There are many of us here, and the hunting is good. The men of the city below do not even know of us.”

  “Ah but no, someone waits for me there. But for tonight, if you’ll have me, I will share your hunt.”

  The women agreed and he tied up his horse and followed them.

  Together that night they surrounded a large stag, shot it through the throat, weakened it, and cut a vein. They drank their fill and left the dead beast for the wolves.

  He led his horse back onto the road to the small city and they walked alongside him. He told them of his journey and his troubles with the ill-tempered princess.

  “Leave her in the forest for the wild beasts and outlaws!”

  “Too good for the wench!”

  “Ladies, please. This shrew is of the royal house of Yaroslav.” He laughed, as if that would have meaning to anyone but Olga herself.

  “Yaroslav who bravely butchers monks to rob the church?” asked the dark haired one.

  “And who slaughters women and children as well?” said the other.

  It was to be a difficult journey indeed.

  He returned before the dawn; the innkeeper seemed irritated that he was returning so late. To avoid talk and invading questions he hurried up to his room. He needed to rest; he had traveled a long distance and hunted, drank his fill, and was ready for a long day’s sleep.

  He heard sobbing in the room next to his. Slowly he opened the door. “Olga?”

  She turned to look in his direction; she did not see him because of the darkness. “What? Another nightmare?”

  “A nightmare, yes, or a pleasant dream. I can be either.”

  “You have come to devour me?”

  He remained silent.

  “Use my helpless throat for your foul pleasure, then?”

  “Is that why you are weeping? You are quite safe. I swore to protect you until you were delivered to your home.”

  “I am ill.”

  “I see. Well, perhaps you mustn’t eat as much.”

  “I am with child.”

  “You are? I see. I did not realize you were married, Highness. And is your husband not sending warriors looking for you? Or, is he perhaps held captive in the dungeon where I found you? I do not know. You did not tell me this.”

  “I am not married.”

  “And is this why your Highness is weeping? Is it not?”

  “No! When I return home I am to wed an old man who I have never met before. If I am lucky he will believe the child to be his.”

  “I see. Perhaps he will, yes.”

  “An old man. I must submit myself to lie below an old man—”

  “You were running away, then?”

  “Running away, yes! To my lover, who at the command of his father tossed me into that pit. He does not love me anymore. I wish to die. I do! Take me! Kill me in your most horrible way.” She turned away and cried uncontrollably.

  “There is not much I can do for you, Olga.”

  “That foolish little girl of yours, still just an innocent maiden. Her father worships you and you worship her. Her home is burnt to the ground and she has a warm place to sleep. I am a princess and I shall be cast out of the house of my father.”

  Exhaustion caused her to slowly tip sideways onto the couch until her blonde head rested flat on the cushions. She sighed and reluctantly gave in to her need for sleep. Laura suddenly opened her eyes again and saw that the room was now in full darkness. She could hear his soft whispering voice, somewhere close by, telling stories of long ago and far away. Where was he? Was he there, or was he a dream of some kind? Her hand lethargically drifted off the side of the couch, almost dropping onto the floor.

  He held it gently, and kissed it.

  He was sitting on the floor, by her side, leaning against the wooden frame of the Italian leather couch. She sighed sleepily. “Are you going to leave?” Don’t go, she wanted to cry the words out but she could not.

  “I have to,” he said firmly, as if reading her thoughts. “I’ve got to go.” He held onto her hand and caressed it. His lips ran softly over the delicate vein in her wrist.

  He was gone when she awakened in the morning. She looked up to see the sun’s intense brightness pouring its golden fire through the windows; and he was gone like the night’s darkness.

  Another beautiful sunny day. Too damn bad he wouldn’t enjoy it much. Martin glared out the window as he usually did before forcing himself to get involved with any sort of paperwork. It helped him to think. He wondered why Rick had left a message for him. He wondered how bad the news could be. What did Rick find?

  “Excuse me?” the voice was fragile and birdlike.

  He turned to see her. The young woman was at least eight and a half months pregnant.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Yes?”

  “I am looking for a Detective McMurphy.”

  “Oh. Yeah. McMurphy.” Where the hell was the crazy fool? He was late again today. “Sorry, he’s not in this morning. Sorry, miss.”

  “When will he be in?”

  “Don’t really know, lady. He didn’t call or leave a message. Can I know if I can help you in any other way? Maybe give him a message for you?”

  “Rhonda! Just say Rhonda was looking for him! Okay?”

  “Rhonda? Yeah. Okay. Any last name?”

  She smirked, as if the question was stupid. “Oh. He’ll know me. I just kinda, you know, haven’t seen him in a while.”

  “Okay. It’s Rhonda, just Rhonda.” He repeated the name so he could remember it. His head hurt. He was still hung over from last night. “Yeah. Okay, Rhonda. I will definitely let him know. Oh. How about a phone number?”

  “He knows that, too!” She ran her red tipped fingers through her sweat moist jet black hair. With weight loss, better clothes, and more tasteful makeup, she might be good looking. But not now, he decided. She seemed worn down, exhausted, and desperate. She wore no wedding ring.

  “Yeah, Rhonda. Yeah. Don’t worry. I will definitely tell him to get in touch with you, soon as I see him.”

  She left quietly, walking slowly and with the tired difficult pace the extra weight forced on her.

  McMurphy. What a pig. Martin guessed at her problem easily.

  Again he gazed sadly out the window at the distant beach and tried to forget, but he could not stop seeing Rhonda’s face. Or the face of the kid McMurphy killed that night so many years ago. Martin had the dream again, a few nights ago, and he drank to forget it. But he would never forget it.

  Help me, man! Help me! Don’t let him kill me —

  The kid would scream out in his sleep forever. It would never stop. The kid was dead, but he would never stop screaming out in the darkness.

  He sipped his coffee and tried to stop thinking about it. But he could not. He had to think about the case he was working on. What the hell kind of crackpot would rip out another guy’s throat with his teeth? Besides one of Them? And, he, or it, would do it again. And again.

  He would need to call Rick, right away, as soon as the sun went down. Damn, why can’t those people pick up a phone during normal hours? Because they were all out of it now, that’s why. It was all too unreal. Every man, woman, and child is living side by side with things that aren’t even supposed to exist.

  A reporter asked if there were any suspects. How the hell was he supposed to explain the reality to them? He just said no, not at this point in time, no further comments, please, thank you.

&n
bsp; He couldn’t even explain it to himself. They were out there, all night, every night. The very thought of it terrified him. They were in homes, next door to everyone else, on the streets, out there, everywhere.

  It was early, only ten fifteen in the morning. Still, he dreaded the coming dusk.

  He could not get a babysitter. He knew his little girl loved it when Alexandra used to mind her, but he could never ask her again. Not since he found out about her. About Them.

  So instead he let the little girl take her bowl of Spaghettios into the next room and let her eat the artificial canned stuff in front of the television. He picked up the phone. He forgot to save Rick’s number, but someone had to have it. He thought a moment. Alexandra would not be home at this time. She worked nights. Leon would know. Leon knew everybody. He dialed.

  It was Leon himself who answered.

  “Yeah? Hey. You don’t need his number. I just saw him come in. He’s downstairs. I’ll get him right now—” and Martin was put on hold.

  He hated being on hold. He hated being on hold and could never figure out why people could not just yell Hey! Phone call! Get over here.

  “Martin?” It was Rick.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, listen man, I just found out something kind of ugly. Mind if I come over? Can’t talk here.”

  “No.” He really did mind. But he didn’t have much choice.

  “Okay. When does your kid go to bed? I don’t want her to hear any of this, okay? I mean, it’s kind of bad.”

  “Come over in an hour.”

  Martin did not like letting him in the apartment, especially with his little girl sleeping in the next room. He did not know how little it took to set one of them off. And what was the story he heard once? You lose all control over them when you let them in. But Rick drifted in quietly, said hello softly, as if he did not wish to awaken little Jennifer.

  “I went through that neighborhood again, where it happened, you know.” Rick sat down at the kitchen table and Martin reluctantly sat across from him.