by D McEntire
Another blast of cool air whipped around them as they stood in front of Sonya's door. Snowflakes landed on her cheek. When David touched her face and brushed them off, she jumped at the sudden contact.
Sonya didn't miss David's sigh when he took her keys from her hand and opened the door.
"If you change your mind..."
Nodding and muttering her thanks to cut him off, Sonya stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Leaning heavily against the wooden frame, she reached for calm. The awkwardness of having to thwart David's advances time and time again grew increasingly difficult, and she hated herself for wishing he'd never come to work at the school. She'd been there for twelve years and had no intention of leaving anytime soon. They'd have to bury her cold, dead body in the basement, she silently mused.
Pushing away from the door, Sonya shook her head at her thoughts. It had been another long day and she was pushing toward exhaustion. Images of settling into a hot bath sifted through her mind as she pulled off her heels, then took the stairs to her bedroom.
Stepping through the bedroom door, Sonya flicked on the light switch. She didn't know why she bothered. Since she couldn't see, the light wasn't needed, but it just felt right. Besides, she told herself, if she never turned on the lights, her houseplants would probably die. If she never turned on the lights, people would think she wasn't home. If she never turned on the lights, her cat would most likely hate her.
Meow.
Speaking of cats, she thought with a smile.
The call came from her bed, the place where Brat loved to sleep. Feeling around the bedspread, she finally found his warm, soft body vibrating as he purred.
"What have you been up today? Let me guess. Sleep. Play with the curtains. Sleep. Eat. Attack the houseplants and make a mess on the floor with the potting soil. Lick yourself. Cough up a hairball for me to step on later. And sleep. Did I get everything?"
With a soft laugh, she scratched under his chin then padded to the bathroom to start the water for her bath.
David watched the door to Sonya's house close in front of him. Once again, she'd turned him down, brushed him off like lint on her clothing. Through clenched teeth, he growled. He was tired of waiting. Every word he'd said during the ride had been the truth. He was settling down, and soon. He had been seeing someone for quite some time, and she was going to be his whether she did so willingly or not. He was going to have a family, and no one was going to stop him.
After narrowing his eyes once more at the door, David turned on his heels and stomped back to his car, then let a flurry of snow fly as he sped off.
Sonya didn't live far from his current destination. Only a few blocks down the road. Taking a sharp turn, David followed the narrow road up a steep hill. Leafless trees resembling spindly skeletons lined both sides. No one occupied the area as it led to only one particular place.
David drove past the sign warning trespassers legal action would be taken if anyone was caught on the premises. He laughed, wondering who would bother going into the old, run down building to enforce the warning. Besides, due to the building's size, anyone inside had a million places to hide.
The car's headlights settled upon a black iron gate, another attempt to keep people out of the area. With a flick of his wrist, David forced open the lock then drove inside, only to get out of his car once more to close the gate behind him and refasten the lock.
As he approached the building, David regarded the expanse of the foreboding structure. At one time, the old building, spanning the size of several blocks from end to end, had been a sanatorium. Five floors of complete darkness, dirt, dilapidation and debris now filled the once highly regarded and desperately needed tuberculosis hospital. Its closing in the early 1960s had left the building abandoned and wide open for vandals, ghost hunters, fun seekers and vampires.
David parked his car behind one of the smaller outbuildings and walked to a side door. The door wasn't locked, not that it mattered since nearly all of the windows in the building were missing, broken years ago by the elements and vandals.
Darkness inside the building made a mockery of the night outside. With the snow falling, no moon or bright stars shone light through what was left of the windows.
Ignoring the crunch of broken glass and fallen plaster under his shoes, David opened another large door. Its long, drawn out squeak echoed throughout the hall. Stairs led to a lower level, and the further he descended, the staler and mustier the air grew.
Once at the foot of the stairs, David turned the knob of another old door, but had to use a little more force to open it, sending out a plume of dirt from its crusty hinges.
"David. Did you get bored out in the real world and decide to visit us lower life forms?" a voice snapped sarcastically out of the darkness.
David pulled a lighter out of his pocket and flicked it open to emit a quick, bright flame, piercing the darkness. He reached forward and lifted the glass lid of a lantern sitting on a nearby table, then lit the wick. Turning the knob to push the wick higher, David illuminated the room.
"You are such a comedian, Sinclair," David huffed as he returned the lighter to the pocket of his pants. With jerky movements, he removed his gloves and coat then sat heavily on a nearby chair. With a long, exasperated breath, he ran his hands through his hair.
Sinclair raised his eyebrows. "Where's the woman?"
David gave him a cold stare. "That's my business, Sinclair, and nothing for you to bother with. Speaking of my business, where are the children?"
Sinclair shrugged as he headed for the chair across from his. The vampire's face held the expression of boredom.
David waited as Sinclair placed his long legs on the table situated in front of the chair and nonchalantly crossed his ankles. "They're downstairs somewhere."
With a displeased snarl, David leaned forward and slammed both hands on the table on either side of Sinclair's dirty shoes. "What do you mean they're downstairs somewhere? You're supposed to keep an eye on them. Are they not in the cage?"
Sinclair narrowed his eyes and stared at David for several seconds. David felt Sinclair's challenge, but wasn't going to be the first to back down.
"No, they aren't in the cage. They got out." He shrugged again before continuing. "It doesn't matter. They can't go anywhere. There's only one way out, and they'd have to come through here. Anyway, I know they're still down there. I heard them scurrying around like rats a little while ago."
Ignoring Sinclair's smirk and shake of his head, David stood and paced the room, agitated events hadn't been going as planned.
"I don't know why you're playing around with Sonya anyway. Why don't you just take what you want? Lord knows I would. In fact, I could help you..."
The offer to help didn't go over well with the part of him, which happened to be a major part, wanting to make Sonya his. A low growl showing as much reverberated in the room. "Don't even talk about her. I don't want to hear her name on your lips. Do you understand? You just do what you're told and tell your flunkies the same goes for them," he spat while pointing a long, thin finger at Sinclair.
Sinclair stood slowly, his mouth held in a thin, tight line. "You may have killed our sire, Dante..."
David cut off his words. "I saved your ass, literally, didn't I? I released you and the others from service, did I not?" Stomping around the table, David stopped when he and Sinclair were nose to nose. "You. Owe. Me." His words were clipped as he spat them in Sinclair's face and stared unblinkingly at the vampire who matched his stance.
Finally Sinclair took a breath and a step in retreat, but David didn't allow an ounce of tension to release. Even after he noticed one side of the vampire's mouth turn up in a small grin of amusement. "You hungry? Got leftovers in the kitchen."
The question did the trick, and he had to admire Sinclair for the vampire's ability to turn a situation from volatile to comedic in the blink of an eye. He was hungry. Being so close to Sonya tonight and not getting what he wanted had almost driven him
crazy.
Heading for the kitchen, he glanced over his shoulder at Sinclair. "What's on the menu?" Anticipation had him licking the tips of his fangs.
"Well..." Sinclair sighed, "the woman petered out, but the guy's still hanging in there."
David grimaced. He'd much rather feed from a woman than a man. "That's it? Where are those bonehead friends of yours? Why don't we have fresh meat in here?"
Sinclair snorted, obviously finding humor in his pet name for Drake and Justin, but he failed to see anything amusing about the two.
"I have no idea. They went out a couple of hours ago. Maybe they found a party or something. Who knows?"
"Knowing them, they probably got dusted by Watchers. They're too stupid to stay out of trouble. I think Dante sucked out their brains when he drained and converted them. Either that or they'd smoked too much dope and killed off what little brain cells they had between the two of them."
Veering away from the kitchen, David headed for a short hallway which led to another door. Twisting the knob and finding it unlocked didn't surprise him. Sinclair wasn't much brighter than the other two dimwits, he thought.
Shaking his head, David opened the door and cautiously navigated the narrow set of stairs to another level containing a cluster of rooms. One contained the building's main mechanical room. The others were cluttered with wiring, old equipment and pipes that snaked in and out of walls.
Ducking under a low hanging, rusty pipe, David stepped into one of the rooms. Once inside the doorway, he pulled a lantern from where it hung on a nail in the wall. Using his lighter once again, he lit the wick then lengthened it to brighten the flame.
When the light touched the far corners of the room, several rats squealed and ran into each other in their haste to find a place to hide. "Guess you can't say I never let my children have any pets," he chuckled.
Shadows played across the walls with the flickering of the flame. Though he didn't need the light to see, he lifted it high and gazed about the room, figuring the light would ease the children's fear and perhaps coax them out of hiding.
David stepped into another room situated off the one he'd entered where a cage big enough for a large dog, or in this case, two small children, sat in the corner. Right now it was empty. The two little crumb snatchers had somehow managed to unlock the cage. Their ingenuity amused him. A small sense of pride at having children who showed signs of being exceptionally bright and cunning touched him.
"Hey, kids. Daddy's home," David sang out. He'd wanted children, and now he had two. They might not be too friendly with him right now, but they'd come around, he told himself. If not, he'd find replacements.
Several moments passed, but the children never materialized. Not a sound was heard, except for the squeaks and squeals from the rats. With a shrug, David carried the lantern out of the room, blew out the flame, then returned it to the hook on the wall. He knew the children were down here somewhere and couldn't hide forever. They'd soon learn if they wanted to eat, they'd have to come to him.
He was most likely kidding himself, he thought as he climbed the stairs. But, he didn't care. All that mattered was Sonya. If the children didn't work out, he'd use Sonya to help acquire others. Children loved her, he mused. She had a way with them. He didn't know how she did it, but she could accomplish their complete cooperation with very little effort.
Reaching the upper level, he closed and locked the door behind him.
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Chapter Two
The spray of hot water poured over Tank's back, warming his body and getting his blood pumping. Another dream and another fitful sleep had claimed him. Tank longed for the return of the vision of how he'd first seen the woman in person, sitting behind the piano in the hotel lobby. Soft, graceful hands gliding over the keys as she played.
They had now become dark and disturbing. No lobby. No piano. He no longer heard her beautiful music. The wonderful electricity the notes had created had been replaced with fear and evil.
Tank leaned his head against the shower wall. In every dream she called out to him for help. The tremble in her voice tore at his heart. He wanted to gather her into his arms and shield her from whatever caused her pain. He wanted to soothe and protect her, but he could do nothing.
Upon each awakening, he felt helpless, an emotion quickly overshadowed by shame. He was a strong warrior who had lived a very long life. He knew how to protect others. He knew how to fight battles. He was a Watcher--a vampire warrior who'd undertaken a vow to protect those like her, but he didn't know who to protect her from.
Tank shut off the faucet, stepped out of the shower and snatched up a long bath towel to dry himself. His stomach was doing summersaults. The desperation present in the dreams had increased. The sense time was growing short gnawed at him, but he had no clue as to what to do.
With a groan of frustration, Tank chucked the wet towel into the hamper and stalked out of the bathroom. He yanked on a pair of black leather pants and a black T-shirt before pulling socks over his large feet and stuffing them into black leather boots. The outfit matched his dark mood.
Reaching into the back of his closet, he removed his weapons, placing several daggers in special hooks and pockets in his custom-made leather pants. He didn't like having to bother with leather straps and holsters.
An image of the woman, one he saw clearly, popped into his head.
Tank bolted from his room and down the stairs, ignoring the others standing in the kitchen and making a beeline for the office located just off the living room. Once inside, he ripped the calendar from the wall. It had been a day or so after Christmas when Sonya had been interviewed on the local news where she'd talked about a performance in which she was involved.
A quaint picture of a snow-covered evergreen and a beautiful male cardinal perched on one of its boughs adorned the page for January, but nothing regarding a concert or the school had been written on the days. Tossing it onto the chair behind him, he rooted among the stacks of paper on the desk until he found what he searched for.
Immediately turning the prior year's calendar over, he opened it up wide and searched the month of December--the days between Christmas and New Year's Eve. He found nothing.
Pacing the small room, Tank racked his brain to recall the details of the interview. He'd been so wrapped up in her image on the television screen he hadn't paid much attention to what was said. He hadn't even caught her full name. Scowling at himself, he flung open the door and stuck out his head.
All bodies in the room turned in his direction.
"What's everyone staring at?" he growled.
"Hey, brother. Is everything okay?" Trigg asked, eyeing him intently.
Vane, another Watcher in the Cell, sat on the couch with his mate, Rosa snuggled at his side. When Rosa slid off the couch, stretched, then sauntered toward the kitchen, Vane growled low in his throat.
Trigg snorted and shook his head. "Just can't keep it to yourself, can you?"
As Vane flashed a wicked grin, Tank cleared his throat. "You think I can have your attention for a moment or is the brain in your perfectly creased Armani slacks otherwise occupied?"
Vane glanced at Trigg with a cocked eyebrow. Tank knew he was acting out of character. He was the one who maintained a cool head, a much needed trait for a Commanding Officer.
"What's up, Tank? You seem a little...out of sorts these last couple of days."
Tank grunted as he rubbed a hand through his crew cut, then blew out a long breath. Out of sorts didn't begin to describe what he was feeling.
"The other night there was a story on the news where they were talking to a woman about a play or performance some kids were putting on. Do any of you remember when they said it was going to take place, or has it already happened?"
He turned his attention to Trigg, then to Vane, hoping one of them had heard the date of the performance, and he hadn't missed it.
"Yeah, I remember." Kern, another Watcher under Tank's comman
d, stepped into the living room and stood beside Trigg.
"Her name's Sonya Brown. She's the music teacher at the School for the Blind. Her students are putting on a fundraising concert for the school. It's tomorrow night in their auditorium. Why do you ask?"
Tank came fully out of the office, feeling his face sag with exhaustion. The dreams were keeping him from getting the deep, rejuvenating sleep he needed, which he knew could be dangerous, not only for him, but for his men. Becoming careless and having difficulty in thinking clearly would spell major trouble while hunting Rogues.
"Guys?" Marie, Kern's mate, called from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready, unless y'all have something you need to discuss in private. We can wait."
Tank leaned around where Trigg and Kern stood blocking his view of the kitchen. "No, that's fine. You don't have to wait. We can discuss this during dinner."
"Good," Vane blurted, leaping from the couch and rubbing his hands together in anticipation of another of Robyn's delicious meals.
Tank shook his head. Though most of his humor had been deflated due to his current mental exhaustion, he couldn't stop a small inward smile as he watched Vane's daily enthusiasm whenever someone mentioned eating. The Watcher was Robyn's biggest fan when it came to her cooking. Then again, Vane liked all food.
The three Watchers preceded him into the dining room where each took their seat at the large table. As usual, the table was elegantly set. The women carried in dish after dish of food that smelled so good, his mouth watered despite his edgy mood.
When everyone was seated and began passing around the dishes and plating their choices, Tank decided to get the dreams off his chest, hating to admit he needed help.
"All right, here it goes." Tank took in a steadying breath. He didn't have the slightest reservation any of them would think he was crazy at what he was about to reveal. He just hoped someone would have an answer as to what the dreams meant.