Falling Dark

by Christine Pope

  If anyone should be angry, it was me. Shouldn’t Silas have figured out that Lucius might have attempted just that sort of gambit?

  At last I said, “Is it safe?”

  His head swiveled toward me and then went back to facing forward, his gaze intent on the traffic around us. You’d think that at a little past nine o’clock, things would have eased up a bit, but the eastbound traffic on I-10 was still sluggish, barely hitting fifty.

  Welcome to L.A.

  “Is what safe?”

  My fingers tightened on the bundle of clothes and purse I held on my lap. “Is it safe for me to go home?”

  “Yes, it’s safe. Lucius Montfort does not have an invitation to go to your home.” I caught the glint of his eyes as he glanced at me once again, then returned his attention to the road. Voice flat, he added, “Or at least, I assume he doesn’t.”

  “Of course not,” I snapped. “You think I’m that stupid?”

  Something about the hard line of his jaw softened slightly. “I don’t think you’re stupid at all. In fact, I think it was rather impressive, the way you were able to face him down.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. There are not many people who can match wits with a vampire. One of their powers is to confuse and befuddle their victims, making it that much more difficult for ordinary mortals to resist them. But clearly you had no problem with doing so.”

  No, I didn’t. I could recall the encounter very clearly — too clearly, if you wanted to get right down to it. No vampire fog swirling around our exchange, that was for sure. I’d been scared, sure, but my mind had been my own. “I don’t think so,” I said. “I mean, I was terrified about what he might do, but I still felt like myself.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I should have been more careful.”

  “Careful? How?”

  “I should have realized he might attempt that sort of gambit. I did stay close by, just because I couldn’t get rid of the nagging sensation that something was wrong, but I should have stayed near you, with you.”

  So his anger was directed at himself. Since I’d survived the encounter with Lucius unscathed, I couldn’t let myself be too upset with Silas. “It’s all right. That is, if you’d really come along the whole time, I would’ve had to explain you to my sister. I couldn’t have told her you were my bodyguard, so I’d have to lie and say you were my date or something. The second the reception was over, she would’ve been on the phone to my mother, telling her that I had a new boyfriend.”

  I’d purposely kept my tone wry, so he could tell I was trying to make a joke, but he didn’t smile. “Perhaps that would be easier.”

  “What would be easier?”

  “If you told your family that I was your boyfriend. At least that way they wouldn’t question my being near you whenever you went out in public.”

  Silas as my boyfriend. My fake boyfriend. He’d made the suggestion as if inquiring whether I’d like to have Thai instead of Chinese for dinner. And even so, my heart made a weird little thump, as if it would be only too glad to have him as a faux boyfriend, even if the real thing was still completely out of reach.

  I managed a laugh — an entirely unconvincing one, unfortunately. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. You have no idea what you’d be letting yourself in for.”

  “Which is?”

  “Well, for one thing, you’d have to give me some kind of last name. My mother definitely wouldn’t go for that whole one-name rock-star thing.”

  “It’s Drake.”

  Startled, I looked over at him. “Silas Drake?”

  “Yes.”

  “So why didn’t you tell me that from the beginning?”

  “I didn’t think it was necessary.”

  Oh, for God’s sake…. I huffed out a breath, then decided it wasn’t worth arguing about. “That’s a start, but really, I’m not kidding when it comes to my mother. If she thinks someone is at all involved in my life, she turns into a complete bloodhound. You won’t have any secrets left. Trust me.”

  I truly wasn’t joking. Somehow she always managed to dig up all sorts of dirt on anyone I was foolish enough to mention to her. Travis, my last serious significant other, had passed muster, but that was because he was the son of one of my father’s business associates. The Lindley family traveled in the same circle as ours, so there was no reason to have the CIA dig up anything it could on him. On paper, he was the ideal boyfriend.

  So of course Travis Lindley, Mr. Perfect, was the one who dropped me like a hot potato after the accident. Oh, sure, he hung around while I was in intensive care, did the attentive boyfriend thing — my parents thought he was a real gem — but as soon as the visions started in, and there was talk of neurological damage and unending tests and therapy, he was out of there so fast, I was surprised he didn’t leave skid marks in his wake. Last I heard, he was engaged to the daughter of a Hollywood producer. Her family didn’t have the kind of money mine did, but Travis probably figured the trade-off was worth it, considering the sort of baggage I brought with me.

  When Silas spoke next, his tone was thoughtful. “You don’t talk about your father very much. He doesn’t share the same worries as your mother?”

  “Oh, well, Dad is….” I shrugged, since I didn’t know how else to respond. “He always left that sort of thing to my mother. His work keeps him busy. That is, I think he was more involved with Jackson, but he let my mother take care of the girl stuff.”

  “‘Work,’” Silas repeated. “Forgive me if this is a delicate question, but I was under the impression that your family’s wealth was inherited.”

  “Oh, it is. When I say ‘work,’ I mean overseeing his investments, meeting with the people who manage his trust. And there’s the foundation….” I trailed off then. It was difficult to explain, since I didn’t understand all of it that much. I didn’t want to. Yes, I knew that someday I’d have a great deal of wealth to manage, but since my father was only in his early sixties and more fit than a lot of men half his age, I’d been able to push that prospect off into a dim “maybe someday” zone where I didn’t have to think about it any more than I absolutely had to.

  I also didn’t want to admit to Silas that my father had more or less written me off. It wasn’t that he didn’t love me or want me to be happy, but in his mind, the accident had left me permanently impaired, someone who’d never be able to fulfill her potential. Because of my family’s financial situation, I’d never want for anything, and so he considered me a problem that had been handled as best it could, and which could be ignored from now on. Jackson was his shining star — he and his wife Bethany had given my father three gorgeous grandchildren, so not a lot was expected of me. Vanessa had her own success, and so her decision to stay single and not have kids wasn’t that big a deal. But I? I was the one my father tried not to talk about.

  “It’s complicated,” I said at last, a total cop-out. But I just didn’t feel like getting into it then.

  Or ever.

  “I see.”

  Another silence. By that point we’d hit the interchange with the 110 Freeway downtown, and it, too, was still vaguely nightmarish to negotiate, although not as bad as it had been when we were heading in the opposite direction that morning. I stared out the window at the lights in the high-rises and wondered what method Lucius Montfort had used to return to his castle-like mansion perched on the edge of the arroyo. Did he have to drive like a normal human, or could he just turn into a bat and fly away? That mode of transportation would definitely save on gas and insurance.

  “Sorry,” I said at last. “Talking about my family is a lot like negotiating a minefield. I know you’re just trying to help.”

  “I understand.”

  “What about yours?”

  “What about my what?”

  “Your family. Are you natives of Southern California?”

  “We’ve lived in California a long time, but we’re not natives.”

  It was a tiny morsel
of information, but better than nothing. “Oh? Where did you come from before that?”

  “Here and there.”

  Talk about your non-answers. Was this just more of his policy of doing his very best to tell me as little as possible, or maybe a little payback for my not wanting to vomit up every last detail about my own family?

  I decided to take the high ground. For one thing, the day had been a long and exhausting one, and I really didn’t feel like getting into an argument right then. “But you’ve been in L.A. for a while.”

  “Yes.”

  “Doing…whatever it is you do. Making the world safe for democracy.”

  To my surprise, he actually chuckled a little at that remark. “I suppose you could call it that. Keeping the world safe, at any rate…one bit at a time.”

  Did that make me one of those “bits”? How exactly I was supposed to keep the world safe, I had no idea, but maybe Silas had a better sense of the big picture than I did.

  We were past downtown by then, the highway narrowing down to two lanes in either direction as it looped its way up to Pasadena’s soft underbelly. I thought it was better to move on to a more neutral topic, or at least one that wasn’t quite as fraught with stories he didn’t want to tell. “How did you know to intervene with Mr. Montfort, anyway?”

  “As I said, I kept close by…just not close enough. Some sixth sense told me as I dropped you off that I shouldn’t return home, so I waited outside your sister’s studio, then followed the van when it took you to the warehouse. After that, I stayed in the parking lot.”

  “You just sat in this truck all day?”

  “Mostly. I did take a short break in the late afternoon to go get some food.”

  Talk about your stakeouts. His dedication impressed me. On the other hand, I felt mildly irritated that he’d managed to get a decent meal in there somewhere. I’d only been able to eat about half of what was on my plate before Lucius Montfort made his appearance, and in that moment, I realized how hungry I really was. Well, I had all that leftover pizza back at my condo. That would do nicely. For some reason, I was reluctant to mention to Silas how starved I was. He might feel compelled to take me somewhere for dinner, and I didn’t want that. If we ever had dinner together, it should be because he wanted to, not because his misguided sense of chivalry was telling him that he needed to take care of me.

  I had a feeling that day would be long in coming, if ever.

  “So did you see him drive up? Do vampires drive?”

  “They can. They don’t need to. They can travel on the wind, coming and going unseen.”

  Lovely. No wonder it seemed as if Lucius Montfort had appeared out of nowhere. He literally had.

  The creepy crawly feeling returned. “So he turns into a mist?”

  “No. That’s Hollywood theatrics. He just…disappears, and then reappears where he wishes. Of course, that ability is somewhat limited. He can’t travel enormous distances. No more than fifty or sixty miles at best, based on our observations.”

  Well, I supposed that was better than being able to blip from one side of the world to the other, but still, fifty or sixty miles could easily get you from Pasadena to Santa Monica. Or vice versa. Or pretty much anywhere in the greater Los Angeles area.

  “But he can’t turn up on my doorstep.”

  “Oh, he can turn up on your doorstep,” Silas replied, his voice grim. “The trick is not to invite him in.”

  Chapter Eight

  After that, there wasn’t much left to discuss. I sat quietly as the familiar exits slipped past — Monterey Road, Fremont, Fair Oaks — and the freeway finally dead-ended into Arroyo Parkway. Soon we were turning onto Cordova, and then into the driveway for my condo complex.

  Silas parked the truck in one of the visitor spots. “Wait for me to come around and open your door.”

  I knew he wasn’t being chivalrous. He literally didn’t want me stepping out of the truck until he was at my side. A chill moved down my spine, prickling the skin at the back of my neck. I hated feeling so vulnerable, but that meeting with Lucius had told me that I couldn’t let my guard down for a second.

  The door opened, and Silas waited as I climbed out, wobbling a little on those damn heels I was wearing. Good thing he was there to watch out for me, because I couldn’t have outrun someone on crutches in those stupid shoes.

  He offered me his arm, and I took it. Maybe that was a mistake. But I liked the feeling of his strong muscles under my fingers, liked knowing he would be there to catch me in case I stumbled. I could pretend he was there to support me for reasons that had nothing to do with the reality that I was his charge, his duty.

  It was easier to make it up the stairs with him there to steady me. And then we were at the door to my condo, and I was fumbling to find my house keys in the bundle of clothes and purse I carried. Eventually I did dig them out, and inserted the key in the lock. As I turned it, I said, “Do you want to come in? You know…to make sure there aren’t any vampires lurking.”

  “I told you…they can’t come in without an invitation.”

  “Oh, right.” I paused there awkwardly, wishing I knew what I should say next, the one thing that would persuade him to come inside so our evening wouldn’t end here. He seemed very close, his body angled toward the hallway so he would be the first thing any would-be attacker might come up against.

  He let go of my arm. “You’re safe here. I promise.”

  I nodded. “I know. Um…thanks, Silas. Thanks for being there.”

  “It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

  Disappointment coursed through me at those too-formal words, but I made myself nod. Maybe someday I’d stop being so gawky and clumsy around him. It was strange, because normally I really didn’t act like some silly seventh-grader, all self-conscious and tongue-tied whenever her crush got near. I was a grown woman. What difference did it make how good-looking he was, how strong and thoughtful, when I clearly didn’t matter to him except as a duty that must be carried out?

  I said, “Well, good night, Silas. Have a safe drive home.” Wherever that is, exactly….

  “I will.” He gave no sign of moving, however, and I realized he wouldn’t leave until I was safely inside and had shut the door.

  So I made myself cross the threshold and go into the foyer. As I was closing the door, however, my eyes met his. Just for a second…a second that felt as if it lasted forever.

  He murmured, “You looked very beautiful tonight, Serena.”

  Then he turned and headed back to the stairwell, and I barely had the presence of mind to finish closing the front door so I could turn the deadbolt. I activated the alarm, then leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

  So he had noticed. Had noticed, and seen.

  Damn.

  * * *

  I was basically a mess after that. Yes, any impartial observer would have thought I was doing all the things that someone who’d spent a long day out of the house might do after she first got home — I kicked off those horrible heels, got myself a couple of slices of cold pizza, poured myself a very modest half glass of wine. Just enough to take the edge off, to help ease the ache in my neck and shoulders.

  Through all of those commonplaces, however, my mind kept replaying those words.

  You looked very beautiful tonight, Serena.

  What was I supposed to do with that remark? My somewhat shaky composure around Silas Drake had been predicated on the notion that he didn’t see me as a woman, only an asset which needed to be protected. But then his compliment had come out of nowhere. What had he intended by it?

  Maybe nothing at all, I told myself as I put my dirty plate and glass in the dishwasher. I glanced at the clock on the stove. Ten forty-two. Was he home yet, in that place he’d confessed was just outside Little Tokyo? I didn’t know downtown all that well. His home could be an apartment, or a condo, or one of the area’s converted loft spaces.

  I wished I could see it. If I were ever able to see where Silas lived,
I might get a better idea of who he really was.

  My odds of that probably weren’t all that good. He’d only just told me his last name.

  Drake. It sounded very formal and English. Actually, his whole name did. Like something out of a Dickens novel. Master Silas Drake, Esquire.

  I would have laughed at myself, but I didn’t find anything all that humorous about the situation. Especially since mooning over Silas and attempting to determine his true intentions should really have taken a back seat to the scary reality that I’d been face to face with a vampire earlier that evening. And lived to tell the tale, but only because of Silas’ intervention.

  Just what had Lucius really wanted? To sway me to his side? I couldn’t see that happening, not in a million years. One only had to look into those cold, cold eyes of his to know that he was evil. Whatever his agenda, his end game, I doubted it was anything for the good of mankind.

  I also didn’t know what would have happened if Silas hadn’t been quite so prescient, if no one had intervened when Lucius Montfort took me by the arm and attempted to remove me from the reception. For some reason, I had a very strong feeling that no one would have stopped him, that he would have used his vampiric powers of coercion or glamour or whatever it was to walk me right out of there with not a single person — not even my sister — noticing. And then I would have been gone, with no one to report what had actually happened.

  A shiver passed over me. I didn’t want to think about that. Instead, I repeated the mantra Silas seemed to believe in. It was the only thing that would allow me to go upstairs and get ready for bed, to close my eyes and believe no creature of the night would steal in to interrupt my sleep.

  “I am safe here.”

  * * *

  It seemed that I was safe, because I slept the night through without any disturbances. Actually, I overslept; when I blearily opened my eyes, I saw that it was past nine-thirty. Most days I was up by nine at the latest, even though I didn’t have a job to go to, no set schedule that would require me to wake up anything close to what was considered a socially acceptable time. But I tried to get up no later than that, partly because I didn’t want to turn into one of those people who didn’t get out of bed before noon and stayed up half the night because they had nothing better to do. I felt divorced enough from the real world as it was. Most of the time, I had to try to damn hard to make myself ignore what a lonely existence mine was.