Blazing Nights (A Night Games Novel)

by Linda Barlow

"What do you mean, you lied?" Kate demanded, snatching the phone back.

  "Kate? Didn't he tell you? Daniel didn't interview me after all. He told me his show was too crass for a lovely lady like me. Such a flatterer, Kate. You really mustn't let the sweet things he says go to your head."

  "Oh, there's no danger of that," she assured her mother, looking daggers into her lover's eyes. "He didn't interview you, huh? Then what was on those video files?"

  "What video files?" asked her mother.

  "What video files?" added Daniel innocently, his blue eyes twinkling at her. "I haven't seen any video, have you?"

  "You rotten, scheming louse! You tricked me."

  Daniel grabbed the phone again. "Don't worry, Iris. That 'rotten, scheming louse' was meant for me, not you. I think I'm about to become the victim of a little mild domestic violence. Ow! She's clawing me!"

  "Be nice to Daniel, Kate," her mother ordered. "He loves you."

  "He's a rat!"

  "No, darling, it was my idea. I told him you would do anything to keep me off YouTube. I really don't know why though. I still think it would be great fun to be interviewed."

  Kate groaned, and Daniel laughed into her eyes. "Hey, Iris, do you want your cat back? Kate will need a new home for Chester when we move in together."

  "Who says we're moving in together? Do you honestly think I want to live with a ruthless, underhanded Scorpio like you?"

  "She’s going to marry you one day, Daniel," Iris said happily. "I've known that for some time. And as for Chester, I'd already planned to take him. Kate, are you there? Did I ever tell you that Angelique knew Chester in one of her former lives? His name was Blackie, and it's rumored that it was a careless swat of his tail that started the Great Fire of London."

  Kate took the phone back. "And you still want him?"

  "Don't worry, sweetheart. He's allowed only one fire per incarnation. He's harmless from now on."

  Kate laughed. "Good night, Mom. I'll talk to you soon."

  "Good night, dear. I love you both."

  "We love you, too," Daniel said just before Kate switched off the phone.

  There was a belligerent silence. "Okay," she said finally. "Give."

  "There aren't any recordings," he said meekly. "I couldn't do it. I went there the first time because I'd told you I'd try to learn to tolerate her, but I didn't have much hope. At first, I felt hostile, but she didn't take it personally. She started chatting about this and that, and before I knew it I was just sitting there, listening to her, thinking that maybe it wasn't going to be as hard as I'd expected to expand my horizons." He paused, reaching out to skim a finger along her cheek. "Your mom was charming. Very warm, very sweet, just as you’d told me. I forgot about my program. I just wanted to hear more about her and her lovely daughter. She told me all about your favorite bicycle and your dolls and the tree you used to climb in the backyard, and the next time I went there, she—"

  "The next time you went there?"

  "I've been to see her three times this week. Before I knew what was happening, we'd gotten to be friends. She kept telling me to call you, but you had asked for some time, and I didn’t want to push too hard. Then I remembered that you’d asked me to surprise you, so I came up with tonight’s plan."

  "Some surprise! You made me really angry. I thought everything I’d said to you about my mother had just gone zooming over your head."

  "Well, I told you I wasn’t much good with surprises," he said, grinning mischievously at her. "Anyway, you could have called me."

  "I was kinda afraid to. I thought I’d asked too much when I’d insisted that you accept my flaky mother."

  "So we were both miserable, neither willing to make the first move? Don't let's ever do that again, Kate. In the future, let's sit down together and talk it out."

  "If we can stop sniping at each other long enough. I never fought with Arthur, you know."

  "How dull." He reached for her, fitting her snugly against him. "I like a good fight now and then." His mouth took hers, moving sensuously, exciting her. "It'll liven up our life together."

  "You really want to move in together, Daniel? You want to live with a medium's daughter?"

  "I hunt witches, remember?" His hands took possession of her body. "And when I capture them, I absolutely refuse to let them go."

  "But what about your program debunking spiritualists?"

  "I thought I might leave the poor suckers alone. One of my associates has come up with some great material on political corruption that ought to keep us busy for quite a while."

  Kate was speechless.

  "Anyway, I saw a couple of pretty weird things at your mother's place. Once the sugar bowl actually got up and walked across the table to me."

  "What?"

  "Yeah. Then my teaspoon heaved itself up and dipped into the bowl, putting just the right amount of sugar in my tea."

  "You're kidding. Aren't you?"

  His eyes were perfectly solemn. "Would I try to fool a medium's daughter?"

  Chuckling, she kissed his throat. She could feel his pulse accelerate beneath her exploring lips. "My mother said you were changing. Loosening up and becoming more open-minded."

  "Your mother's really something," he admitted, shaking his head in awe. "'Beware the fire.' Maybe there's something to this psychic stuff after all."

  "And don’t forget the prediction that someone was in danger of a fall. That must have been Jeff, falling off his roof while he was trying to clean his gutters."

  "Whoa. I hadn’t thought of that." He tilted his head to the side and added, "Or it could have been directed at me. Beware the fall into love. The jolt to my system didn’t quite send me to the hospital, but it has certainly shaken me right down to my foundations."

  Kate grinned at him. "See? I knew you'd come around eventually. Scorpios are very mystical, you know. They have a deep philosophical curiosity about the mysteries of the universe."

  He pushed her back on the pillow and leaned over her, supporting his body on one elbow. He blew a dark strand of hair out of her eyes and trailed one finger lightly over her lips. "Yeah? Do they also have a deep philosophical curiosity about the way witches make love?"

  "I thought you'd solved that particular mystery long ago."

  "The mystery of you—your heart, your soul, your magic, your beauty—that's one I don't think I'll ever be able to solve."

  "You could interview me."

  "Hmm. Like this?" His hands slipped over her soft flesh, molding her curves while she arched under his touch. Her breasts, her belly, her thighs, all warmed for him as he stroked them.

  "Ah... oooh... I don't think YouTube would allow quite so personal an interview."

  "Don't worry. I'll keep this particular video for my own private collection."

  She engaged in a little caressing herself, thrilling to the feel of hard bone and muscle beneath supple, love-dampened skin. "You're a primitive, predatory male, Blaze."

  "And you love it."

  "I love it," she admitted. "Interview me some more."

  "I will. But don't call me Blaze."

  "Why not? What's gonna happen if I keep calling you Blaze, Blaze?"

  He gave a villainous laugh and showed her. She kept laughing, but the sounds quickly changed to soft moans of pleasure as he parted her thighs and slid between to take her down that long, slow road to fulfillment once again.

  * * *

  Kate dreamed of Arthur one more time that night. She thought she saw him standing at the end of the bed, smiling a benediction upon the couple there entwined. In his hand was a silver-framed photograph of Kate in a wedding gown. The bridegroom at her side was Daniel.

  Arthur gave her the picture, then turned, waved cheerfully, and disappeared.

  Rolling over, Kate cuddled to Daniel, who gathered her close. For the rest of the night they slept dreamlessly, peacefully, safely cradled in each other's arms.

  Except from Night Games Book 2, Wicked Nights

  Copyright 20
13 by Linda Barlow. Based on and inspired by Midnight Rambler, copyright 1987 by Linda Barlow.

  Wicked Nights

  There are no such things as vampires! When a student at Emma Holland's school claims he's been attacked by a legendary creature of the night, the young headmistress sets out to investigate Max Rambler, creator of an addictive Internet game.

  The reclusive Max proves to be even stranger than his reputation, but Emma cannot resist his dark, hypnotic allure. Surely it can't be Max who's creating havoc on campus? He loves to tease, but his flesh is warm. Why, though, has she never seen him by the light of day?

  When he leads her into a labyrinth of tunnels beneath the private school, Emma has to know: What shadowy secret is Max so determined to keep?

  Chapter One

  He came alert with the strong feeling that something was amiss. He didn't move, continuing to lie stiff and still while his senses reached out for whatever it was that had disturbed him.

  The air was cool and dry, with no unusual scents, but there was a persistent sound chiming from the adjoining room. The perimeter alarm. It was neither loud nor strident, since he always set the audio low. There had been a number of false alarms lately. The sensors were sensitive enough that a large animal could set them off, and there were deer hereabouts, dogs, and even the occasional bear.

  But he doubted that he was dealing with a bear. A few days ago he'd had a break-in attempt. The kid who had attempted the incursion had failed, bolting when Max illuminated the exterior floodlights. Since it had been right before Halloween, he'd dismissed it as a prank. But it was November now, and trick or treating was over.

  He rose, dressed quickly in the dark, and crossed the cool room where he slept. Unlocking the door, he glided into the office where the computers were active 24/7. He silenced the alarm and turned on the exterior camera views. Nothing at the front entrance. He was switching from camera to camera when the house alarm also sounded, indicating that someone or something was trying to gain access through a door or a window. “Good luck,” he muttered. You could break a small pane of glass perhaps, but actually penetrating the Max's fortress would be a great deal more difficult.

  Still, this would require his attention. He transferred the video to the largest screen. It didn't take long to find the source of the alarm. A shadowy figure wearing what appeared to be a hooded jacket was fiddling with one of the windows around the back of the huge house. He had thrust one arm through a small smashed pane of glass, reaching for an accessible window lock, Max supposed. He wasn't going to find one.

  Max re-directed a nearby camera to get a better look. It wasn't late—just past sunset—and there was still enough light to catch a glimpse of his face. Young. Intent. Apprehensive. Yep, this was the same kid who had been snooping around the previous week. He had fled, and Max had let him go. This wasn't the first time someone had tried to break into the spooky old mansion on the mountain where the weird-ass recluse lived.

  Still, things were a little more serious now that the boy was making another attempt. It suggested a hint of obsession that made Max uncomfortable. This time, he decided, he would have to take more rigorous action. He really couldn't tolerate this sort of assault on his privacy and security.

  Rising from his work station, he stalked out the office.

  He was going to catch the kid and make sure he never tried something like this again.

  * * *

  “There are no such things as vampires."

  Emma Holland repeated this statement several times as she guided her rickety Toyota up the slick mountain road in Chesterton, New Hampshire. She drove slowly, keeping a lookout for the private driveway that would lead to Max Rambler's house, a building that was something of a Gothic monstrosity, if rumor were to be believed. "A castle, complete with dungeons and chains," Casper Pearson, her administrative assistant at St. Crispin's School, had told her. He'd then gleefully gone on to describe its owner as "a real freak, a loner and a mad genius of high technology."

  "He must be quite something if you think he's a freak," Emma had teased him. Cass, who dressed in leather and sported a shaven, tattooed head, was something of an oddity himself.

  "I've never actually met him," Cass had admitted. "Don't know many people who have."

  Emma knew one. David Ellis, one of her students, had even stranger things to report of Mr. Max Rambler. According to David, Rambler was a vampire.

  Emma's head ached slightly at the thought. A vampire. She had not become headmistress of the proper St. Crispin's School at the age of thirty by believing in supernatural horror stories.

  Probationary headmistress, she reminded herself.

  Still, Emma wished that Rambler, an eccentric computer industry maven of considerable wealth and influence, had agreed to meet with her during the day instead of after sunset. And she wished he had not sounded quite so sinister on the phone when he'd informed her, "I'm a night person, Ms. Holland. I sleep during the day."

  "In your coffin, I suppose?"

  He hadn't denied it. He'd just laughed.

  Rounding a bend in the road, she saw a small, weathered sign on which she could barely make out the word Rambler. She applied the brakes and turned left. The next leg of her journey involved negotiating a dirt road set into the lee of the steepest section of Glencrag, one of the foothills of New Hampshire's White Mountains. The road was slippery, and she cursed as she skidded. The lacy branches overhead were still dripping with the afternoon's rain. Although the sky had cleared within the last hour or so, the temperature had dipped, turning puddles into something perilously close to ice.

  "Damn," she muttered, gripping the wheel more tightly. One thing Emma didn't like about her job was the driving on hilly roads that were snow-covered for so many months of the year. Compared to Palo Alto, California, Chesterton was as inhospitable as the North Pole.

  "Don't be silly," she told herself. She'd grown up in New England, after all, and her roots were here. After Tom had abandoned her and Kristen in California, relocating to Boston with his new girlfriend, Emma had decided to return to the Northeast so her daughter wouldn’t have to travel cross country to visit her father. She didn’t want Kristen to be cut off from Tom, no matter how much of a jerk he had been.

  She’d applied for jobs all over New England, and had been thrilled when she’d been hired last spring to replace St. Crispin's former headmistress, Edith Kenworthy. The crusty educator had died unexpectedly after directing the course of the private school for three decades. Although Emma didn't agree with many aspects of her predecessor's educational philosophy, she was a single mother now, and grateful to get the position.

  Now all you have to do is keep it. Her initial appointment was for one year only, which meant she was on trial. If everything went well and she did a good job managing the school this year, the trustees had assured her that her contract would be extended. If, on the other hand, things went badly, she would be seeking employment again in the spring.

  Things were not going to go badly. She was determined to roust out anything that even hinted at trouble, including any pesky creatures of the night.

  After climbing far higher than she cared to on such a treacherous road, Emma emerged into a small clearing. She looked in vain for some sign of a house, but there were no lights anywhere. Overhead she could see a sparkling blanket of stars and, just rising from the treetops, the silver crescent of the new moon. The rain had ended, leaving the sky clear. But it was very dark.

  She drove on a little farther, following a gravel driveway that she presumed would lead to Rambler's house. When at last the headlights fixed upon the building looming up before her, Emma was ashamed to catch herself contemplating a quick retreat. With its high gabled roof and tall, staring windows through which no trace of light gleamed, the place could have served as a set for a horror movie.

  "I swear to you, Ms. Holland, the guy's a vampire," David had told her yesterday in her office at St. Crispin's. He had related a preposterous story. She'd h
eard some wild fabrications during her career as a high-school biology teacher and principal, but this one was new to her.

  The whole curious incident had actually begun two nights earlier when Emma had received an evening phone call from Mr. Rambler. She'd heard of him, of course. But since he was said to be an antisocial recluse, she'd been shocked when he identified himself over the phone.

  "I'm very sorry to bother you," he had said politely, "But I've just caught a student from St. Crispin's trying to break into my home. Since he's just a kid, I'm not going to summon the local cops. But I would appreciate it if you would ensure that this doesn't happen again."

  She had thanked him, apologized, and assured him she would see to the matter, but not before asking who the student was and if he was ok.

  "He's fine. According to his school ID, his name is David Ellis. Is he a troublemaker?"

  She knew David. "No, he's not. How very odd. Did he actually break in? Was there any damage?"

  "Nothing to speak of. He broke a small pane of glass and set off the security alarm. I caught him as he was trying to make his getaway." His voice sounded low and amused. "He really shouldn't have tried to outrun me in my own woods, especially at night."

  There was something faintly sinister about the way he said this. "You didn't hurt him, I trust?"

  "Of course not," the silken voice replied. "I gave him a bit of a scare and let him go. A kid with a car was waiting for him out on the main drive."

  "Do you know who the other boy was?"

  "It was a girl. I didn't get her name. He was probably trying to impress her." He paused. "Normally I wouldn't have troubled you with this. Youthful pranks and whatnot. But it isn't the first time. I had another alarm a few days ago. After this evening's incident, I took a closer look at the surveillance data, and discovered my cameras had recorded the same boy on that occasion, too. Whatever he's up to, he's tried it before."

  This was worrisome. If Rambler changed his mind and decided to call the authorities, David could end up in serious trouble.