Realm of Shadows (Vampire Alliance)

by Heather Graham

  Or she would see something that she didn’t want to see. Something that she could deny, as long as she didn’t turn ...

  Into the night, into the glow by the car, she saw the sweep of the shadow. She heard something behind them, close behind them. The soft fall of padded footsteps, moving with a greater speed and force than that which drove them.

  Overhead, a great wing of darkness was rising . . .

  She heard . . . something.

  A shriek.

  A sudden cry of the wind that had been nothing but whispering ...

  Ann was rattling her keys in her hands, trying to find the key for the car door.

  “The clicker!” Tara shouted.

  For a split second, Ann stared at her, horrified at her own stupidity in forgetting that she could beep her locks open. She hit the clicker. The girls both jumped into the car, and slammed the doors.

  They both shrieked, as something hit the roof of the car.

  They stared at one another.

  “Go, go, go!” Tara said.

  With shaking fingers, Ann inserted the key into the ignition. The car roared to life.

  Another thump came. Ann stepped on the gas. They heard the sounds of whatever had been on top of them falling from the car . . .

  And yet . . .

  They didn’t truly hear the sound of anything falling.

  Lips taut and serious, Ann stared ahead at the road. She jerked the car out onto the street, and they sped down the length of it.

  Tara turned back. There was nothing behind them. Nothing at all. The neon glow advertising La Guerre continued to burn softly. Cars remained in the lot.

  Shadows were just shadows.

  There were no people just outside the door, nor were there any on the street. Not even Brent Malone.

  “What did we hit? What was on the car?” Ann demanded.

  “Nothing,” Tara said.

  Ann stared at her incredulously.

  “There’s nothing back there, nothing back there at all,” Tara said.

  “That’s impossible.”

  “I’m telling you—Ann! What are you doing?”

  Her cousin had nearly braked, and was turning the car around.

  “I’ve got to see. I don’t know why I was so panicked back there. But I heard . . . what if I hit someone, something? What if I’ve wounded a dog?”

  “There’s nothing there!”

  But Ann was determined. They drove back down the street, hesitating near the bar and the parking lot.

  Ann drew to a halt, laughing, leaning her head on the steering wheel.

  “Ann, what is the matter with you? Let’s get the hell out of here!”

  “Why?” Ann demanded. “There’s nothing here! We let the darkness and shadows make silly little geese out of us.” Her laughter faded. She swallowed hard, and suddenly rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t feel really well. It’s bad to drink wine, smoke cigarettes, and run like an idiot.”

  “Ann, drive,” Tara said.

  It seemed that the shadows were moving again. And the gloomy light beneath which they’d parked suddenly made a popping sound.

  The shadows fell like a cloak of sweeping vengeance all around them.

  “Drive!” Tara said.

  Ann didn’t hesitate. She hit the gas again, and didn’t let up until they had reached the chateau, roaring past stop signs and red lights.

  In front of the chateau, she put the car in park and sat still for a minute. “Are we crazy? Are we letting Grandpapa get to us?”

  “I don’t know,” Tara said. “Yes, wait, I do know. At the least, there is a cold-blooded murderer out there somewhere. Naturally, we’re nervous. So let’s get into the house.”

  Ann stared at her and nodded solemnly.

  Then, as one, they opened their doors and started to bolt for the house. As they neared the entry, they saw that the door was open.

  “What . . . ?” Ann murmured.

  Tara saw that Katia was blocking the doorway. And even at the chateau, where light was always shining on the drive at night, shadows seemed to have crept in.

  Tara felt the breeze again. Cold, penetrating. Evil.

  A breeze was not evil! It was autumn, and days could still be warm, but winter was coming, and a cold breeze simply hinted of the season to come ...

  “He is sleeping, I tell you!”

  Katia was speaking in French, but she was determined, and enunciating each word.

  “I cannot let you in . . .”

  Tara blinked and saw what she hadn’t seen before. A woman was standing in the entrance, next to the outer wall, and framed by ivy. Shadows fell over her from the balconies above, which was why they hadn’t seen her at first.

  “But then again . . .” Katia said suddenly, amazingly changing her mind, ready to pull out the red carpet and beg the woman to enter.

  The breeze . . .

  It seemed to grip her again, as if it could paralyze her.

  Ann wasn’t moving at all.

  The woman was nearly in the house. Tara suddenly knew that she couldn’t allow it. She raced to the door, spinning to stare at the woman.

  For a moment, she was speechless herself. And dear Lord, she didn’t know why.

  The woman was a well-dressed, startling beauty. Hair almost pitch black. Eyes as green as emeralds. Her suit was impeccably tailored, the latest fashion. It was fitted, and she wore it very well. The skirt was short. Her heels were spikes.

  She extended a hand toward Tara. Automatically, Tara accepted it.

  “Hello, I’m from the social services department at the hospital. I’m just doing a checkup on your grandfather. It’s something we try to do with all our patients, especially when they are elderly. We like to make sure that they’re doing well in their home environment.”

  Like Katia, Tara was strangely tempted to invite the woman in. Her smile was so sincere.

  And yet . . .

  Tara’s hand, when she shook that of the other woman, felt like ice.

  And yet . . .

  At the same time, it burned.

  “I’m afraid it’s far too late to visit my grandfather,” she said firmly. “He sleeps at this hour. If you wish to see him, you must come by during the day.”

  In a flash ... and only for a flash—so quickly that Tara might have imagined it—the woman’s face vanished. The pleasant, hypnotic smile vanished. She betrayed a fury, a hideous expression of anger so deep and vile that Tara fell back a step.

  And then ...

  She was smiling again, so pleasantly, her eyes on Ann, who had nearly reached the door.

  “I am so sorry, it is late. I hadn’t realized how late myself. You can’t imagine the hours we work. It’s just dreadful. There’s not really much I need to do. Perhaps, if you were just to invite me in, I could take a peek at your grandfather and see that he was sleeping in comfortable surroundings. I’m aware of his family history, of course, and I’m well aware he has good and loving relatives. It would be such a relief to have one patient off my list.”

  “Perhaps—” Ann began, falling under the same spell.

  But the woman suddenly straightened.

  It was as if she had suddenly become aware of a touch of ice in the air.

  “Never mind. It is not a big thing. I will be back.”

  She started down the steps.

  “But—” Ann called after her.

  The woman swung back to stare at the two of them. “Oh, don’t worry. I will be back.”

  For a flash, a subliminal second—Tara saw the horrid mask of fury on the woman’s face again.

  But it wasn’t there. She was smiling. And assuring them.

  Yes, oh, yes, she would return.

  Katia suddenly sprang to life and began scolding Ann and Tara.

  “Come in, come in, come in! I don’t know what possessed me to open the door! It’s a strangely cold night, suddenly. And we’d been having a renewed burst of summer in the midst of fall! In the house, in the house, in the
house! Come, come, girls. There is a maniac out there. The police have done nothing yet.”

  They were ushered in. Katia closed and locked the door firmly.

  Inside, it was warm. A fire was burning in the hearth in the hall. “Girls, would you like hot chocolate?”

  Tara gave herself a shake. Inside the house, everything seemed different. Everything. It was not just warm, it was ...

  Normal.

  Ann seemed to be feeling the same. She gave Katia a rueful smile. “Chocolate, lovely. If you don’t mind though, I’ll take mine up to bed. I’m suddenly exhausted. And you’re so right, Katia. I hope the police find the killer soon. This is quite ridiculous. We were both terrified out there tonight. Walking under lights that seemed more like dark clouds, yet armed with our mace! I hate being this nervous. The police must catch the killer. We were so frightened tonight! And so silly . . .”

  “Silly?” Tara said suddenly. She looked at Katia. “How long was that woman here before we arrived? I mean, that was absurd. Coming to visit an elderly man at this time of night.”

  “She said that she did not realize the hour,” Katia told her.

  “I don’t believe—no one doesn’t realize it when it’s late at night! ”

  “Well, she’s gone, and good riddance,” Katia said.

  Katia started for the kitchen. As Ann walked on into the hall, dropping her handbag, Tara followed Katia to the kitchen. “Katia.”

  Katia turned and smiled at Tara. “You know, you are here a day, and already, your French is getting so much better. You forget, and you get rusty, because you are gone so long.”

  Tara nodded. “Katia, the woman said that she was coming back.”

  “By daylight!” Katia said firmly. She sniffed, as if expressing her opinion that the woman had really had an incredible gall coming at that hour.

  “Katia, listen to me. No matter what time she comes, you’re not to let her in.”

  “Why not?” Katia asked with surprise.

  “I don’t know exactly. But for some reason, I don’t trust her. I don’t believe that she is who she claims to be.”

  “Really? We do have many social services—”

  “I’ll call the hospital tomorrow,” Tara said.

  Katia had the milk heating on the stove. Tara took a quick second to remember how much she loved Katia’s chocolate. Made from scratch. The sweetest milk. The best cocoa.

  “Why do you think she left so suddenly?” Katia asked.

  “What?”

  “I believe Ann was about to say that it was all right for her to come in, get it all over with,” Katia went on, reaching into the cupboard for chocolate shavings. “In fact ... she had worn me down.” Katia looked perplexed. “Somehow,” she said with a shrug. “But then you two came home, and you told her she could not come in, which was, of course, completely right. Perhaps she is not who she claimed to be! Ah! She could be an autograph hound! Jacques lives in relative privacy here, but he has been stalked by his fans for his autograph, you know. That’s it! She must be a determined fan. Well!” Katia waved a wooden spoon at Tara. “She will not come in.” Again, she frowned. “Still, so curious that she left ... ! ”

  Tara frowned suddenly. “How did she leave?”

  “What do you mean?” Katia asked.

  “I mean, how did she get here? And how did she leave?”

  “Well, I assume she had a car!” Katia said.

  “We came into the driveway, and I don’t remember seeing a car in it.”

  “There must have been,” Katia said.

  “We would have noticed a car in the driveway.”

  “We are a bit out—surely, she didn’t walk!” Katia said. “Perhaps her car was out on the road.” She laughed. “If she did walk, I can see why she was so upset when we refused to let her see Jacques. But she could not have done so. She must have left her car up on the road. Perhaps she was not even sure she was in the right place.”

  “Perhaps,” Tara said with no conviction.

  Katia handed her a cup of chocolate, and placed Ann’s on a tray. Tara followed her. Ann was staring into the fire. She did look beat. Strange. At the bar, she had seemed to possess endless energy. Now, she was almost ashen.

  “Thank you, Katia. I think I’ll go right up.”

  “Ann,” Tara said, halting her as she took her chocolate and turned.

  “Yes?”

  “Did you see a car in the drive?”

  “A car?” Ann frowned. “No ... I don’t think so. But then again ... well, I still felt shaky when we drove back. ”

  “Yes, so did I, but ... that woman who was here. One would have thought that her car would have been in the drive.”

  “She must have left it on the road,” Ann said.

  “Where else?” Katia asked.

  “Right. Where else?” Tara murmured.

  Ann gave her a wave. “I’m off to bed.”

  “Good night.”

  Ann walked on up. Tara stared into the flames then, sipping her chocolate.

  The warm drink, the fire ... the house. Everything that surrounded her was warmth, life as usual ...

  She suddenly turned and walked to the front door. She hesitated, then threw it open, afraid that the woman would still be standing there, staring at her with the vengeful mask of hatred she had seen so briefly.

  Or imagined.

  There was no one there.

  She chided herself, closed and carefully locked the door. When it had been double-bolted, she pulled on it, making sure it was tight.

  “The rest of the house is locked up?” she asked Katia.

  “Tara! Of course. Roland and I see to the lower floor as soon as it gets dark!” Katia assured her. “Just as always. ”

  “Of course,” Tara said. Actually, she had never thought about making certain that the house was locked up.

  “Thank you! Bonne nuit!” she said, and started up the stairs herself.

  She looked into her grandfather’s room, feeling a surge of protective uneasiness.

  The curtains were open; the doors to the balcony were ajar as well, allowing in a touch of fresh air.

  Tara closed them, and locked them, and paused by her grandfather’s bed.

  His chest rose and fell in the deep breathing of relaxed sleep.

  She leaned down over his forehead. She came close, but didn’t quite touch him, leaving just the hint of a kiss upon his brow.

  In her own room, she yawned. Like Ann, she was exhausted. She took a moment to survey her reflection in the mirror. Drawn. Haggard looking. Luckily, she wasn’t as pale as Ann.

  Her cousin worked long, long hours. Tara was ostensibly on vacation, but she loved what she did. And she hadn’t so much as stopped anywhere to buy canvas and paints.

  She left the mirror, drew back the covers, kicked off her shoes, and paused. A sense of unease had filled her again.

  It suddenly seemed all-important to make sure that her room, like the main door, had been securely locked.

  She walked to her balcony doors. Her drapes were closed. She didn’t open them, but drew one aside.

  She checked her doors, and felt a strange sense of relief to find them securely locked.

  Then she stared through the panes at the night.

  And there, in the strange pale glow of a half moon, she saw the wolf again.

  The animal stood, as if it were a rigid sentinel, guardian of the night—or a creature at the portal of Hades.

  Perhaps it had three heads, like the demon dogs of legend.

  It did not. She could see the animal clearly silhouetted in the pale glow. It was massive. “That’s no shepherd!” she muttered aloud.

  As she did so, she suddenly heard a howl.

  Deep, chilling. A howl to the sky, the heavens, the moon ... or hell itself.

  Tara started to shiver.

  She closed the curtains, and turned, but had to look again.

  There was no wolf on the road. There was nothing ...

  Nothin
g but the shadows of the night.

  CHAPTER 9

  The dreams were back, worse than before.

  Twisting, turning, remembering. The hours of being watched. The different drugs. The shots that sent an unbelievable burning sensation streaking through his limbs, causing him to cry out with agony and strain against the steel bonds that held him to the bed.

  Then sometimes, Dr. Weiss. Slipping him different drugs, drugs that ended the agony.

  Nothing had impaired his hearing.

  His comprehension of the language grew, and from bits of conversation, he began to glean more and more of what was going on.

  For so long, the tyrant had held an advantage, but now the tide was turning.

  And in the midst of agony, there was comfort to be had in that.

  In another time, in another place, he had sat with his father by a stream. A man who had fought a different war, survived, and learned in time the value of peace and freedom, he had taught his son that there were many things worse than death. And from that kind and sage old man, he had gained a certain strength. He didn’t fear death. Far too often, he would have welcomed it.

  Weiss gave him the will to survive. Weiss, who told him stories about his people. Those who risked their lives to save others, and those who were not so lucky as to escape detection, who had given their lives for others. He met men among those who should have been his enemies; a few guards who stood with their eyes averted when Weiss helped him, and a woman, the mistress of one of the worst of the officers, who smiled in the man’s face, and did her best to help prisoners escape. Weiss would often whisper to him late at night. He would hear about the war, and about the world, and about people. People who might be judged badly.

  There were those who were passionately against the regime, but were afraid. Not so much for themselves. For their wives, their children, their loved ones. But one day, the world would know that there had been heroes among those thought of as the enemy, heroes against insanity.

  And he believed. It was easy, because he knew Weiss.

  His will to live grew, because of Weiss’s constant flow of news, and because of the bits of conversation he began to hear, and comprehend. The great tide was turning. Every day. Fighting had bogged down in Russia, and this new enemy was learning what so many had learned in agony before—the landscape itself was often more than the most powerful force could endure. Frigid temperatures, mountains of snow. The earth herself protecting her sons, a people battered by brutality and discrimination. There were other places where the great effort was crumbling, places where the people in the greatest danger began to take heart, and fight back.