They Come by Night

by Tinnean

  “The kids, Dad. Where are my kids?”

  “We haven’t seen them.” Joe exchanged startled looks with his other sons. “We thought they were with a friend of Maggie’s.”

  “No.” Ben was only thirty-three, but just then he looked about forty years older, and Joe wanted to find Noah Crist and cut out his heart, if the bastard even had one. “Maggie’s father and brothers took them. She signed a paper saying they could.” He tried to sit up but fell back with a groan.

  “So they’re the ones who did this to you.”

  “Yes. Dad, I can’t let my kids be raised with that kind of hate and fear!”

  “Stay put. We’ll look into it.”

  VI

  BEN HAD been admitted to a four-bed ward on the medical/surgical floor. He was trying to ignore the fire burning his balls while he fed himself left-handed, and he wasn’t being too successful with either one.

  “Here, Ben. Let me help you.”

  “Dad!” His heart began pounding. “Did you find them?”

  “No. You’d think eight men, a woman, and four kids would draw some kind of attention, but they’re gone. I’ve got some… connections who are looking into this.”

  “Did they learn anything?” Ben knew better than to question what those connections might be.

  “No. Crist’s place in Delaware County is empty, and none of the neighbors seem to know anything.”

  Although Ben had never seen the farmhouse, he knew from what Maggie had said that it was enormous, since all of Noah Crist’s sons and their families lived there. How had they managed to get all those people out of there so quickly?

  “Could they be lying?”

  “To the cops, maybe,” Phil, the baby of the family, chimed in. “But not to—”

  Their father cut him a glance, and Phil shut up.

  Ben shuddered, and then regretted the act. He ached all over. He needed pain meds, but more than that, he needed to be able to think clearly. “Is Tyrell all right?”

  “We stopped at the nursery to see him. He looks fine. I just don’t understand why they didn’t take him as well.”

  “I know why,” Phil stated flatly.

  He would, if any of them did.

  Ben started to raise his hand to rub his face, but then winced as pain sliced through him. He lowered his arm cautiously.

  “Yeah. Dad, don’t blame Maggie. I made a promise to her, and I broke it. You should have heard the words she was screaming when she realized….” On second thought, it was better if his father and brothers never discovered the knee-jerk reaction she’d had to this baby. He shook his head, then regretted that movement too. Even his eyelashes hurt. “I knew we were pressing our luck when we had Beth, and even though everything worked out okay, I was going to make sure she was our last.”

  Ty came as a total surprise, when the condom failed.

  Neither of them had considered an abortion—Maggie had been overjoyed, and Ben… he kept his concerns to himself, but he wanted this baby also. It wasn’t a matter of being pro-life or even a strong religious conviction. It was something that was hardwired into their genes, both his and Maggie’s, although what Maggie’s ancestors had done down through the years….

  Of course he’d known about the Crists. His father was a conscientious man, and he’d made sure Ben was aware of what Maggie’s people were like. They never married out of the family, cousins marrying cousins, and how they hadn’t wound up with numerous hereditary problems was a mystery. In addition, they were prolific. Her brothers had anywhere from seven to ten children, and the number would have been greater if certain babies were… allowed to survive.

  But Ben had taken one look at Maggie and fallen head over heels. It was at the West Chester Old-Fashioned Christmas Parade, and he’d persuaded her to have a coffee with him. All the stuff in love songs… sweet kisses and gazing at each other with stars in their eyes, standing on the street where his beloved lived and looking up at her window… well, he would have if the Crists hadn’t lived on a farm surrounded by eight-foot walls, but it was the thought that counted. They were just like Romeo and Juliet, and he’d known their love could overcome anything, that she wasn’t like the others in her family.

  He’d been wrong, and now his children—but most of all, this little boy—were going to pay for it.

  “To tell the truth, turning thirty hit Maggie hard, and she was so depressed I was trying to talk her into seeing a psychologist. When she realized she was pregnant again, she was thrilled.”

  Although he knew if his wife had been aware of the very special child she carried, she would have aborted the fetus without thinking twice about it, and there would have been nothing anyone could have done to stop her, short of keeping her in a locked room for the duration of the pregnancy. And even then he wasn’t certain the infant would have survived.

  “Ben, I hate to bring this up, but how safe is Ty going to be?” His father looked worn, and Ben hated like hell that it was because of him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean a big, white-haired man tried to get into the nursery.”

  Ben felt the color drain from his cheeks. His son was so tiny. It would have only been a moment’s work to snap his neck.

  “Ty’s fine right now.” His father rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. “The nurse thought something was fishy and sent for the doctor. Crist said something about not having time to waste and coming back later, and left. Shortly after, so did Magdalena.”

  “I have to get up to the nursery!”

  “You just concentrate on getting well.” His father let him go, strode to Dave’s side, and murmured something to his middle brother.

  Ben missed his father’s reassuring warmth, but he was a father himself, and he knew he had to be strong.

  “Dave and I will take turns watching over Ty,” Dad said. “Phil?”

  Ben’s youngest brother stared at the Patient Bill of Rights on a bulletin board fastened to the wall, his gaze unfocused. After a minute or so, he gave a crooked smile. “I can stay.”

  “Thanks, all of you. Dad.” Ben lowered his voice. “I can’t stay here. They know where I live.”

  “I know, Ben. Too often that family has been underestimated. We won’t make that mistake. Is there anything in your house you can’t live without?”

  Ben thought carefully. “Our marriage license, the kids’ birth certificates. Pictures and videotapes of the family. Pepper—” The look on his father’s face scared him. “What did they do to her?”

  His father returned to Ben’s bedside and once again gripped Ben’s shoulder. “Is there anything else?”

  “No.” Imagining what the Crists must have done to his dog, Ben bit down on his back teeth, afraid he might throw up. He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “All right. One of us will get them for you. Dave, you’re about Ben’s size. Your job will be to buy some clothes for him. Nothing to rouse suspicion, just jeans and some shirts, socks, and underwear.”

  Ben didn’t bother asking if his dad really thought Maggie’s father would do something. His son’s life was at stake.

  “Dad, the other kids?”

  “They may not have the birthmark, but they carry the gene. They’ll be watched.”

  “But if we can’t find them—”

  “There are others who will.”

  And Ben knew he’d have to be satisfied with that.

  VII

  JOE LOOKED down at the baby boy he held. Tyrell was starting to fuss. Had he picked up on Joe’s tension?

  “Don’t you worry, little one. We’ll all keep you safe.” He began to croon a lullaby. It had been a long time since Joe had tried to soothe a baby, but it wasn’t something he was likely to forget.

  A shadow fell across him. He raised his gaze, up and up, and swallowed as he met the flat black eyes of the vampyr king. Even knowing he had nothing to worry about—after all, vampyrs hadn’t fed on the unwilling for the past two or three hundred years—he was intimidat
ed. The only one of the king’s kind Joe had ever seen was the woman who’d come to claim his youngest boy when Phillip had turned eighteen.

  He started to get to his feet, awkward with the baby in his arms.

  “No, you need not rise. You know who I am?”

  He bowed his head. “Sir.” This being was the rege, and Joe knew the courtesy due him.

  The rege reached out his arms. “This is the child.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes. Tyrell.” Joe handed the baby over to him without hesitation, knowing the infant was in safe hands. “My other grandchildren?”

  “They will be watched over from a distance. Since they don’t bear the mark, they will be safe enough.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Your daughter-in-law is instituting annulment proceedings.”

  “She? Not her father? Why?”

  “Given that family, I’d say it’s the most final way she can think of to end the marriage.”

  “Goddammit! I knew Magdalena Crist would be trouble. If only Ben hadn’t fallen in love with her.”

  “Crying over ‘if onlys’ is futile.”

  “I know,” Joe said in a choked voice. He looked away, an ache building in his throat. “This is going to destroy him, to lose his wife and his children.”

  “He has this little one. He’ll need to be strong for him. I’ve found a new home and job for him in Clewiston, New York. He and Tyrell will be safe there. As soon as your son is well enough, we’ll see they get there.”

  “We’ll never see them again, will we?” Joe hated that his voice quavered, but it seemed he was losing not only his oldest son, but all his grandchildren.

  “Not while this threat hangs over Tyrell. Phillip will be permitted to get word of them to you, but it will be safer for the boy. If he’s found….”

  “He’s such a little boy.” Tinier than Joe’s sons had been, smaller than his brothers and sisters. “Would they really harm him?” He had to ask, even though he was certain of the response.

  “He’s a sabor. They would.” The rege seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then continued in a soft voice, “Over the centuries, they’ve had no qualms about leaving the infant sabors born to them exposed to the night. Some we could save. Others were not so fortunate. The Crists have cost us in their relentless destruction of a valuable resource.”

  “How many?” Joe asked numbly. The very idea any child, but especially a child who was a sabor, could be so callously murdered was wrong on so many levels they couldn’t be counted.

  “Even one was one too many.” The rege’s eyes glittered, red now, and Joe swallowed, truly frightened for the first time. “The Crists were determined to wipe the strain from their bloodline. Now that Noah Crist knows they were unsuccessful, he and his brood will do whatever is necessary to find and eliminate this child.”

  “Oh, God!” Joe shivered, feeling cold from the inside out.

  The rege, his eyes black once more, observed him with compassion. “Have no fear for Tyrell.”

  “How can you say that? I’m losing my son, my grandson, all my grandchildren!”

  “I understand your concerns.”

  “That’s no help! Why didn’t you wipe out that godforsaken family before this happened?” It was a cold question, but Joe knew how valued the sabors were.

  “Because of who they are, it’s impossible to destroy them. In spite of themselves, they continue to produce a very precious resource. No matter what Noah Crist might try to do to eradicate it, his sons and daughters will pass the gene to their own children, and their children’s children.”

  Joe ran a palm through his hair. He could feel it starting to thin. Was he losing his mind as well as his hair? He sighed. “Ben told me Tyrell was born with a caul. It’s supposed to be lucky, but….” He sighed again.

  “We were not aware of this.”

  “I thought there wasn’t anything you vampyrs didn’t know!”

  The rege didn’t respond to that. “In all our shared history, there has never been a sabor born behind the veil.”

  “Lucky kid.” Joe felt tired. “Does it matter?”

  “We don’t know.”

  Tyrell began to fuss, and the rege walked back and forth across the floor, crooning softly to him. Joe couldn’t understand the words, but they seemed to comfort his grandson.

  “Adam.” Who was the rege summoning?

  He jumped as another vampyr emerged from out of shadows that shouldn’t have existed in such a brightly lit room. Blond where the rege was brunet, this vampyr’s eyes were a reddish-brown. He could have been in his midtwenties, but he could just as easily have been ten times that age.

  “Adam is my… equerry. I have designated the task of looking after Tyrell to him.”

  “Your Grace! Are you sure you want me and not Stefan?” Adam asked.

  “I’m sure.”

  Joe watched in reluctant fascination as the rege handed his grandson to the younger vampyr.

  Tyrell’s little fist flailed against Adam’s chest. It seemed to Joe he patted that spot, and then he clutched something Adam wore beneath his shirt.

  The vampyr drew in a stunned breath, but the rege nodded in satisfaction.

  “What is it?” Joe demanded, alarmed, uncertain of what was happening.

  The red in the younger vampyr’s eyes became more subdued, and his grin was crooked. “It would seem the rege is not the only one who has chosen me as this child’s protector.”

  “But this wasn’t done for Phillip. Or my sister, Bernadette.” Joe frowned. Earlier than that, he just didn’t know—his parents and grandparents never mentioned a child needing to be protected. Vampyrs would never harm them, and normals were unaware of what they were.

  “There was no threat to those in your line. Oh, we watched over them from a distance, as we did all young sabors, but it wasn’t necessary to assign them a guardian.” The rege scowled, and Joe was afraid he was going to piss his pants. “Except for the Crists.”

  Of course except for the Crists. None of the other saborese families would even think of harming their sabor offspring.

  Sabors carried an element in their blood that vampyrs needed to survive. Coming from a saborese family, with a brother who was a sabor, of course Ben knew that. But Phillip had never been in danger.

  Ben’s poor little boy.

  How was Joe going to explain all this to Ben?

  “It grows late, and I must go,” Adam said.

  The room had no windows; how did he know that?

  The younger vampyr returned the baby to Joe and bowed slightly. “I promise you no harm will come to this little one.” He rested a hand on Tyrell’s head, and then, between one blink of the eye and the next, he was gone.

  “Your grandson is valued greatly by us, Joseph Small.” The rege recalled his attention. “Thank you for him. And please let his father know this gift will not go unrewarded. Tokens such as this will mark each year on the day of his birth.” He held up a gold bar, about six inches long and an inch thick, and Joe sucked in a breath.

  He’d been given similar tokens to hold in trust for Phillip until he reached the age of twenty-five, but they were nowhere the size of this.

  “All we want is his safety.”

  “And I promise you he will be safe.” The rege touched his shoulder.

  Joe shivered. Even through his clothes, that touch was cold.

  Abruptly, he and Tyrell were alone in the room. Joe stared down at the infant with a combination of wonder and worry.

  A nurse walked in. “Has he been fussing, Mr. Small?”

  “Oh….”

  “It’s his dinnertime. Sit down. It’s so nice to see male members of the family get involved. Do you need any help?”

  “No. I’ve done this before.” Although truthfully, not in twenty-six years, since Phillip had been an infant.

  Joe sat and took the bottle the nurse offered him. She left the room, and he brushed the nipple across the baby’s lips. Tyrell latched on an
d began sucking vigorously.

  Have no worry. Joe heard the words as clearly as if the rege were still in the room with him. This child is precious to us. We will see he comes to no harm.

  VIII

  PHIL WAS getting restless. Every eight weeks or so, a vampyr would come to feed from him, and it was approaching that time. He had to get home for her. Vidalia was the most beautiful of all the vampyrs who’d come to him, and he loved her.

  Of course he loved whichever vampyr came to him, but only for the time they were with him. Once they were gone, the emotion was gone. That was the way sabors were.

  But with Vidalia… it was unheard of, but even after she left, he still loved her. And she loved him too, he was certain of that. Over the past couple of years, she’d come to him more than any other vampyr had ever done, even if she didn’t need to feed. They’d spend evenings together, listening to music or simply talking.

  She’d been his first vampyr, and she’d treated him kindly, taking the time to soothe his nerves.

  For a moment he lost himself in the wonder of her, remembering her waist-length hair the color of corn silk, her eyes that put the blue of the spring sky to shame. Such a cliché, but so true.

  And when she did have to feed, there was the intense thrill he got as she ran her tongue along his neck, over the birthmark that marked him a sabor, and then slid her fangs into him. He shivered at the almost orgasmic memory. What would it be like if she did that while he was making love to her? More and more during the times they were apart, he found himself wrapped up in that fantasy.

  Phil sighed. He had to snap out of it. He couldn’t have what he wanted, and he’d better stop mooning over it.

  Besides, he had to be here for Ben; that was what family was all about.

  THEY WERE in Ben’s room. A nurse had brought Ty to them, wrapped in the softest blue blanket, and their doctors had discharged them. Now they were just waiting for a nurse to bring a wheelchair so they could leave.