They Come by Night

by Tinnean

  “Maybe the 3-D part was when you took ’em off?”

  “Maybe. But it was still a waste.”

  “I really hate that they socked us for the glasses.” There’d been an additional charge of three dollars and fifty cents on top of the cost of the movie ticket.

  “And then they had the nerve to say they wanted them recycled.” I dropped my pair into the container outside the theater.

  “Might as well. We’ll still have to pay the three fifty the next time we go to a 3-D movie, even if we keep them.”

  “Screw ’em.”

  “Yeah, but we’ll still go the next time. Listen, Ty. Let’s stop at Pizza Hut.” There was one in the food court.

  “Have you got a tape worm? You not only had that ‘snack’ at BK, but a large popcorn, a Snickers, and half my box of Raisinets!”

  “What can I tell you? I’m a growing boy.”

  I shook my head. “Okay—” My cell phone started vibrating in my pocket. “Hold on a second.” I took it out and checked the screen. “It’s my dad.”

  “New phone, Ty?” Jimmy looked as if he was about to start drooling over it.

  “Uh… yeah.” It was the one Adam had given me, and now, as well as his number, I’d transferred all the important phone numbers into it. “Hi, Dad. What’s up? You need me to pick up something at the Stop & Shop?”

  “No, I just wanted to let you know I’m at Francesco’s Steak House with Barb.”

  “Okay.” I knew he’d been looking forward to seeing her. “Enjoy yourselves. Jimmy and I are going to hit Pizza Hut, so you don’t need to worry about me setting the kitchen on fire making dinner.”

  “Actually, I was hoping you would join us. I’d like you two to meet.”

  “Oh. Uh… sure thing. Hold on a second, okay?” I covered the microphone. “Dad wants me to have dinner with him. I’ll have to skip the Pizza Hut.”

  “Sure, buddy. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I owe you one.” I spoke into the phone. “Dad, I’ll be there as soon as I drop Jimmy off.”

  “Thanks, son.”

  “No prob. See you in a bit.” I disconnected the call. “Sorry, Jimmy.”

  “That’s okay. There should be some leftovers at home. And anyway, your dad’s a cool guy.”

  “Thanks. I think so too. He’s seeing someone he wants me to meet.”

  “That’s great! He’s been alone for a long time.”

  “I know. I tried to talk him into dating, but he kept making excuses. I guess me moving out has given him the push to jump into the dating pool.”

  We stepped out of the mall into the fading light of the winter afternoon. He looked around.

  “Hey, I hope you remember where you parked!”

  “You doubt me? I’m cut to the quick!”

  He gave a snort, but once again I followed my nose, and just like the last time, I found my car.

  DAD’S SEAT at the table had him facing the front of the restaurant, and when he saw me, he said something to Mrs. Wilder. She turned and smiled at me as I approached, and Dad rose to his feet.

  “Ty. Barb, this is my son.”

  “Hi, Dad. Mrs. Wilder.”

  “Hello, Tyrell. You’re very like your father, you know. If he hadn’t introduced you, I still would have recognized you right away. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

  “Same here.”

  “I want to thank you for the books. Those are three of my favorite authors, and I’m looking forward to losing myself in their worlds.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like them.”

  “I hope you’ll like this.” She handed me a slim, rectangular present.

  I tore off the paper and opened the box to find a soft, black leather bifold wallet that had an ID flap and a silver chain with a lobster-claw clasp that would fasten to a belt loop. “Thank you.” I put the cover back on the box and slid it into my jacket pocket. “Thank you very much.” I waited to see if she’d settle for shaking my hand, or if she’d try to push things by hugging me.

  “I already told Barb you don’t like to be touched.”

  “It’s not you,” I assured her. If Dad really liked her, the last thing I wanted to do was throw a monkey wrench in the works. “It’s not anyone. Even Dad doesn’t touch me.”

  “Hmm.” She just looked interested. “How long have you felt this way?”

  I shrugged. I wasn’t going to tell her that on my tenth birthday I’d woken with an aversion to physical contact. As good as she might be for Dad, what went on with me wasn’t something we discussed with anyone—sometimes not even ourselves. “Did you have a nice visit with your family?”

  “Yes, although it would have been even better if Mitchell could have joined us. My parents and sisters haven’t seen him in….” She sighed, her expression sad. “It’s been almost four years.”

  “I saw him a couple of weeks ago. It’s too bad he wasn’t able to come down.”

  “Yes. Unfortunately, he had work.”

  But he’d told me Not Just Books would be closed for Christmas. I bit my tongue. It was none of my business.

  “Sit down, Ty. Barb and I were waiting for you before we ordered.”

  “You didn’t have to do that, Dad. And you could have ordered for me. You know I always get the same thing.” I was pretty much a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy, and I’d have a steak, medium rare, and a baked potato with tons of butter.

  He just grinned at me. “You’re an adult now.”

  “Does that mean I can order a beer?”

  “You’re not that much of an adult! Especially since you’ll be driving home.”

  “Okay, fine. I’ll have a Coke, please.”

  AFTER THE pleasant dinner, Mrs. Wilder excused herself to use the ladies’ room. Dad put his hand over the check. “I’m getting this. I invited you.”

  “Okay, but I’m getting the tip.” I took a couple of twenties from my wallet. “Want me to make myself scarce, Dad? I can go to Jimmy’s for a few hours. Or even overnight.”

  “No. Barb and I haven’t taken our friendship to that point. But thank you for the offer.”

  “Anything for my dad.”

  “Scamp. Go on home. We’ll meet you there. Make sure you drive carefully.”

  “You too, Dad.”

  IT HAD been a good evening, I thought as I got ready for bed.

  Once home, Harker let me know he really needed to go, so I’d taken him out for a quick walk. We were both shivering when we returned to the house, and I’d hurried into the living room and turned on the gas fireplace. Then I’d hung up my coat, put a bag of popcorn in the microwave, and simmered milk for the hot chocolate. That was one of our Christmas traditions.

  And when Dad and Mrs. Wilder had arrived shortly afterward, we’d gotten comfortable in the living room, including Harker, who fell asleep across Dad’s feet, and we’d watched A Christmas Story.

  Now, Dad was driving her home. Studiously, I kept my eyes from my bedside clock. I knew what he’d told me about their friendship, but Mrs. Wilder seemed like a really nice woman and he was a normal man.

  Grinning, I got into bed and pulled the covers over my shoulders.

  Maybe I’d go home tomorrow. I knew Dad wouldn’t have any objections to me staying longer, but he could use his privacy. And I was getting restless.

  Yeah, I’d go home tomorrow.

  I WAS almost home.

  It had been a long drive, two and a half hours, and traffic had been heinous. Where were people going on December 28? It was a Sunday, for Pete’s sake!

  On top of that, I’d had to drive with the brights on for the past twenty minutes. The streetlights were few and far between on the strip of road leading to my little bungalow.

  It had been a great Christmas, though, and I’d loved spending the time with Dad.

  But as Dorothy said, there was no place like home.

  Home….

  No, Dad’s house wouldn’t be that for me ever again.

  I
n the backseat was the care package of leftovers Dad had sent with me; even with Mrs. Wilder and Harker, he claimed he’d never be able to finish them all, and so I’d graciously accepted them.

  I chuckled to myself. If he hadn’t offered, I’d planned to do a little begging. I wasn’t proud. He was a fantastic cook, better than I could ever hope to be. And besides, until I got to the supermarket, my cupboard was pretty much bare.

  And then I was home. I slowed Lucy MacEvil to a crawl. I had to admit I was pretty proud of myself. I’d known before I left that by the time I got home it would be dark—standard time made four thirty look like midnight—and I’d put the living room light on a timer so I wouldn’t be coming home to a darkened house.

  I had to high-five myself. It looked awesome! The light in the living room spilled out onto the front yard, turning it into a fairyland, the snow glittering like diamond crystals. Through the window I could see my Christmas tree.

  God, I loved this place!

  I’d considered leaving the tree lit, but it was a live tree. I didn’t want to take the chance of it catching fire and burning down my house.

  I pulled into the driveway and pressed the remote on the visor. The garage door slid up, and I eased Lucy into it and turned off the ignition; she’d had a good run, and I patted her dashboard.

  The engine ticked as it cooled, and I undid my seat belt and got out.

  I took the bags filled with Rubbermaid containers of gravy and stuffing, Glad-wrapped plates of pork loin and cranberry sauce, Ziploc bags of veggies and biscuits, then got my suitcase from the trunk.

  The temperature had dropped, and it took a couple of tries to punch in the code that activated the garage door. Once it started coming down, I didn’t dawdle. I hustled up to the porch, getting my ankles soaked as the snow went over the tops of my Nikes, and unlocked the door.

  It was warm inside. I’d turned the heat down before I left for Dad’s, but it probably just felt warmer because of the difference in the outside temperature. I took off my coat, tossed it over the back of the love seat, and toed off my wet Nikes before heading for the kitchen. I’d put the leftovers in the fridge, take a shower, and see what was on TV. Unpacking, which was mostly gifts, could wait until tomorrow.

  I was humming “The Twelve Days of Christmas” when a sound behind me had me whirling around.

  “You’re home.”

  “Adam?” I dropped the bag of raw carrots and celery. It was Adam!

  “Yeah.” He smiled sleepily and ran a hand through his hair, tousling it. He stood there in just a pair of sleep pants. My sleep pants, and I shivered at how hot that was. His torso gleamed white in the light from the living room, a fine line of hair running from between his pecs to beneath his waistband. From around his neck hung his talisman, a cylindrically shaped pendant. “I had to turn up the heat. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “That’s okay.” I swallowed and licked my lips. He looked good enough to eat. In order to keep from throwing myself at him, I bent to retrieve the crudités and stuffed them in the fridge. “I didn’t expect to see you until October, for my birthday,” I mumbled from behind the open door.

  “I couldn’t wait. I have something for you.”

  My head shot up. He couldn’t wait to see me! Suddenly I was so hard I ached, and I realized the restlessness of the past few days was similar to what I’d felt the week before he’d brought me here.

  “How long have you been here? Do you need to feed?”

  “Since just before sunrise. I knew you’d be home today—”

  “You did? How?”

  “The connection between us. We’ll always have it.”

  “You mean like Rick and Ilsa will always have Paris?” Okay, so I wasn’t thinking clearly. The way the waistband of his pants hung low over his hips was too distracting.

  He laughed. “You could say that.”

  “Didn’t I just? But you didn’t answer me. Do you need to feed?”

  “No.” He must have seen how disappointed I was to hear that. “But I wouldn’t say no to a sip or two.”

  “Yeah? Cool!” I tore off my shirt and offered him my neck. “Bite me!” I felt feverish, awash in lust and love. I wanted to crawl into his skin and make my home there.

  “I won’t have you associating pain with my bite.” He took me in his arms.

  “Never gonna happen!” His flesh was cool against mine, and it was the most erotic thing I’d ever felt. “Just bite me!”

  He licked my neck a couple of times, slowly, leisurely, and I thought my dick would explode.

  “Are you ready?”

  I growled. Later I’d wonder how a sound like that passed my lips, but right then I was too impatient. I grabbed his head and jammed it against my neck. “Bite me, goddammit!”

  I could feel his smile against my neck, and then his fangs slid into me, and I thought my eyes would roll back into my head as he began to suck.

  “Adam!” I sank into his embrace, whimpering and panting, and within a matter of moments I was coming so hard I passed out.

  I CAME to in my bed, Adam licking the small wounds closed.

  “I love you,” I sighed, replete.

  “I know.” He didn’t sound pleased to hear my confession. “And you’ll love your next vampyr just as much.”

  I wouldn’t, but I could see he wasn’t going to be reasonable about this, so I let it drop for the time being. “I have something for you.”

  “But you didn’t know I’d be here for Christmas.”

  “No, but you’d have to be here for some Christmas. Did you see your stocking in the living room?”

  “Is that for me?”

  “It’s got your name on it. Come on.” I bounced out of bed and staggered.

  “Easy!”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Of course you are.”

  “I need to change.”

  “Not on my account. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

  “And you’re silly.” I could feel my cheeks heating up. “I’m talking about my clothes.” I tried to frown at him, but I was secretly pleased. “You made me come too fast.”

  “Of course.” He swallowed a grin, rose and kissed the side of my throat, and went to the closet, where he took a pair of boxer briefs from the drawer in the organizer and a pair of jeans from a hanger. “Here.”

  I went into the bathroom with them, not from any misplaced modesty, but simply because I needed to wash myself clean.

  When I came back out, he wrapped an arm around my waist. “Show me what you’ve got for me. Then I have something for you.”

  “What is it?” I remembered he’d said something about that earlier.

  “No, no, you’re just going to have to wait.”

  “Tease!”

  He grinned but didn’t say anything.

  “Okay, fine. Come on.” I opened the door to the dining room and tugged him along after me.

  I PULLED the small wooden box from the stocking with Adam printed across the cuff in red and black sequins. Not the colors of the season, but to me they represented him. “I know vampyrs don’t celebrate normals’ holidays, but Merry Christmas, Adam.”

  He stared at the box as if he expected it would open to reveal a viper.

  “Didn’t any of your other…. Didn’t anyone ever give you a Christmas present?”

  “No.”

  “Fickle bastards,” I muttered. “Open it!”

  He turned it over and over in his hands. “You know I can’t—”

  “Can’t what?”

  “I….” He pressed a thumbnail to the catch, and the lid popped open. He stared down at the contents.

  “I don’t want you to think I’m cheap. I wasn’t sure if gold or silver would affect you, so….”

  He held up the thin braided cord. At its end dangled the token. “That’s why you chose leather and wood?”

  “Yes. I was pretty good in shop, and I made it myself.” It had been a circle, and I’d cut it apart with a jigsaw,
giving each piece a zigzag edge. They would fit like two pieces of the whole, which was what they were.

  “This is more than ‘pretty good.’” His nostrils twitched. “Wait a second. This wasn’t a red stain you used to make the words stand out!”

  “No. When I was carving the words, the gouge slipped, and I cut my finger.”

  “Blood? Your blood?”

  “Yes.” I hadn’t intended it, but once it was done, I realized it was perfect, as if it bound us more tightly together.

  “Vampyrs wear only their talismans around their necks.”

  “I know.” Well, I didn’t really know, but it made sense. My gift to him would probably clash with his talisman anyway, but I stared into his eyes, hoping he would be pleased I’d made something for him, maybe keep it in a pocket.

  I refused to see the token as silly and sentimental, although in reality, I was just one of many to him.

  Adam looped it round his neck, and the token fell to snag a nipple before coming to rest over his heart.

  “But I thought….”

  “You’re my….” He smiled and shook his head, and then he ran the backs of his fingers over my cheek and chin. “Thank you.”

  I had to admit it looked pretty darned sexy, and I grinned up at him. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Where’s your half?”

  “You know the story behind the mizpah?”

  “Ty, I’m vampyr, not ignorant.”

  “Sorry.” I retrieved my own stocking from the mantel, reached into it, and pulled out the matching cord and token; I’d planned to start wearing it after I’d given Adam his.

  He took my half of the mizpah. His fangs extended, and he bit down on his thumb. He squeezed out a few drops of blood and caught them on the token.

  I stared wide-eyed as the wood absorbed his blood like a sponge, and within seconds it was impossible to tell what he’d done.

  He smiled into my eyes, licked his thumb, sealing the wound, and placed the cord around my neck so my token rested against my heart as well.

  “This is the nicest gift anyone has ever given me.” And he tipped up my chin and kissed me.