Wicked is the night

by Catherine Mulvany

  Faraday shot him a speculative look. “Why?”

  “He’s Nevada’s half brother, damn it. Any chance he’s your badass?”

  Faraday seemed surprised at the suggestion. “No way. He’s not British, not old enough, and as far as I know, not a vampire. Doubt he’s here anyway. Didn’t his stepmother just go missing?”

  Yes, Trick thought, but if Snowden was responsible for his stepmother’s disappearance…Fear threatened to choke him. “I’m going to find Nevada,” he told Faraday, then took off across the ballroom at a run.

  No sign of her in the room where the buffet was laid out. No sign of her in the crowded bar, either.

  “You see a dark-haired young woman in a beaded white gown?” he asked one of the bartenders.

  The guy shrugged. “Sorry, buddy. Can’t help you. I’ve been too busy to do any people-watching. Any of you notice a dark-haired girl in a white dress?” he asked the other bartenders. No one had.

  More worried by the second, Trick headed down the hall to the women’s restroom, where he knocked on the door.

  No answer.

  He knocked again, harder this time. “Nevada? You in there?”

  He heard a muffled scream but not from the ladies’ room. He listened hard and heard another, even louder wail. The sound terminated abruptly, but not before he’d identified its source. The stairwell.

  Trick burst through the door onto the landing, colliding with a man in a Zorro costume.

  “Where is she?” Trick demanded.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zorro said.

  “I heard her scream. Where is she?” Trick grabbed the man, spun him around, and shoved him face-first against the wall. “Where’s Nevada, damn it?”

  “Don’t know anyone named Nevada,” the man said. “You’ve obviously mistaken me for someone else. For your information, I’m State Representative Daniel Snowden, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll take your hands off me this minute.”

  “What did you do with her?” Trick, who’d been punctuating his interrogation by slamming Snowden repeatedly against the wall, suddenly caught a glimpse of Nevada lying motionless at the bottom of the stairs.

  Snowden took advantage of Trick’s distraction, twisting around and using the wall at his back as leverage to shove Trick off balance.

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  Trick stumbled sideways and teetered on the edge of the first step as Snowden lunged for the door.

  “No, you don’t!” Trick, flailing his arms in an attempt to regain his balance, connected with the railing, which he used to propel himself forward like a human projectile. He head-butted Snowden in the back, then sandwiched the bastard between the door and his own body, punching and pummeling. “Not so much fun, is it,” Trick panted, “when you’re the one on the receiving end of the punishment.”

  “To hell with you,” Snowden said. “The little bitch deserved what she got.”

  “She didn’t…” Trick slammed the other man’s face against the heavy metal fire door and heard the crunch of breaking bone. “…deserve to die.” Again he smashed Snowden’s face into the door. “But you do.”

  Snowden shook his head and blood sprayed across the door. “My kind’s hard to kill.”

  His kind? Meaning vampires? Trick suddenly remembered the stake Faraday had given him. Wedging Snowden against the door with his left hand and his good knee, he fumbled in the pocket of his trousers with his right hand.

  Snowden, his face a pulverized mess, twisted his neck to peer over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” His voice had gone shrill with fear.

  Trick brandished the stake. “Ending it.”

  Snowden moved faster than Trick would have believed possible. Bracing his hands against the door, he arched his back and shoved. Trick felt his bad knee start to go and staggered backward several feet, managing to anchor himself with his good leg before the impetus of the shove could send him toppling down the stairs. Unfortunately, by the time he got his feet firmly under him, it was already too late. Snowden had his hand on the doorknob. In another instant, he would be gone.

  Time slowed to a crawl. Snowden turned to face Trick. A triumphant smirk spread across his battered, blood-smeared face.

  “You son of a bitch!” Trick yelled. Each word echoed eerily off the walls of the stairwell. “You-you-you-you son-son-son-son…”

  Something slammed against the door from the other side with a solid blam. The door swung open, and Snowden was thrown forward onto Trick with tremendous force. It wasn’t until he felt the force of the impact reverberating up his arm that he realized what had happened. The stake Trick still gripped tightly in his right hand had buried itself in Snowden’s chest.

  “Fu—” Snowden started, then exploded into dust.

  Trick closed his eyes to protect them from the cloud of fine particulate matter, but he couldn’t close his nose to the odor. The rotten stench of evil, he thought.

  Then Ethan Faraday and two uniformed hotel security guards rammed through the door, and time once again resumed its normal pace.

  Quickly pocketing the bloody stake, Trick blinked at the others through the dusty haze that was all that remained of Snowden.

  “What’s going on in here?” one of the guards demanded.

  “A man attacked me and my date,” Trick said.

  “There he goes!” Faraday shouted and took off up the stairs. The security guards followed.

  Slowly, the dust settled. Trick brushed himself off, then sick with rage—rage at Snowden for killing the only woman he’d ever loved and rage at himself for showing up seconds too late to save her—he stumbled down to the landing below, knelt, and gathered Nevada’s body close, cradling it in his arms.

  She’d never have her happy ending now.

  He wasn’t sure how long he crouched there, just holding her limp body and trying not to think. But there was no stemming the flood of recriminations. If only he’d been a few seconds earlier. If only he hadn’t wasted so much time talking to Faraday. If only he hadn’t stopped to question the bartender. If only…

  Feeling like the worst sort of failure, he gazed down at her pale cheeks, glistening now with tears. His tears. He pressed a kiss to her lips, one last kiss good-bye, then nearly dropped her when he felt her return the pressure, kissing him back.

  “Nevada?” He wiped his eyes on his shirtsleeve. “Nevada, can you hear me?”

  “Trick?” Her eyelashes fluttered open.

  “You’re not dead.”

  “Are you sure?” she said with a grimace.

  “Very sure.” He smiled so hard his cheek muscles hurt. “The fall must have knocked you unconscious for a few minutes.”

  She frowned. “I fell?”

  “I didn’t see it happen, but I suspect Snowden pushed you.”

  “Daniel. My half brother.” Her frown deepened. “I remember now. I remember everything.” Suddenly her frown morphed into a look of sheer panic. “Where is he?”

  “Gone,” Trick told her. “And he won’t be coming back. I staked him, or, to be precise, he accidentally staked himself.”

  Surprise supplanted panic. “You know about him then?”

  “That he was a vampire? Yes, he told me.”

  “Something Daniel said made me think my stepmother was a vampire, too.”

  “So she wasn’t kidnapped, and she didn’t just take off.”

  “I don’t think so, no. I think Daniel killed her. He killed my father, too. He admitted it.”

  “So it was his reflection that triggered your psychic flash,” Trick guessed.

  “More like a psychic meltdown.”

  “He and your stepmother must have been fooling around behind your father’s back,” Trick said. “Your father figured out what was going on, confronted Daniel, and Daniel killed him, then made it look like suicide. Only you, with your psychic flash, nearly ruined everything. That’s why you endedÓs wont up at the Appleton Institute.”

  “Daniel wanted to kill m
e, too, but Regina wouldn’t let him.”

  “So the evil stepmother wasn’t quite as evil as we thought.”

  “No,” Nevada said, struggling to a sitting position. “And my guardian angel wasn’t quite as good as we thought, either.”

  “Yelena, you mean?”

  “Daniel admitted that he sent her to the Institute to keep an eye on me. He paid her over and above what she earned there. Blood money,” she said. “I should have known. The minute I set foot in her town house, I should have realized no one could afford a place like that on a cleaning woman’s wages. I was so stupid, so gullible.”

  “And yet, Yelena was the one who freed you in the end,” he reminded her.

  Nevada’s lower lip quivered. “I guess her guilty conscience finally got the better of her.”

  “Or her love for you.”

  “How could she love me and be a party to the torture they put me through?” Her voice shook with strain.

  “People aren’t all good or all bad. We’re a mix of the two. Yelena may have allowed herself to be ruled by greed for a while, but in the end love won out. She double-crossed Daniel to save you.”

  “And ended up dead.” Tears welled up and slid silently down her cheeks.

  He held her close and let her cry.

  When at last the tears subsided, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.

  Faraday came clattering down the stairs at that moment sans security guards. “Oh, hey. You’re all right,” he said to Nevada.

  “We need to get her to a doctor,” Trick said, “have her checked out.”

  “Sure thing.” Faraday shot her an encouraging smile.

  “While I’m thinking of it…” Trick returned Faraday’s stake.

  The demon hunter eyed the bloodstains. “Glad I could help.”

  “You knew my half brother was a vampire?” Nevada asked.

  “Didn’t have a clue,” Faraday said. “The spike was for Sarge.”

  Nevada’s eyes widened. “Sarge is here?”

  “Not anymore,” Faraday said.

  Trick lifted Nevada into his arms and carried her up the stairs. “You staked him?” he asked.

  “No such luck. Tricky bastard gave me the slip,” Faraday said. “Again.”

  “And the security guards?”

  “Heard a chopper on the roof and figured your so-called attacker was getting away.” He grinned. “I might have planted the suggestion. Anyway, once they were focused on Óereroothe chopper, I headed back down, figured you might need some help.”

  “Thanks, Faraday,” Trick said, meaning it. “Thanks for everything.”

  TWENTY

  Nevada didn’t say much on the drive back to Midas Lake. She spent half the time pretending to doze, the other half staring at the dashboard.

  “Do you have a headache?” Trick asked finally.

  “No. Why?”

  “You’re frowning.”

  She gave him a halfhearted smile. “I’m thinking. It’s hard work.”

  “Thinking about what?”

  “The future,” she said.

  “When I talked to Marcello this morning, he said the Realtor got a bite on the house. Prospective buyer didn’t even try to dicker.”

  “All your hard work paid off.”

  “Our hard work,” he said.

  She didn’t respond to that. “Where will you go?” she asked some time later, carefully not looking at him.

  “Somewhere in the South Seas. Aside from Hawaii, I’ve never been anywhere in the Pacific, though it might be fun to try Tahiti or maybe Samoa for a while. What do you think?”

  “I think…” She paused for so long he thought she wasn’t going to respond at all. “I think,” she said finally, “it’s your decision, not mine. How about Marcello? What does he have to say about your plan?”

  “Marcello’s been making his own plans.”

  “Really?” She seemed to perk up a little at that. “Is he…I mean, do you think he and Britt…”

  “Are planning their future?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Well, yes, I definitely think there’s something going on there.”

  “If you mean, Marcello has feelings for Britt and vice versa, you’re right. But if you’re thinking Marcello’s going to do anything about it, then you don’t really know him. He’s married, Nevada, and he takes those vows seriously.”

  “In sickness and in health,” she said.

  “He’s already made arrangements for his future, and they don’t include breaking Britt’s heart.”

  “Too late,” she muttered.

  “He’s joining the organization Faraday works for.”

  She whirled around to face him. “As a demon hunter?”

  “Don&Öiv>rsquo;t sound so surprised.”

  “But a demon hunter? Marcello?”

  “Actually, he’s going to be working in the office. At least until he learns the ropes,” Trick said. “And face it, who better? The man’s a computer whiz.”

  “Geek,” she said. “The word you’re searching for is geek.”

  Nevada took one last look at the shabby little apartment over the stables. She was going to miss this place—the rusty shower, the saggy couch, the ugly brown box of an oil heater that took up half the living room.

  Okay, damn it, the apartment wasn’t what she’d miss. Seeing Patrick Donatelli Granger. That’s what she’d miss.

  She’d arranged for the taxi to pick her up at the end of the driveway in ten minutes. Time to start hauling her stuff down. How had she accumulated so much in so little time? She’d arrived with the clothes on her back. She’d be leaving with enough to fill one of those oversize wheeled suitcases. Only of course, she didn’t have an oversize wheeled suitcase. All she had was the chic little overnight case Trick had bought her at the Papillon Mall, a bulging backpack, and a stuffed-to-the-gills army surplus duffel bag.

  With the backpack slung over her left shoulder and the overnight case hanging from its strap over her right, she dragged the duffel bag two-handed as she backed out the door onto the rickety wooden landing. She dropped the bag with a thunk and made a grab for the door, trying to catch it before it slammed shut.

  “Going somewhere?” Trick asked from behind her, startling her so badly that her heart skipped a beat.

  “Yes,” she said, sounding much calmer than she felt.

  “In the middle of the night?” Trick didn’t sound calm, though. In fact, he sounded totally pissed.

  “Bus leaves for Reno in an hour.”

  He stared at her, his face starkly angular in the moonlight, brows knit, jaw squared, mouth a tight line. “All you had to do was ask,” he said mildly. “I’d have given you a ride.”

  She closed her eyes against the sudden pain. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” He paused, continuing when she didn’t respond. “You were planning to run away again, weren’t you?”

  “Trick, I—”

  “At least, read this first before you go.” He held out a sheet of parchment.

  “What is it?”

  “A letter Jonathan Calhoun thought might interest you.”

  She set down her luggage and took the letter, tilting it so the security light illuminated the words.

  My darling Blanche,

  Your death lies heavy on my heart. Many in this town believe I murdeÛbelrlired you. You know that isn’t true, and yet, the guilt is mine. I was so obsessed with you that I underestimated the depth of Opal’s jealousy. I should have realized the danger she posed. Rest easy, my love. Opal has paid for her sins as I, too, shall pay for mine.

  All my love,

  Silas

  Nevada frowned. “Opal killed Blanche?”

  “And Silas killed Opal.”

  “But what did he mean when he said ‘as I, too, shall pay for mine’?”

  “You never heard that part of the story?” he said. “The same day Silas wrote this note, he hanged himself in Blanche’s room.”

  “That’s wh
y she cries—not because he killed her, but because he killed himself. She loved him.”

  “And I love you,” he said. “Marry me.”

  Her chest constricted. She tried to make sense of Trick’s words, but she couldn’t breathe, let alone think. “What?” she finally managed. “No, I can’t.”

  “I didn’t plan to do it this way, you know.” He dug a small jewelry box from his pocket. “I’d thought we’d go the romance route, flowers and dinner and me down on one knee. In fact, I intended to ask you after the ball, only then you got hurt, and the ER didn’t really have the right ambiance.”

  “Trick, no. Don’t do this.”

  He opened the box and pulled out a ring. “I bought this at McKelvey Fine Jewelry. Seemed fitting somehow. Remember the call I received the morning Great-aunt Leticia caught us in bed together? That was the salesman telling me the ring was ready. I had it specially engraved. ‘Happily ever after…’”

  “I…no…Trick,” she stammered.

  He held the ring, tilting it until it caught the light. A narrow band with a large stone. Not a diamond, something darker. “An emerald,” he said, as if in answer to her unspoken question. “To match your eyes.”

  “It’s beautiful, and I’m touched by your offer, more than I can say, but—”

  “No buts.” He took her left hand in his and slid the ring on her finger. “A little too big, but we can have it sized to fit.”

  Oh God, why wouldn’t he listen? “I can’t marry you, Trick.”

  “Why not? And don’t try to convince me that you don’t love me, because I’m not buying it.”

  “Don’t ask me why. I just can’t.”

  He eyed her closely. “You’ve been acting strange ever since your run-in with Snowden. This has something to do with your half brother, doesn’t it? He said something to you, something that frightened you.”

  Yes, she thought, but, “No,” she said.

  “Whatever he told you, don’t believe a word of it. What did he say? That you were the one who’d killed your father? That he’d arranged your father’s murder to look like a suicide to protect you?”

  “I know better than that. I ‘saw’ what he did.”