““They think you are a demon.” Gina acknowledged. “It will not be safe for you now here in London.” There was anger tainting the edges of her cold voice. She paced the floor before me in long, silent strides, and I looked up, watching her move so gracefully that it moved me. She was like a walking piece of art, I thought in awe, and she turned fully to face me. “You’re fanciful thoughts are silly and childish.” she hissed coldly, and I sat up straighter as if I had just been reprimanded by my mother. I was scared, so afraid that she would turn me away now, that I would perish when the sun rose. “You very well could have exposed us all! It is forbidden to show yourself to the mortals unless you take those mortals out of the equation!” She began to pace again.
““I…I did not mean to show myself.” I stumbled badly. “She…she…her words came to me suddenly in my head, and then I could hear everything…everything she had done to my family. She…she killed them.” I whimpered emotionally.
““You’re family? You’re parents, and your brother.” Gina turned, looking at me as she ripped the thoughts from my panicked brain.
““I..I couldn’t stop it. It just happened. I wanted her to die! I wanted her to die for everything she had done to my family, to me!” I growled out in hatred even as tears spilled from my eyes.
““You heard her thoughts in your head? Truly?” Gina came closer, and she crouched down before me. Her blue eyes implored me, and then she smiled. “I was not able to read the thoughts of the mortals for many months after I was turned and then not so clearly. It took years of practice” she said as if she were suddenly very proud of me. “And you threw your thoughts into the widow’s head as well! How impressive you are, young Lillian, how promising! Of course, hearing those wicked thoughts of how your aunt, whom you had not even been aware of was, in fact, your aunt, had plotted and had killed your family.” she paused when I looked up, and tears slipped wetly down my cheeks as the pain filled my chest to capacity. “It must have shocked you into action.” she said at last, and then she smiled, and she stood to her tall height. “I am most eager to watch how you develop, Lillian.” she said with a twinkle in her eye as she turned her back on me.
““We must leave this place. A shame, as I have not been back in London but for a few months. But we can not stay now, not after what happened at your aunt’s home. Now, can we?” she turned back to me, and she clasped her hands together, and smiled. “We will book passage on a ship bound for America. You will hide here, within doors until that time. Perhaps, while we wait, the mortals’ bloodlust will die down considerably.” she said thoughtfully, and then she called for her man, Jeffery, and instructed him to book two passages to America as soon as possible.”
Nicole leaned back against the lumpy back of her sofa. Quietly, she closed the journal, and lovingly ran her fingers over the smooth, leather cover. Lillian Saint Rose, if the journal was true and correct, had murdered her aunt. But Nicole could almost sympathize with the poor creature. What it must be like to be human one moment, to think that you were about to die, only to be reborn to darkness with new skills that you did not know properly how to use, with the lust for blood clawing away at the inside of your body!
Lillian had been human once, Nicole thought as she stared down at the closed journal. Reading her journal, Nicole couldn’t help but to still think of the vampire as such. For as the months passed Lillian still spoke, still wrote with the emotions of someone very much human.
Chapter eight
The call came in at a little before dark. Some kid found the bodies in an alley behind Lani’s Garden Center over on Fourth and Cantrell. Dr. Harold was on her way to the scene. Jack put in a call to his partner - as much as it agitated him to do so. Tony was on his way as well.
The scene was taped off with bright yellow tape when Jack got there. Officers and curious civilians stood around as close as possible to the taped off areas. Jack was just walking onto the scene when he noticed Dr. Harold pull up to the curb and quickly jump out of her car. Her eyes were wide on her face as if she was chomping at the bit to get in there. Jack shook his head. He snapped on a pair of a latex gloves, nodding to the uniformed officer in charge as Jack flashed his badge and ducked beneath the tape.
There were two bodies this time, spaced about thirty feet apart. One a Hispanic kid in gang colors was lying face down in a puddle of his own blood. The kid’s head was swollen, and bloody lumps appeared here and there along the scalp area. The murder weapon, a long, rusty pipe covered in dried blood lay ten feet away from the body. Jack could see the other body from where he stood. A tall, African American kid, skinny and pale from the loss of blood was lying in an awkward position some thirty feet away.
Jack walked toward the body. At first glance, Jack could see the blood on the boy’s hands. It was also splattered all over his clothes. But who did the blood belong to, to this boy? Or to the first? A bloody boot print marked the pavement two or so feet from the second body, followed by another and then a partial print as well. Whoever had done this had gotten out of there in an awful hurry, Jack thought.
“What do we got here?” Tony Bordello called loudly as he made his way onto the scene.
“I don’t know.” Jack shrugged. “But it doesn’t look like our guy’s work.”
“Appears to be gang related.” Tony gave his two cents, and he crouched to examine the first body, being careful not to touch anything with his bare hands.
“Exactly.” Jack glanced around him once more, taking in the scene to be sure that he hadn’t missed anything. He pointed out the bloody boot prints to Tony.
“Our guy isn’t this careless.” Tony said thoughtfully.
“No.” Jack agreed. “Our guy isn’t.”
“So what? Do we hand this one off?” Tony stood, looking to Jack for answers.
“I think we have our hands full as it is, don‘t you?” Jack said, but the detective in him couldn’t help but to look around the scene in search of clues.
“What did this one die from?” Tony was suddenly at Jack’s side, staring curiously down at the black male.
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Jack said, and on instinct, he crouched down next to the body. Using a pen, he tipped the boy’s head to the side. He wasn’t prepared to see the marks there in the boy’s neck, but there they were, staring up at him like a beacon!
Damn it! The scene wasn’t right! There was blood everywhere! Boot prints for Christ’s sake! Copycat, Jack thought. It had to be a copycat killer. Their guy had been on the news, or rather the statistics of the case had been leaked, and every fool in the city was crying out vampire!
“Maybe it’s our guy after all.” Tony was staring at the two puncture wounds in the boy’s bloodless neck.
“Or a copycat.” Jack put his thoughts out there again. “Let’s get to work. Bag everything and when we’re done get the photographer in here. I don’t want to lose a thing.” Jack ordered sharply, and with that he got to work himself.
“This isn’t my first rodeo.” Tony grinned, and he snapped on a pair of latex gloves. Quietly, the men began to work side by side.
It was difficult for Lillian to stay away from Jack Stone when the man lingered in her mind like a cherished memory. She knew that no good could become of it, but she longed to see his face, to hear his voice so much so that she found herself dreaming of Jack Stone while she slept. She very rarely dreamed, and had not dreamt in years so the dreams of Jack Stone were a surprise and somewhat of a shock to her system. She couldn’t help but to ask herself what it meant.
She knew that Jack was busy with his work. He hadn’t tried to contact her since his last call four days ago. But she also knew that it was probably more than Jack Stone’s busy schedule that was keeping him at bay.
What did she want with him anyway? He was a mortal. He should be of no interest to her. The stakes were becoming too high here in New York City, she thought. She should have left for England over a week ago. But what if Jack met with this other vampire on the
loose?
The thought didn’t sit well with Lillian. She stood tall and regal, three stories up on the roof of the building across the street from the shop she and Jack had met at before. The wind swept through her hair and caused her cape to billow out behind her. Jack Stone had just walked inside the shop. Lillian watched him as he paid for his coffee and took a seat at the booth by the window. He appeared to be deep in thought as he poured over some papers in a dark folder. Lillian was content to just watch him for some time. What did the mortals call this these days, she wondered? Stalking? She knew that she was keeping Jack safe by staying away from him, but really, what harm could there be in conversation? That decided, she dropped to the alley floor and made her way around to the sidewalk. Jack’s amber gaze lifted in surprise when she walked into the coffee shop.
“Lilly.” He stood to greet her.
“Hello, Jack Stone.” Lillian returned, and he smiled, finding her amusing for reasons she could not phantom.
“Just Jack will do nicely.” Jack caught her hand in his. Lillian heard his heart pick up pace. “What are you doing up so late?” he asked as he led her back to their booth.
“Call me an insomniac.” Lillian shrugged. “I do better at night, Jack.” It was the truth. She did better at night due to the fact that she would not survive in the day.
“So I’ve noticed.” Jack motioned for her to take a seat. He waited for her to be seated before he retook his own seat. “I took the liberty of glancing at your artwork online. Very talented.” Jack complimented after a moment of silence. “But I couldn’t help but to notice most of your pieces had night skies in the backgrounds.” he explained.
“Then you’ve been thinking of me?” Lillian met Jack’s heated amber gaze.
“More than I would like.” she read of his mind.
Ah, the feeling is mutual, Jack, Lillian thought, and she smiled.
“What is it?” Jack asked after her smile.
“I get the feeling that you don’t want to think of me. Am I a thorn in your side, Jack Stone?” she asked with a smile.
“In my side. In my mind. I can’t stop thinking of you. You’ve bewitched me!” Lillian read of Jack’s thoughts. She could not help feeling pleased.
“I…” Jack stumbled over his words, and Lillian rose to her tall height, peering down at his handsome face.
“May I show you something?” she held her hand out for Jack to take. Jack hesitated, but he gathered his papers and took her outstretched hand.
Barker, the custodian, met Lillian at the museum entrance. “This is a first. You’ve brought a guest.” Barker smiled in a friendly manner. Lillian introduced the pair, and then Barker told her to stay as long as she liked.
“You must come here often?” Jack commented as they walked the darkened halls. Lillian knew exactly where she was going. She led Jack into a Victorian style room. She had to remember to turn the lights on for Jack, as she never had to do so before for herself. She sometimes forgot that others could not see as well at night as she could. When the room illuminated, Lillian turned to Jack.
“My great, great, great grandmother donated a few of her pieces to this museum, and I, a few in her name.” Lillian said as she pulled Jack along with her, toward a wall adorned with three framed portraits.
“You brought me here to show me your grandmother’s paintings?” Jack asked a bit confused. Lillian could feel that he was unsure, uncomfortable even.
“One in particular.” Lillian said lowly. “When I first met you, Jack, I thought that I recognized you.” She reminded as she pulled him closer by his warm hands.
“I remember.” Jack breathed out as he met her gaze. Lillian could feel the heat within him, the unmistakable attraction, the heated desire that was building inside of the man, and she almost stopped. She almost walked away right then and there, but something compelled her to go on.
He could barely breathe, Jack thought as his rampaging heart caught in his throat. No other woman had affected him so much! How was Lillian Saint Rose so different? He was mesmerized by those beautiful blue eyes, her pale, alabaster skin, her full, fleshy lips. He wanted her. There was no denying that, but it was more, something that he didn’t quite understand, but it had taken him over all the same. Lost in her eyes, he listened to her every word.
“A very long time ago, my great, great, great grandmother was on a ship leaving England, bound for America. She was very young, eighteen years of age. She was also very fanciful and impressionable, as most young girls of that age are. On board, she met a handsome gentleman. He was older, wiser, and he basically promised her the moon.”
“What does this have to do with-” Jack tried interrupting, but Lillian pressed two delicate fingers to his lips.
“Shh. You must listen to understand.” she warned with a sweet smile. It was all Jack could do not to grab her to him, and devour her when her fingers touched his lips, but somehow, he refrained.
“So, did this man deliver the moon?” he mumbled against her cool, soft fingers.
“No. He did not. This man wasn’t a good man, Jack, but in the beginning my great, great, great, grandmother thought that he was. She was in awe of him, would have given him the moon herself if she but only could have. Then one night, she witnessed her would be love in an act of sheer cruelty. She was devastated. She suddenly wanted to be as far away from him as she could possibly get, but onboard ship that was nearly impossible. It was also too late. The man had become obsessed with her. He refused to let her go.” Lillian spoke so seriously, but her familiarity with the story drew Jack into it.
“Couldn’t she have spoken to the authorities?” Jack inquired.
“No one could help her, not even her dear friend, who had tried to warn her of this man’s evil to begin with.” Lillian spoke hauntingly.
“What happened?”
“As I said, she detested this man, and she was ashamed that she had allowed him to fool her, but now she could not escape him. The man had friends on board, friends just as cruel as he. He knew that there was nowhere my great, great, great grandmother could go, so he allowed her to roam about some nights on deck alone. During this time, she met another young gentleman, a man who could see that she was not happy, who longed to make her so.”
“You know this story very well.” Jack pointed out with a crooked smile.
“It’s been in my family for generations.” Lillian whispered, ducking her head away from him.
“This other man? Did he marry your grandmother? Did they live happily-ever-after?” Jack teased.
“No.” Lillian replied sadly. “He and my great, great, great grandmother became fast friends. They would meet on deck when she could escape the cruel man, if even for a moment.”
Jack lifted Lillian’s chin to make her look at him. Her eyes looked very sad, haunted even. “Soon, they realized that what they were feeling for each other was much more than friendship, but my great, great, great grandmother had a secret, a secret that she was very afraid to tell Jackson, in fear he would leave her.”
“Jackson?” Jack asked in recognition. “That’s who you thought I was that night when we first met.”
“Perhaps I’m as fanciful as my grandmother was.” Lillian tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. Jack rubbed her arms tenderly as he stepped in closer.
“So, did she tell Jackson this secret?” he asked.
“Yes. Somehow, she found the courage to do so.” Lillian whispered.
“And he accepted her anyway?” Jack inquired, getting back into the story.
Lillian nodded.
“Yes. They tried to make plans to escape her captor, but then suddenly he was there. He saw Jackson there with her, and became enraged. Jackson tried to save her. He…He died that night.” Lillian lowered her head as if in shame. What was this about, Jack wondered. He tucked her chin, and beseeched her eyes.
“That must have broken your grandmother’s heart. Did she ever escape the other man?” He spoke gently, feeling that Lillian
needed comforting just then.
“Yes. When the ship docked, she and her female friend found a way to disembark before the man could. They never heard from him again, but she never, ever forgot Jackson, and she never forgave herself for his death.” Lillian replied lowly.
“Lilly? Why are telling me all of this?” Jack touched her cheek, so cool to the touch and so velvety soft.
“Because Jack, you look just like him.” Lillian whispered, and that said, she moved aside to reveal a portrait painting that could have been Jack’s brother. Not Garret. No, Garret didn’t even resemble Jack this closely. It was amazing! Astonished, Jack stepped in for a closer look. The hair was lighter and longer. The skin was a bit paler too. The nose was slightly off center, but the eyes, the eyes, his unusual shade of amber were dead on. It was like looking into his own eyes in a mirror, Jack thought, astounded.
“Wow.” Jack breathed out, and he looked back to where Lilly had been standing, but she was no longer there. Turning, he saw her standing in the doorway.
“I’ve taken enough of your time, Jack Stone.” she told him, and her hand lingered on the light switch.
“Right.” Jack replied, and he met her at the door.
Lillian switched off the light, and started down the dark hallway. When Jack stubbed his toe on a table he cursed. “How do you find your way?” he called after Lillian who was now out of his sight.
“The moonlight.” she replied, her voice coming to him as she reached out and took his hand. Jack sucked in his breath at the sudden contact as a wave of desire swept through him.
“I’ve walked these halls many times.” she said, and she led him back outside into the moonlight that she spoke of. Jack was still reeling from his likeness in the portrait from what had to have been more than a hundred years ago.
The Power Page 9