by Holley Trent
She found Malcolm in the kitchen, making her a cup of hot cocoa, just one of a few new domestic duties he’d mastered since she entered his life. He’d also become adept at laundry. She spoke to his back. “As you know, I’ve done quite a bit of research on vampires. Are there other vampires who can function in daylight?”
Malcolm turned and handed Abby a mug. “A few, though aside from my maker, I don’t know them. I inherited that ability — sort of a vampire genetic code. It’s quite rare, and it’s enabled me to mainstream.”
“Tell me about your maker.” The closer she got to Malcolm, the more curious she was about the process. If their relationship continued to develop, would she consider trading her humanity for immortality?
Malcolm nodded to the mug in Abby’s hand. “I will — some other time. Drink your cocoa.”
Abby wished he would be more forthcoming, but she decided not to press. She took a sip. “You’re always making me something to drink, and you never drink anything.”
“I can get down a good glass of cabernet, but it’s not my favorite beverage.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.
She shivered. “I don’t dwell on your need for blood, but really, how often do you have to … imbibe?”
“Not often. When I was first turned, I was ravenous. All new vampires are. But over the years, as I’ve chosen to live a human existence, I can sustain myself on semi-monthly raids of the blood bank.”
“The blood bank? Don’t you feel guilty, taking blood that some hospital patient may need?” Abby screwed up her nose. “And how do you get in?”
“I only take tainted blood, Abby. It’s not fit for human infusion, but it’s fine for me. And I travel as vapor. I’m sure the personnel notice that there’s product missing, but it’s not useful blood, anyway.”
Tamping down a wave of nausea, her hand instinctively went to her stomach. “I assume that sometime in your history you fed off humans?”
Malcolm’s eyes grew dark. “Yes, I had to. But in spite of the many men I killed during the war, I’ve never killed anyone for blood. Besides, I wiped the memories of my donors, so they were none the wiser.”
Abby frowned. “Does that mean you could wipe my memory?” The thought frightened her. Her life had inextricably changed in the last few weeks, and she couldn’t imagine having what she’d experienced with Malcolm erased.
“No, my love, that only works for brief encounters. For better or worse, I am indelibly written in your history.” He smoothed her eyebrow with his thumb, and then kissed her temple.
She sighed her relief, albeit unsettled. “Can we change the subject?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “Tell me, what would you do if you weren’t at the college? Broadway, perhaps?”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Heavens, no, I like being around the students. At some point, I’d like to do a workshop for underprivileged kids, like I did at NYU. Unfortunately, the current theater budget is extremely lean. The administration may decide they don’t need two professors in the department, and Kyle has seniority. You, on the other hand, are irreplaceable at the college. You’ll never lose your job.”
“I suppose they’d be hard pressed to find another Civil War instructor who was also a veteran. Though I’m going to have to add a few gray streaks to my hair soon, or the faculty will think I’ve found the fountain of youth.” He laughed.
Abby loved the sound of his laugh, a low rumble that started in his gut. She’d never heard him laugh before they became a couple. “How long have you been at the college?”
“This time around? Close to twelve years. I taught here from 1905 to 1915, and then I spent some time at the University of Virginia, earning my Ph.D. I returned to Gettysburg in the 1950s. I just have to make sure no one is still on campus to remember Professor McClellan when I reappear. And since I no longer show up in photographs — another vampire thing — there aren’t any old yearbooks with my unchanging image in them.”
“I wouldn’t fret about your age giving you away as much as your attitude.”
Malcolm’s jovial expression morphed to an intense stare. “What do you mean?”
“I’m worried sick you’re going to reveal yourself during this play.” Abby set her mug on the kitchen counter and returned Malcolm’s stare. “Those vampire goons could show up at any time, and one flash of a fang would be your death knell.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be able to sense them in the audience.”
“Okay, so even if you don’t do anything they could pick up on, the audience could freak out if you do something like move too fast.”
“They’ll think I’m a remarkable actor.” Malcolm half smiled.
“Perhaps too remarkable.” Abby rubbed her arms. Malcolm’s house was always chilly. “Or what if Kyle sidles up to me, and you get jealous. Can you control that?”
He circled her waist with his hands. “Abby, Abby. I appreciate your concern, but I doubt any of our students, and I know none of the faculty, believe that vampires truly exist. They won’t see what they aren’t looking for.”
“If they did suspect, could you wipe their memories?”
He laughed again. “No, that only works one-on-one, and I have to be looking into their eyes.”
“I’m not reassured.” Her hand went to her stomach. “I feel queasy about it.”
“Be glad you can feel queasy. I don’t remember most of the feelings I had as a human.”
“But you remember love.” Abby placed her hands on Malcolm’s broad chest.
“Ah, yes. That I remember.” He wrapped his arms around her.
Abby snuggled into his embrace. “I don’t need to have children, Malcolm. I’m dedicated to teaching, and some of the best teachers I’ve had over the years have been childless.”
He pulled back and looked at her. “That’s a big decision, Abby. What brought that on?”
“I just wanted you to know what I’ve been thinking about.”
Chapter Eighteen
As the premiere of the play approached, the vampire goons were making regular appearances at rehearsals. Their glowing red eyes distracted and disturbed Abby.
Later that evening, back at Malcolm’s house, she paced the living room. “You have to do something about those guys. If you don’t, I will.”
Malcolm settled in his wing chair. He grabbed Abby’s hand as she brushed by. “Ignore them, Abby. That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“Are you crazy?” Abby glared pointedly at him. “They could destroy you. One false move on that stage, and they’ll be flying to the council. Is that what you want?”
Malcolm ran a hand through his hair. “Abby, have you given serious thought to where your life is heading?”
“Did you just change the subject?”
“No, not at all. Have you thought long term — about us?”
“Constantly. You are my life, Malcolm. I don’t want to live without you, and if anything happened to you, I … ” She looked away before he could see her tears.
Malcolm turned her chin back to face him. “I’ve already been responsible for one woman’s death.”
“You weren’t responsible for Sarah’s death. The war was.” I wish he could let go of his guilt.
“If I hadn’t been part of that war, she wouldn’t have been involved.”
Get tough, Abby. “For a smart man, that’s an idiotic thing to say. You were a West Point-trained cavalry officer. You had to be in the war.”
“True, but I didn’t have to be incommunicado.”
“And disobey orders? That doesn’t sound like the Malcolm I know.” She pointed her finger at his chest. “You can’t live your life on ‘what ifs,’ and you can’t change the past.”
“There you go, acting wiser than your years, again.” Malcolm ran his knuckles across Abby’s cheek.
She caressed his hand at her cheek. “Please, back to the subject at hand. Promise me you won’t do anything to provoke those guys.”
“You mean by being me?”
“I mean by being too much you. I have enough to worry about with Pamela after my job. I don’t need to worry about some vampire council passing judgment on you.”
“I’ll try not to get lost in the moment. I think you call that method acting, right?”
“Precisely, but in this case it’s a dangerous technique. It could get you killed.”
“I’ll be fine. And I’ll take care of Pamela. Just because I don’t use my wiles on you doesn’t mean I can’t make her see the error of her ways.”
“She’s nastier than she looks, so watch out.”
Malcolm reared his head back and laughed. “My dear, I’m a vampire. We wrote the book on nasty.”
• • •
Malcolm spotted Pamela crossing the quad ahead of him. He caught up with her and grabbed her elbow. “I believe you have something of mine.”
“Geez, you scared me.” She squinted through light snowflakes at Malcolm. “I didn’t hear anyone behind me.”
“Maybe you should pay better attention to your surroundings.” He smiled for a micro-second. “Young women have been known to disappear from this campus.” Even he could hear the menace in his voice.
“Thanks for the advice, Professor. I didn’t know you cared.” Her smile was much longer than a micro-second and delivered with lowered eyelashes.
“You haven’t answered my question, Miss Shields.” He hadn’t let go of her elbow and now he squeezed it.
“Ouch.” She tried to brush off his hand, but his grasp was firm. “I didn’t hear a question.”
“It was more of a statement. You have something of mine.”
She blinked. “I do?”
“Yes. The gown you took from Miss Potter’s office belongs to me. It’s a family heirloom.”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
He widened his eyes and zapped her with a shock of vampire glamour.
She froze, her face expressionless. “Come … and … get … it.”
“Excellent. When?”
“Tonight … my apartment … 380 Lincoln Drive … eight o’clock.” She licked her lips.
Malcolm let go of her elbow. “See you tonight.” As he strode away, he looked back over his shoulder to find her glued to the same spot, staring after him. He smiled. She’d shake it off in a minute, though she’d still crave him. Would she greet him tonight in a negligee? The thought wasn’t appealing. He might have glamoured her more than he’d intended.
• • •
Abby shook her head at Malcolm’s account of his meeting with Pamela. “Oh, to be a fly on the wall. Could I come with you tonight?”
“She may be glamoured, but she’s not stupid. She’d snap out of it if she saw you.”
Abby removed her gloves and warmed her hands at Malcolm’s fireplace. Staring into the flickering flames, she shuddered.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Cold?”
“No. I was just thinking about how easily you entranced her. You could do that to me.”
He turned her around and held her shoulders. “I wouldn’t.”
“But you could.” She took a step back, bumping the fireplace screen. “It makes me feel like I don’t have free will … that you could coerce me.”
He sighed. “Abby, you never have to worry about that.”
She rubbed her arms. “I want to believe you.”
He turned from her, walking to a window where the bleak winter landscape reflected the abrupt change in his mood. “This is why I’ve avoided a relationship for so many years. I wasn’t sure I could keep myself from behaving like a vampire. It’s our nature to want to bring people under our spell. It’s essential to our survival. If we didn’t glamour humans, and then wipe their memories, we couldn’t feed off them.”
“You know how creepy that sounds?”
“Of course, I do.” He looked back at her, and there was pain in his eyes. “When I rescued you from the Goth club, I could have easily glamoured you into sex. But I wanted more from you, Abby. I wanted you to care for me as a man.”
“I do care for you. I … I … ” How could she put into words the depth of her feelings for him?
“Hear me out. I know you admire my humanity, but you also have to accept that I am not human. And you have to believe me when I say that I will not coerce you … ever.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Damn, Abby, I thought we’d been over this.”
“We had. It’s just that when you told me how easily Pamela succumbed to your glamour, it scared me.”
“Does this scare you?” He opened his mouth, and his fangs extended.
Involuntarily, Abby jumped. She wished she hadn’t.
Malcolm closed his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, his half squint showed his sorrow. He swiped a hand across his face, and then checked his watch. “I need to go and be a vampire for a while. Will you be here when I return?”
“I’m not sure. I, I … need some time to think.” He’d grazed her neck with his fangs before, so why in heaven’s name did the sight of his fangs frighten her? Hadn’t she accepted his nature?
Malcolm’s tires screeched on the gravel as he left for Pamela’s apartment. Abby almost ran after him, but she didn’t know what to say. Yes, she was extremely attracted to him. He was more than attractive. He was magnetic, sexy, and forbidden. That aspect of him, his vampirism, was both exciting and frightening. There was a whole side of him that she couldn’t fathom and a million reasons why she should run the other way. She could second-guess and analyze, but in the end, it was just her and her heart. Like Pat said, don’t intellectualize feelings.
He’d demonstrated over and over how much he cared. He’d rescued her from the Goth club. He’d put himself in danger by acting in her play, and now he was solving her problem with Pamela. He’d risked everything for her, and what had she done? Acted like he had a contagious disease. And why? Because she thought he might glamour her. Didn’t she trust him? No one had ever made her feel the depth of passion and longing that Malcolm did. With him, the heat inside her became something all its own. And once again, he was out there being courageous for her while she was sitting on her keister.
What could she do for him? She thought about those creepy vampires who had been hanging around the theater, hoping he’d trip up. Malcolm’s way of dealing was to ignore them, but Abby watched them as they took notes on his performance. They were gathering evidence that he was displaying vampire characteristics. One flash of fang, and the vampire council would descend on him like a cannon ball in free fall.
She checked the clock on the mantel — eight-fifteen. If she left for Philly now, she could be back by midnight. She’d formulate a plan on the way. Surely, they’d listen to reason.
• • •
Malcolm pulled up to the curb in front of Pamela’s apartment and turned off the ignition. He squeezed the steering wheel of the truck he’d bought to haul his horse trailer. His life had been uncomplicated when all he’d had to think about was his curriculum and where the next Civil War re-enactment would take him. But it had been empty, too. Devoid of feeling.
Now he had feeling … in spades … and where had it gotten him? The woman he loved was repulsed and frightened. It was little comfort that she cared about Malcolm, the man, because his human side was only part of his being. Since he’d agreed to this play, opportunities to exhibit his true nature had erupted at every turn. If he wasn’t on stage, acting the part, he was glamouring a woman. He’d suppressed that ability for more than a hundred years.
Until the twentieth century, he’d glamoured his share of people. Whether women or men, he�
�d needed to feed. A brief lick over the puncture wound provided instant healing for his victim, and a moment of eye contact wiped the memory of his deed. It was a cold, cruel existence, but at least his victims walked away unscathed and unaware. Not the best rationalization, but he was after all, a vampire.
He assuaged his guilt over Sarah by his dedication to teaching, to making a difference in the world. And in her memory, he vowed to lead a human existence. With that vow came the pledge to imbibe only bottled blood, which had tempered his animal desires … until he allowed Abby to invade his heart. But he wouldn’t trade a minute of the time he’d spent with her. For better or worse, she’d crept into the farthest reaches of his heart, places where the pumping and flushing of blood didn’t reach. Places where nothing could dislodge the love.
Malcolm didn’t know how long he sat in the car, staring at a tear in his dashboard. When he looked up, Pamela was on her stoop, blowing frosty breaths and glaring at him. With a heavy sigh, he opened the door and swung his legs down to the icy pavement.
He grinned as he approached. “It’s cold. Go back inside.”
“I’ve been watching you from the window,” she said. “You’ve been sitting in that car like a statue. I came outside to make sure you hadn’t died behind the wheel.”
“I assure you, I am … here.” Dead, but here. He’d been correct in anticipating her attire. She was shivering in a black, knee-length robe with a plunging neckline and feathers at the hem.
“Come in.” She opened the door with a flourish and led Malcolm inside. “I bought a few sex toys specifically for this occasion. Shall we give them a try?”
Malcolm was incapable of being shocked, but her comment made him take a step back. He had come on too strong with the glamour. “I’m not here for pleasantries, Miss Shields.”
“Please, call me Pamela.” She rubbed against him like a cat in heat.
“Just give me the gown.”
“That old thing? You’re welcome to it. It gives me the heebie jeebies.”