Out of the Night

by Robin T. Popp

  “What about the firefighter thing?”

  She gave a half laugh. “How’d you know about that?”

  He shrugged. “Dr. Sanchez told me.”

  “Well, as you can imagine, being a librarian is not the most exciting job to have and while I liked it, I needed something more in my life. One of my librarian friends volunteers at the local station. She used to come into work and tell me about the calls that came in the night before, fighting the fires, working accident scenes. It didn’t take long before I knew I wanted to be a part of it—the excitement, the danger, but most of all, helping people who really need it.”

  At that moment the waitress appeared with their food and reality intruded, at least for Lanie, as she watched Mac dig enthusiastically into his steak. From where she sat, the only part of it that wasn’t bloodred and raw was the seared outer layer. It was almost enough to turn her stomach, but it didn’t seem to bother Mac at all, and that fact set the alarm bells in her mind to ringing loudly. Was this a normal food preference for him or, like all the other changes occurring in him, had he suffered a change in palate? Did he now prefer the taste of blood?

  After a while, she couldn’t take it anymore. She had to know. “Do you always take your steak that rare?”

  He stopped, a bite halfway to his mouth, and stared at the meat as if seeing it for the first time. “No. In fact, I usually order it medium, but tonight—I don’t know—it sounded good.”

  He put the bite in his mouth and chewed, but his previous good mood seemed to vanish and he became thoughtful and quiet. There were a couple of times when Lanie got the impression that he was trying not to finish the steak. In the end, he left part of it untouched, and Lanie wondered what he would have done if she hadn’t been there, watching. He didn’t eat the vegetables or the rolls served with the meal, which she also found unusual, but this time, she wisely kept her thoughts to herself.

  Throughout the rest of the meal, Mac seemed preoccupied, and they didn’t talk at all as he walked her back to the room.

  “I’ll come get you later when it’s time to go see the admiral.”

  “Okay.” She found her key card, but before she could slip it into the lock, Mac took it and did it for her. After the green light blinked, he opened the door and followed her inside. She waited, curious about his intent, but after looking around, he went back to stand beside her at the door.

  “Get some sleep, okay?” There was a moment of awkward silence as they gazed at each other. Lanie felt her heart speed up and found it difficult to breathe. Inside her, anticipation built. Then, suddenly, the moment was over and Mac put a hand on the knob and opened the door to leave.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, cringing at the pathetic, almost desperate sound of her voice.

  “I’m not tired, so I thought I’d go out for a while.”

  She wasn’t sure what to think. “Do you want some company?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Are you sure? Because I’m not the least bit tired—” A yawn cut off the rest of her words, undermining her best intentions.

  “Good night, Lanie.”

  She moved forward as he stepped into the hallway and put her hand on the door, ready to close it. “Good night.” She didn’t know how much of her was worried about where he was going versus the fact that he was leaving and she missed him.

  “Lanie?” He reached through the opening of the door before she shut it completely and laid his hand against her cheek in a gentle caress. She gazed into his eyes, wondering what thoughts raced through his head; wondering if he was as affected as she.

  Then, before she realized what he was going to do, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers in a kiss that was over before she could recover.

  “Keep your connecting door locked, okay?” He stepped back out into the hallway and closed her door while she stood in shock. By the time she could move again and open the door, the hall was empty and he was gone.

  She moved in a kind of trance as she showered and changed into a nightshirt. She went back in her mind to relive the exact moment when his lips touched hers, trying to re-create the sizzle that shot through her. Part of her longed for another chance to experience those feelings with him, while the more grounded part of her listed all the reasons why that wasn’t a good idea.

  At long last, she climbed into bed and lay there, her ears straining to hear sounds of Mac’s return while her gaze kept returning to the digital readout of the clock on the nightstand. She tried not to think about where he was or what he was doing, and cursed her imagination that saw him picking up women in the bar one minute and drinking their blood the next.

  She finally turned on the TV for distraction and fell asleep.

  When she awoke hours later, the sun was high in the sky and she felt much better. Crawling out of bed, she wondered what time Mac had finally made it back—if he’d made it back—and before she could stop the thought, if he’d returned alone.

  Despite the fact that it was almost noon, she picked up the small in-room coffeepot and filled it with water, which she then poured into the back of the coffeemaker. It was never too late for coffee, she thought, placing the prepackaged coffee and filter into the holder and starting the machine.

  She wandered into the bathroom to shower and by the time she was done, so was the coffee. Slipping her nightshirt back on, she poured a cup and took a sip, feeling the hot liquid slide down her throat and imagining caffeine racing through her system. She immediately felt better. Carrying the cup to the bed, she sat on the end and watched TV while she drank.

  The local midday news was just coming on, so she turned up the volume. She wasn’t really paying attention until a story about homeless men found dead in a nearby alley caught her attention. The man reporting the story described the scene as one of “the most baffling” authorities had ever seen. The bodies were found with two puncture wounds on the sides of their necks. An interview with the medical examiner revealed that the men had lost massive quantities of blood—and yet there was little blood found at the scene.

  Lanie reached out to put the coffee cup on the nearby table, almost missing it in her dazed state. The crime scene wasn’t that far from the hotel, and the reporter said the victims had been killed sometime in the early morning hours.

  Suddenly she had to know if Mac was in his room, yet a part of her was almost afraid of what she’d find.

  Going to stand by the connecting doors, she pressed her ear against it. For several seconds, all she heard was the sound of her own breathing. Then the phone rang next door. She waited for Mac to answer it, but he never did. Finally, it stopped.

  She knocked on the door, but heard no sound of movement on the other side. She knocked again, this time louder. Still, nothing.

  The last thing in the world she wanted to do was open her door and barge in on Mac if he was in bed with someone else, but then reason asserted itself. Mac wasn’t a hormonally driven teenager who forgot everything at the prospect of getting lucky. If he’d brought a woman back to his room, he would have closed and locked his part of the connecting doors. She had only to open her door to get her answer.

  She turned the lock and eased open the door, noticing that his door was open and the room was still clothed in shadows from the tightly drawn drapes. Lanie leaned into the room far enough to see the bed and noticed a form lying there—a solitary form.

  She heaved a sigh of relief. Mac is asleep, that’s all. If he’d gotten back really late, then it made sense that he’d sleep so soundly.

  The phone started ringing again. For the briefest moment, she hesitated, then she dashed across the room to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “Lanie?” It was Dirk Adams’s voice and it held a note of amusement. “Is Mac there?”

  “He’s asleep.”

  “Rough night, eh?” Yes, he was definitely amused. “Will you have him call me as soon as he’s awake?” His tone sobered. “It’s important, so the sooner the bett
er.”

  “Okay.” She replaced the receiver and debated on what to do. She needed to wake him.

  She started for the curtains but stopped, remembering what happened the last time she’d tried that. Instead, she crossed to the desk and turned on the lamp, sending a soft, dim glow across the room.

  Mac didn’t stir. Walking over to the bed, she called his name softly—but got no reaction. She tried again, a little louder, with the same results. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was ill. After all, that steak last night had been extremely raw—maybe he’d come down with food poisoning.

  She checked his complexion and saw it had a grayish pallor. When she placed her hand against his forehead, it felt cold and clammy. The covers of the bed were pushed down around his waist and almost of their own volition, her eyes strayed over his bare chest and powerful arms. He lay on his side, facing her, so still that she had to watch carefully for several minutes before she saw the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. At least he was alive.

  Lanie placed her hand on his upper arm and tried to shake him awake. This time he stirred, but still did not open his eyes.

  Placing her fingers against the base of his wrist, she checked his pulse. It was slow, too slow.

  “That’s it,” she muttered to herself. “I’m calling for an ambulance.”

  She reached for the phone, but suddenly found her wrist caught in a powerful grip. “Mac? Are you all right?”

  He didn’t answer, merely stared as if he didn’t really see her. There was something else about his eyes that bothered her. They seemed to glow.

  Not knowing whether to be afraid or not, Lanie found herself being pulled slowly toward him. When his lips captured hers, all rational thought left her.

  Mac wasn’t sure at what point he realized the erotic dream was real, but his surprise was quickly replaced by pure, raw need and desire when he felt Lanie’s lush body against his on the bed. With his mouth already covering hers, he rolled, trapping her beneath him as he ran his tongue across her lips, coaxing them to open. It took only a little encouragement before she did and then his tongue delved inside.

  Her eager response only excited him further and he slipped his hand beneath the hem of her nightshirt to cup her breast, slowly kneading her fullness. He wanted to feel her naked body pressed against his, so he quickly pulled the nightshirt over her head and tossed it behind him.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he kissed first her mouth and then began to work his way down the column of her throat, all too aware of her rapid pulse pounding beneath the surface of the tender skin. He ran his tongue along it, causing them both to shiver and when she uttered a small cry, he shifted his weight so the hard evidence of his arousal pressed the juncture of her legs.

  He wanted to take her right then and there, but a small voice cautioned him to slow down. The tension and desire in him grew, leaving him shaking with the need to possess her. His heart pounded in a primitive tempo, and he held her to him by wrapping both arms tightly around her, his mouth pressed to the base of her throat as his hips thrust against hers in an effort to satisfy the lust raging inside. When she rubbed her hips against him, the need exploded inside him. Baring his teeth, he bit down.

  White-hot lights exploded behind her eyes, quickly fading as Lanie realized that Mac had scrambled away from her. Feeling exposed without his body covering hers, she looked up at him in dazed confusion. Slowly, she realized that they would not be finishing what they’d started, and she took a deep breath to keep from screaming her frustration at missing out on what had promised to be the sexual experience of a lifetime.

  About to give Mac a piece of her mind for leading her on, she stopped, noticing the expression on his face. He was staring at her as if she were some type of sexual pariah. What had she done, she wondered, to make him change his mind? As the lust-crazed fog in her brain evaporated, she saw the red liquid covering his lips and seeping from the corner of his mouth. Her mind fought to make sense of what she saw, but the concept was too horrifying.

  Almost in slow motion, she saw him swallow and then lick the remaining moisture from his lips.

  The feel of something warm running down her neck broke the trance she was in, and she slapped a hand to her neck and felt the moisture. Almost afraid to look, she pulled her hand away, saw the blood covering her fingers, and realized what had happened.

  Mac had bitten her!

  Chapter 8

  Staring and horrified, Lanie watched Mac open his bloodstained mouth and rub a finger across his teeth. From where she sat, she saw the two elongated canines that hadn’t been there the day before. Touching her neck, she felt the impression of the two punctures where the . . . fangs . . . had pierced her flesh.

  She closed her eyes, suddenly faint. It wasn’t a lack of blood that left her feeling light-headed, but rather the idea of Mac drinking her blood—like a vampire.

  The sound of movement startled her, and she opened her eyes to see him stumble into the bathroom. Feeling vulnerable and exposed, she clutched the sheets on the bed around her and waited. From the bathroom came the sound of running water, followed by several deep breaths. She jumped when she heard the loud whack of Mac hitting the wall.

  Part of her screamed to run into the other room and bolt the door behind her, but just then, Mac, looking calmer, stepped out of the bathroom, one towel wrapped around his waist and another, smaller towel clutched in his hand.

  He walked over to the bed, and unable to stop herself, she shied away from him. It hurt to see the wounded look that came into his eyes, but she didn’t know what to expect from him—and she was frightened.

  Mac stopped and tossed her the towel. She used it to dab at her neck, but the bleeding had all but stopped.

  “Lanie.” His voice broke over her name and he had to clear his throat. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” He swallowed and clinched his hands into fists. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  She wanted to believe him, but it wasn’t that easy, so she said nothing.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, watching the way his mouth worked as he tried to adjust to the new teeth. After a moment, he seemed to notice that she still sat naked in his bed.

  “Not to change the subject, but . . .” He paused as a thoughtful expression crossed his face. “I don’t know any way to ask this without it sounding bad, but how’d you get in my bed?”

  She gave him a pointed look, to which he responded with a slight nod of his head. “Right, stupid question, but, you see, I thought it was all a dream.”

  It was too embarrassing to sit and wait for him to tell her the whole thing was a mistake—that he’d been dreaming of Babycakes—so she shrugged her shoulders and pasted a casual expression on her face. “No problem. It was my fault, anyway. I came in while you were asleep and tried to wake you up.”

  “Why?”

  For a second she was caught off guard by his question, but then she remembered why she came into the room in the first place. “I thought that maybe Burton and my father might have come to D.C.”

  Mac shook his head before she could continue. “That’s unlikely, since half of the old unit is here this week. There’d be too many men here who’d recognize Burton. I can’t see him taking that chance.”

  Lanie stared down at the bed and almost missed his next question as another, more horrifying thought sprang to mind.

  “What made you think they were here?”

  She decided to tell him the truth. “There were a couple of suspicious murders last night.” Seeing the remote control on the stand beside the bed, she picked it up and turned on the TV. She flipped through the channels to an all-news station and told Mac the details as they waited for the story to replay. It didn’t take long. From the corner of her eye, she watched for Mac’s reaction. When the story ended, he turned to her, his expression haunted.

  “If Burton and my dad didn’t do this”—she paused and gave him a meaningfu
l look—“then who did? You?”

  “I don’t know. I went out drinking last night—and indulged in about half a fifth more than I should have. The entire evening after the fourteenth shot is one big blur.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Hell, I don’t even know how I got home.”

  He stood up, running a hand down his face. “I need to get out of here. I need to think.”

  Not really looking at her, he leaned down and retrieved the clothes that lay discarded on the floor. Without warning, he dropped the towel about his waist, and Lanie was treated to the full, unabashed sight of him before she could turn her head away. She waited until she heard the sound of him zipping his pants before she turned back to look at him. When she did, she found him standing with his shirt held up in front of him, an expression of shocked disbelief on his face.

  “Mac, what is it?”

  Slowly, almost absently, he turned the shirt around so she could see the dark brown stain covering the entire front. There was no mistaking what it was, and a myriad of thoughts raced through her head—all bad. Feeling trapped by her state of undress, she began searching through the covers for her nightshirt.

  “Oh, God,” Mac choked. “What have I become?” He paced across the room, swearing under his breath, and Lanie knew that there was nothing she could say to comfort him. She couldn’t promise that everything would be all right when it looked like it was only going to get worse.

  Suddenly he tossed his shirt onto the bed. “I refuse to be like them.” Then he stormed out of the room.

  For a split second she sat in stunned confusion, wondering where he’d gone. Then his words made sense. In the spirit of popular vampire fiction, Mac was going to meet the dawn—only in this case, he was meeting high noon, but the ultimate goal was the same. Mac thought he was a vampire and he was going to destroy himself.