Roman ran blindly for several minutes, dogs around the neighborhood barking and howling as they detected his presence.
Turning a corner, a majestic church came into view, its steeple rising into the night sky. At once Roman felt white fire licking his skin, and he came to a halt before the house of God, where an inner light illuminated the stained-glass windows. This was his church, the church he entered every Sunday.
The hunger was unbearable now, ripping him apart. Clenching his hands, he fought against the desire to return to the estate and feed on his sister.
I have to die!
Roman moved toward the church, fighting the Holy Fire repulsing him. The crosses inset on the doors blazed to life, blinding him. Covering his face, he staggered off into the bushes lining the building. Desperate, he kicked in one of the basement windows and slid inside. Hot invisible fire burned against his flesh.
“Dear God, help me,” he whispered as he moved through the darkened basement. He sat down in a folding chair and hugged himself protectively. “I did not ask for this curse. Have mercy on me, please.”
The discomfort worsened as the minutes ticked by. The holiness of the church and the hunger plunged Roman into a living hell. Hands trembling, he pushed his sweat-soaked hair from his brow.
“Kill me, God. Kill me now,” he moaned in anguish.
Then something snapped within him and the beast that was his hunger seized full control.
Desperate to escape the inferno of holy power engulfing him, he threw himself about the basement, furniture splintering. His crazed, glowing red eyes caught sight of the broken window and he leaped easily through it and hurled away from the church.
* * *
Rachel Williams slammed the door of her car shut and heaved her grocery bag onto her hip. The pretty young woman with ebony hair and skin hated working so late at the local supermarket, but it was the only way she could attend school. She started to take a step forward, then hesitated. She never felt safe after dark, but the boarding house where she lived appeared strangely ominous.
Presently, the only people living in the house were the elderly couple that was her landlords. Lately, acts of violence had not been isolated just to ‘bad’ neighborhoods but were spreading into the suburbs. She’d just read about a young woman her age getting raped in the mall parking lot. All day she had felt nervous and wasn’t exactly sure why, but now, staring at the unlighted house, she felt uneasy.
“Hey, lady, can you spare some change?” a young voice taunted from the shadows.
Rachel stiffened. Slowly, she swiveled about to see a young man, unusually pale and gaunt staring at her.
A junkie! Great!
“No, sorry,” she responded, rapidly walked up the drive to the porch. The fear inside of her rose steadily as the kid paced her.
“Hey, lady, I’m sick. I need medicine. Just a couple of bucks.” The young man wiped his face on his filthy shirt. “Come on, lady, hand some money over. I’m needy.”
The punk stepped in front of her, directly in front of the porch, blocking her way. She stopped in her tracks, her mind racing. She could run for the back door but if he were to catch her, things would be far worse.
“Okay, fine. Maybe I do have a few dollars. Let me check,” Rachel said.
Setting her groceries down on the gravel drive, her mind was whirring with possible escape plans. She reached into her purse and fumbled about for her wallet. To her relief, her hairspray bottle was in there too. Pulling the money out with one hand, she kept the other in her purse around the hairspray. “Here you go.”
The young man moved forward and took the few bills. His pale face suddenly flushed and his eyes become crazed with anger. “Five dollars! Are you fucking joking? Look, bitch, hand over the rest! This isn’t enough!”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed. The rest of her money was for her tuition and she was not going to turn that over. “That’s all I have. I’m in school and barely making it.”
The junkie’s face contorted with anger. “I need my medicine real bad, lady, and it costs more than five fuckin’ bucks! Give me everything that’s in your purse!” He grabbed her arm, his sweaty face twisted in his desperation.
Rachel whipped out the hairspray and squirted it directly into the young man’s eyes. He screamed with anguish, ducking away from her, his hands rubbing his eyes. Rachel ran the second he let go of her.
“Get back here, bitch!”
She ran as fast as she could with her purse clutched to her breasts, her shoes slipping on the gravel drive. When she heard the junkie coming up behind her, his tennis shoes scattering the loose gravel, she let out a desperate cry.
“Now you’re going to pay, bitch,” the addict’s hateful voice hissed in her ear as he grabbed hold of her hair and painfully pulled her against him.
Rachel let out a terrified scream.
The junkie jerked her head back, nearly tearing her hair from her skull. The stink of his rotting teeth and rancid breath almost made her gag. “Shut up, bitch!”
There was no way she was going to obey him. “Somebody help me!”
Slamming her into the side of the house, the attacker pressed his body against hers, trying to grab her purse. “I said shut up.”
“Fuck you! Somebody help me! Somebody call 911!”
“I said shut-” The junkie’s words were cut off by a scream of absolute terror.
Abruptly released, she fell to the ground, the gravel cut into her palms and knees. The sounds of a scuffle sent her crawling toward the back door. There was a gasp, then abruptly, silence.
Rachel was almost to the back steps when she was lifted off the ground and pressed against the side of the house. A man loomed before her, his face hidden in the shadows. His large hands were on her shoulders and he was breathing heavily.
“Don’t hurt me, please!” Rachel sobbed, raising a hand before her face.
The stranger unexpectedly took hold of her hand and sniffed it. Rachel became aware of the fresh blood seeping through the abrasions torn in her palm. He started to pull her hand toward his face, then hesitated. Very purposely, he turned it over and kissed the back of her hand.
“I’m sorry I frightened you, miss,” a soft, cultured voice whispered. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Rachel answered in a shaky voice.
“Good.” He released her hand and staggered away.
Rachel didn’t move while watched in fright as the tall man leaned over and picked up the unconscious junkie as easily as he would a child. He turned, and in the light emanating from the street lamp, she saw his handsome features drawn into a mask of sorrow.
Rachel waited until he disappeared down the street, then gathered up her groceries and ran into the house.
9
Roman stared at the unconscious, still white form on the floor of the mausoleum. He was himself once more; the hunger was gone. He didn’t remember much after entering the basement of the church. He’d returned to sanity after he pressed that poor young woman against the side of her house. She had looked so terrified it had somehow shaken him out of his rampage.
Leaning over, he pressed his fingers against the junkie’s wrist. He was still alive. Roman shifted the man’s head and peered at the tiny red marks ringed with white on his throat. He expected to feel remorse, but as he had fed and the hunger had faded, he had felt nothing more than satisfaction.
“Maybe I’m losing my humanity,” Roman said, and the words horrified him.
Roman bent down and adjusted the man’s body into a more comfortable position.
“I need you for tomorrow night. Sleep until then.”
Roman stood and slipped through the mausoleum doors. He could trust himself now. The hunger was quenched, no longer raging through his body and pushing him toward madness. He had to check on Alisha and see that she was alive. Every door and window was locked, and he was reluctant to force his way into the house and cause alarm. Finally, he found one window in the kitchen open. Roman slipped th
rough with ease and hurried to his study. He was almost there when he began to feel a sense of dread.
The door was ajar and lamplight burned within the room. His heart thudding in his chest, Roman pressed the door open. Alisha immediately came into view. She was sprawled on the floor, her arms thrown back over her head. Blond hair covered her face and Roman hurriedly knelt to push it back. Her still face was very pale and her breathing was jagged, her chest lifting without rhythm.
“Oh, Alisha, I should have listened to you,” Roman whispered emotionally. He spotted the stake and hammer tossed into a corner and sighed. “And you are so brave.”
He tilted her head gently, exposing cruel mangled punctures on her throat. They were healing over and somehow he knew that by morning they’d only be slight marks on her skin. Roman tenderly drew her nightgown over her legs to protect her modesty. Anger welled within him as he realized how brutal the old one had been with her. Bruises were forming on her pale arms but, thank God, she was still alive.
“I’ll take care of you, Alisha. I won’t let him get to you again. I won’t let you become what I am,” Roman swore vehemently.
He lifted her into his arms and carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. Laying her on her bed, he saw that what the old man had said was true. Her small, silver cross was absent from her chain. The heavy smell of the roses was beginning to make him feel as he had in the church, but not nearly so much. He fought against the pressure weighing upon him and covered his sister with her comforter. He then began to search for the small cross.
Alisha would never have left the room if she had realized the cross her mother had given her was missing. Alisha and Vanora were fairly fanatical about keeping the silver crosses about their necks. Carys had given them to the girls when they were very young and made them swear to never take them off.
Finally, Roman spotted the cross in the bathroom. He knelt down and stared at it for a long moment. “Please God, I need to protect Alisha. I realize that I am under a curse now, but please have mercy and let me pick up the cross.”
His fingers touched the cool metal and he lifted the tiny cross carefully. Then, for an instant, he thought of the junkie lying in the mausoleum. It was as though the cross caught fire and the power threw Roman back. He lay on the floor in shock, processing what had just happened, then sat up. Reaching for the cross, he thought only of protecting Alisha from evil. When his fingers plucked the tiny cross from the floor, it did not repel him. Keeping his thoughts on Alisha, he carried it to her side and, with shaking fingers, restrung it onto the silver chain.
Feeling somehow refreshed and hopeful, Roman slipped the chain over Alisha’s head and about her neck. He patted her hand gently and smiled. Perhaps, somehow, he could remain himself. Human. Not a beast driven by bloodlust. The clock in the hall began to chime. It was six in the morning. The sun would soon be rising.
Roman left his sister sleeping and rushed down the stairs and into the study. He snatched up the stake and hammer and left through the kitchen window. Racing down the lawn, he could see the horizon beginning to lighten. For the first time in his existence, Roman was afraid of the beauty of the morning sunrise.
Feeling very lightheaded and weakened, Roman entered the mausoleum. Staring at his empty coffin, he could not imagine living his life being forced to sleep within it during the day. The idea of sleeping in it even today did not appeal to him whatsoever, but he didn’t have any other choice. Grudgingly, he crawled into it and hid the stake and hammer under the satin pillow. He was not about to close the lid, so he stared into the shadows waiting for the old man. Instinctively, he knew killing the old man face to face was impossible. He had a feeling that even though he was younger than his relative, the older vampire was the stronger one. His only choice was to try to awaken before the old man and kill him in his coffin.
A scraping sound informed Roman that the vampire had arrived. The old man emerged from the shadows and glanced disdainfully at the junkie.
“I would suggest that after you feed off of him tomorrow, you break his neck. It will prevent him from becoming a revenant. We don’t need a rabid vampire desecrating our feeding grounds.”
Roman pointedly ignored him.
The vampire glanced into Roman’s coffin and grinned. “How did it feel to feed, Roman? Did the blood feel warm as it flowed down your throat and gave you life?”
Roman reached up and slammed the coffin lid down.
The vampire’s laughter taunted him in the darkness as the sun rose and Roman instantly fell asleep.
* * *
Alisha awoke when Vanora shook her. She blearily stared at the girl, feeling very tired and drained of all her strength.
“What is it, Snow Pea?”
“It’s very late, Alisha. Why aren’t you up?” Vanora asked, crawling onto the bed.
Alisha glanced over at her clock. It was already past noon. “It’s that late?” She sat up and swept her blond hair from her face. A wave of vertigo struck her and she sank back onto her pillows.
“Get up, Alisha. We’re supposed to go to Austin,” Vanora whined.
“We are?” Alisha asked, her mind feeling muddled and confused. “Austin?” Anger erupted inside of her. “Well, I’m not going!”
“Why not? What’s wrong, Alisha? Tell me.”
Alisha narrowed her eyes, trying hard to think clearly. “I don’t want to go,” she repeated firmly, though she wasn’t sure why. “I’m staying here.”
“Alisha, are you sick?” Vanora asked worriedly, touching Alisha’s brow.
“Yes, I’m sick! Now leave me alone!” Alisha drew the covers over her head and closed her eyes.
“But we have to kill the vampire and make sure Roman stays locked up. We have to go to Austin and make plans,” Vanora’s voice whispered through the comforter.
Alisha grunted. What fantasies was her sister indulging in now? She was tired, depressed, and very short-tempered. The sun was blazing through the windows, but she didn’t feel strong enough to get up and draw the curtains.
“There is no such thing as vampires and Roman is dead. Don’t be making up stories about him.”
Vanora drew back the edge of the comforter and her anxious eyes stared down at her sister. “Did Roman get you?”
Alisha sat bolt upright in bed, her face flushed and full of rage. She grabbed hold of her startled sister and drew her close. “Roman is dead! Gone! And there is no such thing as vampires!”
Vanora began to cry, her bottom lip quivering. “We have to kill it, Alisha! It’s going to get us!”
Alisha’s eyes grew wilder, more intense. “You stay away from the mausoleum and don’t you dare tell anyone about your strange fantasies! You go to Uncle Nicolau and tell him we are staying here! Obey me, Vanora Socoli, or you’ll be sorry!” Alisha hissed through clenched teeth.
Vanora sobbed in despair. “It got to you, didn’t it? What am I supposed to do?’
“You stay away from me and that mausoleum!” Alisha responded viciously.
Vanora scrambled off the bed, her tiny face defiant. “I’ll take care of you, Alisha. I’ll bring things to protect you.”
Alisha reached up and tore the cross from her neck and hurled it across the room. “Take this and these awful flowers and stay away!”
Vanora picked up the cross, her voice catching in her throat as she spoke. “You need this or it will get you again!”
“Get out!” Alisha screeched.
Vanora reluctantly left the room and shut the door behind her.
Alisha leaped across the room and locked the door.
10
Vanora stood in the doorway of her bedroom a few minutes later while her Uncle Nicolau pounded on Alisha’s door and called out to her. Crystal knelt beside Vanora, her perfume hanging heavily in the air, and patted her back, trying to soothe her. Vanora wept uncontrollably.
“She’s just upset about Roman, Nick. Leave her alone,” Crystal said, sounding exasperated.
“We made plans
. She just can’t back out of them. We have our own children, Crystal,” Nicolau responded. His eyes flashed with anger and his mustache twitched. “Alisha, talk to me please.”
“I’m not leaving and that is final!” Alisha shouted. “Leave me alone!”
“We already discussed this, Alisha. I don’t think it is wise for you and Vanora to be alone right now. Please be sensible.”
“No!”
Vanora threw her arms around her aunt. “You have to make her go, Aunt Crystal!”
“We’re trying, honey.”
Vanora could only think of that awful creature lying in the mausoleum. He must have gotten to Alisha. She wasn’t acting like herself at all. Her older sister was never cruel. How could she, a mere child, defend her sister and protect herself against a vampire? Vanora fought back her tears. Her uncle had to get Alisha away from the house. He had to save them. But if she said anything, she was positive they wouldn’t believe her.
“Alisha, if you are going to be unreasonable, then we are going to take Vanora and go home,” Nicolau said crossly.
Suddenly the door banged open and Alisha emerged, looking pale and slightly crazed. Her eyes, ringed with purple, were wide and unblinking. Her golden hair tumbled around her shoulders and brow wildly. Without a word, she leaped for Vanora and yanked her from Crystal. “No! She stays! We both do!”
“Please, Alisha, be reasonable. We have to return to our own children and you can’t stay here in this awful house. We have plenty of room,” Crystal said in a gentle, coaxing voice.
Alisha held Vanora closer. Her eyes appeared wild, inhuman. She took several gasping breaths and then spoke in a much calmer voice. “This is our home. We belong here. Go on. We’ll be all right.”
“You don’t look healthy,” Crystal answered. “You’re so pale.”
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