Desire After Dark

by Amanda Ashley

  Duncan laughed. “Don’t worry. My soul’s in pretty good shape. I’ve relied on heavenly intervention far too often to turn my back on the church.”

  “Really?”

  “Faith comes in handy in my line of work.”

  “I never thought of that, but I’ll bet it does. Is there good money in bounty hunting?”

  “Sometimes. Depends on who you’re hunting and how bad your client wants him caught.”

  “You mean someone is paying you to hunt for Sharlene’s murderer?”

  “No. This time it’s on me.” He glanced at his watch. “Listen, I’ve got some business to take care of. Are we still on for tonight?”

  Vicki nodded. “Sure. See you at six.”

  With a wave, he continued on down the street.

  Vicki was on her way home when she saw Mrs. Heath outside watering her lawn.

  After parking the car, Vicki got out and walked up the narrow path. “Morning, Mrs. Heath.”

  “Victoria, dear,” the older woman said, looking up from beneath the brim of a wide straw hat. “How nice to see you in one piece.”

  Vicki frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I saw you earlier. You were driving your machine way too fast.”

  “Yes,” Vicki said with a wry grin. “Augie thought so, too.”

  “Oh, dear, I hope that old fool didn’t give you a ticket.”

  “Not this time.”

  “Well, that’s good, though you really should slow down. So, how are you, dear?”

  “I’m fine. And guess what?” Vicki could hardly wait to see the expression on Mrs. Heath’s face when she told her about Duncan. “I have a date tonight!”

  Mrs. Heath stared at her in what could only be described as alarm. “He doesn’t have rusty yellow eyes, does he?”

  In spite of the warmth of the sun, Vicki felt a sudden chill crawl over her skin. “Yellow eyes?”

  Mrs. Heath placed her hand on Vicki’s arm. “I saw him in a dream, dear. A horrid man with yellow eyes. He was knocking at your door.” Her hand tightened on Vicki’s arm. “Whatever you do, you must not let him in.”

  Vicki shivered. “No. No, I won’t.”

  With a smile, Mrs. Heath released her hold on Vicki’s arm, then turned off the water. “Have a good time, dear. And tell me, who’s the lucky young man? Is it someone I know?”

  “No, he’s new in town. I met him at the diner a few days ago. His name is Tom Duncan.”

  Mrs. Heath’s eyes widened. “Duncan? Did you say Tom Duncan?”

  “Yes. Do you know him?”

  Pressing one hand to her heart, Mrs. Heath sat down on the wrought-iron bench located in the midst of her garden. “Forgive me, dear, the name just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

  “Do you know Mr. Duncan?”

  “I dated a man by the name of Thomas Duncan years ago, before I met Mr. Heath. I might have married him, if he didn’t have such a dreadful occupation.”

  “Dreadful in what way?” Vicki asked. The only dreadful occupation she could think of was being a mortician.

  “He was a vampire hunter.”

  Feeling as though the earth had suddenly stopped spinning, Vicki stared at Mrs. Heath, and then she laughed. “You really had me going for a minute there.”

  “It’s no laughing matter, dear. It’s hard to believe that they exist in this day and age, but they do.”

  Vicki stared at the elderly woman.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Mrs. Heath said. “I didn’t believe my Thomas when he told me, either, but then one night I saw one.” She stared into the distance. “He tried to kill me. I’ll never forget the sight of that creature, his eyes glowing like a wildcat’s, his fangs coming toward me. It was Thomas who saved my life. I was young back then and easily frightened. When Thomas asked me to marry him, I ran away. Sometimes I wonder…No matter. What does your Mr. Duncan do?”

  “He’s a bounty hunter. People,” she clarified, “not vampires.”

  Mrs. Heath patted Vicki’s hand in motherly fashion. “Run along and have a good time, dear. It’s time for my nap.”

  With a nod, Vicki returned to her car. Maybe Mrs. Heath was losing it. Vampires, indeed. They were the stuff of myth and legend.

  After parking the car, she picked up the newspaper and carried it into the house. Dropping it on the kitchen table, she fixed herself a bowl of cereal and some toast and then sat down to read the paper.

  One look at the headlines and she forgot all about eating.

  FOURTH WOMAN FOUND DEAD

  BODY DRAINED OF BLOOD

  She quickly read the story. The body had been found in a vacant lot in Woods Hollow by a late-night jogger. There was no evidence of foul play. The police were certain that the murderer was the same person who had killed the three women in Pear Blossom Creek.

  Bodies drained of blood…She shook her head, dismayed by the turn of her thoughts. There was no such thing as vampires. She repeated the words aloud, hoping that it would somehow reassure her, but it didn’t. Vampires or not, someone was killing women and draining them of blood. Perhaps a Satanic cult was behind the murders. Didn’t they use blood in their rituals? But good Lord, how much blood did one cult need?

  She poured her breakfast down the garbage disposal, changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and went into the den to clean the aquarium. And all the while she thought about Tom Duncan and vampires. Of course, she knew there were stories and legends from ancient times, when anything that could not be explained logically was ascribed to something mystical or magical, like vampires or witches. In olden times, people believed that a moved or fallen tombstone, horses shying away from a grave, or footprints leading away from a grave were indications of a vampire’s resting place. People with pale skin and long nails, or those who had no appetite and an aversion to bright lights, were also suspected of being vampires.

  Others who might be accused of being vampires were those who were never seen during the day or who were reluctant to enter a house without an invitation. Vicki frowned. She had never seen Antonio during the day. He always waited to be invited into her house. She had never seen him eat…

  Vicki shook her head in exasperation. She was becoming obsessed with the Undead. Vampires, indeed. Serial killers often behaved in ghoulish ways. That didn’t mean this one was a vampire. Serial killers often killed their victims in bizarre ways, or kept body parts for souvenirs, or collected personal items. This particular killer liked to drain his victims of blood and take a lock of their hair. That didn’t mean he drank the blood, but what did he do with it?

  She remembered watching a special about vampires and those suspected of being vampires back when she viewed the existence of such things as an interesting myth and not a possible reality. One such, Elizabeth Bathory, had murdered hundreds of young girls and bathed in their blood, believing it would keep her young and beautiful. Eventually, the truth of what she was doing became known and she was walled up in her bedroom, where she died four years later.

  “Stop it!” Going outside, Vicki lifted her face to the sun, letting its warmth wash over her. She took several deep breaths, clearing her mind of all her ghastly thoughts. Even if there were vampires, and she wasn’t ready to admit such a thing, she was safe now.

  She spent the next hour and a half working in the yard. She raked the leaves from the lawn, both front and back, pulled some weeds, and watered the grass, thinking she would have to mow it soon. Thinking how nice it would be to have a husband and children to help with the yard work. For a moment, she imagined her husband teaching their son how to mow the grass while she and their daughter worked in the garden. Later, they would sit in the shade and drink lemonade and then go for a walk in the woods, or go down to the lake for a swim…It came as no surprise that the husband of her dreams looked a lot like Antonio Battista.

  Returning to the house, she put an Elvis CD in the stereo, made a cake and put it in the oven, and then fixed a quick sandwich for lunch. When she fi
nished eating, she rolled up her sleeves and mopped the floors in the kitchen and bathroom.

  And still, thoughts of vampires and bloodred moons crept into her thoughts. She recalled what Mrs. Heath had said and wondered if Tom Duncan was related to the Duncan that Mrs. Heath had known.

  She would have to ask Tom about it when she saw him tonight.

  She took the cake out of the oven, changed the sheets on her bed, then frosted the cake, and before she knew it, it was time to get ready for her date.

  Standing on Vicki Cavendish’s front porch, Tom Duncan straightened his tie, brushed a piece of lint off his trousers, and blew out a deep breath. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been out with a woman. Hell, he wasn’t sure he even remembered how to act on a date! He spent most of his life prowling around dilapidated houses or crawling around in caves and cemeteries. Hardly the kinds of places where a man was likely to meet a woman he’d want to take out. Then, too, he rarely stayed in one place long enough to get acquainted with very many women, let alone establish any kind of relationship. Of course, he might be here in Pear Blossom Creek for quite some time, since he hadn’t found a single clue as to where his prey was hiding.

  Running a hand over his hair, he summoned his nerve and rang the doorbell, all the while reminding himself that this was just one date, nothing more.

  He couldn’t help staring when the door opened. “Wow.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He didn’t know what Vicki had done differently, but she was a knockout in a pair of black pants and a short-sleeved, vee-neck green sweater that was the perfect foil for her red hair and made her eyes seem even darker and greener than he recalled.

  “Are you ready to go?” he asked.

  “Sure. Just let me grab my handbag.”

  He stood on the porch feeling like a teenager on his first date. “So,” he said when she reappeared. “Where would you like to go for dinner?”

  “The Sea Crest is nice.”

  “Great. Let’s go.”

  “Do you know where it is?”

  “No.”

  She smiled and took his hand. “That’s okay, I do.”

  He opened the car door for her, closed it behind her. Walking around to the driver’s side, he suddenly wished he was driving a new convertible instead of a beat-up black Camaro.

  They talked about the weather and the possibility of rain on the ride to the restaurant. Duncan had the feeling she was holding something back, that she was dying to ask him something but didn’t know how.

  The Sea Crest was a nice place. The tables were covered in crisp white cloths. The lighting was soft enough to encourage lovers but not so dark as to discourage families. There were paintings of seascapes and tall-masted ships on the walls.

  The hostess, apparently pegging them as lovers, showed them to a small table in a corner. She handed them each a menu, smiled, and left the table.

  Duncan looked around. “Do you come here often?”

  Vicki shook her head. “I’ve only been here once before.”

  “A special occasion?”

  “A good friend of mine from high school had her wedding supper here two years ago. She reserved the whole place. Must have cost a fortune, but her family could afford it.”

  “Does she still live in Pear Blossom Creek?”

  “No, they moved to Los Angeles. I keep thinking I’ll go there for a visit one of these days, but…” She sighed. “You know how that goes.”

  “Do you ever think about leaving here?” he asked.

  “Oh, sure, all the time, but…” She shrugged. “I guess I’m just a small-town girl. All I really want is to get married and settle down. What about you?”

  “I’ve been giving that some thought myself.”

  “You say that like you’re confessing to some horrible crime.”

  “Yeah, well, let’s just say it’s not something I ever really planned on.”

  Wanting to change the subject, he glanced at the menu. For a restaurant in a town that was only a speck on the map, the Sea Crest had big-city prices. But money was only money, and when he ate, he liked to have the best.

  “Steak and lobster for me,” he said. “How about you?”

  “Shrimp and rice,” Vicki said, closing her menu. “And a Diet Coke.”

  The waitress appeared a few minutes later and Duncan placed their orders.

  As soon as the waitress left, Vicki leaned forward, her arms crossed on the table. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, anything.”

  “Are you really a bounty hunter?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “So you hunt escaped criminals, right?”

  He hesitated a moment, debating the wisdom of telling her the truth.

  “Tom?”

  “Is there some reason you don’t believe me?”

  “No, of course not.” She grinned, thinking what a good laugh they would have when she told him what Mrs. Heath had said. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but a friend of mine thinks she knew a relative of yours who claimed to be a vampire hunter. Isn’t that the silliest thing you’ve ever heard?”

  She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to laugh. When he didn’t, a cold chill ran up her spine. “Tom?”

  He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, wondering how she would react to the truth. As much as he’d like to tell her a nice lie, she needed to be armed with the truth, to realize that her life was in danger. “Listen, Vicki…”

  “Oh, Lord, it’s true! You believe in vampires, too, don’t you? You’re as loopy as Mrs. Heath.”

  “Ramona Heath?”

  Vicki nodded.

  Looking dumbfounded, Tom sat back in his chair. “My great-grandfather used to talk about her.” He shook his head. “I thought the name of the town sounded familiar. I can’t believe she’s still alive. She must be, what, over ninety?”

  “You’re a vampire hunter, aren’t you?”

  He didn’t deny it. “‘Do you want me to take you home?” She wouldn’t be the first person to shun his company once they found out what he really did for a living.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

  She stared at him. He didn’t look like someone who went around staking vampires or cutting off their heads. He was an ordinary-looking man with broad shoulders and a craggy face and eyes…She looked deep into his eyes and knew that he was telling her the truth. Or at least the truth as he perceived it. He truly believed he was hunting vampires.

  “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” she asked. “You think a vampire killed Sharlene and those other women.”

  He nodded, his expression somber.

  “I think I saw him. The killer. He didn’t look like a vampire, though.”

  Duncan’s whole demeanor changed. She had taken him for a nice, easygoing guy but now she saw the steel beneath his laid-back exterior. His eyes narrowed. A muscle worked in his jaw. “Where? When?”

  “At the Blue Horse Tavern on Saturday night.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “He was a little taller than I am, kind of slim, with blond hair. And yellow eyes.”

  Duncan swore under his breath. “Falco. Listen to me, Vicki, whether you want to believe it or not, he’s a vampire. A very old vampire.”

  Vicki sat back, her mind reeling, not only because of what he was telling her, but because she believed him. In that instant her whole world and much of what she had believed in turned upside down.

  “But…What’s he doing here, in Pear Blossom Creek?”

  Duncan shrugged. “Happenstance, maybe. Who the hell knows what a vampire thinks? But he’s dangerous, I can tell you that.”

  “What does he have against redheads?”

  “I couldn’t say for sure. The story goes that when he was a mortal man, he was engaged to a red-haired woman. It’s said that while they were engaged, she had several lovers and when he found out about it, he killed her and cut off a lo
ck of her hair. Soon after that, there was a string of murders. All the victims had red hair. Soon after that, he was turned.”

  “Turned?”

  “Into a vampire.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “I’m not sure. A thousand years ago, give or take a century or two.”

  “And he’s been killing women all that time?”

  “That’s why he’s got to be stopped. Now.”

  She was only vaguely aware of the arrival of the waitress with their dinner.

  “You might as well eat,” Duncan said with a wry grin.

  Vicki stared at her plate. Eat? How could he think of food when there was a vampire loose in Pear Blossom Creek? One who had a fondness for killing redheaded women?

  She watched Duncan cut into his steak. Juice oozed in the wake of the knife, reminding her of blood.

  Feeling suddenly nauseous, she glanced out the window, felt her insides go cold when she saw a pair of glowing yellow eyes staring back at her.

  Chapter 12

  Vicki gasped, one hand flying to her throat. He was here!

  “What is it?” Duncan asked, his gaze darting around the room.

  “Out there! He’s here!”

  “Who’s here?” Duncan asked. And then he knew. Swiveling around in his chair, he stared out the window. “I don’t see anyone.”

  “He was there. I saw him.”

  Duncan reached for her hand. “It’s all right, Vicki. Take a deep breath. That’s right. You’re safe in here with me.”

  She took several deep breaths, her gaze constantly darting to the window. She wanted to believe she had imagined it, but she hadn’t. Those horrible yellow eyes had been watching her.

  Duncan handed her a glass of water. “Here, drink this.”

  She didn’t know what good drinking a glass of water would do, but she was too upset to argue. Surprisingly, doing something so ordinary calmed her a little.

  “Are you going to…to…” She couldn’t say the words.