by Linn Chapel
“I followed her movements in London with my associate,” continued Eleanor. “She discovered that we were watching her, clever girl.”
Holt grated back, “You should have stayed in London! This game will be your undoing, Eleanor.”
“You’ve already lost the game to me, Holt. You’ve been more careless that I ever expected. I thought you’d hesitate over the note I left for you, but you arrived here even sooner than I had hoped,” replied Eleanor. “As you can see, Tressa is still on her way. My associate will bring her to me as soon as he spots her.”
A series of tremors passed down Tressa’s legs. Moving her head very slowly, she scanned the shadows once more near the cottage but could see nothing.
“By the way,” continued Eleanor from within the cottage, “I had the most heartfelt talk with Tressa Newman the other day. I convinced her that you and I were picking up our love-affair again, now that you’ve come back to England. She believed me so easily! You must have botched things very badly, Holt, for Tressa to believe my lies about you so quickly.” Eleanor added with a scornful laugh, “I’m certain that I broke her heart.”
“You’ll regret your actions, Eleanor,” ground out Holt. “What are you doing, now?”
There followed a short silence, and then a wordless cry of anger came from Holt.
“I’m sorry if that hurt,” Eleanor said sweetly.
Holt shot back, “So, you don’t mind breaking the rules for me? If word gets out that you disabled me this way, you’ll be called to account in London. The other vampires won’t let you off lightly, Eleanor.”
“Pegs were never forbidden in the past. The new rules do not concern me.” Eleanor’s voice was cold and dismissive. “Besides, no one in London will ever know.”
Pegs. Tressa suddenly remembered a footnote she had read in the Operation’s Handbook about the old practice of using wooden pegs to weaken rivals. With the passage of time such pegging had been banned among vampires, but Eleanor must have ignored the ban and thrown a wooden peg at Holt just now – and he was allowing her to believe it would weaken him.
Eleanor must not know that Holt had changed and was no longer a vampire. But how much time would pass before she realized the truth? Once the secret was out, Holt would be pitted against Eleanor’s superior speed and strength.
“You look weaker already, Holt. That’s good. When Tressa arrives, she’ll find out very quickly that you’re at my mercy. Then I’ll tell her that I was lying about you. If she knows that you’ve lost your heart to her, your death will be an even greater torment to behold.”
Holt’s voice was emotionless. “How do you plan to kill me?”
Eleanor replied coolly, “Once the peg has had time to spread its poison, I’ll use one of the candles. A single touch of its flame will be enough, as you know.”
Now that Holt was virtually human, the touch of a flame would only give him a superficial burn. Would Eleanor be confused enough for Holt to dart away, or would she just kill him quickly by the first convenient means that occurred to her?
Eleanor’s voice went on, low and self-satisfied. “Then it will be Tressa’s turn. I’ll present her as a bounty to my associate.”
A shudder of revulsion ran through Tressa. Suddenly her fearful thoughts were broken by a keening cry.
“Holt, the blood from the peg smells human!”
Tressa froze in horror as she waited for Eleanor to take action.
“You’ve found a way to turn back, haven’t you?” Eleanor’s shrill laughter rose and fell in giddy waves. “But why would you ever trade your powers for a human life?”
Holt did not reply. Suddenly, Eleanor’s wild laughter ended.
In a purr, she said, “I can’t resist preying on you, Holt. It will be just like old times, won’t it? But tonight, I won’t stop. I’ll finish the deed so that when Tressa arrives, she’ll be able to see for herself that you’re mine – in death, if not in life. Then it will be her turn.”
Desperation filled Tressa. There seemed to be nothing she could do. But then she remembered the canvas tote that was still slung over her shoulder.
Quietly she slipped it off and felt underneath the linen towels and other supplies. Her fingers touched the firm lengths of the wooden stakes that were lying at the bottom of the tote bag.
She had no choice but to risk being discovered herself. Bringing out one of the stakes, she grasped it firmly as she crept around the corner of the cottage.
Away from the faint light of the front windows, she could no longer see anything. Drizzling rain trickled down her face as she moved along the wall, feeling it for guidance. She rounded the corner and began to grope in the dark for a rear door.
When she stumbled upon a heavy mass lying on the ground, she was so startled that she dropped the wooden stake and leapt backward. But as the seconds passed, nothing happened.
Her heart was still thudding as she leaned over, hoping to retrieve the wooden stake. Hastily her hands combed through the wet grass but her seeking fingers encountered something else that was motionless, something encased in fabric that was cold and wet from the rain. She ran her fingers downward for just an instant before snatching them away. A pair of legs.
She must have stumbled upon the vampire minion. Not a muscle had twitched under her hand, and she knew that Eleanor’s associate had been vanquished. Holt’s work, surely.
She shot to her feet and edged nervously away, making a circuit around the spot. Now she understood why she hadn’t been captured the moment she had arrived outside the cottage.
Quickly Tressa found the rear wall again in the dark. She ran her hands over it until she found a doorframe and, inch by inch, she swung the door open.
When she entered, she found herself within a kitchen. A faint light shone into the dark room from the adjoining chamber, showing her the way past the cupboards to the connecting door. Her nerves jumped in shock when she suddenly heard a crash, as if a piece of furniture had fallen. It was followed by another crash.
A muffled but tense exchange of words ensued between Holt and Eleanor. Any moment now, Eleanor would surely begin to prey on him.
Working swiftly but silently, Tressa set her bag on the floor and reached inside for the remaining pair of stakes. Her hands were shaking so badly that she could barely manage to extract them from the jumble of first aid supplies. Lifting them out, she secured one in the waistband of her pants and held the other up in her hand, grasping it firmly.
Her chance of reaching Eleanor without being noticed was very, very low. If only she had some way to communicate her presence to Holt so that he could distract Eleanor’s attention for a few critical moments. Suddenly, an idea glimmered in her thoughts despite the haze of panic that had begun to suffocate her. Maybe there was a way.
She closed her eyes and entered a dreamscape at breakneck speed, not bothering to paint it with any colors or details. It dissolved almost instantly, though, and she was back where she had begun, staring at the blank darkness behind her closed eyelids.
Her frustration was so strong that she nearly cried aloud. She tried again, and this time she added the barest of details – a drift of fog, a stretch of empty moorland. The dreamscape persisted this time and she moved thankfully forward into the fog, adding another detail as she went: a wooden stake, gripped in her hand.
Holt! Use our psychic link to look for me.
She swept her gaze across the moor, peering into the fog, but there was no sign of him. Eleanor must have begun to prey upon him, she thought. He had already become too weak to hear Tressa’s voice.
Tressa, turn around.
She whirled about to find that Holt was standing a short distance away in the swirling fog. The wind blew through his black hair and his dark eyes stared into hers. Where are you in the real world? he asked quickly.
I’m in the cottage, hiding in the kitchen. I know what Eleanor plans to do.
The wind gusted, shredding the fog into streamers. With a shock Tressa realized that
Holt was standing at the very brink of a high cliff. Below him, dark waters churned. Then the fog closed around him again.
. Leave before she can find you, Tressa!
Tressa raised the hand which was gripping the wooden stake. No. Find a way to distract her, Holt.
Holt frowned and then his image flickered in and out of sight. Tressa choked back a sob, hoping that the time he’d spent forming their psychic link had not cost him his life.
His image flickered out completely. Only fog swirled where he had stood, but she heard his voice calling out to her. Aim well, Tressa. Aim for the heart.
Tressa dropped the effort to maintain the dreamscape and opened her eyes. He was still alive, and there was a chance.
Where there had been a steady glow of candlelight in the connecting doorway, now there was a shifting pattern of light and shadow that moved eerily about. Peering around the edge of the doorframe, Tressa saw that Holt had swept up the candle from the windowsill and was brandishing it before him.
Eleanor paced confidently forward as Holt retreated. She was wearing a tight black sweater tonight and the lithe muscles of her back and shoulders rippled as she moved closer and closer to Holt.
Behind her, a table stood in the center of the room, and nearby two heavy chairs had been overturned as makeshift barricades to slow her approach. Beyond the strewn chairs stood an empty hearth and above that, on the mantle, rested another short, guttering candle.
Tressa crept through the doorway with her pulse thudding and every nerve alert. As she raised the wooden stake she must have breathed too loudly, or maybe her sleeve rustled as she lifted her arm, for Eleanor suddenly froze in her pursuit of Holt.
Before she could turn around, Holt stumbled and dropped his candle. The flame sputtered weakly on the floor and then went out. Eleanor seemed to forget her suspicions for she took a quick step forward.
“Despair becomes you, Holt,” she murmured in a throaty purr. “When Tressa arrives, we will both find out what you look like when all traces of life have been drained from you. I’m sure you will be more attractive than ever. Your face was made for the pale stillness of death.”
Holt edged back from her into a corner of the room where he was trapped, unable to move. Eleanor stepped ever closer.
Leaning forward on the balls of her feet, Tressa was about to dash forward when Eleanor lunged. Moving with lightning speed the vampire closed the gap between herself and Holt. Her hands gripped his shoulders and his head hit the wall with a loud crack.
“I never thought we’d be together like this again,” purred Eleanor, still gripping him tightly. “And you hate my need for you more than ever, don’t you?” She shook him so that his head fell to one side, exposing his neck.
Knowing she’d only have one chance, Tressa raced across the room and struck, driving the wooden stake deep into Eleanor’s back. As the stake penetrated the vampire’s body she screamed in pain and rage. Her hands jerked reflexively, releasing Holt.
The blow to Holt’s head must have been dire, for his shoulders sagged against the wall and he slid down to the floor. Tressa longed to help him, but Eleanor was still standing between them.
Tressa took a step back, staring at the stake that protruded from Eleanor’s back. She waited, too tense to breathe. Surely, Eleanor would be dead soon.
“Step away, Tressa!” called out Holt, lifting his head with an effort. “The wood has only poisoned her.”
Tressa retreated on shaking legs. To her dismay, she could see now that she had aimed too low and the stake had just missed penetrating the heart. Numb with horror, she watched as Eleanor reached one arm behind her back and began to grope upward along her spine. Then her fingers, their nails painted bright red, curled around the stake that protruded from her body.
Eleanor removed the stake with one violent pull and flung it far across the room. Breathing hard, she drew herself up with a cry of triumph.
She turned and ran her eyes over Tressa. “You’re a spirited little thing, Tressa Newman. But it’s no use trying to save him,” she said with a toss of her head in Holt’s direction, “or yourself.”
Tressa still had the spare stake in her waistband, and even if she had no chance to reach Eleanor’s heart, she might be able to puncture some other part of the vampire’s body and poison her even further with the wood.
Tressa’s hand moved unconsciously and she almost touched the stake to reassure herself of its presence, but she stopped herself just in time. At all costs, she had to keep Eleanor from noticing the remaining stake.
Eleanor spoke over her shoulder. “I underestimated your paragon, Holt. When I had my chat with her at the gorge, she seemed weak and gullible. But Tressa has more courage than I thought. It’s obvious that she would do anything for you. And her determination only makes her more beautiful,” Eleanor spat out. Her delicate brows drew tightly together and she frowned as she considered Tressa.
Tressa met the angry vampire’s gaze, but even as she stared back, she was watching for an opening to use her stake.
Eleanor’s expression suddenly shifted and she smiled. “I must change my plans. This lovely human,” she purred, “this mortal woman who won your heart will die very soon. But I’ll spare you, Holt. Your own suffering will be much worse that way, for you’ll spend the rest of your days mourning her death. You’ll have no chance of retribution, either, not as a human. You’ll never be able to kill me.”
Eleanor picked up the fallen chairs that blocked her way and set them aside. Then she sauntered across the room to retrieve the wooden stake that she had pulled from her own body. Carrying it gingerly, she turned and approached Tressa, who recoiled step by step until her back came up against a wall.
“I won’t kill you just yet,” murmured Eleanor, pacing even closer. Her arm reached out and the red nails closed around the spare stake in Tressa’s waistband. Swiftly, it was confiscated.
Tressa’s last hope had been dashed, and as despair took over, she watched as Eleanor opened the front door and flung both stakes out into the night. Eleanor called briefly for her accomplice but no one appeared. Only the sound of the rain could be heard and, shutting the door, she turned to Holt.
“You must have surprised him,” she drawled, approaching the corner where Holt had fallen. Eleanor’s black sweater had been rent by the stake and Tressa could just make out the glint of blood in the dim candlelight.
Holt had recovered enough to draw himself to his feet. “I was expecting a bodyguard. You forget how very well I know you.”
“You shouldn’t have killed him,” Eleanor added in a careless tone.
Holt snorted. “You would have terminated the arrangement yourself, before long.”
“That’s beside the point. I resent your interference with my plans. You’ve always interfered, Holt! I could never enjoy my triumph over any of the human males I turned for my protection,” she complained in a hiss. “I wanted you as my consort, for as long as I could make it last. But you wouldn’t cooperate,” she said, her voice rising shrilly in temper. She crossed the final distance to Holt and threw him into one of the chairs with a vicious swing of her arm.
Holt groaned in pain. When he straightened, he was hugging his arm to his chest and Tressa knew that he had been wounded.
Eleanor turned to Tressa next. “You should never have come between us,” she said, gliding quickly closer.
Tressa’s instincts screamed for her to move even though her fate was inevitable. She darted behind the table and shoved it over with a crash so that it formed a barrier.
The heavy table was swiftly and efficiently lifted and set back on its feet. Then in one rapid blur of motion, Eleanor circled around the table and grasped Tressa by the waist. Crying out, Tressa pushed and struggled, but despite her desperate attempts to resist she was raised by a pair of iron hands high into the air and then tossed like a rag doll onto the table.
Tressa rolled onto her side in an attempt to escape, but her movements were blocked as her assa
ilant leapt onto the table. Crouching, Eleanor pushed Tressa’s shoulders back down and then a flood of mesmeric power surrounded Tressa’s mind, a cloud that was so sudden and so dense that she had no chance to fight it off.
One last, anguished thought surfaced in Tressa’s mind. Holt will be alone from now on with only his memories of this night.
Thirty-two
A high-pitched sound came to Tressa’s ears, making its way through a vast ocean of clouds. Then she heard the sound again, closer this time.
Someone was screaming. Herself.
The hypnotic cloud that pressed upon her thoughts suddenly thinned and a rush of colors began to show through.
A gasping rattle sounded nearby and Tressa opened her eyes to find that Eleanor was still crouching overhead. A sudden burst of lights seethed madly within the vampire’s eyes, and then the red lips parted in a snarl of fury that made Tressa cringe in despair. But suddenly, Eleanor’s eyes went dark and the lids drooped. Her body swayed and fell forward, pinning Tressa to the table.
The slack body was dragged away by unseen hands. Tressa heard it dropping to the floor and then Holt’s face was leaning over the table. His hands flew to Tressa’s neck, pushing her hair aside to inspect her neck. Relief swept over his features. “I was able to act in time, then,” he growled.
Shaking badly with reaction, Tressa rose up on one of her elbows. There, on the floor next to the table, lay Eleanor’s body. It was face-down, with arms outstretched. Another wooden stake protruded from her back, and this one had clearly found its target, the heart.
She looked up at Holt. “You must have brought your stakes with you,” she breathed, remembering the pair that Holt had placed in the lining of his jacket in case of trouble.
He nodded. “I came prepared. When I arrived outside, I used one on Eleanor’s bodyguard. The second was hidden inside my jacket. I pretended to be more wounded than I was, and waited for an opening. But Eleanor was too alert and I began to think that all was lost. Then she leapt onto the table to attack you and I finally had my chance.” His gaze ran up and down Tressa’s body as he helped her up to a sitting position.