A Whisper Of Eternity (5 page)

A man who looked very much like Dominic St. John.

But it was the woman who held her gaze. It was the woman she had dreamed of the night before. It seemed she was no longer able to separate her troublesome thoughts from her work, after all.

Pulling off her smock, she tossed it over the back of a chair and hurried from the room, her thoughts on Dominic. For the first time in two weeks, he hadn’t sent her flowers with a note telling her where to meet him. Perhaps he had been called away on business, she thought, though she couldn’t believe he would have gone anywhere without telling her beforehand. They had spent every night together since he sent her flowers the first time. Occasionally, she found herself wondering what he did during the day, why he never called her on the phone, why they never went out to lunch or dinner. After all, he had told her he was retired, so it couldn’t be a job that kept him occupied during the daylight hours. Next time she saw him, maybe she would ask him to come over for lunch.

Needing to feel the sunlight on her face, she left the house and went down the long, winding stairs that led to the beach. Kicking off her shoes, she walked along the shore, enjoying the sound of the waves. Seagulls flew overhead, wheeling and diving. She saw a couple of seals frolicking out past the breakers.

She stopped to watch them for a few minutes. But even the antics of the seals couldn’t keep her troublesome thoughts at bay for long. Why was she having those disturbing dreams? Why had she felt compelled to paint Dominic as a vampire? Who was the dancing woman, and why did she have the feeling that she knew her? Was it just stress? That seemed like the obvious answer, but she didn’t feel stressed. She loved the house. Her painting was going well. Maybe she had just been working too hard.

With a shake of her head, she started walking again. She wouldn’t think of it now. The day was too beautiful, the sky too blue.

The beach was crowded today. Teenage girls in brightly-colored bikinis lounged on blankets, working on their tans, while their boyfriends showed off playing volleyball. Mothers helped their kids build castles in the sand. A father perched his young son on his shoulders and waded into the shallows. Further down the beach, an old man and woman were fishing. A lifeguard sat on tower number ten some distance away. She had waved to him from time to time when she passed by.

Finding a quiet place on a patch of sand, Tracy sat down, her arms resting on her bent knees. There was something mesmerizing about staring at the ocean, watching the endless cycle of the waves as they washed in to kiss the shore, then rolled back out to sea.

She lost track of time as she sat there, lost in the infinite rhythm of the waves, the quiet beauty of the ocean that stretched away as far as the eye could see. This was reality. Not the bizarre dreams that troubled her sleep. Not memories of past lives that she didn’t believe were possible in the first place. Certainly not vampires with glowing red eyes and fangs dripping with blood, or mysterious raven-haired dancing girls.

“Are you all right?”

“What?” She looked up to find a tall, blond man wearing a pair of red trunks staring at her through the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

“You’ve been sitting here for a long time. I . . . I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He looked suddenly embarrassed. “I know you’re not drowning, but . . .”

It took Tracy a moment to realize he was the lifeguard. “I’m fine,” she said, smiling. “Just lost in thought, I guess.”

He nodded. “You might want to get out of the sun for a while,” he said. “You’re getting a heck of a sunburn.”

Tracy glanced at her arms and legs, which were indeed very, very pink. “I think you’re right.” When she started to rise, he offered her his hand. She took it without a second thought and let him pull her to her feet. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Miss . . . ?”

“Warner. Tracy.”

“Bryan Longstreet.”

“Nice to meet you, Bryan.”

“Likewise.”

She walked over to a shady place beneath a tree and sat on a rock, somewhat surprised when Bryan followed her.

“Have you lived in this area long?” he asked.

“No. Actually, I just recently bought a house here. Why?”

“I’m new here myself. Kind of a strange town, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you been to the village? You hardly see anybody on the streets during the day, but at night . . .” He shrugged. “It’s like the place comes alive after dark. Seems like most of the residents are night people. Some of them seem kind of . . . weird.”

“I hadn’t noticed, but it’s kind of an artsy town, isn’t it? You know, lots of musicians and painters and writers, actors hiding out.”

“Yeah, I guess that could be it.” Bryan glanced at his tower, then back at Tracy. “I don’t suppose you’d like to go over to the Driftwood for a drink later? I’ll be through here in another hour or so.”

Her first thought was to say no. He was younger than she was, after all. And then she thought, why not? The Driftwood was a local bar not far from the beach, and it was just for a drink, nothing more. “I’d like that.”

“Great!”

She couldn’t help being flattered by his exuberance. “I’ll go home and change and meet you there.”

“Terrific. See you then.” He smiled, revealing a dimple in his left cheek, then ran down the beach toward tower number ten.

Returning home, Tracy went upstairs and took a quick shower. Humming softly, she brushed out her hair and tied it back in a ponytail, then changed into a sleeveless flowered sundress, slipped on a pair of strappy gold sandals, and drove to the Driftwood. She parked in the lot in the back, grabbed her handbag, and walked around the corner to the entrance.

Bryan Longstreet was waiting for her on the sidewalk in front of the bar. He was dressed in a green shirt, a pair of beige Dockers, and tan loafers.

“Am I late?” she asked.

“No.” He smiled a little sheepishly as he took her arm. “I was early.”

He was a handsome young man, tall and lean with a great tan. It didn’t take more than a few minutes in his presence to realize he was just what the doctor ordered.

The Driftwood was a nice place. Catering mostly to tourists, it was decorated with seashells, pieces of the wood from which it derived its name, and colorful paper lanterns.

Sitting in a booth sharing a Mai Tai with Bryan, Tracy learned that he loved movies and that he was a big
Star Wars
fan, as was she. He liked Elvis and rock and roll, his favorite color was red, and he confessed that, if he had to, he could live on pizza and Coke forever. His father was a police officer in Washington, D.C, and his mother was an accountant. He had four brothers—all older and all cops—and an older sister who was in the Air Force. He had just turned twenty-one to her twenty-six.

“Does it bother you?” he asked. “My being younger?”

“I guess not. It’s only five years.” She grinned at him. “When I’m eighty and you’re seventy-five, it will hardly matter.”

There was a pause in their conversation while the waitress brought them another drink. Tracy glanced out the window. The street was crowded with men and women. She thought it odd that most of them wore black, then shrugged. Maybe they were into the Goth thing. She saw very few teenagers, practically no children. But, as she had told Bryan earlier, this was an artsy town, not a family community, so maybe it wasn’t so strange after all.

As the evening wore on, Tracy found herself liking Bryan Longstreet more and more. He was easy to be with, easy to talk to. Not like Dominic, she thought. There was something about Dominic that bothered her, and it was more than the strong sexual attraction that sizzled between them. It was unsettling, the way he sometimes went still, his gaze resting on her face, his dark eyes hot. At such times, she felt like a very small mouse being stalked by a very large, very hungry cat.

But there was nothing about Bryan to arouse either fear or suspicion. He was as open and outgoing as a puppy. She couldn’t remember when she’d had a more pleasant evening.

Later, they went to an outdoor café and ordered cheeseburgers and French fries and talked about their favorite movies.

He liked
Bullitt
and
Airplane
and
Rambo.
And
Star Wars,
of course.

She liked
Ladyhawke
and
The Princess Bride
and
Gladiator
. And
Star Wars,
of course.

“All right,” he said, waving a French fry in the air. “Who’s your favorite character?”

“Han Solo, of course,” she replied, wiggling her eyebrows. “What a silly question.”

“Figures,” he muttered.

“Who’s yours?”

“Obi-Wan.”

“In which episode?”

“All of them,” he said with a wide grin. He swung an imaginary light saber over his head. “You have much to learn, young Jedi.”

“So tell me, oh wise one, how do we get rid of Jar Jar?”

“Any way we can!”

She laughed at that and so did he.

Later, they went window shopping, stopping to point out which things they would buy if they had a million dollars.

They were nearing the end of the block when Tracy felt a prickling down her spine. Someone was watching her! Casually, she glanced up and down both sides of the street, but saw no one. Still, the feeling persisted.

Bryan took her arm as they crossed the street.

The feeling of being watched grew stronger.

And then Dominic materialized out of the shadows. “Good evening,” he murmured. He spoke to Tracy but his gaze was fixed on Bryan, and there was nothing friendly in it.

Tracy swallowed a sudden sense of guilt, though she had no idea why she should feel guilty. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. “Hi.”

She glanced from Dominic to Bryan and back again. The tension between the two men was thick enough to cut. “Dominic, this is Bryan Longstreet. Bryan, this is Dominic St. John.”

Bryan stuck his hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. St. John.”

“Indeed.” Dominic hesitated only briefly before taking the other man’s hand.

“Bryan’s a lifeguard,” Tracy said. “I met him on the beach this afternoon.”

“How fortunate.” There was no mistaking the sarcasm in Dominic’s voice, or the fact that he was making an effort to control his anger. “I went by your house earlier.”

She didn’t miss the accusation in his tone. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

He lifted one black brow, then bowed his head in a gesture of contrition. “Forgive me. I did not have time to contact you earlier.”

She told herself there was no reason to feel guilty because she hadn’t stayed home waiting for him. Just because he had come to see her every night for the past two weeks didn’t mean she couldn’t see anyone else, or that she had to sit around waiting for Dominic, wondering if he was going to show up.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “It was nice seeing you, Dominic. Good night.”

He was not accustomed to being dismissed. It was obvious in the tightening of his lips, the narrowing of his eyes.

“Good night.” He inclined his head in her direction, but his gaze never left Longstreet’s.

Bryan cleared his throat, clearly disturbed by Dominic’s scrutiny. Tracy couldn’t blame him. The look in Dominic’s eyes was cold enough to freeze boiling water.

“Good night. Sir.” Taking Tracy by the hand, Bryan hurried her down the sidewalk. “Who is that guy?”

“Just an acquaintance.”

“He’s spooky as hell.”

“What do you mean?”

“His eyes! I felt like he could see clear through me. How well do you know him?”

She shrugged. “Like I said, he’s just an acquaintance.”
Acquaintance
was hardly an adequate description, she thought, remembering the passionate kisses and intimate embraces she and Dominic had shared.

“Does he know that? He looked mighty jealous to me.”

Was that it? Was Dominic jealous? She was surprised to find herself pleased by the idea. And now that she thought about it, she decided Bryan was right. Dominic had looked jealous. And angry.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw he was standing where they had left him. Even from this distance, she could feel his gaze burning into her.

She took one step toward him and then another and then stopped abruptly. What was she doing?

“Tracy, hey, Tracy, are you okay?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes, why?”

“You looked kind of funny there for a minute.”

“I’m fine. Let’s go have a nightcap, shall we?”

A shiver of unease slithered down Tracy’s spine as she climbed the porch steps. Why hadn’t she left a light on? Why hadn’t she ever noticed how ominous the house looked at night with the lights out and the moon shining down on it? The thought that it resembled one of Count Dracula’s domains crossed her mind yet again. Maybe Dominic was really the infamous Count. Maybe he had decided to leave the mountains of Translyvania and take a vacation on the coast of California.

Shaking off her foolish thoughts, she unlocked the door and stepped into the entryway.

The words, dark as a tomb, leaped to the forefront of her mind.

“Enough!”

The word seemed to echo off the walls . . .
enough . . . enough . . . enough
.

She flipped on the light switch. Hurrying into the living room, she turned on all the lights, then went into the kitchen, turning lights on as she went.

She paused at the foot of the stairway, her heart pounding as she stared at the darkness at the top of the second floor landing.

Blowing out a deep breath, she turned and went back into the kitchen. A cup of peppermint tea was just what she needed to settle her nerves. She filled the pot with water and put it on the stove, then closed the curtains on the window over the sink.

Sitting down at the table, she crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to listen to the small, creaky sounds the house made. Instead, she thought about Bryan and what a good time she’d had with him. He had asked for her phone number, promising to call her in the next couple of days. She looked forward to going out with him again....

You will not, my best beloved one
.
You are mine.

My best beloved one
. Why did those words sound so familiar, so welcome? Dominic had never said them to her, and yet it was his voice she heard in the back of her mind, so loud and clear that she turned around, expecting to see him standing there behind her.

But there was no one else in the room.

Or was there?

As strange as it seemed, she no longer felt as though she was alone in the house.

Rising, she opened a drawer and pulled out a butcher knife. “Is someone there?”

She practically jumped out of her skin when the shrill whistle of the teakettle sounded behind her.

Muttering an oath, she dropped the knife on the counter and turned off the stove, then sagged back against the countertop. When her breathing returned to normal, she put the knife back in the drawer, dropped a tea bag in a cup, and filled it with hot water.

“Geez, girl, get a grip,” she muttered as she stirred a spoonful of honey into her cup. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was someone else in the house. Someone else in the kitchen.

Standing with her back to the counter, she slowly perused the room. Was that something there, near the doorway? She turned her head slightly to the right and from the corner of her eye, she seemed to see something shimmery, something in the vague shape of a man.

Fear congealed in the pit of her stomach. Her mouth went dry. She reached for the knife again, even though she knew that it would be useless against anything that wasn’t flesh and blood. And that strange, shimmering, silvery image was definitely not human.

A ghost, perhaps? That seemed the most obvious. This was an old house. It was entirely possible that someone had died here, that some restless spirit haunted the rooms. Previous occupants had sworn the place was haunted. Tracy didn’t believe in ghosts or goblins, but there was definitely an unseen presence in the room. The certainty of it shivered over her.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice shaking so badly she hardly recognized it. “
What
are you?”

There was no answer, of course.

And then it—whatever
it
was—was gone.

 

 

Dominic materialized in his rooms below the house. She had been aware of his presence, had known he was in the kitchen, but how? If he had taken her blood, they would have shared a telepathic bond, but he had never taken her blood. Time after time, in every life, he had ignored his ever-growing need and respected her wishes in that regard.

He paced the floor, his long, restless strides carrying him swiftly from one end of the room to the other. So, how had she known he was there? Did she possess psychic powers in this life? Or was it because their souls had been forged together in so many lifetimes through the ages? Perhaps now, at last, they shared a bond that not even her death could break.

Tracy. Her scent still filled his nostrils—warm and sweetly feminine. His hands clenched at his sides as he caught the faint scent of the boy she had been out with earlier. It would be so easy to dispose of the competition. So easy and so tempting. He could break the interloper in half with one hand, crush the life from his frail mortal body with nothing more than a thought.

But he would not. Closing his eyes, Dominic took a deep, calming breath. He was a civilized vampire now. He no longer killed indiscriminately or merely for the sheer pleasure of draining the thoughts, the wishes, and the life’s blood of a mere mortal. These days, he drank no more than he required. He left his victims alive, though he wiped his memory from their minds.

Oh, yes, he mused, he was a civilized vampire now. But now and then he missed the old days, when he had been a young vampire, new in the life, when he had gloried in his newfound strength and preternatural power, when every night had been a new adventure and every mortal a feast for his relentless thirst.