Desire After Dark (21 page)

His words dropped like cold stones into the pit of her stomach.

“It is for the best, my sweetest one.”

“Whose best?” she cried. “Not mine! If you loved me, you wouldn't want to leave me!”

“I do not want to leave you, but in time you would come to hate me, and that is something I cannot bear.”

Whispering, “I don't want to live without you,” she pulled his head down and kissed him, pouring all her love and all her desire into that one searing kiss.

Antonio moaned deep in his throat as hunger and desire warred within him. For a moment, he returned her kiss with all the passion and yearning in his heart and then, with a strangled cry of despair, he put Vicki away from him and fled the room before his hunger and his desire dragged them both down a path that could only lead to disaster.

Fleeing the castle, Battista sought refuge in the dark of the night. Finally, after centuries, he had found a woman to love, a woman who accepted him for what he was. A woman who wanted him.

Lost in thought, he walked through the heavily wooded area that surrounded the outskirts of the land bordering the castle's perimeter. Maybe he was wrong to turn her away. There was no reason why they couldn't spend a few years together. He could give her pleasure for a little while, ease his own loneliness. And when she tired of living with him, she could return to her old life, find a husband, settle down, raise a family…

A low growl rumbled in his throat. Who was he kidding? Once he possessed her, body and soul, he would never let her go. He was a vampire, not a saint. What was his, he fought for and protected. What was his, he kept. He wasn't noble or kind. He couldn't love her for a year or two and then just let her go.

You could make her what you are.

The possibility had been in the back of his mind since the first night he saw her, but this was the first time he had dared put it into words. With a savage cry, he thrust the thought from his mind. She would never agree to be as he was, and he loved her too much to force the Dark Gift upon her. And yet…It would do away with so many of the barriers now standing between them.

Then ask her
, urged the same persuasive voice in the back of his mind.
All she can do is say no
.

Yes, perhaps that was the answer.

And if she says no, then you can force her to accept it.

No! Never that. But perhaps there was another way. If he gave her a little of his blood from time to time, it would prolong her life, keep her young.

But eventually she will grow old and die and you will be alone again.

But at least they could have a life together.

What kind of life would that be for either of you? Like must marry like for true happiness, true understanding.

Victoria, a vampire…He pictured it in his mind. She was lovely now. Touched with the Dark Gift, she would be even more beautiful, every feature enhanced and perfected. She would be a goddess…But would she still be Victoria?

Have you changed?
the voice asked.
Are you not the same as you were before?

And therein lay the answer. He had changed. He was a hunter now, a killer, and though he had not taken a human life in years, the urge to do so was always there. It had taken decades of self-denial and discipline to overcome the savage need to devour the blood and steal the life of his prey. Even when he knew he didn't have to kill to survive, the urge to do so remained strong within him. Almost, he had become like Falco, a creature without remorse, without compassion. A killing machine that took what it wanted with no regard for the hapless mortals it preyed upon, no thought for the pain and grief of loved ones left behind.

He remembered the night when he had made the decision to turn his back on killing. He had been a vampire for no more than seventy-five years at the time. He had been hunting the docks along the coast of Italy when he had come upon a woman and her child. Smiling in anticipation of an easy kill, he had pulled the woman into an alleyway. She had struggled in his arms, begging him to spare the life of her child. He had ignored her pleas as he bent her back over his arm and savaged her throat. There had been no tenderness in him, no effort spent to give her pleasure or ease her fears. Like a wild beast, he had no thought but to ease the pain of his hunger. The woman was limp in his arms, her heartbeat almost nonexistent, when he happened to look down into the face of the little girl still clinging to her mother's skirts. Brown eyes wide with fear had looked up at him.

“Mama! Mama!” Tears ran down the girl's dirty cheeks as she tugged on her mother's skirts. “Please,
signore
, do not hurt her.”

The pain in the child's eyes, the note of tender pleading in her voice, had penetrated the hard shell he had erected around his heart. Until that moment, he had intended to dine on the child as well. Now, he saw himself through the eyes of that child. What he saw sickened him.

He looked at the woman in his arms. Her face was deathly pale, her breathing shallow. Biting his own wrist, he held it to the woman's mouth and commanded her to drink. A few drops brought the color back to her face. Her heart beat grew stronger, her breathing less erratic.

After lowering the woman to the ground, he had taken the child into his arms and looked deep into her eyes. “You will not remember this night,” he said. “You will not remember me.”

She nodded.

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew what money he had and pressed it into the little girl's hand. “Take care of your mother,
ragazza
.”

The child nodded again.

Antonio had looked at the woman and the little girl one last time, imprinting their memory and the memory of what he had almost done in his mind. And then he had fled the scene. He had never killed again save to preserve his own existence.

Lost in thought, for a moment he did not realize he was no longer alone. Thrusting the past from his mind, he lifted his head, his senses probing the night.

They were on him before he could defend himself. Heavy silver chains whistled through the air, wrapping around his neck, his chest, his arms and legs, until he was trussed like a turkey bound for market. The silver burned through his clothing, scorching his skin, rendering him helpless to resist.

Laughter rolled over him, filled with malevolent delight.

And then Dimitri Falco strutted into view, preening like a peacock. He circled Battista, rubbing his hands together like a miser about to count his gold.

“Well done,” Falco said to the six hulking creatures standing in the shadows. “Well done. Perhaps, when I'm through with you, I will let you go.”

Antonio stared at the zombies. They stood unmoving, their faces expressionless, yet he detected a faint trace of comprehension in their eyes. Did they remember who they had been before Falco enthralled them? Were they aware of being under Falco's malevolent spell? Did some last bit of humanity cling desperately to the hope that he would free them from his spell? That he would grant them their freedom once again?

He fought the urge to give voice to his own pain as the silver burned deeper into his skin. It was the worst agony he had ever endured save for the one time he had not made it to his lair before sunrise. That had been a pain so intense, so excruciating, that he had never forgotten it. But this…He was panting now, unable to draw a deep breath. This was almost as bad. In time, it would be equally lethal.

“Bring him.”

With one accord, the six zombies lifted Antonio and followed Falco into the deep woods.

 

Vicki wandered through the house, her emotions in turmoil. At first she was angry with him. How dare he arouse her again and then abandon her! If he didn't want her, why did he hold her and kiss her until she wanted him, needed him, more than breath itself, and then just walk away? It was cruel and thoughtless. And besides that, he did want her. She might not have had a lot of experience with men, but she knew desire when she saw it in a man's eyes, not to mention the obvious physical signs.

As the hours passed, anger turned to worry. Where was he? Surely he intended to return? Hadn't he sworn to protect her, no matter what? Was he outside, prowling around the perimeter of the house to make sure Falco wasn't there?

Standing by the front window, she peered out into the night, but it was too dark to see anything. Heavy clouds covered the moon and the stars.

“Antonio, are you out there?”

“He is not on the grounds.”

Vicki glanced over her shoulder at the sound of Lady Kathryn's voice. “Do you know where he is?”

The ghost closed her eyes, her brow furrowed, and then she shook her head. “I have no sense of him being nearby.”

“Maybe I should go look for him,” Vicki said dubiously.

“No! There is evil afoot tonight.”

Vicki shivered. In her mind, evil and Dimitri Falco would always be linked together. “Do you know where Antonio takes his rest?”

“Of course.”

“And he's not there? You're sure?”

“Aye, quite sure. He never retires before dawn, you know. Poor man. I suppose if one can't move about during the day, then one doesn't waste a moment of the time one has.” The ghost flitted around the room, zooming up to the ceiling, twirling around and around in midair. “Sleep,” she said. “He curses it while I cannot find it.”

“You can't sleep?”

“No. I have no need for it, you know, and yet I miss it dreadfully.” She lighted on the top of the cabinet that held the stereo system. “I find it rather odd to miss something I no longer need. “Tis like…” She frowned a moment. “Like missing one of last year's gowns,” she decided. “Do you not find that strange?”

“I guess so,” Vicki said absently. She looked out the window again. Where was he?

“Shall I go and look for him?” Lady Kathryn asked. “Would that ease your mind?”

“Can you leave the castle?”

“Of course, though I can't leave the grounds.” The ghost smiled wanly. “'Tis the fault of that horrid Molly MacTavish that I must stay here,” she said, her eyes flashing.

“Who's Molly MacTavish?”

“She was a scullery maid. A more troublesome wench never lived. She hated it here, and she hated me because I refused to let her return to Scotland. She pushed me down the stairs, you know? And as I lay there, dying, she cursed me, saying I should never know peace in the next life until I had learned to be more charitable. Imagine that! Me, more charitable! If it had not been for me, she and her brat would have been begging on the streets. Ah, well, what's done is done. Wait now, while I go have a look and see if I can find that handsome lout.”

It seemed like hours passed before Lady Kathryn returned.

“Did you find him?” Vicki asked anxiously.

“Aye, that I did.”

“Is he all right?”

“Nay, I fear his life is in grave danger.”

“Where is he? I've got to go to him!”

“Nay, you must not! He is guarded by six huge men who do the bidding of another. Any of them could break you in half.”

“Where have they taken him?”

“There is an old lambing shed deep in the heart of the woods that lie west of the castle grounds. “Tis there he's being held.”

“Is he all right? Did he see you?”

Lady Kathryn shook her head, her expression woeful. “They have chained him to the floor with chains as thick as a man's wrist. The six beasts sit in a circle around him, like wolves around a carcass. From time to time they poke him with silver knives to make him bleed.”

Vicki moaned softly as she imagined his agony. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she paced the floor. No ordinary men could have laid hold on Antonio. She remembered the creatures that had been enslaved by Falco. Had he created more of them? Oh, why wouldn't he leave them alone? She had done nothing to him!

“Tomorrow,” she said, thinking aloud. “Falco will have to go to his lair, wherever that might be.” She nodded. The zombies would also be at their weakest in daylight.

“You cannot mean to go after him alone?” Lady Kathryn exclaimed. “‘Tis madness!”

The ghost was right, of course. She needed help. She needed Tom Duncan.

Battista stared blankly at the ceiling of the shed, his hands knotted into tight fists, his breathing shallow and rapid, every muscle in his body taut with pain. It rolled over him and through him in never-ending waves, each more excruciating than the last. His skin was badly blistered where the silver touched his flesh. Each link burned into him, scorching him like the sun he had avoided for the last six hundred years.

He was only vaguely aware of the six zombies that surrounded him, relentlessly poking at him with slender daggers made of silver. The scent of his blood hung heavy in the air.

He tried to concentrate, tried to gather his waning strength, but the silver drained him of energy, and the pain…It was impossible to ignore.

He had seen Lady Kathryn hovering overhead earlier in the evening. He had tried to tell her to go and warn Victoria that Falco was nearby, but the heavy chain around his throat prevented him from speaking.

With what little strength he had left, he cursed himself for his carelessness. He had promised to protect Victoria, and now she was at the castle, defenseless and alone. Would Falco send his creatures after her? If he did, would the castle's threshold be strong enough to repel them?

He had to get out of here, had to get back to Victoria before it was too late, but he was too weak too move, too weak to do anything but lie there while the silver burned his flesh and Falco's creatures slowly drained him of blood.

Closing his eyes, he prayed for dawn and blessed oblivion.