Look For Me By Moonlight (15 page)

“It's freezing in here,” Susan said, shivering. “Why don't you come sit by the fire with us?”

I followed her down the hall and stopped in the living-room doorway, horrified. Todd perched on Vincent's knee, a book spread open on his lap. Dad sat nearby, reading the evening paper. Susan took a seat beside him and picked up her sewing. Only Ebony remained aloof.

“And what did the little piggie say when he heard the big bad wolf at the door?” Vincent asked Todd.

Todd gazed at Vincent adoringly. “The little piggie said, ‘Come in, Mr. Big Bad Wolf. I'm not scared of you.'”

Over my brother's head, Vincent smiled, daring me to betray him. I stared into his eyes, more afraid of his strength than ever before.

“Why, here's Cynda,” he said in that deep voice I'd once found so charming. “I'm delighted you feel well enough to join us.”

Without looking at Vincent, I crossed the room and took a seat on the couch beside my father. I wanted to warn Dad, but there was nothing I could say, nothing I could do.

“Look at Todd,” Dad said fondly. “It's the funniest thing, but all of a sudden, he can't get enough of Vince. I knew he'd warm up to him sooner or later.”

When Vincent began tickling Todd, I leaned close to whisper in Dad's ear. “Do you think it's a good idea for Todd to get that excited? He has a cold, maybe a fever, I think he should be in bed.”

Dad shrugged. “There's no harm in his having a little fun.”

A few minutes later Susan called us to the dining room. Dinner was ready and Vincent was joining us. Todd insisted he sit next to him.

I watched Vincent closely. He ate little, if anything, yet he managed to get rid of his food. I suspected he slid it into his lap and concealed it in his napkin, but I never actually saw him do it. He was very quick, very clever.

More than once Vincent caught me staring at him. His eyes danced with malice. He had a new game now. Two mice instead of one.

“Eat your dinner, Todd,” Susan begged. “You too, Cynda.”

We looked at each other, Todd and I. We weren't hungry. We had no appetite.

When Todd's bedtime came, he begged Susan to let Vincent take him upstairs. “I want Vincent to put me to bed, I want Vincent to tell me stories.”

I stared at Susan. “No,” I whispered, “no.”

She didn't hear me. No one did except Vincent. Unseen by the others, he raised his eyebrows mockingly. There was nothing I could do to stop him. Dumb as a stone, I watched him hoist Todd onto his shoulders and carry him away.

Dad smiled at Susan. “Will better watch out. If he's not careful, he'll lose his hero's crown to Vincent.”

“Vincent has developed a wonderful rapport with Todd,” Susan agreed.

I listened silently, fearing for them, for Todd, for me. Blinded by Vincent's dark spell, my father and stepmother saw no danger, sensed no evil. They couldn't protect Todd and me. They couldn't protect themselves. We were all at Vincent's mercy. He was free to destroy us if he wished.

Fear swept through my veins, cold and strong. I had to do something. Or at least try. Vincent had been upstairs for half an hour. That was time enough for him to hurt Todd.

Leaving Dad and Susan at the table, I forced myself to climb the steps to the third floor. Todd's room was at the end of the hall, just above Vincent's. A narrow band of light shone under the closed door. Slowly and cautiously, I crept near to listen, but all was silent.

“Come in, Cynda,” Vincent called softly.

I opened the door. Vincent cradled Todd on his lap. My brother's head killed back, exposing his white throat. His eyes were closed, his body limp.

I sagged against the bed, nauseated. The resentment I'd once felt for Todd melted away at the sight of his helplessness.

“Don't,” I whispered, “please, Vincent, please don't. He's just a little boy.”

Vincent laid Todd down and covered him with his blue blanket. “Don't worry, Cynda, I didn't take much. You'll have your chance later.”

I wanted to go to Todd, but Vincent turned out the light and ushered me into the hall. “What's done is done, Cynda. There's nothing you can do for Todd now. Or yourself.”

Soundlessly he descended the stairs behind me, calling out to Dad that Todd was asleep, he'd settled right down without a murmur of protest.

“A sweet boy,” he whispered in my ear, “quite delicious.”

Dad was surprised to see me come downstairs with Vincent. “I thought you'd gone to your room, Cynda.”

I ran to his side, but Vincent's eyes silenced me. “I just wanted to say good night to Todd,” I mumbled.

From the way Susan looked at me, I knew she thought I'd followed Vincent upstairs to be alone with him. She seemed pleased that he'd thwarted me by coming down so promptly. Obviously he hadn't encouraged me. That must mean she had nothing to worry about after all. I was safe with Vincent, we all were.

“Why don't you go to bed, Cynda,” she suggested. “The inn's drafty, I don't want you to get chilled.”

I turned to Dad. “Let me stay with you for a while. I feel better, honestly I do.”

At that moment the doorbell rang. The sound startled us all. “Who could that be?” Susan asked.

Dad opened the door. Will stood on the threshold. The wind entered with him, shrieking as it fled past us.

“I was on my way home,” he said. “I thought I'd drop in to see how Cynda is.”

I glanced at Vincent. He was staring thoughtfully at Will, his face guarded, his body tense, as wary as a cat when a dog enters a room. When he caught me watching him, he smiled and stretched out his hand to Will. “Nice to see you again,” he said cordially. “How's the painting coming?”

Will avoided shaking Vincent's hand by turning away to hang up his jacket. “Fine,” he mumbled.

The five of us went into the living room. I sat on the couch near the fire, and Will dropped down beside me, so close his shoulder touched mine. I heard the blood run in his veins, I heard his heart pump. He was warmer than the fire, better. I slid nearer, fascinated by his jugular. I longed to lass it, bite it, taste the sweet, red liquid pulsing through it.

Across the room, Vincent cleared his throat. My eyes met his and he winked. He knew why I'd moved closer to Will, he knew what I wanted. Poor Will had no idea.

Horrified by my own desires, I moved to the other end of the couch. I didn't trust myself. I was sick, infected, diseased. No one was safe from me.

Will seemed disappointed by the distance I'd put between us, but he didn't say anything. Except for Vincent, no one else noticed. Susan's head was bent over her sewing, and Dad was engrossed in telling Will about a problem he was having with the inn's antiquated plumbing. How could he and Susan sit in the presence of evil and suspect nothing?

Suddenly Vincent leaned toward Will. “I'd like to see your paintings. I have some contacts in the city. Perhaps I could help you sell some of your work.”

He rose and walked across the room to Will. “Here's my card. Give me a call when I return to New York. Or come see me. You'll always be welcome. The art world is in need of new blood.”

Vincent glanced at me, relishing his joke.

Will took the card and studied it. Without looking at Vincent, he thanked him and slipped the card into his shirt pocket.

“Isn't that lovely, Will?” Susan smiled approvingly. “Think what it would mean to have your work on display in a posh New York gallery.”

Dad agreed. “What a great thing to do, Vince. Will needs encouragement. He's too shy to go out and promote himself.”

I watched Will carefully, waiting to see if Vincent's flattery might work this time. Perhaps Will, too, would fall under our guest's dark spell. I'd have no one then. No one but Vincent.

Will examined a loose thread in his sweater but said nothing. Susan must have noticed he was uncomfortable. “Why don't you kids go out to the kitchen and make popcorn for us? I'd do it myself, but I'm feeling lazy tonight.”

In the kitchen, I avoided getting close to Will. He was so innocent, so trusting. He had no fear of me, didn't dream he was in danger.

I picked up a pot, but my hands shook so badly I dropped it. Will bent to retrieve it, exposing the tender nape of his neck. My teeth chattered like Ebony's when he saw a bird at the feeder. I backed away.

Will stared at me. “What's wrong, Cynda?”

“Don't come any closer,” I whispered. “Stay away from me.”

He frowned. “What do you think I'm going to do?”

“Just go home, Will,” I begged. “Don't come here anymore. Don't call Vincent, either—tear up his card, burn it.”

When I started crying, Will reached out for me. “Cynda,” he whispered, “Cynda, what's wrong?”

I trembled in his arms. His neck was so close, my lips were touching his jugular vein, the blood was right there, singing to me. One quick bite and it was mine. Overcome with horror, I tried to push him away.

“You don't know what I'm becoming,” I sobbed. “I'm evil, wicked. Believe me, Will, I'm not fit to be near you or anyone else.”

Will stared at me. “It's Vincent, isn't it? He's done something to you.”

My silence confirmed his suspicions. “That bastard. I knew he'd hurt you. I warned you, Cynda, I told you he was no good.”

I still said nothing. If Will knew what I'd let Vincent do, he'd despise me as much as I despised myself.

Will drew in his breath. “You're afraid of him. Has he threatened you in some way?”

Unable to bear his concern, I covered my face and wept. Immediately he drew me close again and held me tight, hoping to comfort me. “You're shaking with fear,” he murmured. “My God, Cynda, what has he done to you?”

“This,” I sobbed, “this.” I pressed my teeth against Will's neck, then jerked my head away without breaking the skin, without tasting the blood.

Will's hand flew to his neck, covering the toothmarks I'd left. His eyes filled with shock.

I pulled the newspaper article out of my pocket and thrust it at him. “Hide this, read it later. Don't let Vincent see it.”

Watching me warily, Will buttoned the folded papers into his shirt pocket. Behind him, Vincent appeared in the doorway. Will must have sensed his nearness. He turned to face him, keeping his body between Vincent and me.

“Susan sent me to inquire about the popcorn.” Vincent looked at the pot on the table and the unopened package beside it. “It appears you haven't even begun.”

Will shrugged and put his arm around me. “Cynda and I were enjoying a little time together.”

Vincent's reaction took us both by surprise. Without warning, he sprang on Will and wrestled him to the floor. The noise brought Dad and Susan to the door.

“Help me,” Vincent yelled at Dad. “He was trying to rape your daughter!”

“No, no,” I whispered. “Don't believe him, Dad, he's lying.” My father paid no attention. I couldn't speak loud enough to make him hear me.

“Let me go!” Will broke free from Vincent only to be grabbed by Dad. “He's lying, Mr. Bennett. Guard Cynda against him, not me!”

Dad stared at Will, unsure what to believe.

“Your daughter was trying to defend herself,” Vincent said. “Look at his neck. See the toothmarks? He's obviously not the sort of boy who takes no for an answer.”

“Mr. Bennett, Mrs. Bennett.” Will turned desperately from Dad to Susan, pleading to be believed. “You know me, surely you don't think I'd hurt Cynda.”

“Why would Vincent lie?” Dad asked Will. His voice shook with hurt. Someone he'd trusted had betrayed him. Was it Will or Vincent?

Susan put her arm around my shoulders. “What happened, Cynda? Tell me.”

“Yes,” Will cried. “For God's sake, Cynda, tell her. Say something!”

But Vincent was staring at me, mocking me, silencing me with his eyes. “Please,” he murmured, “don't pressure Cynda. She's ill, weak, she may faint.”

As he spoke, the kitchen spun, faces whirled, voices ran together, and everything went black.

 

When I opened my eyes, I was in bed. Susan and Dad bent over me. “Will,” I whispered, “Will . . .”

“Don't worry,” Dad said wearily. “He's gone. I told him he was no longer welcome here.” He covered my hand with his. “I trusted Will, I never dreamed he'd behave like this.”

“Drugs,” Susan murmured. “He must have taken something. It's the only explanation.”

I shook my head, unable to say more. Vincent stood behind Dad and Susan, watching me intently, his lips curved in a mocking smile.

Dad smoothed the quilt over me. “Rest now,” he said. “You've had a terrible shock. We all have.”

I wanted to beg Dad to stay, but I remembered what had happened the last time. I'd only irritated him. Now I was too weak to make the effort, wasn't even sure I could speak—not with Vincent staring at me.

Dad gave me a hug and left the room with Susan. Vincent lingered long enough to blow me a swift lass. Then the door closed and I lay alone in the dark, dreading his return.

Hours later, Vincent's knock woke me. “Cynda,” he whispered. “Cynda, open the door.”

Todd giggled. “Little Pig, Little Pig,” he called softly. “Let us come in.”

Totally defeated, I went to the door. Todd smiled down at me from his perch on Vincent's shoulders, his eyes dark with mischief. A tiny red mark like mine was barely visible just above his pajama collar. From the look on my brother's face, it seemed Vincent had bent him completely to his will.

“Oh, Toddy,” I whispered, stricken by the change in him. “Why aren't you in bed? Dad and Susan would be so mad if they knew you were here.”

“You'd better not tell,” Todd said fiercely. “Vincent says I can stay up late and do whatever I please. I don't have to do what Daddy says anymore. Or Mommy either. Only sillies sleep at night.”