Look For Me By Moonlight (16 page)

Vincent lowered Todd to the floor. “Your half brother is amazingly cooperative,” he said. “A quick learner, a pleasure to teach. You could benefit from his example, Cynda dear.”

Todd ran to my window and began to play with the rocks and shells I'd arranged on the sill. I watched him move them about, giving them names and personalities. Absorbed in his game, he seemed totally unaware of what was happening to us.

I grabbed Vincent's arm. “What have you done to him? He used to hate you. He wouldn't come near you and now look at him!”

Vincent pulled away and smoothed his sweater sleeve. “Sometimes those who hate me on sight are the ones most attracted to me. They make the best pupils.”

For a moment, he watched Todd. A smile twitched the corners of his mouth, but it lacked the strength to reach his cold, dark eyes.

Todd must have sensed Vincent's gaze because he turned to show him a large stone, one of my favorites, a perfect pale-green egg shape. “Watch this,” he shouted. “It's a bomb.” He dropped the rock on a pile of small shells, including the tiny scallop Will had given me. “Boom, boom, everyone's dead!”

Todd laughed happily when Vincent smiled at him. It was obvious my brother hungered for his new friend's approval.

Vincent turned back to me. “It's so simple, Cynda. All I had to do was play upon his fears and petty little jealousies. Now he thinks I'm the only one who understands him, the only one who loves him. Without me, he'd be all alone.”

It was just what he'd done to me. My face flushed with shame, and Vincent laughed. “My approach works every time, doesn't it? You're so pitifully predictable, so easy to win over.”

Still chuckling, he flung himself down on my bed. “Come here, Cynda. Tell me about your wicked stepmother and your cold, unloving papa. Let me kiss your tears away, my poor, sweet darling.”

When I refused, he reached out, grabbed my wrist, and pulled so hard I sprawled beside him.

Todd immediately ran to join us. “Let me play too, let me,” he insisted, desperately afraid of being left out.

Vincent made room for him. Cuddling us close, he said, “Up till now, I've never shared my immortality, never given my blood, never reproduced. I've enjoyed my solitude and my freedom, but after so many years I find myself questioning my selfish existence. Perhaps it's time to grow up and take some responsibility. It might improve my character to raise a son and daughter. To be a family man.”

He paused to kiss Todd, who was tumbling over us, nipping our fingers with sharp teeth. I reached for my brother, but Vincent squeezed my wrist till I almost cried with pain.

“Think of it, Cynda,” he murmured. “A widowed father with two charming children, living in an elegant apartment in Manhattan. We'll mingle with the wealthiest people in the city, go to parties, the theater, symphonies, ballets. You'll have your pick of eligible young men. Todd will have all the playmates he desires. And I—” Vincent sighed with anticipation. “I'll continue to find my pleasure in the usual ways.”

He caressed my face, smoothed my hair, smiled lovingly into my eyes. “If you become mine, Cynda, you'll never die, never grow old, never be in pain. Instead of weakening as mortals do, you'll grow stronger and lovelier as the years pass. No wrinkles will mar your face, no gray will dull your hair. As you are now, you will be forever.”

His voice had dropped so low it sang in my blood, conjuring up pictures of myself pale and hauntingly beautiful, dressed in black velvet, bedecked with jewelry a creature of power and beauty, a woman men would die for.

The red mark on my neck throbbed in rhythm with my heart. I moved closer to Vincent, yearning for the quick touch of his teeth and the transformation he promised.

Vincent smiled, his lips parted, his teeth gleamed. “What do you say, Cynda? Will you be my little girl forever? I promise I'll be a good father, endlessly understanding and loving. I'll never leave you, never love anyone better than you.”

“Don't forget me,” Todd whimpered. “You promised I could be your little boy, you promised you'd love
me
best, you said no baby would come along and rum everything.”

“Of course I won't forget you, Toddy.” Vincent hugged my brother, watching me as he did so. “You'll be my favorite son and Cynda will be my favorite daughter. I'll love you both the same.”

Todd frowned at me as if he were reluctant to share Vincent with anyone.

“I'll let you stay up all night long,” Vincent told him. “I'll never get cross or spank you. You can eat whatever you want, whenever you want. I'll buy you toys, books, even a pony if you like.”

He held Todd closer. “You know what?” he whispered. “If you decide you want a new mother, I'll let you choose one.”

“And she won't have a baby?”

“Not unless you want her to.”

Todd sighed and lifted his face. “Kiss me, Vincent. I like how your teeth feel.”

Vincent nuzzled Todd's neck. The sight shattered the images of bliss he'd conjured up so skillfully. I saw him clearly. I remembered what he was. The price Todd and I would pay for the life Vincent promised was too high, too bloody, too horrible.

With the last of my strength, I flung myself at Vincent and pounded him with my fists. “No,” I cried. “No! Take me, not Todd!”

Vincent raised his head and smiled. “Don't be so impatient, Cynda. You must wait your turn like a good little girl.”

“Yes, Cynda,” Todd said, smiling drowsily. “I'm first.”

While Vincent busied himself with my brother, I lay still, defeated. The wind sobbed at the window. Eleanor was outside in the dark, cold and frightened. Had Vincent promised her and the other girls eternal life too?

“Don't cry, Cynda,” Vincent murmured, turning to me. The last thing I saw was the moon. Pale and pocked as old snow, it gazed through my window, unutterably sad and weary.

 

The next afternoon, I forced myself to get out of bed, dress, comb my hair—ordinary things I used to do without thinking, without effort. Now it seemed to take all my strength to pull a sweater over my head.

There was no sound from Vincent's room, but when I walked into the hall, I heard the familiar noise of Susan's sewing machine and Dad's printer. As usual, the two of them were shut away in their own little worlds.

I thought Todd might be asleep, but I found him alone in the living room, sitting on the floor and staring at nothing, his face pale and expressionless. His toys lay scattered on the rug beside him.

He didn't notice me till I knelt beside him. “What are you thinking about, Toddy?”

“Nothing.”

I touched his shoulder. Instead of drawing away as I feared he might, he nestled a little closer. “We played too much last night,” he said. “I'm all tired out.”

“Me too.” I hesitated a moment. “Maybe it's not good for us to stay up so late, Todd. Maybe it's making us sick.”

He pulled back to frown at me. “Vincent wouldn't do anything bad, he loves us, he said so. I'm his little boy and you're his little girl.”

I took a deep breath. “You mustn't believe everything Vincent tells you, Todd. He doesn't, he can't, he . . .” I couldn't say what I wanted to say, the words slipped away, my mind felt muddled, my tongue thick.

It didn't really matter. Todd's frown had deepened into a scowl. “Vincent doesn't lie.”

I gripped his shoulders, forcing him to look at me. “Don't you remember how you felt when Vincent first came? You hated him, you told me he was bad.”

“I didn't mean it!” Todd struggled to escape. “Let me go, let me go! I'll tell Mommy to send you away, Cynda!”

I sat back on my heels and watched him scramble across the floor. Making him angry wasn't going to help. “I'm sorry, Toddy, I didn't mean to upset you.”

He sat down a few feet away and picked up a little car. Without looking at me, he spun the front wheels listlessly.

“Would you like me to read to you?”

“I like the way Vincent reads better. I'll wait for him.” Todd looked at the stairs longingly. “It's getting dark. Soon he'll come.”

I left Todd sitting on the rug and went to the kitchen. Will's phone number was on the bulletin board beside the phone. I dialed quickly, praying he'd be home.

He answered on the second ring. “It's Cynda,” I whispered. “Can you meet me at the shack?”

“When?”

“I'm leaving the inn now.”

I was pulling on my parka when Todd appeared. “Where are you going, Cynda?”

“For a walk. Do you want to come with me?”

“I'm too tired.”

I held out his jacket. “The fresh air will be good for you.”

He hung back. “Wait for Vincent. All three of us can go. Wouldn't that be fun?”

“Vincent won't come downstairs till dinnertime, maybe not even then. You know how he is.” While I talked, I stuffed Todd's arms into his sleeves. I zipped his jacket quickly, but when I tried to get him outside he resisted. It took all my strength to haul him across the threshold.

“The sun's too bright,” he wailed. “It's hurting me, I can't see.”

“Hush,” I begged, tugging him across the snow. “Hush, Todd.”

“Let me go,” he sobbed. “I don't feel good.”

We were beneath Vincent's window. I looked up fearfully, but the curtains were firmly closed. So far, we hadn't disturbed the creature's rest.

Ignoring Todd's protests, I picked him up and carried him away from the inn, stumbling through the snow, tripping, almost falling in my haste to escape unseen.

By the time we reached the shack, I was exhausted. Todd fought me every step of the way, hitting, slapping, and biting, howling, and swearing at me. I stumbled over the threshold and dropped him at Will's feet.

After Will bolted the door, he reached for Todd, but Todd pushed him away. “Don't touch me,” he screamed. “I hate you!”

Will stared at my brother as if he couldn't believe his ears. “Todd,” he said, “it's me, Will, your old buddy. Surely you don't believe I hurt Cynda, you don't think . . .”

Todd beat at the door. “I want to go home,” he wailed. “Take me back, Cynda, take me back! I want Vincent!”

Between Todd's cries and the noise of the wind and the surf, I had to yell to be heard. “You've got to help me, Will. I've been such a fool, I've been so stupid. You tried to tell me, so did Todd. Now look at him, look at me. Why didn't I listen to you?”

Will was still staring at Todd, his face a study in horror and pity. Finally he turned to me. “What's wrong with him? What's wrong with you? What has Vincent done?”

“If I tell you, you won't believe me. You'll think I'm crazy, you'll say there's no such thing.”

Will looked at me, his eyes steady, unblinking. The wind howled louder, the surf beat against the rocks below us. “The newspaper article you gave me,” he said slowly. “The murderer—McThane—he looked just like Vincent, but how could that be? Eleanor Dunne was murdered more than sixty years ago.”

“Vincent is, Vincent is . . .” I pressed my hands against my neck to dull the pain, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't say the word. “Vincent seduced me,” I sobbed at last. “He made me promise not to tell, but now he's seduced Todd, too. I have to tell, I can't let him take us away. He wants us to be his children, to live with him forever, become what he is, do what he does.”

Afraid Will might not believe me, I pulled down the neck of my sweater and showed him the red mark, Vincent's love bite. “Todd has one just like this,” I said.

Will drew in his breath. “Are you trying to tell me Vincent is a vampire?”

“Yes, yes,” I cried, “that's what he is—a vampire! Vincent's a vampire!” I knew the word again, said it out loud, told the truth about Vincent. He was a vampire.

“That's why you bit me,” Will said. “That's what you were trying to tell me.”

Except for the wind and the surf, the shack was quiet. Todd slept by the door like a trapped animal, exhausted from his efforts to escape.

“What kills a vampire?” Will asked. “Sunlight? A stake through the heart?”

“Vincent says nothing can destroy him, he's too strong. Stakes and crosses, sunlight and garlic—he claims they're useless.”

“There must be something we can do,” Will muttered.

A gull swept past the window, crying into the wind, its wings white against the purple clouds. Soon the sun would set. Its light was gone from the east already. The sea was dark, the sky was dark. There was no line to mark where one ended and the other began.

Night would bring Vincent to me. He'd knock on my door, he'd enter my room, his face a mask of carved ivory, his eyes glittering with candlelight. Beautiful, he was beautiful, too beautiful to destroy. Too powerful. I couldn't fight him. It was futile to try.

Will touched my shoulder. “Think, Cynda, concentrate. Vincent must have a weak spot.”

“Don't come close to me,” I whispered, fearing the dark desire beating in my veins. “I can't trust myself not to . . .”

He looked at me as if he thought I might be joking, but he stepped back. Behind him, the fire crackled in the little stove.

“Fire,” I whispered, remembering the day I'd knocked the candle over. “I think Vincent's afraid of fire.”

We gazed at each other, scarcely breathing. Will was the first to speak. “If I could force his car off the cliff . . . Maybe it would hit the rocks and explode, maybe he'd burn to a crisp.”

“I could trick him into taking me for a ride,” I said. “You could follow us in your truck. Then you could—”

“No,” Will said sharply. “You'd go over the cliff with him, Cynda.”

“I'd jump out before it went over the edge,” I said quickly. “Like people do in movies.”