Night's Surrender (14 page)

“Liar!” Meloni raked a silver-bladed dagger down Rane's arm from his shoulder to his wrist. Blood oozed from the shallow gash. “I know you have them!”

“We did.” Rane's voice was tight, laced with pain as the silver burned through him. “We gave them away.”

Meloni snorted. “You expect us to believe that?”

“It's the truth!” Savanah cried. “Leave him alone!”

“Truth!” Meloni exclaimed with a sneer. “Vampires don't know the meaning of the word.”

Having seen enough, Nick unleashed his preternatural power as he materialized in the midst of the hunters.

As one, the hunters reeled backward, their faces going slack, weapons clattering to the floor.

A thought held them immobile. They all glared at him, their combined hatred a tangible presence in the room.

“Nice party,” Nick muttered. Holding Meloni's gaze with his, he said, “Release my friends.”

Moving robotlike, she did as she was told though her eyes blazed with impotent fury.

Rane helped Savanah to her feet. “Where's Abbey?”

“She's safe,” Nick said curtly. “What the hell's going on? How'd they get past your wards?”

“A couple of them caught Savanah outside, alone. They shot her with darts laced with silver. I heard her cry out and when I went to see what was wrong, a bunch of them sprayed me in the face with holy water. It rendered me helpless just long enough for them to overpower the two of us.”

“Why didn't you just tell them where the books are?” Nick asked.

“They would have just killed us that much sooner. Besides, we don't know.”

Nick grunted softly. Rane could have told the hunters that Mara had the books. They might have believed him. Or maybe not. Either way, he was pretty sure the hunters wouldn't have left them alive.

“What do we do now?” Savanah asked.

“If it was up to me, I'd have a big lunch and bury the remains,” Nick said. “But it's your house, so . . .” He shrugged, then frowned when another vampire materialized in the room. Though he had never met Rafe Cordova, there was no mistaking the man's resemblance to Rane. They could only be brothers. “What are you doing here? You're supposed to be with Abbey.”

“Kathy's looking after her,” Rafe explained. “I thought I might be needed here.” His gaze moved over Rane. “How you doing, brother?”

“I've been better.”

“Rafe.” Savanah smiled warmly. “It's good to see you.”

“You too,” he said, giving her a hug.

Rane jerked his head toward the hunters. “Shouldn't we get back to the matter at hand?”

“Wipe their memories and let them go,” Rafe said.

Nick snorted. “Seriously?”

“You can't be thinking of killing all eleven of them,” Rafe said incredulously. “Someone's bound to know this bunch was coming here. We'll have every hunter in the country breathing down our necks.”

Nick glanced at Meloni and the others. “Looks to me like they already are.”

“Rafe's always been a softie,” Rane said, “but I think in this case, he's right. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not in the mood to dispose of eleven bodies.”

“I think you're making a big mistake by leaving them alive,” Nick said. “But you do what you have to do. Abbey's waiting for me at my place.”

“Is she living with you now?” There was no mistaking the disapproval in Rane's voice.

“No. I took her there to get her out of harm's way. I'll bring her home tomorrow.”

Savanah stepped between Desanto and her husband. “Thank you, Nick.”

He gave her a curt nod of acknowledgment, and then left the house.

 

 

Nick found Abbey asleep on the sofa, her cheeks stained with tears. He stood there looking at her for a long time. She was, he thought, the most beautiful being he had ever seen. Just being near her made him ache inside in a way he didn't understand. He loved her with all his heart, and yet it went deeper than that.

He glanced up as a woman entered the room. “You must be Kathy,” he said. “I'm Nick. Thanks for coming.”

She nodded. “Everything okay at Rane's place?”

He nodded. “Nothing we couldn't handle.”

“You love her, don't you?” Kathy asked, nodding in Abbey's direction.

“More than my own life. Thanks again for keeping an eye on her.”

“Happy to help. Now, if you don't need me for anything else, I'll be going home.”

“We're good. Let me know if I can ever return the favor.”

Nick walked Kathy to the door and then, moving to the window, he stared into the distance, his thoughts turned inward. He loved Abbey with his whole heart, but what did he have to offer her? He was ancient; she was little more than a child. He had seen things, done things, that would sicken her if she knew.

She deserved a normal life, with a man who shared similar interests, one who had grown up in the same era she had, shared similar memories.

A man who could give her children, and grow old at her side.

A man who wouldn't look at eleven helpless humans and think of them as lunch.

Brow furrowed, Mara stared at the computer screen. Several days ago, she had hired a rather disreputable Internet detective to search for the man whose sperm Savanah had chosen.

The findings were interesting, to say the least.

She glanced over her shoulder as Logan came up behind her.

“What's up, wife?”

“My man came through. The information given on the donor card lists his name as Miles Jay Cunningham, age twenty-nine, born in Loch Lynn Heights, Maryland, unmarried. He listed his profession as accountant.”

“Seems harmless enough.”

“Ah, but when my man dug a little deeper, he discovered that Miles Jay Cunningham, also known as Miles Novotny, was a warlock aligned with a well-known coven in New Orleans.”

“The plot thickens.”

“That's not all. In Boston, he was known as Miles Lightner, a self-proclaimed psychic and healer. In Santa Fe, he went by the name of Ace Lightner. For a time, he worked as a dealer in Atlantic City. Until they caught him dealing from the bottom.”

“Where is he now?”

“He died in prison two years ago while he was serving a fifteen-year sentence for stealing uncut diamonds worth a cool half million from one of his clients.”

Logan clucked softly. “End of the trail.”

“Yes, but it might explain why Abbey was able to read Nick's mind. I think her abilities are negligible at best, but Nick's preternatural powers have somehow enhanced hers.”

“So, what are you going to do with this info?”

“I don't know. Give it to Abbey, I suppose, although I'm not sure she will appreciate knowing her biological father was a crook.”

“She might like to know he was a warlock.”

“I wonder if Savanah knew?”

Logan shrugged. “Where are the lovebirds now?”

“Abbey's at home with her parents.” Mara cocked her head to the side, a distant look in her eyes. “I can't find Nick.”

“Isn't he with Abbey?”

“No. He's stronger than I thought,” she murmured, looking troubled. “He's blocking me.”

“What the hell is he up to?”

Mara shook her head, her expression troubled. “I don't know for sure, but I have a pretty good idea.”

Abbey woke in her own bed in the cottage with no recollection of how she had gotten there. The last thing she remembered was lying on the sofa at Nick's house, praying that Nick and her parents and her uncle Rafe were all right.

Rising, she showered and dressed, then went up to the main house, thinking Nick was probably there, waiting for her.

She found her parents in the living room, putting things to right. “Hunters did this?” Abbey glanced at the overturned furniture, the torn pillow cushions, the papers and books scattered on the floor. The wooden stakes, clubs, and silver chains stacked in one corner. The blood stains on the carpet.

“Yes,” her mother said succinctly. “Hunters.”

The word, spoken with loathing, echoed inside Abbey's head. She had heard the word most of her life. She knew what it meant. But never before had the reality of the danger vampire hunters presented hit home quite so forcefully. Hunters had invaded her home. Had they prevailed, her parents would now be dead.

Abbey looked at her mother and father. She could see no visible wounds, but vampires healed quickly. Her gaze drifted to the blood on the rug. Was it theirs? Or . . . ? “Where are the hunters?”

“They're gone.”

Gone. What did that mean, exactly? And did she really want to know? Visions of her parents fighting, killing to defend their lives, filled her mind with grotesque images.

“But you're both all right?”

“We're fine,” her father said. “Where's Nick?”

“I thought he was here.”

Rane shook his head. “He helped us out yesterday. We haven't seen him since.”

Refusing to consider what that meant, Abbey spent the next few hours helping her parents clean up the mess. The hunters had searched every room, every closet, every nook and cranny. Tables were overturned, mattresses ripped, drawers emptied. Clothes had been tossed out of closets.

By nightfall, the clutter had been cleaned up. The ruined mattresses were stacked outside the back door, along with the living-room carpet, and the broken furniture. Few pieces had been left intact or unscarred. After looking it over, her father decided to scrap the lot of it.

“You've been wanting to redecorate,” Rane said, draping his arm around Savanah's shoulders. “I guess now's the time.”

 

 

Where was Nick? That was the question that haunted Abbey throughout the night. She tried several times to contact him telepathically, but either she had lost the ability to do so, or he was blocking her.

She told herself not to worry, that everything was fine. But try as she might, she couldn't make herself believe it.

In bed that night, she cried herself to sleep. In the morning, her cheeks were still damp with tears.

Her parents came by late that afternoon to see if she wanted to go furniture shopping with them, but Abbey declined, saying she needed to look after the stock.

“You really should come with us,” her mother coaxed. “After all, we need to refurbish your old room, too.”

“There's no hurry,” Abbey said. “I'm happy in the cottage. Mom, could I talk to you a minute before you go?”

Savanah glanced at Rane.

“No problem,” he said. “I'll wait outside.”

“What's on your mind?” Savanah asked when she and Abbey were alone.

“I was wondering who . . .” Abbey bit down on her lower lip. “When you went to the sperm bank, did they tell you anything about my biological father?”

Savanah frowned. “Just his age and that he was a healthy white male. Why? What brought this up all of a sudden?”

“Sometimes I can read Nick's mind.”

“I see. Have you and Nick exchanged blood?”

Abbey hesitated, then said, “I tasted a little, but I could read his thoughts before that.”

“I suppose I could look into it, if it's important to you. Of course, it's been so long . . . I don't know if they'd still have that information, or even if the office is still there. But I'll check into it tomorrow evening and if I find out anything, I'll let you know.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Are you sure you don't want to come with us?”

“Not this time.”

“All right. We won't be long,” her mother said, giving her a hug.

After her parents left, Abbey quickly changed into her work clothes and tugged on her boots. She hurried down to the barn where she fed and watered the stock, mucked out the stalls, checked the cinches on all the saddles, noting that the one on her father's favorite saddle needed to be replaced. But no matter how busy her hands, her mind replayed one question over and over again.

Where was Nick?

Had he changed his mind about marrying her?

Was he hurt? Dying? Dead?

Why couldn't she contact him?

Why hadn't he contacted her?

Try as she might, she couldn't stop worrying. Couldn't stop wondering if his last kiss good night had really been good-bye.

If you were a vampire, there was no better place to be than in the heart of New Orleans during Mardi Gras. It was one big, never-ending party. A veritable smorgasbord for a hungry vampire as people from all over the country—all over the world—came to eat, drink, and be scared out of their minds.

The city was rife with haunted houses and voodoo churches, with stories of ghosts and zombies who prowled the city's graveyards by night, and with witches and fortune-tellers who plied their trade by day.

You never knew who lurked behind an elaborate feather mask. Was it merely a human out for a good time, or a creature of the night looking for prey? People let down their hair and their morals. Whiskey and wine flowed like water.

And so did the blood.

Nick had been in town less than an hour and had already counted at least thirty vampires roaming the streets, mingling with the tourists, luring them into dark corners and darker alleys.

He wasn't sure what had drawn him to the city. A need to indulge his vampire nature, perhaps? Or to remind himself yet again that he was no fit companion for the woman he loved.

He knew Abbey was trying to contact him but he ruthlessly blocked her thoughts.

He needed time alone. Time to decide what was best for the two of them. His two biggest fears were that if the cure didn't work, he might, in a moment of weakness, drain her dry, or worse, force her to accept the Dark Gift, something that would surely make her hate him. And no doubt bring the wrath of the entire Cordova clan down on his head. Yet, loving her as he did, how could he watch her wither away and die when he could so easily prevent it?

Nick let the crowd on the street carry him along, though he was oblivious to the noise and the excitement.

He had convinced himself that Abbey was safe with him, that he was in total control of his hunger, but deep inside, he was afraid he was lying to himself. It took all his self-control to be with her and not drink from her, to hold her in his arms and not seduce her, to kiss her good night when what he wanted with every fiber of his being was to carry her to bed and make love to her hour after hour.

Eventually he wound up in front of a two-hundred-year-old, two-story house at the end of a dark street. The exterior needed a coat of paint, the wraparound porch was missing a few posts, the chimney leaned precariously to the left.

Opening his preternatural senses, Nick probed the interior. Aside from the witch, the only other living creatures were a cat and a bird.

Hoping the porch stairs were sturdier than they looked, Nick made his way to the door.

It opened before he knocked, revealing a petite woman clad in a gauzy, low-cut white blouse and a long, flowered skirt. Premature gray hair fell over her shoulders in lush waves. Her feet were bare. She stared up at him through slanted black eyes, a beguiling smile curving her lips.

“Nick,” she murmured. “It has been too long.”

She stepped back, allowing him entrance into her home.

It had changed little since he had seen it last. A cat, different from the one she'd had before, hissed at him, then turned and fled the room.

The witch laughed softly. “None of my familiars have been fond of you. Why is that, do you suppose?”

Nick shrugged. “Predators always recognize each other. How have you been, Zendeya?”

“The same as always.” She waved him toward the sofa while she took a seat in her favorite rocker. “What brings you here?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Lies do not become you.” She tilted her head to the side. “I see you surrounded by blood and death.”

Nick barked a short laugh. “Does that surprise you?”

Her voice dropped an octave. “You are seeking something that does not exist. Beware, Niccola Desanto, the path you are traveling will not lead where you wish to go.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Only you can know.”

“Have you ever heard of a vampire being cured?”

Her brows rose in surprise. “Is that what you are seeking?”

“Yeah. Can you do it?”

She shook her head. “Zara might have been able to work such magic, but it is beyond my ability. And I know of no other witch who holds such power.”

Zara. He remembered her well. She was a distant relative of Zendeya's. It had been Zara who had magically removed his name from Savanah's book many centuries ago. Of course, the book had belonged to one of Savanah's ancestors at the time.

Zendeya rose in a single sinuous movement. Hips swaying provocatively, she crossed the floor to take the seat beside him. She leaned toward him, revealing the deep V of her cleavage. The scent of her perfume reminded him of the nights he had spent in her bed.

She trailed her fingertips along his arm. “I have thought of you often since last we met.”

“Have you?”

“We had some good times together.”

“That we did.”

She gazed into his eyes, her hand stroking his thigh. “I have missed you.” She tilted her head back and to the side, offering him her throat.

Most vampires did not find witch blood to their liking. It lacked the sweetness of mortal blood, but that had never been a turn-off for Nick. Sweet or sour, blood was blood.

Zendeya drew his head down. He inhaled the musky scent of her skin, her blood, the incense that burned in one of the other rooms.

His hands curled over her shoulders—predator capturing his prey—as he lowered his head to drink. Her blood carried a sharpness, an edge of bitterness, missing in mortal blood. It gave an added kick to the taste.

He lifted his head as an odd sense of guilt rose within him, though he could think of no reason for such an emotion. He was a vampire, doing what vampires did. And yet, somehow, he felt as though he were cheating on Abbey, which was the height of foolishness.

“Stay the night,” Zendeya whispered.

It was a tempting offer. It had been a long time since he had bedded a woman. He had experienced the pleasures of the witch's bed before. She was a lusty wench, completely uninhibited, willing to try anything once.

“Sorry,
ma petite,
but I can't stay.”

“Do I no longer please you?”

“It's not that.” He caressed her cheek. “But I'm afraid my heart belongs to another.”

She shrugged. “It isn't your heart I want.”

Nick laughed softly, sealed the tiny wounds in her slender throat, then stood. “Always a pleasure, Zendeya.”

Rising, she followed him to the door. “When you tire of your current lady love, I'll be here, waiting.”

“I'll remember.”

Nick had no sooner left Zendeya's place than his phone rang. It was Pearl.

“Nick? It's ready.”

“So soon?”

“Edna thought we might be cooking it too long. After thinking it over, I decided she could be right. When shall we expect you?”

“I'm on my way.”

 

 

Edna and Pearl were waiting for him in the Great Hall when he arrived. Edna was pacing the floor, her long multicolored skirt swishing around her ankles. Pearl sat in one of the chairs, idly drumming her fingertips on the overstuffed arm. They were both as nervous as hens.

Nick blew out a breath. He was feeling a little edgy himself.

Pearl stood. “Are you sure about this? Really sure?”

He dragged his hand over his jaw. “Let's get on with it.”

He followed the old ladies down the winding staircase to the dungeon, obligingly entered the cell Pearl indicated, waited patiently while she locked the door and pocketed the key before offering him a small green bottle.

Nick held it up to the light, wondering if he should ask what was inside. Uncapping the bottle, he decided he didn't want to know. Muttering, “This one smells worse than the last one,” he downed the contents in one quick swallow. It burned all the way down.

“If this doesn't work . . .” Pearl made a vague gesture with her hand.

“Nothing else will. I understand.”

“We'll come check on you in a little while,” Edna said.

Alone in the cell, Nick paced the floor. Back and forth. Back and forth. If this didn't work, he would have to decide what to do about Abbey. Not long ago, he had been determined to make her his no matter what. But now, knowing her as he did, loving her more than he would have thought possible, he needed to put his selfish desires aside and do what was best for her. And that wasn't marrying a two-thousand-year-old vampire. He knew what would happen if they stayed together. Knew, deep in his heart, that sooner or later, regardless of the consequences, he would force the Dark Gift on her. It was the only way to keep her safe from his insatiable hunger.

Minutes stretched into an hour. Two. And nothing happened. Other than the lingering rawness in his throat, there was no pain as there had been the first time, no discomfort at all.

Discouraged, he stretched out on the cot, his arms folded behind his head, and closed his eyes.

Tomorrow, he would see Abbey one more time.

And then never again.

 

 

Nick woke with no sense of the time. Sitting up, he raked his fingers through his hair, scrubbed his hand over his jaw.

What the hell!

Frowning, he ran his fingers over his chin. Was that stubble he felt? As in whiskers? Impossible. He hadn't needed to shave since becoming a vampire.

Rising, he tried to open his preternatural senses, knew a moment of gut-wrenching fear when nothing happened. He wrapped his hands around the bars. Where were Edna and Pearl? They had the key. What if they'd left the castle? He fought down a rush of panic. They wouldn't go off and leave him here alone. Would they?

His stomach growled. The uniquely human sound startled him, as did the realization that he was hungry.

Not for blood.

But for food.

It took him a moment to acknowledge what that meant, and then he murmured, “It worked. God bless those two old bats, it worked!” Suddenly restless, he tugged on the bars. Yesterday, he could have ripped them out of the stone floor. Today, nothing. “Pearl! Edna! Where the hell are you?”

They materialized outside the cell moments later.

Pearl stared at him. “It worked! I don't believe it, but it worked.”

“It's a miracle,” Edna said. “I have no sense of him as a vampire.” She licked her lips. “He smells so tasty.”

“Don't try it,” Nick warned.

She snorted. “As if you could stop me now.”

“Just get me the hell out of here.”

Pearl reached into her skirt pocket and withdrew the key. “Edna, behave yourself now,” she warned as she unlocked the door. “Mara won't take it kindly if you hurt him.”

“How do you feel?” Edna asked.

“Fine.”

“See, I was right,” Edna said, looking smug. “You were cooking it too long.”

“Yes, dear.”

“That's enough, you two. I need one of you to take me to Auburn.”

“I'll do it,” Pearl said quickly. “Edna, you stay here. I won't be gone long.”

Nick tensed as Pearl put her arms around him. It was an odd sensation, being whisked through time and space. As a vampire, it had been normal, natural. As a human, it left him feeling disoriented, dizzy, and a trifle queasy.

When his head cleared, he saw they were on the outskirts of the Cordova ranch. Force of habit had him trying to sense Abbey's whereabouts. Nothing happened. He grunted softly. The absence of his preternatural powers was going to take some getting used to. “Where's Abbey?”

Pearl lifted her head, nostrils flaring. “She's in her cottage, watching TV.”

“Is she alone?”

“Yes. Rane and Savanah aren't home. How do you feel, Nick? Really?”

“A little strange, I admit, but good otherwise.” He took Pearl's hands in his. “Thank you for everything.”

“You're welcome, dear. I hope you'll be happy together.”

“We will be. Thanks, again. If there's ever anything I can do for you . . .”

Pearl nodded. A smile and a wave and she was gone.

Nick stood there a moment, suddenly uncertain of what to do. Abbey had never known him as anything but a vampire. What if she didn't find the human side of him as attractive as his vampire side? As a vampire, he had been strong, confident, afraid of nothing. He had little memory of being human. No doubt it would all come back to him.

Too late for second thoughts. What was done was done. There was no going back. Shaking off his doubts, he hurried across the field to the cottage. Took a deep breath. And knocked on the front door.

 

 

Frowning, Abbey wondered who had come calling. Her parents had gone into town to see a movie. Nick wouldn't knock. Nick. Just thinking about him made her heart ache. Where was he?

Aware that it was dark out and she was alone in the house, she called, “Who's there?”

“Your fiancé.”

“Nick!” She flung open the door and hurled herself into his arms. “Where have you been? I've been so worried!”

“I'm here now.” He hugged her close, inhaling the scent of her perfume, aware that, for the first time since he had met her, he couldn't hear the beat of her heart, couldn't smell the blood flowing in her veins. Couldn't read her thoughts.

“What is it?” she asked, drawing back a little. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong. Let's go inside. We have a lot to talk about.”