They Come by Night (13 page)

De Vivar would still have the sabor
,
and he would be his alone
.
A vampyr’s life was long, and he intended to spend a good deal of time training the sabor in the correct manner.

However, he needed to plan.

And part of his plan would include Matthew Crist.

De Vivar allowed his lips to part in a sly grin. The poor young man had had too much to drink. He’d offer to drive him home.

The door to the bar opened and a man sauntered in. “Cab for Crist?”

“Right here.” The bartender helped Crist out and returned in a matter of moments, muttering under his breath.

“
Hijo de puta
,” de Vivar snarled. Would nothing ever go the way he planned?

He slid out of the booth, leaving behind the untouched glass of wine, and bared his fangs at the people at the bar, fully expecting them to shrink back in fear.

“Whoa! Awesome costume, man!”

With a swirl of his cape, he stalked out of the bar, seething in fury at the applause that followed him.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR
:
C
OME
H
OME
FOR
C
HRISTMAS

I
T WAS a little less than a month since my eighteenth birthday, when Adam Dasani, vampyr, had fed from me, Tyrell Small, sabor, for the very first time.

It had been an amazing experience, although for a few days after I’d felt a little drained—no pun intended. But three solid meals a day for about a week took care of it, and now I was feeling pretty darned good. Feisty, in fact.

This was my destiny, as too many people had been all too willing to tell me, what I’d been born for. Only the most diehard of the traditionalists fed from the so-called normal people, the rest making do with withdrawals from their local blood banks—they’d nuke the bags to 98.6, and voilà, instant dinner—or cattle.

Which wasn’t as unusual as it might sound. In olden days, during times of want, even normals had done so, making narrow cuts into the ears of their mules or donkeys and subsisting on the animal’s blood.

But that meant occasionally they’d need to feed from me.

After that first time, I couldn’t say I truly resented the prospect of being a vampyr’s chew toy. For one thing, it got me the most fantastic orgasms.

And for another… well, see the first thing.

Would it be the same way with a lady vampyr?

I didn’t know, and I was a little leery about it, but I was willing to give it a try.

And that was how I wound up with a house of my own at the age of eighteen.

I was proud of my little bungalow and couldn’t wait to show Dad, so I was going to have him over for Thanksgiving weekend, and I’d cook dinner. I mean, how tough could that be? I’d watched him over the years: he put the turkey in the oven, turned on the timer, and we watched football until the timer went
ding
.

And just to make sure, there was that little pop-up thingy that… um… popped up once it was done.

As far as I could see, it was a no-brainer.

I didn’t have a spare bedroom, so I was giving him mine; the love seat in the living room opened into a full-size bed, and I would take that.

I’d changed the sheets, put fresh towels in the bathroom, and done everything I could think of to make sure he’d be comfortable.

So here it was, a little less than four weeks since my birthday. It was a beautiful day, a little nippy, but perfect for Thanksgiving, with the sun shining and the promise of more in the forecast for the weekend.

Everything was going fine. The table was set with china and silverware. I’d found a nice tablecloth in the buffet in the dining room, and a vase in the cabinet under the sink. The vase was on the table now, filled with the yellow, red, and bronze chrysanthemums someone had planted around the bungalow’s foundation.

The turkey was doing its thing in the oven—and I’d even basted it a couple of times—the potatoes were cut up and boiling away in a two-quart pot, and the can of cranberry sauce was open and laid out on a plate in the fridge, keeping cold. The green beans could wait until the last minute to be steamed, and as for the salad, all it needed was to have the dressing poured on.

Dessert was the easiest part. Dad was bringing a couple of pies—pumpkin and coconut custard. A can of Reddi-wip, and we were good to go.

And then the phone rang and things began to go a little hinky.

“Ty, I’m sorry, I seem to be lost. I followed your directions, but wound up in Knoxville.”

“That’s north of here.” It was a medium-sized town named for one of Washington’s generals, as I’d learned when I’d gone for a drive to familiarize myself with the area around my new home and wound up touring the neighboring town’s one claim to fame. “How did you get there?”

“Beats me. I took the thruway to where it forked, about a mile past Pritchert.”

I nodded, although he couldn’t see me.

“I took the left fork and drove the eight miles you told me it would take to get to your exit.” There was wry amusement in his voice. “When I reached Knoxville, I realized I must have missed it. I turned around and drove back the way I’d come. I clocked it, to make sure I didn’t miss the turn, but I missed it anyway and wound up back here in Pritchert. I wouldn’t have called you, but I tried a second time, with the same results.”

That was just weird. Dad was a good driver. He never got lost.

“Okay, where are you now?”

“I’m parked in front of a hardware store on Main Street.”

“I know that store. Listen, hang tight and I’ll come get you.” I was dying to show him my hybrid anyway.

It only took about ten minutes to get to Pritchert. It would take longer going home—with Dad in the car, I had no intention of speeding. I pulled into the spot beside Dad’s Cougar. He was standing in front of the store window, studying the holiday display. I tapped the horn to get his attention, and he turned, looking happy to see me. I grinned at him as I unbuckled my seat belt and got out of the car.

“Son!” He crossed to me quickly, but he didn’t hug me, which I appreciated.

“Hi, Dad!” I took his hand and gripped it tightly. That I could do, at least for a brief time.

“I’ve missed you! How have you been?”

“Fine.” I didn’t tell him I was pretty much the same as the night before, when I’d last talked to him. “I’ve missed you too. What do you think of Lucretia?”

“Borgia?” He looked confused. “I heard they’re trying to clear her name—”

“No.” I couldn’t help laughing. “MacEvil! My car!” She was a coupe, sangria red, and the only thing that would have been better was if she’d been a ragtop, but I wasn’t about to look a gift car in the grill.

“Oh! She’s a beauty.”

“You bet! She goes from zero to sixty in—”

He gave me a look.

I coughed. “That’s what the manual says. I haven’t tried it myself,” I assured him.

“Of course you haven’t.” He grinned at me, but there was something in his eyes….

“Dad? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “I could never afford to get you something like this.”

“That’s okay.”

“It’s not. I should have—”

“No.” He shouldn’t feel bad because he wasn’t the one who bought me a set of wheels. We’d always been comfortable; he made a good living when construction was booming—the union had gotten its workers a fantastic contract—and when it wasn’t, he did any number of side jobs. I had a Nintendo DS, an MP3 player, and my own stereo system in my room.

What I couldn’t understand was why he drove a car almost as old as I was, and why the television in the living room was only nineteen inches, instead of a fifty-inch flat screen.

“Listen, Dad. Let’s get going.” I pressed the button on my key fob, and the trunk opened slowly.

“What about my car?”

“We’ll come pick it up tomorrow. It’ll be fine here in the meantime.” Fortunately there were no parking meters on this stretch of Main Street. “Now, get your suitcase and the pies, lock up your car, and get in. I’m freezing my butt off here!”

He grinned at me. “Sure, Ty.” He put his pilot case in the trunk and closed it, then settled himself into the passenger seat with the pies on his lap, buckled up, and inhaled. “Nothing like that new-car smell.”

“Yeah. It’s pretty awesome, isn’t it?” My grin felt like it was going to crack my face. I was an adult—okay, I couldn’t drink, but I had my own car and my own place, and I was going to drive my dad there. I put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot. “It should only take about twenty minutes to get home.” No way was I speeding.

“Tyrell—”

Uh-oh. He only used my full name when he had something serious to say.

“Yeah, Dad?”

“You didn’t answer my question. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“He didn’t hurt you?”

Was that what he was worried about? “No. See?” I hooked my forefinger in the collar of the sweater I wore under my jacket and tugged it down. “Not even a scar.”

“But if there was, your birthmark would conceal it.”

“What? No, it….” Well, maybe it would, but—“There really isn’t a scar.”

He didn’t say anything, and I risked taking my eyes from the road for a second to see if I could guess what he was feeling. His face was blank.

“It was….” I had to reassure him. “Dad, it was the
best
experience!”

“I don’t think I want to know about it.”

“Sure.” I didn’t really want to tell him about it. Not about the sexual aspect of it, anyway. “But I don’t want you worrying. I’m not Uncle Phil.”

He raised an eyebrow. I didn’t know how much he knew about what had happened to his brother, and I was sorry I’d brought up Uncle Phil’s name.

Dad didn’t challenge me on it, though. Instead, he asked, “Ty… are you lonely?”

“No.” I was, but I wasn’t going to burden him with that. I might not like people touching me, but I was used to having him in the house when I came home, used to having neighbors and friends close by, and I missed that. “I’m still getting myself settled in.”

“I imagine it will take some time for you to learn your way around.”

“You bet.” I glanced at him, but he was examining the dash.

“And then?”

“Well, once that’s done, I’ll get myself enrolled in college.” Knowing I’d be leaving home but not knowing where I’d be going, I hadn’t bothered applying to any of the local colleges. Oh, I’d sent out letters of intent to Harvard, Cornell, and Yale, but that had just been as a goof, and it hadn’t surprised me when all three had declined the pleasure of my presence in their hallowed halls.

“Have you kept in touch with your friends from high school?”

“Yeah, but you know how it is, Dad. They’ve got classes and stuff, or work, and with the holidays, everyone’s busy.” Once I was settled in my bungalow, I’d called Jimmy to let him know that instead of going to Disney World, I’d moved to Pritchert. I just didn’t tell him why. He’d said something about driving out to see my place, but his Buick was in the shop more often than it was on the road. Since his mom’s minivan was the only vehicle he could borrow, and since it wasn’t usually available, it didn’t surprise me when he never showed up. “Things’ll fall into place after the New Year.”

“Sure they will, son.” He didn’t sound as if he believed me.

I wasn’t sure if
I
believed me.

“Check out the radio, Dad. I get Sirius!”

He reached for the dial and fiddled with the stations, and I listened absently as they switched from the ’60s to the ’70s to the ’80s, from jazz to opera to Broadway show tunes. Finally he settled on a station.

“Dad?” I risked another glance, quick, surprised. He was staring out the window. “Since when have you been into rap?”

“Ty, I’m not about to ask if you’re sure you’re on the right road, but is this a shortcut? None of this looks familiar to me.”

“This is the way.” Was that what had him distracted? Did he think I’d get us lost? Well, I had been known to lose my way coming home from school, but geez, I’d only been six then. “Trust me. See? There’s my house just up ahead.”

“Oh, my!”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool, isn’t it?” I looked around proudly. “According to Adam, it’s on a couple of acres. I can make a garden in the spring, and there’re a couple of pear trees and an apple tree.” No peach tree, which I’d have liked, but maybe I’d plant one in the spring. “And a small creek runs through the back of the property.”

I pressed the remote on the visor and waited while the garage door rolled up, then eased my car forward and parked it.

“Roomy!”

“Yeah. It’s a one-and-a-half-car garage.” I unbuckled my seat belt and opened the door. There was enough room that I didn’t have to worry about hitting the wall, and there was even space for a workshop, which I wanted his help in outfitting.

He took the bakery boxes with the pies in them, I retrieved his case, and we walked out of the garage.

“Check this out, Dad!” I’d left the remote on the visor, and now I flipped up the lid of the keypad on the jamb, entered the code, and smiled with satisfaction as the door rolled down smoothly. “Awesome, isn’t it? I installed it myself.” After I’d forgotten the remote in the car for about the sixth time.

“You did?” He blinked and ran gentle fingers over it.

“Yep.”

“I’m impressed. And yes, it is awesome.”

“Cool beans!” I could have wriggled like a happy puppy. “I’ve given you the bedroom. I’ll take the love seat,” I told him before he could question me. I led him to the porch. “Welcome to Chez Small.”

“No pun intended, Tyrell, but it seems a little… small.”

“It’s big enough for me, Dad. And it’s just me.” I unlocked the door and threw it open.

We were greeted by murmuring on the television. “Guess I forgot to shut it off,” I admitted sheepishly as I shut and locked the door.

“Something smells good.”

The house was filled with the fragrance of cooking turkey and roasting mickeys. Only I wasn’t making the potatoes that way.

“Shoot!” I dropped his case, rushed into the kitchen and gave the knob on the oven a twist, and fumbled for the pair of oven mitts.