They Come by Night (55 page)

The thing that held him snarled and shook him so hard he was certain his brain rattled around in his head. When the dizziness passed, Matthew regretted he was still alive.

He could see he’d been taken to an old, boarded-up mansion beyond the outskirts of Mifflin.

Somehow they were within, in a room that must have been a root cellar at one time.

“
Mi señor
, I have brought you one.”

“Just one, Benito?” The voice, hoarse and raspy, came from the darkest corner. There was something in the accented words that teased at Matthew’s memory. “I’ll destroy your talisman! I told you—”

“
Perdóname
,
mi señor.
But his scent is familiar.”

My scent? Is he saying I stink
? Offended, Matthew tried to yank free, but Benito tightened his hold and shook him again.

“¡
Basta
!” he snapped.

“Didn’t Miguel inform you I needed more than one normal? Explain yourself!”

“Miguel told me to fetch this one. I don’t believe he is a normal. However, if I am wrong, you will at least have some sustenance.” He shoved Matthew toward the darkness.

“Ah. We meet again, my young friend.”

“De Vivar?” He remembered meeting the Spaniard last autumn, on the same day he’d buried Grandfather. “What are you doing here? What
are
you?” In spite of the lack of light, he saw the flash of white teeth.

“I’m flattered you remember me.” But actually, he sounded more disgruntled. “We’ll talk more, but later. Right now… Benito.”

The other thing moved so quickly, Matthew didn’t even see it coming. A hand turned and tilted his head, and he was held motionless as something sharp sank into his throat. Then… oh, then there was the obscene slurping sound that made his stomach heave.

Matthew bit back a moan. He wouldn’t give this
thing
the satisfaction of knowing how much that hurt and how scared he was.

This was something else to blame on the
monster
Benjamin Small had sired, and when Matthew freed himself… revenge would definitely be his.

H
E KNEW time had passed. He’d scratched lines into the rotting molding above the floorboards, and now there were more than two months’ worth.

There were other… things… in this place, but none of them went near him since that fucker de Vivar made sure they knew if they did, he’d kill them. Matthew laughed bitterly. How could you kill the undead?

Normals were brought into this hellhole and held by Benito or another one while de Vivar drank from them, but every few days it was Matthew’s turn again.

“When will you let me go?” he asked Benito when the lackey brought him some sort of meat. He almost wished they’d let him starve to death. This place had no electricity, and the meat was grilled over an open fire. It didn’t taste like beef or chicken or lamb… in fact, he was afraid to think what it might be.

“You’ll remain here until the master no longer has need of you.” Benito shrugged. “He asked a simple thing of you, and you refused him.”

“You’re nuts, you know that? He never asked me to do anything!”

“Rhiannon certainly made the request.”

“Who?”

“The blonde
puta
.” Benito licked his lips and laughed coarsely. “I would have liked a taste of her, but it was impossible to get her alone.”

“I still don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“You knew her as April.” De Vivar seemed to have morphed out of the shadows. He appeared to have more vitality, compared to when Matthew had first seen the son of a bitch this time around, but he was still dragging his ass.

Yes, Matthew had mistaken her for April, his first and only love, but it hadn’t taken him long to see how very different the girl and the thing were. He just thanked God he’d never given in to her flattery. Grandfather would have been disappointed in him, and how could he live with himself knowing he’d… slept with one of those
things
?

He ground his teeth and flexed his fingers. One of these days, he’d find something sharp and deal with de Vivar.

Then he’d remove the boards covering every window in this place. That would give the
things
who dwelled here a nasty shock.

And once that was done, he’d go after the monster and take it apart with his bare hands.

M
ATTHEW SAT huddled in the shadows. It was night now, but earlier he’d managed to loosen a number of boards that covered the windows and get back inside the mansion before any of the things rose. Smug bastards, thinking he’d stay cowering in a corner until Benito came to bring him to de Vivar.

Something strange had happened earlier, though. He’d had to work fast; he found even a single stray sunbeam hurt his eyes and made his skin feel as if needles were pricking it. He shivered.

Right now, none of the things paid any attention to him. He could understand that. De Vivar was pitching a royal fit, and tension was in every line of every one of them.

Not that there were as many as there had been. There had been mention of an Irish thing who had vanished shortly before Matthew had been brought here, and of course Rhiannon was long gone. He’d overheard Benito and another male, Miguel, talking about her disappearance. She wasn’t your typical dumb blonde; she’d made herself scarce after she’d done something that pissed off de Vivar big-time, and no one had seen her since.

It was a damn shame. He’d have liked to stake her himself, once he’d realized what she was. Stupid bitch, thinking she could pull the wool over his eyes. His grandfather hadn’t raised any stupid children.

He turned his attention back to de Vivar, and in spite of the fortitude Grandfather had instilled in him, Matthew couldn’t help becoming… tense himself.

“
Say that again!
” the Spaniard bellowed. He glared at the things who stood before him. They all eyed him with caution.

Benito’s normally olive skin tones faded to a pasty white. “
Mi señor
, the police of Mifflin—”

“¡
Basta
!” De Vivar backhanded him across the face, sending him flying to the other end of the room. “I heard what you said,” he snapped. “What I want to know is why it’s taken so long for me to be informed of this fiasco.”

Matthew had heard about it, since none of the things watched what they said in front of him—idiots. The cops had descended on the abandoned cemetery in Mifflin. They’d dug it up, and in the process had discovered and demolished de Vivar’s mausoleum. The head
thing
hadn’t been there, unfortunately, but that would be just one more job for Matthew to deal with.

“So my home is no more, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, that
puta
of an American vampyr had the gall to interfere.”

Matthew knew de Vivar was talking about an important American thing. Whatever it was she’d done had resulted in that
monster
his father had sired being spirited out of the country, just when Matthew had been so
close
.

None of the things seemed to have an answer for de Vivar—had he really expected one? From his expression, Matthew had the feeling the Spaniard considered himself to be surrounded by imbeciles who all needed to be dead.

Well, he agreed with him.

“I had planned to make Tyrell Small my pet, but I have had enough. When I get my hands on him, I’ll drain him to the last drop!” de Vivar declared.

The others gasped—Matthew didn’t understand what the big deal was. De Vivar had drained any number of normals, and they’d had to dispose of the bodies. What was one more?

“Miguel.” De Vivar addressed the thing who often sat with Benito. “I want you to fetch me the sabor.”

“
Maestro
.” Miguel looked uneasy. “The day watchers guard him by day, and the
oameni de
pace
guard him by night.”

“And where are my
adepţi
?”

“Gone. They’ve been destroyed.”

De Vivar howled, his fury so great Matthew would swear the timbers of this old building shook.

But this gave him the perfect “in.” The
monster
needed to be a long time dying, but maybe the important thing was him being dead.

Matthew rose, staggering a bit before he could steady himself, and then stepped out of the shadows.

“I’ll get him for you,
maestro
.” It killed him to refer to the head thing as “master,” but he’d do whatever was necessary.

They all turned to stare at Matthew.

“You?” De Vivar’s expression suddenly became even harder. “Why would you do that for me?”

Grandfather had never believed in dissembling, but Matthew wouldn’t be dissembling. Not that it mattered: needs must when the devil rode.

“I have no love for Tyrell Small.” The name was like poison in his mouth.

“And what do you want in return?”

“My freedom. I have friends….” A lie. Grandfather had taught him family was paramount to everything, and he’d been content with that. “…and family….” An even bigger lie. The cousins all seemed to be gone, and he refused to acknowledge his siblings—Luke, Sarah, and Bethany, not the twin brats his mother had produced. “They miss me. I miss them.” And that was the biggest lie of all.

De Vivar studied him intently. What was he looking for?

“Very well,” the thing finally said. “Bring Tyrell Small to me, and I’ll release you.” He bared his fangs in a grin. “You have my word.”

Like I’d believe you any farther than I could throw you.
But Matthew grinned back at him. “I’ll need transportation. My car is in the garage of my apartment complex. It won’t be daylight for some time. Will one of your… people help me to get there?”

“Benito, you will take Señor Crist where he wishes to go.”

Benito bowed and came to Matthew. “If you will follow me?”

Matthew trailed after him. Once they were out of the mansion, Benito grasped his arms.

“Now tell me where to go.”

Hell?
But Matthew simply said, “Take me back to where you first picked me up. I can make my way home from there.” Because no way did he want this thing to know where he lived.

Benito tightened his grasp, and then the force of the wind tore at Matthew’s breath. Try as he might to stay conscious, it became impossible to breathe, and he blacked out.

H
E REGAINED consciousness a few blocks away from Donnelly’s. As soon as Benito knew he was steady on his feet, he said, “Do not think to play games with
el duque
. If you do, we’ll find you.”

“Look, I want de Vivar to have that—to have Tyrell Small as much as he wants him. How am I supposed to get him to the mansion? I was out cold coming and going.”

Benito seemed to consider that, then reached out and pressed the fingers of both hands to Matthew’s temples. It felt as if his skull was going to be crushed, but before it reached that point, Benito dropped his hands.

“When you’re ready to bring the sabor to
el duque
, you will remember.” And then he was gone.

And Matthew was in the same place he’d been in two months ago. He began walking home.

M
ATTHEW CAME to a dead halt just outside his front door. Where in hell was his mail? He’d fully expected to find it scattered across the worn carpeting that ran the length of the hallway, but there was nothing. He glanced up and down the hall. He’d never met the neighbors who lived behind the doors that were the same bland, just-spilled-tea color as his, but could one of them have taken it in? Reluctantly, he knocked on the door across the hall.

“What?” The man who yanked open the door was dressed in boxers and a torn wifebeater. He was in desperate need of a shave and some mouthwash.

Matthew swallowed. “I’m Matthew Crist. I live across the hall. I’ve been away for a while, and I was wondering if you might have taken in my mail.”

“No.” He slammed the door shut.

Maybe someone had stuffed the mail under his door? Fortunately, his house key was in his pocket. He took it out and unlocked the door.

The first thing he noticed was the light on his answering machine. No one had ever left him messages before. He pressed the icon.

“You have one new message.”

Huh.

“Matt, it’s Luke. It’s not a good idea to go out of town and not stop your mail. That’s an open invitation to get robbed.”

Busybody. Why didn’t he mind his own business?

“I came by to see you just after Easter and found a shitload of mail outside your door. I brought it in—”

What?
He scowled at the answering machine. How had Luke been able to get into his apartment?

“—and left it on the peninsula in your kitchen.” Apparently he wasn’t going to tell Matthew how he’d done it. “I’ve stopped by every week since then, and I’ve paid your utility bills and your rent, but I’m worried about you, Matt. Call me when you get home!”

Son of a bitch. The last thing he wanted was contact with his brother, but he’d have to get in touch with him, if only to pay him back. He hadn’t even thought he might not have an apartment to come home to.

But he couldn’t call him now. He had things to do. He knew where the monster lived, and it was about time it was dealt with.

The apartment was stuffy, and maybe that was what made his own odor so noticeable. His finger hovered over the Delete icon for a second. It had been so long since he’d heard his brother’s voice….

He tightened his lips, deleted the message, and went to the bathroom to shower and shave. He’d also need something to eat. There were some Hungry-Man dinners in the freezer. He’d have a couple and then go stake out the monster’s lair.

H
OW FUCKING lucky could he get? As Matthew rounded the corner, he spotted the monster backing out of its driveway. It didn’t see him, but he slowed his car anyway and let it get some distance ahead of him.

Where was it going at this hour of the morning?