Vampire (21 page)

Slowly her head moved—
No, please no
—but his eyes held no compassion, only a frightening kind of power.

“I watched at your window. I put the bats in that crawl space in your room. I cut the head off the rat … and I
enjoyed
it.” His expression grew hard. “So who's the
real
actor?” he demanded. “The
true
actor? Who's the best vampire of all?” He stepped away, his eyes traveling lazily over her body. “It was always Liz,” he mused. “And I was Liz's brother. And then it was always Brandon … and I was Brandon's friend. But I knew … deep down … I was more than just Kyle … I was
someone
… someone very different.…”

Darcy watched in horrified fascination, his movements commanding yet graceful—as if Dracula's cape had endowed him with a whole different persona.

“When we went to the carnival that night, the gypsy understood. She knew I didn't belong … not to
any
world … not alive, not dead—just existing. Unhappy. But
she
recognized the power I had inside me. And after she told me, I
knew
I could have my very own world—I didn't need anyone else's.”

“Those girls,” Darcy said dully. “All those poor girls—”

“I gave them a chance!” Kyle's voice rose defensively. “More of a chance than anyone ever gave me! But—but they didn't understand all I could
give
them—and so …” The cape rustled as he shrugged. “I chose for them.” He thought a moment, one finger on his lips. His eyes shifted toward her in a sidelong glance. “You're the one I loved, Darcy. You're the one I've
always
loved. You were born for me. You're my chosen bride.”

“No … Kyle … please—”

“Jake and Elliott would have stopped me, you know. They tried to hide you from me—watching you all the time—and I couldn't let
anyone
hurt you. That's why I had to stop Liz.” He smiled a little. “God, how I hate Liz. She doesn't feel anything … not like I do. She doesn't care … she can't love anyone.” His voice hardened, words coming from between clenched teeth. “That red hair and her red mouth and even when she talks, hate—hate—
hate
—red and angry and mean—it
hurts
me.…”

Darcy stared at him numbly. “It was
her
lipstick you used. Liz's lipstick on every victim—”

“She deserves to die,” Kyle murmured. “She deserves to die over and over again—”

“You're wrong,” Darcy whispered. “She doesn't know
how
to love, she
wants
to love—”

“Like she loves Brandon?” His lips curled. “Like she treats him and Jake? Like she treats
me?
” His face grew reflective. “Of course Brandon would want you. But this is one time Brandon doesn't win.”

“Kyle—
please don't do this—
”

“It'll be so easy, you'll see. So simple and beautiful, just like a wedding ceremony should be.” The scalpel glinted in the half light. “I'm very good. Just a sting, that's all. And then we'll be together. We'll just fall asleep and be together. Always.…”

Without warning he swept Darcy up in his arms and carried her across the stage. In a blur of absolute terror she tried to kick and fight, but her limbs were useless and the ropes held her in a merciless grip.

“It won't work—Jake will hear you—he'll be down here any second!”

Kyle stuffed the gag back into her mouth with an apologetic smile.

“I took care of Jake, Darcy. No one will come now. You belong to me.”

She saw the open coffin on the floor … smooth, satin lining … so cool against her skin as Kyle lowered her into it. Darcy struggled to sit up, but he held her firmly on her back, stroking her hair … her cheeks … her lips …

Her throat.

In one graceful movement he climbed in beside her.

Wedged up against him in the narrow space, she felt him work one arm around her shoulders, forcing her head against his chest. And in that position both of his hands met easily behind her back.

“My chosen one,” he whispered, “my beautiful bride. Now we'll be as one … of the same blood … of the same world.…”

Frantically she begged him with her eyes. His gaze was full of love and tenderness. She felt his fingers play lightly over one of her bound wrists …

She felt the icy sharpness of the scalpel.

“I love you, Darcy,” he whispered.

His kiss was gentle.

His hand moved swiftly at her back.

“
Don't do it, Kyle!
” a voice shouted.

With a cry of pain, Darcy felt the slash of the blade on her wrist … the warmth oozing down over her hands and arms. As Kyle struggled to close the lid of the coffin, a pair of hands grabbed him and lifted him and flung him out onto the floor.

“You can't destroy me!” Kyle screamed. “And you can't destroy what I
love!
” As Darcy looked on in horror, Kyle clawed at the air, his teeth bared, kicking and biting at the assailant who had wrestled him to the floor.

“Darcy?
Darcy!
”

Someone was yanking at her gag, arms around her, lifting her up, and
My God, I'm bleeding to death, help me—

“Darcy!” Kyle screamed, and his arms were out, reaching for her, even as someone held him back. “Darcy, don't let them take me—
we belong together—Darcy—
”

“Hold him, Jake!” Brandon yelled. “He hurt her! She's bleeding!”

There was a sickening thud as Kyle's head hit the floor, and he lay still. Darcy felt her ropes fall away and heard Brandon swear as he grabbed her wrists and tossed the gag at Jake. “It's pretty deep—wrap it up with this! I'll call the police!”

“Elliott …” Darcy tried to tell them, but her voice was so weak, and Jake caught her as she slumped to the floor. “He got Elliott … in the workroom—”

“I'll go!” Brandon shouted. “Just get her out of here!”

“Dammit … dammit …” Jake was all thumbs, trying to bind up Darcy's hands and keep watch over Kyle's prone body upon the floor. As he fumbled the makeshift bandage, Darcy suddenly caught hold of his arm, forcing him to look at her. For a long time their eyes held … and then at last Jake shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was trembling.

“Hell of a mess I'd been in, right? Your Aunt Alicia coming back for you—and you and Dracula off on your honeymoon—”

Darcy didn't let him finish. She threw her arms around him as if she'd never let him go.

24

O
f course, you realize,” Jake said, scowling, “that all this time you and I were tied for first place as the murderer.”

From the hospital bed Elliott gave a wan smile.

“Well, can you blame me?” Darcy chuckled. “Every time I turned around, Elliott was showing up, watching me.”

“He was keeping his eye on you a lot more often than you ever knew,” Jake retorted. “He's very good at hiding.”

“So he told me.” Darcy moved closer to the side of the bed, gazing earnestly down into Elliott's face.

“I'm sorry, Elliott. If it hadn't been for you—”

“Come on, let's not get dramatic here,” Jake interrupted. “I just didn't trust my creditors, that's all. They've been known to get ugly when they don't get paid.” He lifted his bandaged hand and pointed first to the cuts on his face, then to his injured eye, which was finally beginning to resume its normal color. “That's why I had Elliott tailing you in the first place, so they wouldn't get any ideas about using you to get back at me. How was I supposed to know what was really going on?”

“When Jake found out you were staying with him for a while, he told us he was going to put a lookout on you.” From the chair in the corner Brandon spoke for the first time. “We didn't think anything about it—we knew Jake owed money to some pretty mean characters. We thought it was a smart thing to do.”

Darcy looked at Jake in surprise. “So that's why you told me to stay away from you.”

“And why I was so nervous at the market that day—two guys jumped me the night before, and I got some pretty good licks in before they sliced up my hand.” Jake shook his head. “Then they tried to burn down the Club. That's when I decided I just can't live like this anymore. So yesterday I went to the cops and to a lawyer to try and get my life back on track. That's where I was when you tried to call me about Liz.”

“And you didn't think it was a little strange when all those weird things started happening to me?” Darcy accused them.

“I thought it might be Liz at first,” Jake said. “And then I thought you were just imagining things. You know, just coincidences.”

“I thought it might be Liz,” Brandon admitted.

“Then I thought it might be you,” Jake said to Brandon.

“Me! You jerk! Why'd you think it was me?”

“You're too smooth, Brandon—too slick. I've known guys just like you my whole life, and I wouldn't trust any of them.” Jake looked like he was trying to hide a smile as Brandon's mouth opened in indignation. “When Darcy told me about Liz's warning, I sat up waiting for you and had Elliott take Darcy and hide her.”

“Well, that's just great—”

“You didn't have to drug me, did you?” Darcy joined in.

“I didn't want you getting all nervous,” Jake defended himself. “And I'm sorry about the ropes and gag—when I told Elliott to keep you quiet, I didn't know he'd take me so literally! I figured I'd catch Brandon, and you'd sleep through the whole thing. Anyway, if I'd told you I suspected him, you'd never have believed me.”

“I don't know …” Darcy cast a sly look at Brandon, who was looking injured all over again.

“So Kyle slugged you on the head, and
you
slept through the whole thing,” Brandon snorted to Jake. “Some hero.”

“Why
did
you come over?” Darcy glanced from Brandon to Jake and back again. “On the phone you thought I was being ridiculous.”

“Well, I kept thinking how funny it was, the way you just hung up on me like that, when you'd been so upset. And the more I thought about it, the weirder it seemed. So I finally thought, what the hell, I'll just go over and see for myself if you're okay. That's when I found Jake, and we realized what was really going on. If I hadn't gotten there when I did, I hate to even
think
what would have happened.”

The implication was sobering, and their faces went grim.

Elliott's eyes flashed to Darcy, then away. “I found that girl at the market that morning. I touched her, and she was dead. I was scared for you.”

Darcy's eyes misted. “Oh, Elliott …”

“I thought you would die. I saw it in a dream. That's why I wanted to watch you.”

For a long moment there was silence. It was Jake who finally broke it, his voice quiet and uncustomarily sad.

“I never thought about Kyle. He was always the balanced one. The sensitive one. I never dreamed …” He trailed off and looked unhappily at Brandon. “How's Liz taking it all?”

Brandon shook his head and looked away. “She said … she has a lot of soul-searching to do.”

“Yeah, well …” Jake mumbled. “Maybe we all do, huh?”

“She wants to see him.” Brandon gave a smile. “But Kyle won't do it. I don't know … maybe it'll happen. Someday.”

Jake straightened, clapping his hands on his thighs, breaking the uncomfortable mood. “So what about you? You and Liz patch things up?”

Brandon shrugged evasively. “Well—hey—us famous actors don't have much time for romance, you know? There's so much adoration out there and so little of us to go around.” He looked pleased with himself as Jake laughed. Even Elliott looked amused and shook his head indulgently.

“And anyway”—Brandon cast Jake a sly look—“I might be pretty busy, visiting Darcy at her aunt's house. She
does
get back tomorrow, right?”

“But you don't know where she lives.” Jake stretched and looked totally unperturbed. “I know where she lives … but you don't.”

“But I can find out—”

“I want
everyone
to come and see me,” Darcy broke in, laughing. “I can't stand Aunt … Piranha.” She winked at Jake, who winked back. “You'll come and get me, won't you, Jake? I mean, I
do
still have a summer job, don't I?”

Brandon raised an eyebrow. “Oh, right. Never trust a guy who lives with monsters, Darcy. He'll either lock you in the attic with his bats or put you in one of his exhibits in the dungeon.”

“I've been in one of the exhibits,” Darcy returned, deadpan. “I prefer the bats.”

“You can tell the future, Elliott.” Brandon leaned back, folding his arms lazily across his chest. “Care to give a prediction?”

Elliott looked at Darcy, as if studying her face. “I see happiness,” he said quietly. “And people who care about you.”

As Jake grinned and Brandon nodded, Darcy reached out to squeeze Elliott's hand.

“Well”—she smiled, nodding at the three who watched her—“
that
would certainly be a nice change.”

Born on April Fool's Day 1952, Richie Tankersley Cusick was destined at a young age to write scary books. In a career spanning three decades, she has paved the way for young-adult horror writing, a genre she continues to publish in today.

Although born in New Orleans—home to some of the country's most ancient ghosts—Cusick spent her early years in a small bayou town called Barataria, which once provided a safe haven for the fearsome pirate Jean Lafitte. A true Southern writer, she took early inspiration from the landscape of crumbling mansions, Spanish moss, and aboveground cemeteries, and began writing stories at a young age. For years a ghost lurked in her family's house, making particular trouble around the holidays, when he would strip the Christmas tree of its ornaments and hurl them to the floor.