Winter's Touch (Immortal Touch Series) (2 page)

“And why would you want to do that?”

“I dunno. Just to see.” She’d be willing to bet nobody in her class ever saw anything like
that
before.

“You’re an inquisitive
creature, aren’t you?”

“What’s ink-wi
dgative mean?”

“It means you wish to know far more than you should.”

She huffed, crossing her arms and giving him a stubborn look. “I bet you made all that up anyway! Didn’t you?”

“Curiosity killed the cat, little one.”

The cat! She’d forgotten all about Rio. “Oh! I have to go now. I have to find my kitty before he runs out in the street. Will you help me?” She slid out of the chair.

“Of course I will.”
He reached forward to gently cup her chin with his free hand. “Look at me for a minute, Eva dear.”

She looked up at him. His eyes were very
black and somehow they made her feel sleepy.

“You won’t remember our conversation. You
are to forget everything we just talked about. Do you understand?”

“Okay.”

“Good girl.” He released her.

Eva
blinked and looked around. She’d forgotten what it was she was supposed to be doing. Why had she come here? Oh, that’s right. For Rio.

Mr.
Winter twisted the blade into his palm, watching her. “Was there something else you wanted, sweetheart?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Then why don’t we go and find your cat.” The knife slipped suddenly, slicing a shallow cut into his hand. “Damn it all.”

She giggled. “You said a bad word.”

“Well, tell you what. You can say a bad word and then we’ll be even.”

“I can? And you won’t tell?”

“Cross my heart.”

Her eyes sparkled eagerly. She wasn’t allowed to say bad words, but found herself
enthusiastically blurting, “
Damn
it all!” It was exciting.

He
laughed softly. “That was very good. I do believe you’re a natural.”

She was pleased. Maybe at school on Monday she’d use that word in front of stupid Frankie Elliott. Then he wouldn’t think he was such a big deal. While she was
contemplating this, she noticed the cut with its tiny drop of blood. “You have a boo-boo,” she informed him, and taking his hand in her small one she kissed it lightly just beside the nick. “There. Now it’s all better.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I do believe it is all better now.
You see?” The minor cut had indeed already begun to close and was almost healed.

Neither of them was aware of the miniscule smear of blood on her bottom lip
that disappeared stealthily into the pink flesh, inconspicuous in the beginning as with any common virus, to become an uncommon but enduring part of her. And so it was, with this most innocent of childish gestures, that Evangeline Spencer’s fate was permanently and irrevocably sealed.

~
*~*~

Julian watched the
red-haired child toddle away with the white kitten in her arms, marveling at her unique personality. She certainly wasn’t timid, that one. Her blood smelled nice and healthy, type AB-negative which was quite difficult to procure. Fortunately it wasn’t yet his time, as that particular type would present a tremendous temptation. And killing a child in his very own neighborhood would be a foolhardy thing to do. He kept a low profile by careful planning, not impulsive recklessness.

If only he could be certain he wouldn’t infect her. He’d gladly
help himself to some of her blood, then erase her memory. How easy his existence would be if it were that simple! But such an exclusive condition came with no handbook, no survival instructions, only rumors and innuendo that proved, more often than not, to be fallible. It was because of this that he always killed his victims afterwards. He had no way to be sure of the outcome were he to permit one to live. So little was known about this strange malady, and he was less than willing to take unnecessary chances.

I
t wasn’t as if it bothered him to kill. On the contrary, he found it quite entertaining. It appeared that his conscience had perished along with his mortal body that foggy morning fifteen years ago. His very soul, along with all the useless emotions that defined him as human, evaporated with his last breath. And when his lungs once again resumed their function, when his virginal vampire eyes opened to a world that would never be the same for him, none of those sentiments returned. He was an empty vessel. The heart resumed its steady beat but felt no love, no hatred, no compassion or remorse. Just a desperate and sustaining need for blood once a month. Why this was, he had no way of knowing.

Perhaps his killer
might have shed some light on the situation, had he lived long enough to do so. Standing over the hastily dug grave with shovel in hand, the fool barely had time for shock to register on his face before Julian gleefully snapped his neck. Of course, this was before the realization of just exactly what it was he’d become.

Some sort of
supernatural being, it would seem. But how, and why? The answer to this question could forever elude him. None of the events of that fateful day alluded to the inexplicable outcome. His murderer hadn’t bitten him, hadn’t attempted to drink his blood. He’d seemed a polite enough chap at first, merely asking for directions to Aviemore. Taking him completely by surprise, the man suddenly attacked Julian and thrust the blade of a long hunting knife into his chest. Stole his Rolex and the twenty-two pounds that were in the pocket of his track suit. Then tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to bury the evidence.

Why he’d undergone this metamorphosis was a mystery
that might never be explained. But then, life’s final mystery had been redefined in his eyes upon rebirth in a shallow grave, spadefuls of dirt raining down on the recently slain body that shrouded what was left of his soul.

O
ver the years, he’d come to learn which legends were based in truth and which were distorted.

For one thing
, he did not appear to be growing any older. Even though his true age would have been thirty-eight, he still maintained the appearance of his twenty-three-year-old form. His body was still sustained by the nourishment of food and water, but now also required the additional elixir of whole blood every thirty days or so. If ignored long enough, the craving would send him into a deranged frenzy. The plasma proteins strengthened him, nurtured him, kept him vibrantly alive. They were as necessary as oxygen.

Any wounds he incurred now healed at an accelerated rate. He also seemed immune to the variety of illnesses that plagued humanity.
And whether it was true that vampires could be killed with a wooden stake through the heart was something he had no intention of ever learning. However, sunlight bothered him not in the slightest and he certainly had no need to sleep in a coffin, so all those ridiculous stories were misrepresentative. A coffin, indeed! He slept in a king-size bed on satin sheets, preferring luxury to claustrophobia.

Besides the anti-aging properties
and profoundly augmented strength, the main physical change he’d soon noticed was the set of retractable fangs cleverly hidden behind his canines. They were ingenious instruments, thin and sharp and unbreakable as steel, unfolding to leave two tiny puncture wounds that he sometimes covered by cutting his victim after feeding. It wouldn’t do for some medical examiner to start noticing these small marks during autopsies. He usually only required about three pints so there was still a measure of blood left. The bodies weren’t completely drained. No one must ever suspect.

Once he’d
entertained the brilliant notion of appropriating a few units from the local hospital, something that turned out to be a crucial mistake. Not only was the taste stale and offensive, but it made him violently ill afterwards. Animal blood had the same undesirable effect. Apparently only fresh human blood would do.

It was all such a damned messy nuisance.

And now it seemed he had the most unfortunate luck of purchasing a house next door to a nosy, meddlesome urchin who didn’t have sense enough to be afraid of a ruthless killer. Daft child would probably wind up in the back of some pedophile’s van by the time she was six, her mutilated body turning up in the Nebraska National Forest months later. Shame, really.

All that AB-negative going to waste.

~*~*~

It was
three weeks before Eva paid him another visit. She wandered in uninvited just as before, much to his annoyance, and made herself right at home, curling up on the sofa as if she belonged there.

Julian thrust a bookmark between the pages of his novel and sighed. “What is it now?
Did you lose your cat again?”

“No. He’s taking a nap. I
didn’t have anything to do. Whatcha reading?”

“Nothing that would interest you, I’m sure.”

“Can we play a game?”

“I don’t have any games,
Eva. Why don’t you run along home? Your mother is probably wondering where you are.”

“Mommy fell asleep
in front of the TV. I’m supposed to be taking a nap too, but I wasn’t tired.”

“How fortunate for me.” He made a mental note to start locking his doors. Maybe he should speak to her parents.
Were they even aware that she was roaming around the neighborhood unsupervised?

“I dreamed ‘bout you last night.” The child lay
supine with her head dangling off the end of the couch while propping her small feet on the back of it, oblivious to the dirt on the bottoms of her sneakers.

“Really.”

“Uh-huh. Want me to tell you what happened?”

“
I suppose I’ll hear about it regardless.”

“There was this lady with
funny-looking glasses, and you pushed her down the stairs. She fell down hard. I think her glasses broke.”

What the hell?

Julian froze, more startled than he could remember being in his entire life, or afterlife for that matter. How could she possibly know about that? The bespectacled woman he’d fed from the previous night, a pathetic wretch whose past as an abused wife made it so easy for him. Simply take what was needed from her arm, cover the evidence with a couple of well-placed cigarette burns, then shove her to the bottom of the high staircase. A clear-cut case of domestic homicide. Her husband, passed out in the bedroom with his empty bottle of tequila, would shoulder the blame for this one.

Or would he?

Eva’s inverted cameo of a face watched him serenely, auburn pigtails swinging upside down to brush against the floor.

He leaned forward. “And then what happened?”

“I dunno. That was all. Do you have any candy? I don’t have any left from Halloween. It’s all gone except for the gross stuff. I hate those orange things. Daddy ate all my Snickers.”

“No. I don’t have any candy.”
Something’s distinctly wrong here. You have to kill her. Get rid of her now before she starts spouting off at the mouth. Although...surely no one would pay any attention to her tales. She’s just a silly child with a vivid imagination, after all.

“That’s okay. Guess what? I know a
nother secret.”

Bloody hell
, what now?
“Tell me your secret, then.”

“When I grow up, I’m going to marry you.” She walked her feet up and down the back of the sofa, leaving faint marks
on the expensive leather.

What was
wrong
with this kid? “Eva. Tell me something. Do you remember the last time you were here?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you remember what we talked about?”

“Kind of.”

“Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me what you remember.”

The precociousness
faded into an air of faraway obscurity. “You said...um...I think you said...”

“Yes?”

“You do bad things sometimes.” She looked a little dazed. Confused.

“
Eva, sit up. I want to talk to you.”

She
straightened up obediently, fixing her trusting emerald eyes on him.

“Listen to me very carefully. Are you paying attention?”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded sleepy.

“You
must forget everything you know about me.
Everything
. You will have no more dreams about me. And you aren’t to come around here anymore. You don’t even
like
me. Have I made myself clear?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Remember only this, child. If I ever see you here again, I will hurt you. I’ll tear you into such small pieces your own mother won’t recognize you.
Do you understand?
”

Eva
nodded dreamily.

“Then why are you still here? Go home!
Scat!”

The
girl stood and slowly headed for the foyer, her stance one of a sleepwalker. Julian was just beginning to relax somewhat when she paused to look back at him, the clouds in her eyes clearing.