His Dark Embrace (24 page)
Chapter 33
Skylynn drove to the bridal shop over in Grover first thing in the morning. She tried on every dress they had in her size, wondering how she would ever make up her mind. They were all gorgeous, and they all made her feel beautiful. Long or short or in-between, the gowns came in a variety of fabrics and rainbow colors. There were dresses in every price range and for every taste. Want to look like Cinderella? They had a gown for that. Want to look like a sexy siren? They had a gown for that, too. Or maybe you wanted to look like a hip rock star? No problem. They had an outfit for that, too, complete with thigh-high boots and a temporary tattoo.
In the end, she chose an off-white floor-length dress with long, fitted sleeves, a square neck, a beaded bodice, and a short, flouncy train. She also bought a matching shoulder-length veil, and a pair of satin heels. Considering that she was out of work, buying an expensive wedding dress for a second wedding was probably an extravagance she couldn’t afford, but this time around, she was going to have the best of everything, she thought with a smile. The best husband and the best dress.
Next on her list was new underwear—a lacy white bra and matching bikini panties, a new nightgown that was little more than a whisper of black silk, along with a matching peignoir and slippers.
It was late afternoon when she got home.
Sam was waiting for her in the living room. “Where’d you run off to so early this morning?” he asked.
“Shopping, of course.”
“Good. We’re out of peanut butter and jelly.”
“Not that kind of shopping, you idiot. I bought a wedding dress. Wait until you see it! We’ve decided to go to Vegas to be married. You need to rent a tux.”
“A tux? For Vegas?”
She glanced pointedly at his jeans, which had the requisite torn knees, and the faded green T-shirt he’d dug out of his closet. “It won’t kill you to dress up for one night.”
“It might.”
“Listen, I skipped breakfast and lunch and I’m starving,” Sky said. “What do you say we grab a bite to eat and then see about renting you a tux?”
When he didn’t answer right away, she thought he was going to refuse but, in the end, he shoved his hands in his pockets and muttered, “Sure, if that’s what you want.”
“Great. Let me go hang up my dress and put all this stuff away and then we’ll go.”
“All right,” he said with a sigh of resignation, “but I want to go to the movies when we’re done.”
“Great movie, wasn’t it?” Sky asked as she unlocked the front door. “You can’t go wrong with Johnny Depp.”
Sam grimaced. “You’re just saying that because you think he’s hot.”
“Well, he is,” she said with a grin. “I’m gonna run upstairs and take a quick shower.”
“I guess that guy’s coming over later.” Sam peeled off his jacket and tossed it over the back of the sofa.
“Better get used to ‘that guy,’ brother dear,” Sky called over her shoulder as she headed for the stairs. “I won’t be long.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sam watched her run up the stairs. If a guy had to have a sister, he could do a lot worse than Skylynn. She was a good cook, easy to get along with, and she made him feel at home even though he didn’t remember anything about the place.
He wandered around the living room, perusing the books and the knickknacks on the shelves, pausing to study the framed photographs on the mantel. He picked up a family photo sitting on a side table. He didn’t recognize the man or the woman, but he assumed they were his parents. The man, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, was tall, with dark hair and light eyes. The woman, dressed in white shorts and a polka-dot halter top, had curly brown hair and a wide smile. The little girl with auburn pigtails and missing two front teeth was obviously his sister. The boy wearing the superhero T-shirt could only be him.
“Spiderman,” Sam muttered as he set the photo back on the table. “No way.”
He was halfway to the kitchen, intent on getting a Coke, when the doorbell rang. Thinking it was probably Thorne, Sam hollered, “It’s open. Come on in,” and headed for the refrigerator.
Girard Desmarais knew a rush of excitement when he heard the invitation. He had been inside the house before, of course, but he hadn’t been a vampire at the time. Glancing to his left, he released his hypnotic hold on the mortal he had brought with him and sent him on his way. He had intended to use the young man to gain entrance to the house, but that was no longer necessary.
Murmuring, “All too easy,” Girard opened the front door and stepped across the threshold.
Skylynn’s heart skipped a beat when she heard the doorbell. At last, Kaiden was here! She took the world’s quickest shower, wondering if Kaiden would have come up and washed her back if they had been alone in the house. She grinned as she stepped out of the shower. Once they were married, she wouldn’t have to worry about what Sam or anyone else might think.
She dried off, dressed in a pair of silky black pants and an ice-blue sweater, ran a comb through her hair, and hurried down the stairs, wondering, in the back of her mind, what Sam would think if he knew Kaiden was a vampire. She would have to tell her brother the truth sooner or later. Or maybe she would let Kaiden do it.
Sky came to an abrupt halt when she saw Sam standing in the kitchen doorway, a look of astonishment frozen on his face. Soda leaked from a can on the floor, pooling around his feet.
“Sam, what’s wrong?”
When he didn’t move, didn’t answer, she started toward him, felt her own eyes widen in shock when Girard Desmarais stepped into view.
“You!” Sky exclaimed. “What are you doing here? How did you ... ?”
But the answer was obvious. Sam had unwittingly invited a monster into their home.
Kaiden glanced out the window, judging the time. It was still early. Sky and Sam were probably having dinner, which would give him time to satisfy his own hunger before he went to see Skylynn.
He thought briefly of driving across town in search of prey but then, eager to see Skylynn, he decided it would be faster to simply think himself where he wanted to go.
Moments later, he materialized in an alley between the Vista Verde bank and the post office. He didn’t have to wait long. The streets were always crowded on a Friday night. He took the first single female who crossed his path. He mesmerized her with a look, grateful that she was young and clean and smelled good. Closing his eyes, he bent his head to her neck, wishing, all the while, that it was Skylynn in his arms, her blood satisfying his thirst.
Ah, Skylynn. Was there ever a creature more lovely, more desirable? He had known many beautiful women in the course of his existence, made love to more than his share, and yet none of them had managed to capture his heart. He had never been one to believe in fate or give credence to the ridiculous theory of love at first sight. Nor had he ever believed in soul mates. Until now. He couldn’t deny that it seemed as if Skylynn McNamara had been created heart and soul for him and for no one else. The fact that she knew what he was and loved him in spite of it was nothing short of a miracle as far as he was concerned. He had done nothing to deserve such a rare and wondrous gift. Her love humbled him, made him long more than ever to be worthy of her trust.
If he could find the missing ingredient in Paddy’s formula, if he could make and keep a ready supply of the potion on hand, he could give Skylynn the kind of life she deserved. They could travel around the world together. With the potion, he could again walk in the daylight, visit places he had seen only at night. He longed to show Skylynn all the wonders of the world, to watch her eyes widen in awe as they explored distant parts of the globe that were as yet unknown to most of the civilized population. She would have nothing to fear with him. But, more than that, he longed to share the simple things of life with her—mundane things that mortals took for granted, like enjoying a good meal, strolling through the park on a bright summer morning, watching the beauty of a sunrise, listening to the rain on a quiet afternoon.
Thorne glanced at the woman in his arms. She looked up at him, her eyes blank. He shook his head. Caught up in wishing for an ordinary life, he had momentarily forgotten all about her.
A soft-spoken word released her from his spell and he sent her on her way, none the wiser.
Thorne stared after her. Why was he wasting his time yearning for a life he could never have? Skylynn was here, now. Best to spend as much time with her as he could, because time had become his enemy. Sooner or later, it would steal her away from him.
But for now, she was here and she was his. And with that thought in mind, he willed himself to Skylynn’s home, eager to take her in his arms.
He paused a moment on the sidewalk. Lights burned in the front window, as if to welcome him.
He frowned when he noticed the front door was ajar. Even before he reached the porch, he caught the unwelcome scent of Girard Desmarais.
Chapter 34
Skylynn had never known fear such as this before. Sure, she had been scared when her parents died, but Granda and Grams had been there to take care of her, and Sam had been there to comfort her. She had been afraid when Sam went missing. And learning that Kaiden was a vampire had been frightening at first. But even that didn’t compare to the soul-deep fear that now held her in its grasp. She didn’t know what magic Desmarais had worked on her and Sam, didn’t know what kind of preternatural power held them spellbound, but neither of them was able to move or speak. Nor did she know where they were.
She tried to remember what had happened after she’d come downstairs and found Desmarais in the living room, but fear for her life and that of her brother made it hard to think clearly. The only thing she really remembered was trying to revoke Sam’s invitation, but before she could say the words, Desmarais had worked some kind of vampire magic that left her incapable of speech. She didn’t remember leaving the house.
She glanced at her surroundings. The room was small and rectangular and sparsely appointed. She sat beside Sam on a narrow cot. The only other furniture was a straight-backed wooden chair and a square wooden table. A large crucifix hung on the stone wall behind the cot. Were they in a monastery? She seemed to recall that Desmarais was, or had been, a monk.
The vampire paced the floor in front of the cot. Watching him, she realized he was quite mad. She could see it in the fanatic glow in his eyes. What did he want with her and Sam? It couldn’t be the missing ingredient in the formula. He already knew she didn’t have it. So, what was he after?
Her whole body went suddenly numb as she realized what he wanted.
It wasn’t the missing ingredient.
It was revenge for his wife’s death.
She tried to speak, to beg him to spare her brother’s life. Sam had no part in this. He didn’t deserve to die. He had already been through hell. But, try as she might, she could not force the words past her throat.
Fear twisted inside her belly when Desmarais stopped pacing to stand in front of her. His eyes were cold, unblinking, like those of a snake.
His hand was like ice against her cheek when he touched her. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to kill you. Yet. But I am terribly thirsty. It’s part of being a new vampire, you know, the constant yearning for blood.” He smiled, revealing his fangs. “But, all things considered, quite enjoyable.”
Had she been able, she would have tried to fight him off but, rendered helpless by his preternatural power, she could only sit there while he grasped her shoulders in his bony hands. She winced as his fingers dug into her flesh.
Had she been able, she would have screamed in protest—even though there was no one to hear her. No one to save her.
As Desmarais bent his head to her neck, she caught a glimpse of Sam’s face. From his expression, she knew he was as horrified at what was about to happen as was she.
Unable to escape the vampire’s hold, Sky closed her eyes when she felt the sharp sting of his fangs. There was no pleasure in his bite—as there was in Kaiden’s—only pain magnified by gut-wrenching fear and sheer revulsion at what he was doing. The slurping noise he made was disgusting. Blackness clouded her vision. What if he took too much? Oh, Lord, what if he turned her into the same kind of ravening monster that he was?
That terrifying possibility sent her spiraling down, down, into the gray nothingness of oblivion.
Thorne searched every room in Sky’s house even though he knew it was a waste of time, and then he walked around the living room a second time. Desmarais’ scent was strong here. There were no signs of a struggle, either on the porch, in the doorway, or in the living room.
How had Desmarais gotten inside? Surely Sky wouldn’t have invited him in? It had to have been Sam. That was the only answer. Dammit! He should have warned Sam about Desmarais, but who would have thought Girard would come knocking at the door again? Thorne doubted either Skylynn or Sam would have gone peacefully. Desmarais must have used his vampire powers to transport the sister and brother out of the house. For a fledgling, Desmarais was learning to use his powers in record time. Of course, having Cassandra as his sire didn’t hurt. The blood of the old ones was extremely powerful. Thorne knew that firsthand.
Closing his eyes, he opened his preternatural senses. He had taken Sky’s blood, creating a bond between them, a sort of vampiric GPS. Fear slithered down his spine when he couldn’t find her. Either she was dead, which he refused to accept, or she was unconscious.
Either way, Girard Desmarais’ days on earth were numbered.
Awareness returned gradually. Feeling. Hearing. Movement. Afraid of what she would see, Skylynn opened her eyes to darkness. She lifted one hand. At least she was no longer paralyzed. Whatever she was lying on was hard and cold. A touch told her it was a floor made of stone.
Rising to her knees and then to her feet, she moved slowly around the room, one hand outstretched to feel her way. Six steps carried her from one wall to the other. She didn’t encounter anything in her way. So, was she locked inside some kind of dungeon?
“Sam? Are you here? Sam?”
Pressing her hand against the wall to guide her, she walked around the room. A cry rose in her throat when she kicked something solid. At first, she was afraid it was Sam, but it turned out to be an old-fashioned chamber pot. There was nothing else in the room.
Where was Sam? Was he still alive?
Where was Desmarais?
Most importantly, where was Kaiden? By now, he would know she was gone. Sky took a deep breath. Kaiden would find her. She had to believe that. She just hoped she would still be alive when he did.
Thorne stalked the dark streets, his fear and outrage rising with every step. He was hesitant to feed, afraid that, in his present condition, he would kill whoever crossed his path.
Where was she?
And then, like lightning shimmering across his mind, he felt their link connect.
Kaiden?
Skylynn! Are you all right?
Yes.
He heard the underlying note of fear in that single word.
He heard the underlying note of fear in that single word.
Is Sam with you?
He was, but he isn’t now. I don’t know where he is. I don’t know where I am except that it’s dark and cold. I think it’s some kind of dungeon.
I’ll find you
. Even as he sent the thought to her, he was leaving the town behind, the link they shared guiding him unerringly on the path Desmarais had taken. A path that led Thorne to a secluded airport in Atlanta run by the kind of people who worked on a cash-only basis and didn’t ask any questions.
. Even as he sent the thought to her, he was leaving the town behind, the link they shared guiding him unerringly on the path Desmarais had taken. A path that led Thorne to a secluded airport in Atlanta run by the kind of people who worked on a cash-only basis and didn’t ask any questions.
It didn’t take Kaiden long to discover that Desmarais had booked a nonstop flight to England for himself and two passengers. As soon as he learned Desmarais’ destination, he knew where they were going. The Abbey at St. Germaine.
He considered transporting himself to the Abbey but discarded the idea for two reasons. Transporting himself across such a long distance would leave him weak and drained of strength and he couldn’t afford that, not with Desmarais waiting at the end of his journey. Not with Sky’s life in danger.
Moments later, he had arranged a “no questions asked” flight for himself.
It was an hour before dawn when Thorne’s plane landed on a private airstrip outside of London. After paying the pilot an exorbitant fee to stay put until he returned, Thorne willed himself to the Abbey, then located a place in the nearby forest where he could safely go to ground until nightfall.
Rising at sunset, he approached the Abbey’s ornately carved double doors. He stared at the entrance for several minutes. His chances of being invited inside were slim to none. The threshold of an ordinary church wouldn’t have presented a problem since such places of worship were open to the public. But St. Germaine’s Abbey was home to about thirty monks, as well as ten or fifteen slayers-turned-clerics who had taken a vow of silence. They never left the Abbey and rarely had any contact with the outside world, although both slayers and monks were free to leave if they wished.
The monks grew all their own food, made their own wine, and raised cattle and goats for milk and cheese. Strangers were not welcome inside the Abbey. Desmarais had taken refuge with the monks shortly after the death of his wife. If only he had stayed there.
Thorne raked his hands through his hair. All that mattered now was getting Skylynn and her brother out of the Abbey, alive.
Sam paced his narrow prison, a string of curses peppering the fetid air around him. Where the hell was he? It was bad enough that he didn’t remember anything about his life before he woke up in the VA hospital, but now he couldn’t remember how he had gotten here, either.
He did remember one thing, though. A scary-looking old guy with eyes that burned as red as flame. Red eyes! Nobody human had eyes like that.
Sam shook his head. Maybe he didn’t have amnesia. Maybe he was just going insane. That made a lot more sense.
He paused, his brow furrowed. Had he seen that guy before? Something about that long gray cloak ... Sam massaged his temples. If he could remember one thing, just one lousy little thing, maybe it would all come back to him.
Filled with worry and frustration, he resumed his restless pacing, concern for Skylynn overshadowing fear for his own life. Was she locked up in a cell like this one? He had called her name from time to time, but she didn’t answer. Maybe the cell was soundproof. Maybe she wasn’t here. His hands curled into tight fists. Maybe she was dead.
What if he wasn’t in a cell at all? Maybe he was buried alive in some kind of box. Sweat beaded across his brow. He remembered being locked up, beaten, starved. Shit! Was he back in Iraq? Back in the hands of terrorists?
What if he had never been rescued? Maybe he was still in that sweat box.
He had to get out! Now! Panic spiked his heart rate. Sweat dripped down his face and trickled down his back.
“Help! Somebody, anybody! Let me out!” Pounding on the wall, he screamed, “Let me out of here!”
He had to escape before they came back for him.
“Please,” he sobbed. “Please let me out.”
As if in answer to his plea, the door creaked open. In the pale light spilling into the cell from a light in the passageway, Sam watched the man in the long gray cloak stroll into the cell.
Sam scrambled backward. “No! Get away from me, you freak. Leave me alone!”
The man walked toward him, eyes red and glowing. “Leave you alone?” His laughter was like dead leaves rustling in a graveyard. “I think not. You have what I need.”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t have anything!” His gaze darted toward the open door and the freedom that lay beyond. All he had to do was get past the old man. A piece of cake, right?
The thought had barely crossed Sam’s mind when the door shut, seemingly of its own accord, and he found himself shoved against the cell’s back wall, held in place by one age-spotted hand.
Sam stared at his captor. Who was this guy? He hadn’t even seen him move.
“Time for dinner,” the man said. His lips peeled back in a savage grin, revealing elongated canines.
Sam went cold all over as he stared at the hellishly red eyes, the sharp fangs.
It couldn’t be. There was no such thing. And yet the proof was staring him in the face.
Vampire.
Sam was still trying to grasp the reality of what he was seeing when the man grabbed a handful of his hair, jerked his head to the side, and buried his fangs in Sam’s throat.
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