Out of the Night (28 page)

"Why would she think you'd want or need blood?"

"Maybe because I bit her the other day and drank some of hers."

"What?" Dirk turned on him, a look of stunned condemnation and worry on his face.

"We were in bed, and in the heat of the moment… something came over me and I bit her."

"Did you hurt her?"

"No, I don't think so. She didn't act like she was hurt, but I could tell that the whole thing surprised her as much as it did me. But what's worse than biting her is that I drew blood and swallowed some. And damn it, Dirk, it tasted good."

Dirk grew thoughtful beside him. "But the blood she brought you today
didn't
taste good?"

"I don't know—I didn't try it."

"Weren't you curious?"

Mac shook his head, remembering how the sight of the blood had turned his stomach, making him almost as sick as the rare steak he'd eaten earlier that evening had made him. "Not in the least."

Dirk sighed. "That's a relief. I don't mind the glowing eyes or the fangs, but the thought of drinking blood doesn't appeal to me, you know?"

"Yeah." They hailed a cab to take them to the admiral's house and once they were on their way, Dirk asked him, "Are there any other changes I should worry about?"

"You mean, other than the whole lifestyle, sleep during the day, up all night part?" He shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not sure I've figured it all out yet." He gave Dirk a friendly slap on the back and smiled. "We'll figure it out together."

"This is it. You want me to wait?"

The cabbie's voice broke into her thoughts, and Lanie leaned closer to her backseat window so she could peer out. She wouldn't have thought a single town could have this many depressed and vacant buildings.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" She repeated the number, speaking distinctly, hoping he had misunderstood her earlier and her real destination lay in a safer neighborhood.

"This is it," he said, dashing her hopes. "Maybe you got the wrong address?"

"No," she answered resignedly. "I'm not that lucky." She looked out the window again, but saw no sign of her father.

"Maybe you could drive around the block?" she suggested, not wanting to leave the safety of the cab just yet. Maybe her father was running late.

"Sure, but the meter's runnin'." He put the car in gear and started forward at a slow pace. "This ain't that great a place to be hangin' out, day or night."

That seemed obvious to Lanie. "I'm supposed to meet someone here," she explained. She saw the driver's raised eyebrows reflected in the rearview mirror, but didn't bother to elaborate.

"Is that who you're meeting?" The cabbie's voice sounded hopeful as, a minute later, he pointed to a figure standing around the corner.

"Can you drive up to him, please?"

The cabbie rounded the corner, but as soon as they got closer, the man walked off, turning into the nearest alley. By the time the cabbie reached the alley entrance, the man was more than halfway to the other end.

"Your friend seems a little shy."

Of course
, Lanie thought, mentally slapping her forehead. Her father wouldn't want anyone else to see him. She dug in her purse and pulled out a few bills, which she gave to the driver. "Would you wait for me, please? I won't be long."

He nodded, so she climbed out of the cab and started toward the figure waiting in the distance. The evening sky was slightly overcast, making it even more difficult to make out her father's features.

"Dad?" She hollered to him and raised her arm. It seemed to her that he hesitated before returning her wave, and that struck her as odd. Without consciously meaning to, she slowed her steps. Doubts crept in. Would her father ignore a lifetime of paternal instincts and ask her to meet him someplace dark and potentially dangerous?

She didn't think so. She wondered if she should return to the safety of the cab and glanced back, only to see tail-lights disappearing down the street. Alarm shot through her as she silently cursed the cabdriver.

The figure in the alley was moving toward her now, and she didn't recognize his gait. The thought that this might be Burton or one of his vampire recruits held her frozen in place. Was this how she would die? Her lifeblood drained out by a vampire?

No, she wouldn't die, a horrified voice in her head whispered. She'd come back as a deranged, bloodsucking fiend. It was this thought that finally broke through her paralysis.

Lanie knew that if she turned and ran, he would know she had discovered the trap and he would attack with such speed that she'd have no chance at all. Her only hope lay in letting him think she was deceived and then catching him off guard.

She moved forward at a snail's pace and pulled her purse to the front so she could slip her hand into it without taking her eyes off the vampire. Blindly, she groped around for anything she might use as a weapon. Her choices were depressingly limited.

Before she was ready, the man was close enough to see, and as she'd suspected, it wasn't her dad. Neither was it Burton, for which she was marginally grateful.

"Where's my father?"

"I'm afraid I don't know exactly." He made no effort to hide his fangs when he smiled. "I suppose he's still collecting blood, like he does every night for us."

"You sent that message to me?" She knew she had to keep him talking, to distract him as she subtly moved her hand to the other corner of her purse, touching and rejecting items.

"Yes. Burton wants you."

She stilled as the pronouncement soaked in. "Why?"

"I didn't ask."

"And if I refuse to go with you?"

He laughed, and it was an ugly sound. "Not an option."

It was the answer she'd expected, and as he reached for her, she made a final, desperate grab at the contents of her purse. Her hand closed around a small cylinder and she pulled it out, her finger already on the nozzle.

Her aim was true as she fired a stream of pepper spray directly into his face. Caught off guard, he wasn't able to shield his eyes in time and received a large dose. Lanie immediately darted backward as he stumbled toward her, one hand over his eyes while the other reached out for her. His violent stream of obscenities filled the quiet night.

Lanie turned and ran. She listened for sounds of pursuit as she reached the street and looked around desperately for a cab. There were none, so she picked a direction at random and ran. She knew she didn't have much time before he came after her.

Racing along the next block, she passed another alley. Glancing in, she came to an abrupt halt. An old trash Dumpster sat midway down. She looked to make sure the vampire wasn't already in sight, watching her, and then ducked down the alley. She checked the doors of the buildings on each side of her, pushing open the ones that she could, hoping he would think she'd gone in one of them.

When she reached the Dumpster, she pressed her hands against the lid and lifted. A whiff of air escaped, and she almost choked on me foul stench. Bracing the lid up with one hand, she lifted the corner of her shirt and dragged it roughly over the corner of the Dumpster so the cloth caught and tore. When she lowered the lid, a trace piece of her torn shirt was barely visible, but it was enough. A former SEAL with a vampire's night vision should have no trouble spotting it.

She glanced to the front of the alley and still saw no sign of him, so she raced for the nearest unlocked door and ducked inside.

Moving as silently as she could, she crept through the building, groping her way through dark hallways, grateful for what little light spilled in through the windows from the street lamps outside. She kept her mind firmly focused on finding the front door, though she was all too aware of the soft scratching and scurrying noises around her.

After what seemed forever, she found it. Looking out the side window, she leaned first to one side and then the other, trying to see as much of the street outside as she could. There was no sign of the vampire.

Then she heard a noise from the alley. It was the sound of the Dumpster lid being thrown back. Knowing this was her best opportunity, she opened the door as silently as she could and took off running down the street. As soon as she reached the next corner, she turned and kept going.

The name of the street seemed familiar. Reaching the next corner, she turned again, remembering that there was a residential area only a few blocks away. She was breathing hard by the time she got there. Trying the door of the first apartment building she reached, she found it locked. Wondering what to do, she noticed the call box mounted beside the front door. She pushed all the buttons, hoping that someone inside would ring her in.

"Can I help you?"

She gave a startled cry and whirled around to see a young man standing behind her. He wasn't the vampire, but she shuddered to realize that she'd been so preoccupied pushing the buttons, she hadn't heard him come up behind her.

She swallowed, forcing her heart back into her chest, and gestured helplessly to the door. "I don't suppose you can let me in? I can't find my key."

"I don't remember seeing you around," the man said, not rudely or accusingly. "Do you live here?"

"I'm new." She practically held her breath and kept her expression innocent. Finally, he smiled and pulled out his key.

As soon as the door opened, Lanie hurried inside, glancing down the street as she did. So far, so good.

"Thanks again." She waved to the man as she hurried up the staircase, trying to act like she knew exactly where she was going. He started up the stairs behind her, and she wondered if he was following her. She decided to go up to the third floor and was grateful when he stopped on the second.

She walked down the hallway and let herself relax a little. She was fairly certain that she had lost the vampire. Taking out her phone to call Mac, she hesitated as his words from earlier played over in her head. Asking Mac for help was the last thing she wanted to do. She considered calling Uncle Charles or a cab, but didn't want to put someone else's life in jeopardy with the vampire lurking just outside. When it was closer to dawn it would be safe to leave, and that's when she'd call someone to come get her. It wasn't a great plan, but it was a plan.

Putting away the phone, she walked back to the stairwell. If the vampire came after her, one or two good kicks against the old wood banister and it would break into stakelike pieces. Satisfied that she wasn't completely without a weapon, she sat on the stairs, leaned against the wall, and pulled the ever-present novel from her purse. Flipping to the last page she'd read, she settled in for the long wait.

"Come on in, boys," the admiral invited Mac and Dirk, leading them through the large open foyer, past the great room, and down the hall to a set of large double doors. He opened them, and Mac found himself inside the admiral's study.

The hardwood floor was polished to a high gleam, and a large Oriental rug covered the center of the room. The walls running the length of the study were floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and opposite the door, a huge mahogany desk stood facing them. Two burgundy leather chairs with a small table between them faced the desk, and on the wall behind it, on each side, were two large windows looking out on well-lit, manicured lawns and a swimming pool.

Displayed on the wall behind the desk, between the windows, was the largest collection of knives, daggers, and swords that Mac had ever seen. Taking a look around the room, Mac saw that here and there were glass display cases containing additional swords. In the center of one of the bookcases was another glass case holding all the admiral's military medals.

"Is all this authentic?" Dirk asked from where he stood examining what looked to Mac to be a samurai sword.

"Yes, it's all authentic."

"This must have cost you a fortune," Mac said quietly, wondering where the older man got his money.

"Most of these I inherited," the admiral replied. "Although I have managed to add a few pieces to the collection over the years." He walked to the far side of the room where a waist-high display cabinet stood and looked down through the glass. "This is my favorite."