Suddenly Sam (The October Trilogy) (11 page)

“You know how history is,” Nathan continued as he approached them.
He looked up and smiled. “Painful.”

Meagan felt something drop inside her, something heavy and slimy and terrible. “Is he alive?” she asked
, looking back up at Shawn. “Or did you turn him into a blood sucking goblin?”

Something like amusement passed through Shawn’s eyes.
Now that he was close again and she wasn’t yet being attacked in any physical fashion, she was able to get a closer look at those eyes. They were not flat red. They were actually bi-colored. The pupil was deep, deep blood red and almost black. The iris, however, was a flickering orange like fire opal.

In some bizarrely surreal fashion, she
thought they were very beautiful.

“Do you know, we hadn’t actually considered that?”
Shawn said. He glanced at his companion and nodded, smiling.

“But now that you mention it,” Nathan said, “
a vampire goblin sounds promising.”

“Just,” Katelyn threw up her hands in aggravation. “
Enough with the head screwing. What the hell do you want with us? What exactly do you want us to do? And where
exactly
is Mr. Lehrer?”

Meagan watched her friend with a mixture of awe and guilt. Leave it to the blonde to tell it like it was and finally demand answers. As long as she lived, Meagan would never understand the source of blonde jokes. The only blonde women she’d ever known had either been very smart or very talented or both.

Shawn and Nathan eyed Katelyn in silence for a moment. Then Nathan turned to Shawn, eyebrow raised, and Shawn laughed. “Are we ever going to have fun with you girls.”

“Damn it, Shawn
, she’s right!” Meagan exploded. This was the last straw. She was
not
going to leave her own friend hanging. “What the
hell
do you want, and where is Mr. Lehrer?”

Shawn’s expression grew serious. “All right, this is the deal,” he began. He
looked at Draper first and pointed. “
You
are going home. Home as in wherever it was you came from.” He looked at Meagan next. “And
you’re
going to join us – yes, as a vampire – ” he looked over at Katelyn, “
Both
of you.” He raised his chin a touch, took a deep breath, and let it out calmly, looking back down at Meagan. “If you don’t, Dietrich Lehrer will die an eternal number of painful deaths, and each time he dies, he’ll know it was because you would rather save yourself than save him.”

Chapter Fif
teen

It was like walking into anothe
r world.

Logan had read books about fai
ry realms, where the trees hung with lights and the branches sparkled with pixie dust, and candles floated in the air, illuminating a hidden world. She’d also read about masquerades and witches and bonfires and magic. But never had she read anything that encompassed all of those things.

It was here. All of it
had somehow found its way to right here.

A massive field seemed to have been secreted away inside the forest, impossibly hidden by the trees around it. The ground was no longer packed
earth, but flagstone of marble, polished and veined with what looked like gold or platinum or even gemstones. The trees of the forest formed a thick, impenetrable circle around the large masquerade grounds. Their branches had been strung with silk and satin ribbons of all colors, which sported hanging gemstones and icicles of crystal and gold.

Everything sparkled,
from the floor to the flames that floated far overhead – thousands of them, again in all colors. No candles, just the tiny flickering lights, apparently held aloft and burning on nothing but sheer magic, emitting no smoke or scent.

At the
opposite end of the field was the bonfire. It was not as wide or overwhelming as she would have expected it to be, and the heat it gave off was not painful like the heat from the bonfires at her school before a home game during football season. Instead, it reached high into the sky, substituting height for breadth. It’s climbing, flickering fingers seemed to sway to the rhythm of the music, just as the masquerade’s dancers did.

Those flames took on shapes as Logan watched, switching from eagle to ram to howling wolf to grizzly bear. Like everything else in the masquerade, it was hypnotic, and she could have watched it endlessly.

But there was more to see.

On the far left side, atop stairs made of the same sparkling marble as the floor, were the musicians. She’d been right about the cello and the violin, and
there were others as well. The musicians’ eyes were closed in the sweet ecstasy of the music they created, as wrapped up in its drug as were those out on the floor.

The dancers sparkled too. Their dresses and ma
sks glittered with jewels, gemstone facets catching the lights of the bonfire and overhead flames, and reflecting them like a disco ball. Feathers, jewelry, finery like Logan could never have imagined moved back and forth, around and around.

Logan stood stunned
in silence, watching the revelers move almost as one. There was a hypnotic rhythm to their dance, in and out, weaving this way and that. Skirts of satin hues spun and swished, and men in velvet and rich brocade held their partners aloft, guided them with straight backs and strong arms, and neither dancer took their eyes off the other.

There
were dozens of them, all Harvesters with gray skin and glowing eyes of either violet or orange. They all waltzed as if they’d been born to dance, their steps in perfect synchronicity, every one of them oblivious to her standing there taking it all in.

Until, for some strange reason, they weren’t.

Logan realized little by little that the dancers were no longer focusing on each other. A glance here, a slowed step there, and suddenly they were watching
her
.

The dance faltered, the music grew quieter, and
Logan’s breath stilled in her lungs.

The music stopped. Every eye was on her.

The crowd began to part.

She
should have retreated. There was a noise in her mind that sounded like a car alarm or a fire drill bell, a warning loud and clear that whatever was happening could not be good. But she felt glued to the spot, unable to do so much as twitch. Her eyes were wide in her face, her breath held in her lungs. She was captivated, in every sense of the word.

Her
golden gaze remained fixed on the parting space between the dancers as it slowly widened and spread. It moved through the crowd like an opening zipper, until it at last dissected the masquerade floor like the parting of the Red Sea.

A hush fell over the world.
The crackling and popping of the bonfire was the only sound.

A figure stood dark and alone on th
e opposite side of the floor. His tall frame was outlined by the flickering orange heat of the bonfire behind him. He was a study in black, from his polished black knee-high boots to the black breeches that hugged muscular thighs, to the black shirt and coat studded with what looked like black diamonds – to the pitch black of his thick, short hair.

As did everyone else at the masquerade, he wore a mask.
It, too, was black, but within its deceptively simple design were bass relief shapes that she couldn’t make out at this distance.

His expression was hidden from Logan, but she could see enough to know
he was not like the others. The skin of his forehead and strong chin was like hers and not the gray of a Harvester’s flesh. That gray color was reserved, instead, for his eyes.

They were g
ray like the slate of a tombstone, gray like the heart of a storm or a wall of fog waiting on a dusk horizon. They were gray like secrets. They too seemed to glow, but only slightly, and out of some other,
darker
magic.

He speared Logan with that icy-hot
gaze, seeing her as if she were the only person at that dance, the only other being in the
world
. When he came toward her, the crowd kept their quiet distance and the sound of his boots was slow and clear in the sudden silence of the masquerade.

Run,
the voice inside her instructed.

Hide
.

But
she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Because for the first time in Logan’s life, as she stood there in that dress from another world, behind that mask that gave her strength, and in that place that defied imagination, she was not afraid. Not really.

The
stranger may not be a Harvester, but he also wasn’t Dominic. So he couldn’t be Sam. Therefore, there was nothing to be frightened of. Right?

Of this, she was not entirely sure. And of this, she almost didn’t care.

She was entranced. There was a presence about the newcomer so vast, Logan would not have been able to put words to it. He was taller than the others. He was darker.

There were mysteries in his eyes, and there was promise in his step. He approached her like a predator, stopping a foot away s
o that she could see the candle light reflected in the silky black sheen of his thick, beautiful hair.

Now she could
make out the shapes so intricately and delicately woven into his mask. There were skulls. And curling, thorny branches tipped with perfect black roses… there were animal shapes, wolves, owls, and bats. It was entrancing, and expertly, beautifully carved. But otherwise, it was devoid of decoration; there were no gems. It was all black.

Who are you?
Logan wondered, her mind spinning, her stomach tightening, her mouth going dry.

“May I have this dance?” the stranger asked.

A rush of heat rolled through Logan, so hard and sudden, her lips parted and her eyes widened. She could almost hear the sound of flames crackling to life inside her. His voice was reminiscent of the very night. It was the sound of its indomitable shelter and universal majesty.

It
was the deep, smooth, and crisp embodiment of audible bliss, as deep and as dark as the rest of him.
Say something else
, she thought hopelessly.

He offered her his hand
, a perfect hand with long graceful fingers, and held the gentlemanly pose, a patient smile on his beautiful, perfect lips.

She caught the scent of masculine spices, of sandalwood or something similar… she couldn’t place it
, but it seemed an almost Machiavellian assault on her senses as it reached into her and further fanned the flames that were already burning her up.

Who are you?
Was he another visitor to October Land? A wizard? A warlock? Henry and Mabel had hinted that there were sometimes others. Perhaps this visitor knew more about October Land than she had when she’d been pulled in. Maybe he came here often.

Maybe she could ask him. If only
she could find her voice.

When his patient smile spread into a bright white
grin of amusement that lit a gray diamond of merriment in his beautiful eyes, Logan realized he was waiting for her answer.

S
he nodded. It was not the most suave response she could have mustered, but it’s what happened.

The man chuckled, and more wonderful light reflected in his endlessly stormy eyes
– and more fire licked at her insides. She reached up to place her hand in his and tensed, knowing that his touch was going to be a sort of undoing.

It was.

He took her hand, meeting her half way. He was warm and dry, and his fingers wrapped around her own with slow finality. Power coursed through her hand and into her arm. It rushed over her skin like pleasantly electric snakes, racing over her until it covered every inch of her body. Encompassing her.

She took a breath, and it shook.

His smile became devilish. He turned, and with gentle but firm insistence, he walked them both out onto the dance floor.

Chapter Sixteen

Don’t do it
, a voice in her head firmly told her.
Don’t let Shawn do this to you. You’ll lose everything. You’ll be stuck here forever. You’ll be stuck drinking blood – ew – and never, ever taste coconut cream pie again.

“Where is he?” Meagan asked, trying to stall the vampires who’d just given them the ultimate ultimatum. “How can we be sure you’ll let him go if we agree?”

“Sorry, little witch,” Shawn replied. “You’ll just have to trust us on that one.”

“No deal,” said Katelyn firmly, putting her hands on her hips.
Her jaw was set and her hazel eyes flashed with defiance.

Very brave
, thought Meagan. But then she noticed the white knuckles on her friend’s hands and realized she must be squeezing them hard to keep them from shaking.
Very, very brave.

“Shawn, you… you have to throw us a bone. You’re asking a lot of us. You’re asking everything!” She tried to sound as sure as Katelyn, but was unsuccessful at keeping the tremor out of her own voice. She’d always been a terrible liar. “At least tell us where he is. Let us see him for ourselves so we know you haven’t already killed him.”