The Vampire's Kiss (18 page)

Mary’s lashes lifted. She moaned, the sound harsh and full of fear.

“It’s all right, Mary. I’m here.” Savannah tried to soothe her.

Mary began to thrash in the bed, her arms lifted, trying to jerk free of the restraints that held her.

Her IV flew across the room. Blood poured down her arm.

“No! Stop! You’re going to hurt yourself!” Savannah frantically pressed the call button.

Mary’s lips trembled. She tried to speak, but a groan emerged from her lips.

Patty ran into the room. Her eyes widened as she hurried to the bed, pulling Mary’s arms down and securing them with Velcro straps. Mary struggled against the confinement, her eyes huge and tear-filled. Another long groan slipped past her lips.

“You’ve got to leave,” Patty said while pushing the call button and demanding that the doctor be summoned.

Mary began moaning. Her head thrashed.

“Calm down,” Patty told her. “You’re safe. You were in an accident, but we’re taking care of you now. Everything is going to be all right, Ms. Todd.” She began to insert another intravenous needle into the back of Mary’s hand.

Savannah took a step back from the bed.

The doctor, an older man with steel gray hair and horn-rimmed glasses, appeared at the door. He took a quick look, instantly assessing the situation.

“Morphine,
now,
” he ordered.

A nurse hurried in from behind him, a long needle in her hand.

“D-d-d-d—” Mary’s teeth clenched and frustration flashed across her face.

“You need to leave,” the doctor told Savannah.

The machines beeped, faster, louder.

Mary’s pain filled gaze locked on Savannah. “D-d-d-dev—”

“Now, Miss!” The doctor’s tone was sharp.

A nurse grabbed Savannah’s arm.

“I’ll be back,” she promised Mary. She hated to leave her. She wanted to stay, to make certain that Mary was all right.

“You’ve got to come with me,” the nurse insisted.

“D-d-devil!” Mary screamed, her face twisted in fear. “The d-d-devil s-s-said he was c-c-coming for y-you!”

Everyone froze.

“What?” Savannah’s voice was a whisper of sound.

“H-he’s c-c-coming. B-be r-ready.” Mary’s eyes snapped shut and her body fell back, limp, against the bedcovers.

Patty crossed herself.

“Mary?” Savannah stepped forward
, breaking free of the nurse’s hold. “Mary!”

The machines beeped, slow and steady, in the quiet room.

The doctor leaned over the bed, checking Mary carefully.

“Is she going to make it?” Savannah asked, fear nearly choking her.

The doctor straightened slowly. “I don’t know.”

Savannah pressed her lips together to control their trembling.

“What was she talking about?” Patty whispered, taking a quick step back from the bed. “The devil—”

The doctor frowned at her. “She was delirious. You know how patients get—”

No, Mary hadn’t been delirious. The good doctor was very, very wrong. The devil had attacked Mary, and now, he was planning to come after Savannah.

Savannah stared at Mary’s still body. Poor Mary. What she must have gone through! “Is she going to make it?” she asked again.

The doctor ran a tired hand over his face. “Maybe.” He shook his head. “I just don’t know. It’s hard to tell for certain in a case like this, and I don’t want to give you false hope.” He sighed. “She’s getting the best care. We’ll do everything in our power to see that she pulls through.”

Savannah nodded. She stared down at her friend’s pale face.

“You have to leave, Miss. She’s got to rest.”

Savannah leaned forward and kissed Mary’s cheek. “Fight, Mary. Fight for me.”
Fight the devil who stalks you.

She stepped back, gazing at her friend’s wan face for a moment more. Then she turned, and walked slowly out of the room.

As she walked down the long hospital corridor, she could hear other patients and nurses talking. She could hear the faint murmur of their voices. The people passed by her in a blur. She stared down at the shining white floor, moving through the hospital completely by memory.

Mary’s words echoed in her mind. Savannah knew the devil that her friend spoke of was Geoffrey
.
He was coming after her. And she was afraid that she wouldn’t be strong enough to defeat him.

Her steps were slow, wooden. Her head pounded. She ignored the pain, ignored the chorus of voices and machines. She kept walking. Slowly, steadily.

As she rode the elevator down to the first floor, she stared at her reflection in the glass, wondering at the fragile looking woman before her. Her eyes were sunken, glassy. Her skin chalk white. She lifted a hand, driven by some strange impulse to touch her image, to comfort the sad woman who stood before her.

The elevator chimed and the door opened. She forgot the sad woman who’d stood before her, and she walked toward the small chapel. She’d always gone to the chapel when she needed strength. When she needed hope.

She pushed open the wooden door and stepped inside. The chapel was empty. Elaborate gold crosses were hung on all the walls, and several cloth covered pews were arranged in the middle of the room.

She walked toward the altar, staring with wide eyes at the image of Jesus at his crucifixion. She fell to her knees, closing her eyes. “Please, God,” she begged. “Help Mary. Give her strength.”

A cold wind blew through the chapel. The crosses trembled.

Savannah’s eyes lifted. A soft chuckle sounded from behind her, and she stopped breathing.

“Foolish woman,” he said, his voice a wicked drawl. “Even your God can’t help you.”

She recognized his voice. The voice that haunted her dreams, her nightmares.

She stood on legs that trembled and took a deep breath. She wouldn’t let him see her fear.
She wouldn’t.
She turned around slowly, gathering her strength, her courage.

The chapel’s door was open, and he stood on the threshold of this holy place, hidden in shadows. She couldn’t see his face. Just the outline of his body. Tall, strong. Deadly.

“Stay away from me,” she ordered, lifting her chin.

He laughed again. “Foolish human. What makes you think that you’re the one I want?”

What was he talking about? Of course she was the one he wanted. Who else would he want? Oh, God, Mary!

“I know where she is,” he whispered. “Dear Mary. Such a . . . sweet woman.”

No, no—she couldn’t let him get to Mary. Her gaze flew around the chapel. She needed a weapon, something—

“She tasted so sweet. So pure. I think I might just have to have another taste . . .”

She grabbed one of the heavy wooden crosses from the wall. “Stay away from her!” Her fingers clenched around the cross and she took a step forward.

“She’s just above us, isn’t she? Perhaps I’ll go upstairs and see her again. Just for old time’s sake.”

“I said stay away from her!” Savannah snarled, straining to see him through the shadows.

“Make me,” he invited, his voice a purr.

Savanna lunged, swinging the cross in front of her.

In a flash, he vanished, leaving the echo of his foul laughter to fill the chapel.

Chapter Eleven

When I look into his eyes, I see only evil.

—Entry from the diary of Henry de Montfort,

December 13, 1068

SHE’D WARNED THE hospital personnel. She’d told them that Mary’s life was in danger, that she needed constant supervision. They’d called in two extra guards, and they promised Savannah that Mary would be safe.

She hadn’t told them that the man who was after Mary wasn’t exactly human. They wouldn’t have believed her if she’d said a vampire wanted to kill her friend.

So, she’d lied. She’d told them that Mary’s ex-boyfriend was at the hospital and that he’d confessed to attacking her. After that, it had been easy to arrange for Mary’s protection.

Once she was certain that Mary was safe, Savannah had searched the upper levels of the hospital. She didn’t think that Geoffrey had left, that he’d just given up and decided to leave. No, she knew he was still there, waiting on her. Waiting
for
her.

She couldn’t find him. She looked, in every room and in every closet. She hated the idea that he was there, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. To possibly kill Mary.

She had to draw him out. Draw him away from the hospital. Mary needed time to recover. She wouldn’t be able to survive another attack from him. She had to lead him away. She had to protect Mary.

She pushed open the door to the stairwell. Only two flights stood between her and the parking garage. A red overhead light illuminated the small area. She hurried down the steps, wanting to get away as fast she could. She absently rubbed her temple. Her head had been pounding steadily from the moment she’d slipped into the hospital. She wished she hadn’t left her pills at William’s.

She walked down three steps, and the world suddenly seemed to swirl before her. She grabbed the iron railing, holding on tightly. She saw a brief flash, and then darkness surrounded her.

She closed her eyes and heard the sound of her pounding heart. Had he found her? Was he doing this to her?

She counted to ten and opened her eyes. The darkness was gone. She once again saw the red glow of the light and the concrete stairs.

She began walking down the stairs, not taking her arm off the railing. She didn’t know what had just happened, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Luckily, she only had to go down one more flight to get to the garage.

She’d take her jeep and drive as far and as fast as she could. She knew he would follow her. And Mary would be safe.

The concrete steps ended in front of a red door. She shoved the door open, hurrying into the garage.

She could see her jeep sitting on the far side, right under the security camera. The long, florescent lights flickered faintly overhead, casting shadows on the pavement.

No one else was in the vast garage. No visitors, not even a security guard.

She had to hurry. She had to get away. Before he—

There was a man standing beside her jeep.

She couldn’t see his face. Just his body. And his hair. Long hair, pulled back at the nape of his neck. He stepped forward, into the light, and she gasped, stunned. He had William’s hair. William’s face. William’s eyes. His cheeks. His sensuous mouth.

He could have been William but for one small detail. The man before her did not have William’s slashing scar covering his cheek.

He’s my half-brother.
The memory of William’s words slipped through her mind. Brother. The two men could have been twins.

He smiled at her. “Hello, Savannah. I knew you’d come.” He rubbed his face lightly. “Didn’t dear William tell you about the resemblance?” He advanced toward her like the hunter that he was.

In her visions, his face had always been cloaked by darkness. She’d never known, never dreamed that he shared the face of her lover.

“I’m told we’re quite alike,” he murmured. His nails lengthened into razor sharp claws.

His words snapped Savannah out of her shock. “You’re nothing alike. You’re a killer, a monster! William is—”

His face tensed. “What is he?” He snapped.

Good.
The word whispered through her mind.
Decent.
Strong.
“Something you’ll never be,” she said instead. “Something you can’t even understand.”

He sprang forward, his arms outstretched. His fingers looked like knives.

Savannah stood her ground. Waiting for him, waiting for the perfect moment. She could see his long, sharp teeth. See the red of his eyes. See his rage. She slid her hand into her pocket. Just a moment longer . . .

Now!

She yanked her hand out. Her fingers were wrapped around a small can of mace. She aimed for his eyes, those red, glowing eyes—

He howled in rage and pain. His hands fell away from her and moved to cover his burning eyes.

She didn’t stand around and wait for him to recover. She ran straight for her jeep. If she could get inside and lock the doors, she might be able to get away.

“You’ll pay for that,” he snarled behind her.

Her fingers fumbled, dropping the mace as she searched desperately for the keys hidden inside her purse. She heard his footsteps, pounding on the concrete after her. Where were those damn keys?

Her fingers curled around them. She pulled them out, dropping her purse as she fled. Just a few more feet . . .

He grabbed her from behind, spinning her around and shoving her against the back of her jeep.

She brought her keys up, aiming for his injured eyes. She wasn’t going to let him take her without a fight! She struck out with all of her strength.

His arm lifted, slamming into her wrist. She hit back, gouging with the keys. She missed his eye by an inch. But she left a bloody trail down his left cheek.

“You bitch!” His fingers locked around her wrist, squeezing the bone and tendon. She heard a sharp, sickening pop. The keys slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers and fell to the ground.

The blood dripped down his cheek. He pulled her imprisoned wrist high over her head. She hit him with her free hand, pounding against his chest, his neck. He laughed and bent his head toward hers.

“I love a good fight,” he whispered, pressing his lips against hers.

She could taste blood. His, hers, she didn’t know. She twisted her head back, feeling the cold metal behind her. She kicked him, over and over, using her shoes to pound his shins.

He didn’t even seem to feel the blows. He pulled her forward and captured her free hand. Wrenching both of her arms behind her, he held her effortlessly with one steely hand.