And then, thinking about Ronan, he frowned. Shannah had loved that vampire enough to let him turn her. Of course, she had been dying at the time, so maybe it hadn’t been much of a choice, but there was no doubt she had been deeply in love with him. And Ronan with her. But how often did that happen?
His incessant hunger clawed at his vitals, driving every other thought from his mind. Pickings were slim on a Sunday night. Only the bars and the movie theaters were open late, and since females on the prowl were apt to be in the night clubs hoping to get lucky, he headed for the nearest one.
Inside, he glanced around, his gaze settling on a woman in her early thirties sitting alone at the end of the bar, nursing a drink. He took the seat beside her and spoke to her mind, assuring her that he meant her no harm as he took her hand and led her outside into the shadows. He fed quickly, then released her from his thrall and sent her on her way. He told himself he wasn’t a monster. A monster would have taken it all.
But it didn’t help. He knew what he was.
Sara and Overstreet remained at the table after Travis left. She wondered if Carl was as flabbergasted as she was by what she had learned tonight. Travis—no Jim—was a vampire. She never would have guessed. He seemed so … so normal. Maybe one of the nicest guys she had ever met. Just her rotten luck that he was a vampire, she thought glumly.
“That interview you did,” she said, breaking the silence between them. “Was that the vampire who turned Travis, er, Jim?”
Overstreet nodded. “Ronan, yeah. I’m surprised he let Hewitt go. From the little I knew about that vampire, I would have bet my last dollar he would have killed the boy out of hand,” he said, and then added, “I guess, technically, he did, since vampires are considered dead by some.”
Sara grimaced. “Do you think that’s true?”
“I’m not sure. Some think they’re stone-cold dead by day, but I’ve heard some older vampires can be awake when the sun is up, so I guess they’re not really dead, at least not in the way we know it.” He regarded Sara a long moment. “You’re not falling in love with Jim, are you?”
Her gaze slid away from his. “I don’t know.”
“I wouldn’t advise it.”
“I don’t suppose it matters. After tonight, I’ll probably never see him again.” She pushed away from the table. “Can I get you anything else?”
“No. Thank you for dinner. It was most … enlightening.” Rising, he dropped his napkin on the table. “Be careful, Sara. There might be other vampires in this town. And be careful of Hewitt. He hasn’t been a vampire very long. New ones can’t always control their hunger, or their urge to kill.”
She nodded, then followed him to the door.
He reached for the handle, then turned to face her. “Vampires can only enter a home with an invitation from the owner or the one who has legal residence—like a renter. For your own safety, I would advise you to revoke Hewitt’s invitation. And whatever you do, don’t invite any strangers into your house, day or night.”
“Carl, you’re scaring me.”
“A little fear is a healthy thing. Good night, Sara. Don’t forget to lock up after me.”
“Good night.” She watched him climb into his battered old truck and drive away, then closed and locked the door. How did one revoke a vampire’s invitation? Was it enough just to say the words? Did Travis or Hewitt or whoever he was have to be there when it was done? Feeling somewhat foolish, she murmured, “Travis Black, I revoke your invitation. You are no longer welcome in my home.” And then she frowned. “That goes for Jim Hewitt, too.”
To her amazement, she felt an ever so subtle shift in the air around the door.
With a shake of her head, she returned to the kitchen to clear the table and load the dishwasher, hoping that doing something so normal would make the night seem less bizarre.
Vampires in America. And in this day and age. Who would believe it?
It was hard to concentrate at work on Monday afternoon. Sara sat at her desk in the small office in the back of the store, filling out order forms, but she kept hearing Travis’ voice in her mind, assuring her that he would never hurt her at the same time he admitted he had taken her blood. Why didn’t she remember that? It didn’t seem like something one would just forget. She recalled the stricken look on his face when he told her what he was. How could she blame him for choosing to live? Wouldn’t anyone do the same? Would she?
She stared out the front window, trying to imagine what it had been like to be under Ronan’s control, to have to make such a life-changing decision on the spur of the moment. Travis must have been half out of his mind with fear. She certainly would have been.
Overstreet had asked if she was falling love with Travis and she’d said she didn’t know. But she wasn’t sure that was the truth. What was love, anyway? It was caring for someone, thinking about them when you were apart, wanting to be with them as much as possible, and that was how she felt about Travis. She had enjoyed being with him. It hurt, knowing she might never see him again. She had never felt this way about any of the other men she had met. Certainly not the man her father expected her to marry.
Dilworth Young was a nice-enough guy. She had known him most of her life. He was tall and blond. He came from a wealthy family. They got along well enough. But there were no sparks between them, at least not where she was concerned. She rarely thought about him when they were apart. The few kisses they had shared hadn’t made her toes curl the way Travis’ did. She had never spent hours daydreaming about Dil. Never got butterflies in her stomach at the sound of his voice.
She looked up as the bell over the door announced a customer. Going out into the shop, she saw Debbie and Luke, the two kids she had met on the street the day before. “Hello. How are you guys today?”
Debbie smiled at her. “We want to buy a present for our Mom,” she said, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s her birthday tomorrow.” Then, lowering her voice, she whispered, “She’s going to be thirty-five, but don’t tell anyone.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Sara whispered, biting back a grin. “What were you looking for?”
“She likes bubble bath,” the boy, Luke said. “Something that smells like gardenias.”
Sara nodded. “I think I have just what you’re looking for right over here.”
She led the way to a long, low counter that held an assortment of bubble bath in pretty decanters, as well as bath bombs, imported soaps, perfume, and cologne. “How much money do you have?”
“Daddy gave us twenty-five dollars,” Debbie exclaimed, hopping from one foot to the other in her excitement.
Reaching into his pocket, Luke said, “And I saved up ten more.”
“I’m sure we can find something she’ll like. How about this?” Sara held up a tall, cut-glass decanter filled with her best gardenia-scented foaming bubble bath.
“Oh, that’s so pretty,” Debbie said.
“How much is it?” Luke asked.
“For you? Fifteen dollars. Did you want to spend more than that?”
Debbie nodded.
“Well, then, how about adding some pretty scented soap and maybe a box of premium chocolates?”
“She likes candy,” Debbie said, smiling enthusiastically.
“How much is all that gonna cost?” Luke asked.
“Because you’re a first-time buyer, I’m going to give you my special discount. I’ll let you have it all for thirty dollars.” She wouldn’t be making much of a profit, but she was charmed by Debbie. She wondered if their father worked nights, or if he was a vampire, and if he was, did his children know? If so, it must be a hard secret for them to keep.
“Okay,” Luke agreed. He carefully counted out the right amount and handed it to her.
“Would you like me to gift wrap these for you?” Sara asked as she rang it up.
Debbie nodded, then wandered over to the children’s section while Sara wrapped their purchases.
Luke stood at the counter,
watching Sara intently.
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Almost twelve.”
“Have you lived here very long?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I was just making polite conversation.” She put everything in a flowered bag, added some colorful tissue paper, and tied it with a bright pink bow. “I hope you’ll come back again.”
Luke nodded. “Debbie, let’s go.”
The girl sent Sara a toothy grin as she followed her brother outside.
Sara stared after them. She couldn’t decide if Luke didn’t like her or if he was just suspicious of anyone he didn’t know. If his father was a vampire, she guessed she couldn’t blame him.
Several other customers came in as the afternoon wore on, including Deanne, the woman Sara had seen pulling weeds.
Smiling, Sara asked, “Can I help you find anything?”
“No, I was just …” Deanne sighed. “I just felt like I needed to get out of the house. Is it okay if I just look around?”
“Of course.”
The woman looked troubled, Sara thought, as if she had something on her mind. Eventually, Deanne made her way to the counter.
“I was rude to you the other day,” she said, not quite meeting Sara’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t give it another thought.” She hesitated a moment, then asked, “Is something wrong?”
“Wrong?” Deanne blinked several times. “I guess I’m just lonely. My husband was kill … er, died a few months back. I miss him.”
“Of course you do. I’m so sorry.”
“We were together for twenty years,” she said with a sigh. “Are you married?”
“I’m trying to avoid it,” Sara said.
“Oh?”
“My father has someone in mind for me. But I’m not in love with him.”
Deanne nodded. “You should always marry for love,” she said wistfully. “Even if everyone you know is against it. After all, the real thing only comes along once in a lifetime. And life is short. So short.” She blinked rapidly. “I should go before … I should go.” Turning on her heel, she hurried out the door.
“Well, that was odd,” Sara murmured. “I wonder what she was going to say.”
Carl Overstreet spent the early part of the day re-reading his notes and wondering what he would have done if given the same choice as Hewitt. Would he have chosen life? Unlike Hewitt, who was still a young man, his life was more than half over unless he lived to be a hundred. And given his weight and his health, that was highly improbable. Like a lot of people, death scared him. And it got scarier with ever passing year. Maybe he should talk to Hewitt about becoming a vampire, he mused, because life was always the answer.
At five, he went to the café for lunch. A few minutes later, he saw Sara step through the door. When she met his gaze, he waved her over.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she remarked with a grin as she slid into the booth across from him. “People will start to talk.”
“Let ’em,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “Be good for my image, being seen with a pretty young thing. But seriously, how are you doing, Sara?”
“I’m not sure. I just don’t know what to think. I can understand why Travis didn’t tell me what he is, but why did he lie to me about his name?”
“That’s easy. Think about it. He used to be a hunter. Now he’s the hunted. People on both sides of the line would be more than happy to drive a stake through his heart. Better if he just slips off the radar altogether.”
“I guess so. I talked to a couple of kids earlier today. They were very secretive about their dad. Do you think he’s a …” She bit down on her lower lip when Winona shuffled up to their table.
Overstreet ordered a pastrami sandwich and fries.
Sara had intended to just stop by for a malt but decided on an early dinner instead. “I’ll have the turkey club and a side salad,” she told Winona. “And a chocolate shake.”
Overstreet waited until the waitress went back into kitchen, then whispered, “I wouldn’t use that word around here. It’s not safe.”
Sara stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think Hewitt’s the only one of those in town. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if most of the residents of Susandale were, shall we say, far from ordinary.”
“How is that possible? You said they didn’t like to share territory.”
“That’s true. But they aren’t hunting here, so there’s no competition.”
“Am I in danger?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?”
“Most of them don’t hunt where they live. Too much danger of being caught. And they need some regular people around to run the businesses if they want to keep up the charade that this is just an ordinary town.”
“What about the women who live here? None of the ones I’ve met seem … different.”
“The ones who are normal are likely married to the ones who aren’t.”
“But…Olivia Bowman has kids. How is that possible?”
“Maybe from a previous marriage. Maybe born before he was turned.”
Sara sat back in her chair, mind reeling with possibilities. Maybe nothing in this place was as it seemed.
Winona sent Sara a curious look when she brought their lunch. “Everything all right?” she asked. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Sara murmured. And wondered if she would ever be fine again. When Winona returned to the kitchen, Sara leaned forward. “Are you sure about all this?”
“Not a hundred percent,” Carl admitted. “But in cases like this, it’s always best to err on the side of caution.”
“Do you think that’s why Travis came here?” She couldn’t think of him as Jim.
“I’d say it’s a pretty good bet.”
Sara took a bite of her sandwich. If Carl was right, she was living in a den of vampires. A bubble of hysteria rose up within her. Maybe she should change the name of her shop to Vamps R Us and start selling bottled blood and custom caskets!
After Sara went back to work, Carl pulled a new notebook out of his coat pocket. He stared out the window for a moment, and then he began to write.
Joey Cannon was just an ordinary guy. Recently divorced, he drove a truck across country for a living. Late one night, he pulled into a little town to grab a few hours sleep. He parked his truck on a quiet side street and woke up in a nightmare.
Chapter 10
Travis woke as soon as the sun began to set. He had learned that one of the so-called “perks” of being turned by an old vampire was the ability to rise a little before full dark. He couldn’t go outside as long as the sun was in the sky, but it still gave him a chance to get a glimpse of daylight before it was gone.
Trapped inside, he prowled from room to room, his thoughts churning. What was Sara doing—thinking? He had the ability to read her thoughts but that was like raping her mind, something to be done only if her life depended on it. Where was Overstreet? And what had brought him to town?
Did he dare call Sara? Would she talk to him? Agree to see him again? Or would she hang up the minute she heard his voice?
Damn. Only hours since he had seen her, yet he missed her desperately. He picked up his phone. Put it down. Picked it up again. Took a deep breath and made the call, figuring, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
“Please, Sara,” he murmured. “Please pick up.”
It rang five times before she answered. “Hello?”
“Sara … it’s me. I … I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“I have nothing to say.”
“Then why did you answer my call?”
“I don’t know.”
“Any chance you’re missing me half as much as I’m missing you?”
He heard the soft exhalation of her breath as she sighed.
“Sara?”
“Travis … I guess I can’t call
you that now, can I?”
“I wish you would. I don’t feel like Jim Hewitt anymore.”
“How do you feel?”
“Lost. Alone. Trying to figure out what I’ve become. My whole life has been turned upside down. These days, I don’t even know who I am.”
“I’m sorry, Travis.”
He heard the tears in her voice. It made him ache deep inside. “Sara …” Just her name, like a plea. A prayer. He didn’t know what else to say.
“Would you …?” A long pause. “Would you … do you want to come over?”
“More than you can imagine. But … are you sure?”
“Not really,” she replied candidly. And then she sighed again. “I miss you, too.”
And just like that, despair turned to hope.
Travis took a long shower, dressed in his best jeans and a dark blue shirt, and combed his hair, more nervous than he had ever been in his life. He couldn’t help feeling that whatever happened tonight would permanently affect their relationship one way or the other.
He pulled on his boots, took a deep breath, and grabbed his keys. Even though he could move with remarkable speed, he liked driving his Mustang. It was the only thing he had left from his former life.—one of the few things that made him feel human.
Sara didn’t remember ever being so edgy. Her upbringing had been somewhat sheltered. Both her parents had been overly protective of their only daughter, refusing to allow her to date until she was sixteen, insisting she be home before midnight, carefully screening her boyfriends. And then her father had decided she should marry Dil. It was the last straw. She was a grown woman. She didn’t want or need an arranged marriage to a man who would never be more than a good friend. She had been surprised when her father agreed to let her have a year to “find herself,” until she realized he was certain she would fail, and that she would come running back home long before that year was up.
Dark of the Moon Page 6
