Dark of the Moon

by Amanda Ashley

  Or violated her? Of killed her?

  Each possibility was worse than the last.

  Deep in despair, he sank down on the bed, his head cradled in his hands. “Sara.”

  His head snapped up as the link between them quickened. She was alive! He clung to that hope as the dark sleep carried him away.

  Chapter 28

  Sara woke feeling as if she had the world’s worst hangover. Trying to sit up made the room spin and she fell back on the bed and closed her eyes. Only to open them again as the memory of the night past burst into her mind in living color.

  She was the prisoner of a vampire. He had fed on her last night. She didn’t have a hangover from drinking too much. She was suffering from being used as a blood bank.

  Glancing around, she couldn’t believe what she saw. She had expected to find herself in some dingy basement or locked in a windowless room. Instead, she was lying on a king-sized bed in a large room with cream-colored walls and beige drapes.

  She stood slowly, then made her way to the door. It was locked, of course. Still moving cautiously, she opened the drapes of the nearest window, hoping she could open it and climb out. No such luck. The window was barred.

  She paused a moment to watch the sun climb over the horizon, wondering if it would be the last sunrise she would ever see.

  Thrusting that disquieting thought aside, she did a slow turn in the center of the room. There was no phone, nothing she could use to pick the lock or break it. Nothing to use as a weapon.

  Resignation set in after she checked the adjoining bathroom. It was a large, square room with a bathtub, a shower, and a double sink. It also held a small refrigerator. Curious, she opened it. Inside were several bottles of water, three cans of soda, and a couple of sandwiches wrapped in plastic.

  Grunting softly, she closed the door. At least he wasn’t going to starve her to death, she thought. Or kill her right away, since he had provided her with something to eat. But food could wait. There were no windows in the bathroom. Cupboards and drawers yielded nothing save a couple of washrags, a half-dozen towels, and an unwrapped bar of lavender soap.

  She stared at it for several moments and then burst out laughing. Was that a subtle hint from her captor to wash her neck before he fed on her the next time? Or was he some kind of undead clean freak?

  She sank down on the floor as her laughter turned to hot tears of despair. She told herself Travis would find her, but she didn’t believe it. Not for a minute. How could he? How could anyone?

  When her tears finally subsided, she turned on the shower, not for her captor, but in hopes of washing away his touch. She washed her hair, scrubbed her neck until it felt raw. She would have liked a change of clothes, but then, she would have liked a lot of things. Like her freedom. If only she had stayed in Vermont. Right now, even marriage to Dilworth didn’t seem so bad.

  After dressing, she was a little surprised to discover she was starving. Considering her dire situation, she would have thought food would be the last thing on her mind. But maybe it was only natural that she was ravenous. After all, she had provided dinner for a hungry vampire the night before.

  Feeling another bout of hysterical laughter coming on, she took several deep breaths, then pulled a sandwich and a coke from the fridge. She had to keep her strength up, she decided as she went into the bedroom, had to be ready to fight or get the hell out of there if the opportunity presented itself.

  Travis met Ronan in front of the burned-out hospital as agreed upon the night before.

  “She’s alive!” Travis said. “I felt her last night.”

  Ronan nodded. “Let’s go,” he said, then placed a restraining hand on Travis’ arm. “Wait a minute.”

  “Like hell!”

  “Overstreet’s here.”

  “Here?”

  “In the hospital. Come on.”

  Treading cautiously, they went inside. Made of brick, the outer walls were scorched but still standing. Inside, anything not made of brick or metal had been destroyed. Here and there, small fires still burned.

  They found Overstreet in one of the labs in the basement, asleep on the floor, his head pillowed on his coat, one bloody hand wrapped in his handkerchief. He was snoring softly.

  “I wonder how he escaped,” Travis said.

  “Just dumb luck, I’d say.” Bending down, Ronan shook the writer’s shoulder.

  Overstreet let out a startled yelp as he rolled to his feet, his eyes wild. He stared at Ronan and Travis a moment, then steadied himself against the wall with his uninjured hand, only to jerk it away. “Damn! That’s still hot.”

  “What happened to you?” Travis asked.

  “Some female vampire carried me away.” Carl shook his head. “She couldn’t have weighed more than ninety-eight pounds soaking wet, but she picked me up like I wasn’t any heavier than a sack of potatoes and carried me out of the place. When she told me she was going to drain me dry, I went crazy and slugged her as hard as I could, then I threw a vial of holy water in her face and got the hell out of there. I hitched a ride with a trucker to get here.” He shook his head again. “Where’ Sara? Is she all right?”

  “We’re on our way to find her,” Travis said.

  “You’re not going to leave me here alone, are you? What if that crazy vampire comes after me?”

  “Go stay with Winona,” Ronan said. “You’ll be safe there.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Trust me.”

  Carl nodded, but he didn’t look convinced.

  “We’re wasting time,” Travis said impatiently.

  Ronan nodded. “Go to Winona’s and get cleaned up, Carl. We’ll meet you there later.”

  Once Travis got the hang of tracking the blood link between himself and Sara, it didn’t take long to locate where she was being held. He was surprised to find that Jarick’s lair was located about thirty miles from Susandale. Unfortunately, there was no way to get into the place. The house was warded against humans and vampires alike, the windows and front door barred and reinforced with steel. There was no sign of life save for Sara’s heartbeat.

  He sent a glance at Ronan. “Now what? How do we get in?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  Travis paced back and forth, his agitation growing with every step. They were so close!

  “We need Bowman.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s Jarick’s number two.”

  “Why would he help us?”

  “To quote a line from a famous movie, I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

  It took only minutes to transport themselves to Bowman’s house in Susandale. Olivia’s eyes grew wide when she saw Ronan on the front porch, whether from fear or surprise or both, Travis couldn’t say.

  Ronan got right to the point. “Tell your husband I need to see him. Now!”

  “He isn’t …”

  “Forget it. I know he’s inside.”

  Face pale, she said, “Wait here,” and closed the door.

  Several minutes passed before Bowman opened up. He didn’t step outside. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to take me to Jarick’s lair.”

  “No way!”

  Ronan didn’t argue. Merely unleashed his preternatural power.

  Travis watched, fascinated, as Bowman’s whole body tensed and then began to shake uncontrollably.

  “I’m not going to ask again,” Ronan said, his voice razor-sharp. “If you refuse, your wife will be a widow and you’ll be a dark stain on the floor.”

  “All right.” Jason forced the words through clenched teeth, grabbed hold of the door to steady himself when Ronan released him. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I need you to either get me inside or get him outside.”

  “He’ll kill me if I do what you want.”

  Ronan twitched one shoulder. “I’ll kill you if you don’t.”

  “Just let me tell Olivia where I’m going.”

  Ronan nodded. “
I trust you won’t do anything stupid.”

  “I won’t,” Jason replied sullenly.

  “Dammit!” Travis hissed. “This is taking too long!”

  “Patience, fledgling,” Ronan said.

  “Easy for you to say. It isn’t Shannah’s life in danger. I can feel Jarick feeding on Sara! Dammit, I think she’s drying!”

  When Jason stepped outside, Ronan grabbed his arm. “Let’s go.”

  With a wary glance over his shoulder, Bowman knocked on Jarick’s door. Several minutes passed and when there was no answer, he looked over his shoulder to where Ronan and Travis waited and shrugged. At a signal from Ronan, he knocked again. And again.

  Finally, the door opened.

  Jarick stared at Bowman. “What the hell are you going here? You’re supposed to be retaking the town.”

  “We did that. Mind if I come in?”

  “Why?”

  “I think I was followed.”

  “Make it short,” Jarick said with a feral grin. “I’m in the middle of a seven-course meal.”

  Bowman forced a laugh. Took a deep breath. Grabbed Jarick’s arm and yanked him across the threshold.

  Ronan immediately sprang forward, hands reaching for the vampire.

  Travis growled low in his throat as waves of preternatural power washed over him, driving him backward so that he skidded across the driveway. He saw Bowman go flying through the air and crash into the block wall separating Jarick’s house from the vacant lot next door.

  Travis struggled to regain his footing but to no avail. He seemed frozen in place. Unable to move, he could only watch as the two master vampires came together in a rush, fangs and claws ripping and tearing into preternatural flesh that healed almost instantly. In all his life, he had never seen anything so brutal or so vicious.

  He looked up at the house as a movement caught his eye, let out a wordless cry of rage when he saw Sara dragging herself across the threshold toward the porch steps, her breath coming in labored gasps. But it was the two bloody puncture wounds in her neck that held his attention.

  “Sara!”

  She looked in his direction, her face as pale as the clouds scudding across the sky, her eyes dark holes of pain as she struggled toward the steps, only to lose her balance and tumble down the stairs to the cement walkway.

  He cried her name again, every fiber of his being fighting against the power that held him immobile. With a last, desperate effort of will he freed himself and ran toward her. “Sara. Sara.” Just her name as he lifted her into his arms.

  “You … came.”

  He nodded, afraid they were too late, that she would die in his arms. Her cheeks were sunken, her lips bloodless.

  A high-pitched scream of denial drew his attention toward the struggle between Ronan and Jarick. As the scream died away, Ronan raised his arm over his head.

  Travis stared at the bloody object in his hand. It took a moment to realize it was Jarick’s heart. There was no sign of Jason Bowman. Apparently, he had taken off sometime during the fight. Not that Travis gave a damn. “Ronan!”

  The urgency in Travis’ voice brought the vampire to his side.

  “She’s dying,” Ronan said dispassionately.

  “No!” But it was true. Her eyes were closed, her heartbeat so faint Travis could scarcely hear it.

  “You have two choices. You can bring her across. Or I can give her my blood and hope it’s not too late to save her.”

  Travis stared at him. How could he make a decision like that? Making her a vampire would save her life without a doubt. Did he dare take a chance that she wasn’t too far gone for Ronan’s blood to save her? Would she hate him if he stole her life to save it? How would he live with himself if he let her die?

  Ronan laid his hand on Travis’ shoulder. “You need to make a decision. Now.”

  “I can’t turn her,” he said, anguish thick in his voice. “Give her your blood.” And if that didn’t work? He thrust the disquieting thought aside.

  “As you will.” Ronan took Sara in his arms, then sat on the porch step. “Open her mouth for me.”

  Travis did as asked. Ronan bit into his own wrist. Dark red blood welled in the shallow gash. Turning his arm over, he held it over Sara’s mouth.

  Travis watched, repulsed and fascinated, as the crimson drops fell on her tongue. She swallowed convulsively, once, twice, three times. Slowly, faint color returned to her cheeks. He knew a moment of relief as the beat of her heart grew stronger.

  Another few minutes and Ronan ran his tongue over his wrist, sealing the wound. “She should be fine in the morning. Take her to Winona’s house. I’ll clean up this mess. And then I’m going home.”

  Winona was more than willing to let Sara stay as long as necessary. She led the way to a guestroom at the back of the house.

  Carl trailed behind them, looking anxious. “Is she going to be all right?”

  “I don’t know,” Travis said. “I sure as hell hope so.”

  Winona pulled the covers back and Travis laid Sara, ever so gently, on the mattress, then drew the blankets over her.

  “You’re welcome to stay with her, if you like,” Winona offered.

  “Thanks. I will, at least until sunrise.”

  Winona nodded and left the room.

  “What are you going to do now?” Overstreet asked.

  Travis smoothed a lock of Sara’s hair from her brow. “I don’t know. How about you?”

  “It’s up to Winona.” Carl glanced at Sara. “I hope she’ll be all right.”

  “Thanks. You take of yourself.”

  “Don’t worry. No more vampires for me.” He gave Travis’ shoulder a squeeze and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

  Travis sat on the edge of the bed, watching Sara sleep. He hadn’t prayed in years, but he prayed now, begging Heaven to restore her to full health, to watch over her when he couldn’t be with her, to keep her safe, to grant her a long and happy life.

  It wasn’t until Travis ended his prayer that he realized he’d been saying goodbye.

  Chapter 29

  For the second time in her life, Sara woke in a strange bedroom with no memory of how she’d gotten there. For a moment, she simply lay there staring up at the ceiling. She felt odd but couldn’t pinpoint why. She didn’t hurt anywhere. She didn’t have a headache or feel sick to her stomach. She just felt … different.

  Rising, she padded to the door, then stood there, listening. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Carl Overstreet’s voice, followed by Winona’s laughter.

  She found the two the them sitting in the kitchen, their breakfast dishes pushed aside.

  Carl smiled when he saw her. “Hey, girl, how are you feeling?”

  Sara shrugged. “I’m not sure. All right, I guess.”

  “Would you like some breakfast?” Winona asked. “A cup of coffee?”

  “Breakfast sounds wonderful, thank you.”

  “Sure, sit down, hon. Bacon and eggs okay?”

  “Whatever’s easiest.”

  Nodding, Winona moved to the stove where she put some bacon and eggs in a pan, then poured Sara a cup of coffee.

  Sara smiled her thanks. “Is everything all right here?” she asked. “I mean, now that the vampires are gone? They are all gone, aren’t they?”

  Overstreet cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

  “What is it?” she asked, fear for Travis’ life spiraling through her. “What’s wrong?”

  “The vampires, uh, pretty much destroyed the town before they left. I’m afraid your house and your store are gone.”

  She stared at him blankly. “Gone?”

  “They torched your car, too. Damned vampires burned everything except the houses that belonged to members of the coven or their women.”

  Sara stared into her cup. Everything she had brought with her was gone. All her clothes. Her handbag. Her checkbook and wallet and driver’s license. Her cell phone.

  “Sara?”

  Blink
ing rapidly to hold back her tears, she looked at Carl.

  “What can I do?” He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ve got a little cash if that’ll help.”

  “Thank you. Is Travis all right?”

  “He was fine when I saw him last night.”

  She nodded, then murmured her thanks again as Winona set a plate in front of her.

  “What are you going to do now?” Winona asked, resuming her place at the table.

  What, indeed? she thought. And then she squared her shoulders. “Carl, will you lend me enough money to buy a plane ticket?”

  “Are you sure you want to leave?”

  She nodded. “I can’t afford to stay, nor do I want to. There are too many bad memories here.” And too many good ones. She would miss Travis dreadfully, but she’d had enough of vampires to last a lifetime. Her lifetime. She was going home. Back to Vermont where people weren’t afraid to go out at night. A place where no one believed in vampires. “Can you drive me to the airport in Langston?”

  Overstreet nodded. “Sure. Whenever you’re ready to go.”

  Sara stood on the sidewalk in front of her parents’ home. It was a lovely old place, two-stories high, set on half an acre. A wide verandah spanned the front of the house. Ancient maple trees grew on both sides, providing shade in the summer.

  Feet dragging, she walked up the winding pathway to the front porch, reluctant to ring the bell. Defeat weighed heavily on her shoulders even though she hadn’t technically failed to succeed. After all, it wasn’t her fault vampires had destroyed her business, her rental house and most of the town.

  She smoothed the wrinkles from the dress Winona had been kind enough to lend her. Took a deep breath. And knocked on the door.

  It was opened moments later by the Winters’ housekeeper, Gracie. “Miss Sara!” she exclaimed. “Landsakes, child, I’m that surprised to see you. Your folks didn’t say anything about your coming home.”

  “I didn’t tell them,” she said.

  “Well, it’ll be a nice surprise, won’t it? They just sat down to lunch. Where’s your luggage?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have any.” Moving past the housekeeper, Sara took another deep breath, forced a smile she was far from feeling, and walked briskly into the dining room.