“I admit, the proximity is having an unexpected effect on her, but she
can’t be blamed for that. She has no idea what’s happening to her.”
“You think. / think she ought to be under constant observation.”
She grew angry fast, and threw the door open.
“Do you have any idea how tired I am of being talked about like one of
your cases?”
Both men looked up, startled.
They exchanged uneasy glances and Daniel came out of his chair so fast
it scraped over the tiled floor.
“Now, Tam, what makes you think we were discussing you? Actually, we
were talking about a case. One we obviously disagree about.”
She smirked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Oh, really?
Which case?
” “Sorry, Tam my,” Curt snapped.
“Your security clearance isn’t high enough.”
“When has it ever been high enough?
” “Tam, please.”
Daniel came toward her, folded her in a gentle embrace and kissed her
cheek.
He stood back and searched her face.
“Are you all right?”
“Why on earth wouldn’t I be?”
His concern softened her somewhat, but she was still sick and tired of
his coddling.
“Curt told me you met Marquand last night.”
He shook his head.
“I want you to tell me everything that happened.
Everything he said to you, did to you.
Did.
” Daniel paled right before her eyes. ” Did he touch you?
” “Had her crushed against him like he’d never let go,” Curt
exploded.
“I told you, Daniel” — “I’d like to hear her tell me.”
His pale blue eyes sought hers again.
They dropped to the collar of her turquoise turtleneck, under the baggy
white pullover sweater.
She thought he would collapse.
Curtis seemed to notice her choice of attire at the same instant, and
he caught his breath.
“Tam my, my God, did he” — “He most certainly did not! Do you two
have any idea how insane you both sound?” ” Show me,” Daniel said
softly.
She shook her head and expelled a rush of air.
“All right, but first I want to explain something.
Marquand seems to be very well aware of what you two think he is.
This meeting at the rink last night, I think, was his way of sending
you a message, and the message is lay off.
I don’t think he was kidding.
” She hooked her first two fingers beneath the neck of the shirt and
pulled it down to show them the blue and-violet bruise he’d left on her
neck.
Daniel gasped.
“Look closely, you two. There are no fang marks, just a… well, let’s
be frank about it, a hickey.
I let a perfect stranger give me a hickey, which should illustrate to
you both just how much stress I’ve been under lately.
Between this sleep disorder and your over protectiveness, I feel like
I’m in a pressure cooker.
” Daniel was leaning closer, breathing down her neck as he inspected
the bruise.
He satisfied himself and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Did he hurt you, sweetheart?”
She couldn’t stop the little smile that question evoked, even though
she erased it immediately.
“Hurt her?”
Curtis slapped one hand on the surface of the desk.
“She was loving every minute of it.”
He glared at her.
“Don’t you realize what could’ve happened out there?”
“Of course I do, Curtis. He could’ve ripped my jugular open and sucked
all my blood out and left me dying there on the ice with two holes in
my throat!”
“If I hadn’t scared him off,” Curt began.
“Keep your story straight. Curt. It was he who scared you off. You
were shaking me until my teeth rattled, if you remember correctly. If
he hadn’t come to my defense I might have come into work wearing a neck
brace today.”
Curt clamped his jaw shut under Daniel’s withering gaze.
Daniel shifted his glance to Tamara again.
“He came to your defense, you say?”
She nodded.
“Hmm.”
“And,” Tamara went on, almost as an afterthought, “he took the crucifix
right out of Curt’s hand. It did not even burn a brand in his palm,
or whatever it’s supposed to do.
Doesn’t that prove anything?
” “Yeah.”
Curt wore a sulking-child look on his face.
“Proves vampires are not affected by religious symbols.”
Tamara rolled her eyes, then heard Daniel mutter,
“Interesting.”
She felt as if she, even with her strange symptoms, was the only sane
person in the room.
“I know you think we’re overreacting to this. Tam,” Daniel told
her.
“But I don’t want you leaving the house after dark anymore.”
She bristled.
“I will go where I want, when I want. I am twenty-six years old,
Daniel, and if this nonsense doesn’t stop, then I’m…”
She paused long enough to get his full attention before she blurted,
“Moving out.”
“Tam, you wouldn’t” — “Not unless you force me, Daniel.
And if I find either you or Curt following me again, I’ll consider
myself forced.
” She felt a lump in her throat at the pained look on Daniel’s face.
She made her tone gentler when she said, ” I’m going home now.
Good night.
” CHAPTER THREE ll-er mental cries woke him earlier tonight than
last.
Eric stood less than erect and squeezed his eyes shut tight, as if
doing so might clear his mind.
Rising before sunset produced an effect in him not unlike what humans
feel after a night of heavy drinking.
Bracing one hand upon the smooth mahogany, his fingertips brushing the
satin lining within, he focused on Tamara.
He wanted only to comfort her.
If he could ease the torment of her subconscious mind, though she might
not be fully aware of it, she’d feel better.
She might even be more able to sleep.
He couldn’t be sure, though.
Her situation was unique, after all.
He focused on her mind, still hearing her whispered pleas.
Where are you, Eric?
Why won’t you come to me?
I’m lost.
I need you.
He swallowed once, and concentrated every ounce of his power into a
single invisible beam of thought, shooting through time and space,
directed at her.
/ am here, Tamara.
I can’t see you!
The immediate response shocked him.
He hadn’t been certain he could make her aware of his thoughts.
Again he focused.
/ am near.
I will come to you soon, love.
Now you must rest.
You needn ‘t call to me in your dreams anymore.
I have heard—I will come.
He awaited a response, but felt none.
The emotions that reached him, though, were tense, uncertain.
He wanted to ease her mind, but he’
d done all he could for the
moment.
The sun far above, though unseen by him, was not unfelt.
It sapped his strength.
He took a moment to be certain of his balance and crossed slowly to the
hearth, bending to rekindle the sparks of this morning’s fire.
That done, he used a long wooden match to ignite the three oil lamps
posted around the room.
With fragrant cherry logs emitting aromatic warmth, and the golden
lamplight, the Oriental rugs over the concrete floor and the paintings
he’d hung, the place seemed a bit less like a tomb in the bowels of the
earth.
He sat himself carefully in the oversize antique oak rocking chair, and
allowed his muscles to relax.
His head fell heavily back against the cushion, and he reached, without
looking, for the remote control on the pedestal table beside him.
He thumbed a button.
His heavy lids fell closed as music surrounded him.
A smile touched his lips as the bittersweet notes brought a memory.
He’d seen young Amadeus perform in Paris.
1775, had it been?
So many years.
He’d been enthralled-an ordinary boy of seventeen, awestruck by the
gift of another, only two years older.
The sublime feeling had remained with him for days after that
performance, he recalled.
He’d talked about it until his poor mother’s ears were sore.
He’d had Jaqueline on the brink of declaring she’d fallen in love with
a man she’d never met, and she’d teased and cajoled until he’d managed
to get her a seat at his side for the next night’s performance.
His sister had failed to see what caused him to be so impressed.
“He is good,” she’d declared, fanning herself in the hot, crowded
hall.
“But I’ve seen better.”
He smiled at the memory.
She hadn’t been referring to the young man’s talents, but to his
appearance.
He’d caught her peering over her fan’s lacy edge at a skinny dandy she
considered “better.”
He sighed.
He’d thought it tragic that a man of such genius had died at
thirty-five.
Lately he’d wondered if it was so tragic, after all.
Eric, too, had died at thirty-five, but in a far different manner.
His was a living death.
All things considered, he hadn’t convinced himself that Mozart had
suffered the less desirable fate.
Of the two of them, Mozart must be the most serene.
He couldn’t possibly be the most alone.
There were times when he wished the guillotine had got to him before
Roland had.
Such maudlin thoughts on such a delightfully snowy night?
I don’t recall you were all that eager to meet the blade, at the
time.
Roland!
Eric’s head snapped up, buzzing with energy now that the sun had set.
He rose and hurriedly released the locks, to run through the hall and
take the stairs two at a time.
He yanked the front door open just as his dearest friend mounted the
front steps.
The two embraced violently, and Eric drew Roland inside.
Roland paused in the center of the room, cocking his head and listening
to Mozart’s music.
“What’s this? Not a recording, surely! It sounds as if the orchestra
were right here, in this very room!”
Eric shook his head, having forgotten that the last time he’d seen
Roland he hadn’t yet installed the state-of the-art stereo system, with
speakers in every room.
“Come, I’ll show you.”
He drew his friend toward the equipment, stacked near the far wall, and
withdrew a CD from its case.
Roland turned the disc in his hand, watching the light dance in vivid
rainbows of green, blue and yellow.
“They had no such inventions where I have been.”
He returned the disc to its case, and replaced it on the shelf.
“Where have you been, you recluse? It’s been twenty years.”
Roland had not aged a day.
He still had the swarthy good looks he’d had as a thirty-two year old
mortal and the build of an athlete.
“Ahh, paradise. A tiny island in the South Pacific, Eric.
No meddling humans to contend with.
Just simple villagers who accept what they see instead of feeling the
need to explain it.
I tell you, Eric, it’s a haven for our kind.
The palms, the sweet smell of the night”— ” How did you live?
” Eric knew he sounded doubtful.
He’d always despised the loneliness of this existence.
roland embraced it.
“Don’t tell me you’ve taken to tapping the veins of innocent
natives.”
Roland’s brows drew together.
“You know better. The animals there keep me in good stead. The wild
boar are particularly” — “Pigs’ blood!”
Eric shouted.
“I think the sun must have penetrated your coffin! Pigs’ blood!
Ach!”
“Wild boars, not pigs.”
“Great difference, I’ll wager.”
Eric urged Roland toward the velvet-covered antique set tee.
“Sit. I’ll get refreshment to restore your senses.”
Roland watched suspiciously as Eric moved behind the bar, to the small
built-in refrigerator.
“What have you, a half dozen freshly killed virgins stored in that
thing?”
Eric threw back his head and laughed, realizing just how long it had
been since he’d done so. He withdrew a plastic bag from the
refrigerator, and rummaged beneath the bar for glasses. When he handed
the drink to Roland, he felt himself thoroughly perused.
“Is it the girl’s nightly cries that trouble you so?”
Eric blinked.
“You’ve heard her, too?”
“I hear her cries when I look inside your mind, Eric.
They are what brought me to you.
Tell me what this is about.
” Eric sighed, and took a seat in a claw-footed, brocade cushioned
chair near the fireplace.
Few coals glowed in this hearth.
He really ought to kindle it.
Should some nosy human manage to scale the gate and breach the security
systems, they might well notice that smoke spiraled from the chimney,
but no fire warmed the grate.
Reading his thoughts, Roland set his glass aside.
“I’ll do that. You simply talk.”
Eric sighed again.
Where to begin?
“I came to know of a child, right after you left last time.
A beautiful girl, with raven curls and cherub’s cheeks and eyes like
glossy bits of coal.
” “One of the Chosen?”
Roland sat forward.
“Yes.
She was one of those rare humans with a slight psychic connection to
the un dead, although, like most, she was completely unaware of it.
I’ve found that there are ways of detecting the Chosen, aside from our
natural awareness of them, you know.
” Roland looked around from where he’d hunkered before the hearth.
“Really?”
Eric nodded.
“All those humans who
can be transformed, those we call Chosen, share a
common ancestor.
Prince Vlad the Impaler.
” He glanced sharply at Roland.
“Was he the first?”
Roland shook his head.
“I know your love of science, Eric, but some. things are better left
alone. Go on with your story.”
Eric felt a ripple of exasperation at Roland’s tightlipped stance on
the subject.
He swallowed his irritation and continued.
“They also share a rare blood antigen. We all had it, as humans. It’s
known as Belladonna. Only those with both these unlikely traits can
become vampires. They are the Chosen.”
“Doesn’t seem like an earth-shattering discovery to me, Eric. We’ve
always been able to sense the Chosen ones, instinctively.”
“But other humans haven’t. Some of them have now discovered the same
things I have. DPI knows about it.
They can pinpoint Chosen humans, and then watch them, and wait for one
of us to approach.
I believe that is precisely what has happened with Tamara.
” “Perhaps you need to back up a bit, old friend,” Roland said
gently.
Eric pushed one hand through his black hair, lifting it from his
shoulders and clenching a fist in the tangles.
“I couldn’t stay away from her, Roland. God help me, I tried, but I
couldn’t. Something in her tugged at me. I used to look in on her as
she slept. You should’ve seen her then.
Sooty lashes on her rosy cheeks, lips like a small pink bow.
” He looked up, feeling absurdly defensive. ” I never meant her harm,
you know.
How could I?
I adored the child.
” Roland frowned.
“This should not trouble you. It happens all the time, this unseen
bond between our kind and the Chosen. Many was the night I peered in
upon you as a boy. Rarely to find you asleep, though. Usually, you
were awake and teasing your poor sister.”
Eric absorbed that information with dawning understanding.
“You never told me. I’d thought you only came to me when I was in
danger.”
“I’m sorry we haven’t discussed this matter before, Eric.
It simply never came up.
You only saw me those times you were in danger.
There was little time for discretion when a coach was about to flatten
you, or when I pulled you spluttering from the Channel.
” “Then you felt the same connection to me that I felt for her?”
“I felt a connection, yes. An urge to protect. I can’t say it’s the
same because I haven’t experienced what you felt for the child. But,
At Twilight Page 5
