Wings of the Night 08 Blue Twilight

by Msggie Shayne

  Delia didn't look convinced, but she wanted to be. She said, “We’re fine, too. This guy—he's been…decent."

  "That other one wasn't,” Janie muttered.

  Beck looked at her sharply. "You mean the police chief? Fieldner? Did he hurt you?"

  "No." Delia put a hand on her brother's arm and shot Janie a dirty look. "He was gruff and bossy, and he kept us in a—a cell of some kind for a while. But now that we're here, we're fine. Honestly, Jay. I don't want you to worry. We're okay. Besides, you're here now. It's over. We can go home with you."

  Jason licked his lips.

  "Jay? We can go with you, can't we? You did come here to take us home…"

  Lowering his head, Beck said, “Not just yet. But it won't be long."

  Delia's face fell, until the vampire thought she would cry. Janie pouted, looking petulant. "What is it the bastard wants you to do?" she asked.

  "What do you mean?" Jason asked, giving nothing away.

  Smart, the vampire thought. The boy didn't want to upset the girls with any details. He only wanted to protect them and get them out of here safely. He was as intelligent as the vampire had taken him to be, then.

  "He wants something,” Janie said. "He's holding us to force you to do something or give him something. What is it? Money? Help with some legal problem? You are studying for the bar after all."

  Delia caught her breath. "I hadn't thought of that. Jay, don't do anything that would ruin your chances—your future—"

  "It's nothing like that. I promise you. I'm going to have you out of here in a day or two. I swear." He looked hack toward where the vampire stood. "He's given me his word on that."

  "Indeed,” said the vampire. "And my word is my bond."

  "Nothing's going to happen to you," Jason promised. "You'll be safe here until this is over"

  "Time is short. You have that phone call you're expecting, Mr. Beck,” the vampire said.

  Finally, Jason nodded, but Delia snapped her arms around his neck. "He is making you do something. I know he is. What is it, Jay?"

  "It'll be over soon." He gently took her arms from his neck. "It'll be done before you know it, and you'll be home with me, hon. I promise. You've gotta trust me on this."

  She let him untangle her arms, but her tears were flowing. The vampire found himself actually touched by the obvious affection between the two, the heartbreak this separation was causing them. He felt it, of course, very bit of it, every emotion, from the fear to the sadness to the stubborn determination on the part of the young man to do whatever it took to save his sister. Whatever it took.

  He almost regretted having to put them through this. And yet, he had to see the woman for himself. He had to know…

  "Come, Jason," he said. "We have to get you back to the mainland now."

  The young man obeyed, hating to, hating the vampire with everything in him. The only emotion stronger than his hatred was his love for his sister. The vampire was counting on that.

  He took Jason back through the halls of his home and outside into the beauty of the night. But all the way along the paths of his island, he was acutely aware of the soft crying coming from that bedroom, the tearful sobs of those two young girls.

  He could easily kill Fieldner for getting him into this. And yet now that he'd seen that face—he had no choice but to follow through.

  Soon they were back in Beck's motel room. And he was, at last, on the telephone with the girl-detectives, rather than their answering machine. Fieldner was listening on the other line, but the vampire had no patience for that. He crossed the room, held out a hand, his command unspoken but clearly understood. Fieldner handed him the receiver and backed away, stationing himself near the door without being told.

  The vampire brought the telephone to his ear and closed his eyes in a mingling of hope and despair at the sound of the woman's voice. It wasn't the same.

  "Jason, thank God. We've been trying to call you for hours."

  "I had to go out," he replied. "Sorry about that."

  The vampire sighed. The voice was not the same, but that didn't mean he could let this go. He looked at Jason Beck and sent his words directly into the young man's mind, without ever parting his lips to speak them aloud.

  You will tell them to come here. Immediately.

  Jason Beck's eyes widened as he stared at the vampire.

  Do it! Need I remind you what will happen to your sister if you disobey?

  Beck closed his eyes slowly, nodded to tell the vampire he understood, and turned his attention to the woman on the telephone.

  By the time Lou joined them in the office, Stormy was hitting the speaker button and setting the receiver down. He found himself a chair and waited, listening to the conversation.

  "Jay? I put you on speakerphone, hon, so we can all get the full scoop. Now, just be calm. We're here for you. Tell us what the hell is going on."

  She listened. So did Lou. He came up out of his chair when Jason spoke, because he could have sworn there was a thickness to the other man's voice. As if his throat were tight, the way it would be if he'd been crying.

  "I don't know exactly, Storm. But damn, it's good to hear your voice."

  "Yours, too." She sent Max a searching look. "Are you okay, Jason? You sound—"

  "Fine. I'm…" He sniffed. "Is Max with you?"

  "I'm here, Jay,” Maxie called. "And so is Lou. You remember Lou Malone?"

  "Your cop?"

  Lou shot Max a look. Since when had he been considered her cop?

  "Jason, what's happened to Delia?" Maxie asked quickly.

  "I don't know. That's just it. She was on a trip with her best friend, Janie. Headed up the coast to celebrate spring break. Senior year, you know? Then I got this call from her. She sounded terrified, Storm. Said she was in trouble. We got cut off after that. And to be honest, the entire call was broken, full of static, I could barely hear her most of the time. But I'm sure she said the name of a town—Endover, New Hampshire."

  "And that's where you are now?" Stormy asked. "Yeah. It's like a freakin' ghost town here."

  "You've tried to call her back?" Max asked.

  "That was the first thing I did. First through hundredth. No luck. It's freaking weird, Max" He sighed, a broken sound. "But I believe she's here—I think they both are."

  "When did you get that phone call, Jay?"

  "Earlier today,” he told her.

  "And you haven't heard from her since?"

  There was the slightest delay before he said, “No. Not a word."

  Stormy looked up at Max. Lou saw that they'd both heard the hesitation. Jason had started to say something else, then thought better of it.

  "I need you guys to come down here. Immediately." Stormy opened her mouth, but Lou spoke first. "Have you called the police?"

  "Hell, Lou, you know as well as I do they wouldn't take this seriously. Not when she was out on a road trip with a friend. They'd think I was being an overprotective, melodramatic, alarmist."

  "Are you sure you aren't?" Lou asked.

  Max sent him a furious scowl and mouthed "Knock it off."

  "It's all right, Jason,” Stormy said. "Look, this is what we do for a living now. Right, Max?"

  "Right,” Max said. "Jason, you're in Endover now, correct?"

  "Yeah. The motel where I'm staying is at the north edge of town on 1-A, on the right. The North Star Motor Lodge. You can't miss it."

  "All right."

  Stormy had turned to the computer and was typing rapidly as Jason spoke. Lou looked at the monitor over her shoulder to see she had punched the information into an online map-making program. She hit Enter. About three seconds later the driving directions appeared, and she hit the print button. "Jay, it looks like it's about four and a half hours from here. Allowing time for us to pack a bag or two, we can be there by 5:00 a.m."

  "Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Lou said. "Jason, these two have already driven close to eight hours today. And not without incident,” he
said with a sharp look at Stormy and Max when he sensed they were about to object.

  Max sighed. "He's right. We shouldn't be driving without a few hours' sleep."

  She didn't surprise him. He knew her concern for Stormy would be the one thing that would outweigh her rush to help out an old friend.

  "How about we get a decent night's sleep and leave first thing in the morning? We could still make it by noon."

  Lou hadn't realized he'd said "we" until he felt Max's eyes on him, and by then it was too late. Then Jason voiced the question he was already asking himself.

  "What do you mean, `we'? Look, Lou, I don't want the police involved in this."

  "I'm not the police. Not anymore. Retired a few months ago, kid. Any other reason you don't want me in on this thing?"

  The suspicion and the hint of inexplicable animosity in his tone were not entirely unintended. He couldn't seem to keep them out, and he didn't particularly want to. This guy on the phone was sending up so many red flags, Lou could hear them flapping in the breeze.

  "Of course not,” Jason said. "The more help I have on this thing, the better. Noon tomorrow will be fine. Thank you, guys."

  "You're welcome, Jason,” Maxie said.

  "We'll see you tomorrow," Stormy added.

  Jason hung up without a goodbye. Stormy reached to hit the disconnect button, but Lou held up a hand. Sure enough, the second click came, just as it had before. They both heard it, and he saw their eyes widen. Then he nodded, and Stormy hung up.

  Stormy looked at Max, then at Lou. "Something is wrong with him."

  "His sister's missing,” Max said. "It's like he said, it's amazing he can form a coherent sentence. You know how he adores her." She snatched the pages off the printer and took a look at the driving directions.

  "Seemed like more than that,” Lou said.

  "Hell, Lou, you barely know him."

  "That makes me more objective. Besides, I'm a cop, remember?"

  "Ex-cop," she corrected.

  "Once a cop, always a cop. And I'll tell you, kid, after twenty years, you get to know when something's off, and something about your friend Jason is definitely off. Way off. And then there are the monitored phone calls."

  "You can't be sure that's what that extra click was,” Max said.

  He nodded, conceding that. "Can't be sure it wasn't, either."

  She shrugged. "I can be sure of one thing, though."

  "Yeah? What's that, Nancy Drew?"

  She met his eyes and smiled the most triumphant, smug little smile he'd ever seen her wear. "You're planning to come with us."

  He couldn't even argue with her. Instead, he sighed and lowered his head.

  "I need more pizza,” Maxie said. She walked out of the office, a little bounce to her step on her way to the kitchen, where they'd left the extra slices in a box on the island.

  Lou watched her go and tried to quell the little voice that told him it was a mistake to give in to her yet again. But there was an even bigger feeling, one that was far more important. It sat like a brick in the pit of his stomach, and it told him that something very bad was waiting for Mad Maxie Stuart in Endover.

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  Lou didn't follow Max to the kitchen right away. He didn't like the way Stormy looked: pale, shaky, shielding her eyes with a hand, as if the light of the computer monitor was too bright to bear.

  Except for the kitchen, every other room in the place was cluttered with still-packed boxes and crates. Not this one, though. It was huge, fireplace on the far wall, French doors with the small patio just beyond, overlooking the rolling lawn all the way to the cliffs and the sea far below. It held two desks, though they'd all been gathered around one. The second one faced it from the opposite side of the fireplace. Its surface was still empty. No computer, no phone.

  On the wall was a large oil painting of Max's twin sister, Morgan, and her beloved Dante. She wore a scrap of gossamer with thin straps, and sat in a fur-covered chair with her legs folded beneath her. He stood behind her, hands on her shoulders. Lou got lost while staring at the portrait for just a moment. Morgan's facial structure, her deep-set green eyes, coppery-red hair and her smile—so much like Maxie's. And yet she was pale, had been even before the change. Skin like porcelain. Hair straight and sleek. A body so waif-thin he wondered if actually cast a shadow. Not that she would be spending any time in the sun from now on. She was frail. A hothouse orchid. Max was a wild rose. Tough, thorny, strong.

  “Hard to believe they're twins, isn't it? I can't think of two women more different,” Stormy said, looking over his shoulder.

  "I was thinking the same." He dragged his gaze from the portrait to Stormy. "You all right?"

  "I'll be fine. I just…I hate waiting."

  "You're exhausted. Why don't you get some sleep? Give yourself a break."

  She nodded. "Yeah. I will." She hit the keys that would shut down the computer, then slid out of her chair as the machine whirred and clicked and finally went dark. "So I take it you're staying over?"

  "Max isn't giving me much choice." He drew a breath, sighed deep and long. "My bag still in your car?"

  "Nope. I brought it in." She reached under the desk and hauled out the black satchel. "Are you mad?"

  "Hell, what's to be mad about? Even smuggling my bag couldn't force me to stick around with you two if I didn't want to." He shook his head. "Max thinks she's playing me, but I'm only here because I want to be."

  "She'd sure love to hear that."

  "No way. I'm not giving her any more ammo to fire my head"

  "I've got news for you, Lou. It's not your head she's firing at." She studied him, tilted her head to one side. "How do you feel about her, anyway?"

  "How do I…feel about her?" He shrugged, averting his eyes. "I like her. I've always liked her."

  "As a friend?"

  He shrugged. "More like a guardian." Stormy's eyebrows shot up so high he thought he must have shocked her, so he tried to explain. "I always feel as if she needs looking after, you know? She tends to just charge head-long, straight into trouble, without thinking first."

  "So you see yourself as her…protector."

  "That's one way to put it. Sure."

  "Like a big brother," Stormy said.

  "More like an uncle. I'm too old to be her brother." Stormy put a hand on his shoulder. "Lou, she doesn't want you to be her uncle. You do realize that, don't you?"

  He frowned at her. "Oh, come on. You're not telling me you take all her teasing and flirting seriously, are you?"

  "Don't you?"

  "Not on your life. She's half my age."

  "Twenty-six is not half of forty-four."

  "Close enough."

  "That's bullshit. What's the real issue here, Lou?"

  He met her eyes, then had to avert his because she was probing a little too deeply. "This is getting kind of personal, Stormy. If you don't mind…"

  "Nope. Don't mind a bit. I'm going up to bed, but I'm setting my alarm. I want us to get an early start." She picked up his bag and swung it into his chest. "And just in case you didn't notice, Lou, there's room in this office for another desk. Hell, that spot over there almost looks bare without one. Don't you think?"

  He looked where she was looking, at a large, vacant section of the room. "You'll find something to put there."

  "Or someone. 'Night, Lou."

  "Good night."

  She left. Lou didn't waste a hell of a lot of time wondering where she got her crazy ideas. Instead, he wandered through the vast house, crossing the dramatic formal dining room, heading all the way to the kitchen in the rear of the mansion. Maxie was sitting on a stool at the pink marble island, scarfing down a slice of cold pizza. For a second he marveled that anyone could look as good as she did while chewing. And then he stared a little longer, mentally contrasting her with her wisp of sister. Where Morgan was whisper-thin, Max was curvy. He didn't often allow himself to think about her breasts, but they were nice ones.
Full, rounded, bouncy. Her waist was little, and the curve of her hips just right. She had a round backside that filled out a pair of jeans the in nicest possible way. Her skin was pink, and her hair thick and riotously curly.

  Her attitude matched her looks. She was feisty, impulsive, fun loving, restless.

  Stormy was right. Two women couldn't be more different.

  She turned and caught him looking, swallowed her latest mouthful and sent him a smile.

  "I'm going to get some sleep,” he said. "I'll check the locks before I go up, make sure the place is all buttoned up. Thought I'd say good night"

  She eyed the bag in his hand. "So you meant what you said to Jason on the phone? You're sticking with us for this one?"

  "Looks like."

  "I'm so glad" She hooked her foot around the stool next to her own and pulled it out. "Sit. You want a piece?"

  "No thanks, I've had enough pizza."

  "Who said I was talking about pizza?" She sent him her trademark smile, full of mischief and danger.

  He sighed, nodded. "Fine. I'll sit. I need to talk to you, anyway."

  "'Bout what?" she asked.

  He sighed as he lowered himself onto the stool. "The truth is, kid, I want to go with you to Endover. I like working with you, and I'm scared shitless to think what kind of trouble you might get yourself into without me."

  She rolled her eyes. "Your faith in me is overwhelming."

  He lowered his head, searching for the right words. "The thing is, while I like working with you and I want to watch out for you, I don't like some of the things you do."

  She lifted her eyebrows. "You don't?"

  "No. Now, don't go getting all hurt and wounded on me, hon, but—"

  "Ooooh,” she said, drawing the sound out into a sexy purr. "I just love when you call me `hon.' As she said it, she leaned closer, so her breath warmed his neck.

  Lou shot to his feet, slammed his palms on the marble. "Goddammit, Max, that's exactly the kind of thing talking about."

  She jumped and stared at him, wide-eyed.

  “Look, this isn't easy for me. It's goddamn embarrassing, as a matter of fact, but I don't know how to do this except to just come right out with it. I'm not a gelding, Maxie. I'm not a monk. When you play those games with me, I react, okay? My body—reacts. I'm a healthy, red-blooded man. I'm not too old to feel…" He let his words trail off, unable to finish the sentence.