NightFall: Book One: Bloodlust Is the Cure for the Immortal Soul

by Anastacia Kelley

  “Qui? Who?” Raven always loved playing cat and mouse. How it frustrated Zane so.

  “You,” Zane ground out. “I swear, Raven. If you don’t tell me……” He gripped her arms in his vice-like hold. He didn’t have to finish his sentence. She knew what he implied.

  Bruises again, she thought to herself. Too bad she couldn’t use them as evidence.

  “You will heal.” Zane had been in her head as usual. “Now quit with your blasted tomfoolery and tell me everything. Don’t make me beat it out of you,” he said, his voice dripping with menace.

  Raven thought momentarily about misleading him, but unfortunately, he would know. His threats could not be taken lightly. One did not laugh at his warnings. She knew he would make good on them. Still, she couldn’t help baiting him sometimes. She had to have something.

  Raven let out an exasperated sigh. “All right. Quit your freaking whining.”

  “Don’t push me, Raven. Go on,” he demanded harshly. He let go of his grip on her. She could see the impressions of his large fingers. He’d squeezed her so roughly that she actually saw some fingerprints indented on the skin or her arm. She decided to move away before speaking.

  “Van Pirone seemed to be so entranced in the human named Simone Timms. Whether I Blended or not didn’t matter. Van was so focused on Simone. I could’ve practically announced my intrusion. I doubt they would have noticed.” Raven grinned mischievously. “Especially when they were making out right there on the sidewalk. It looked like they had to fight it or they would have embarrassed themselves in front of God and everybody.”

  “Weaklings,” Zane muttered under his breath, nose upturned in pure disgust.

  Raven smirked in provocation. “I don’t know. Van looked pretty strong and very sexy from where I was standing. A nice specimen of male if you asked me.”

  Zane frowned. “Well, no one asked for your inferior assessment, Raven. I just want the facts.” He gave her a leer she knew all too well. It was the look right before he was going to say something hurtful to her. “Besides, Van wouldn’t want you,” he said nastily. “No man, or vampire, for that matter, would. You’re not one of them. And you’ll never be one of us. Face it, half-breed. You don’t fit in anywhere.” He laughed dryly. “Maybe you should join the circus with the other freaks and outcasts.”

  Raven’s heart started hammering fiercely. Oh, how she’d like to drive a stake through his hollow chest. Or throw him to the sun. She hated him. Truly hated him. She loathed his vicious and blatant disregard of her feelings. He constantly and deliberately tried to make her feel insignificant.

  Zane closed his eyes, opened his arms and puffed out his chest as if inviting Raven to carry out her thoughts. However, she knew it was a guise. The second she tried to go through with it, he would snap her in two. And he wouldn’t even have to touch her to do it.

  Zane laughed vainly as he dropped his arms and opened his eyes. “That’s what I thought. Now, finish telling me the rest of what you have found out.”

  Raven felt so ashamed of her lack of boldness. She went on anyway and told him the remainder of what she found out of her snooping.

  *

  Van felt like whistling a merry tune on his way home. He felt exhilarated. More alive than he’s felt in a while. He had been waiting for Simone’s kiss for over a century. One touch of her lips sent his hormones into overdrive. She kissed him without abandon. She had wrapped her arms around him and didn’t hold back. She gave her whole self to the kiss. He could feel it. Every part of her body was charged with excitement. He felt it within her. Around her.

  That is why he chided himself later. A woman like Simone would make a man, with breath in his body, forget who he was. For a moment there, as he pushed himself against her, he almost did. He though he would lose control.

  Who knew one small kiss could turn a man into an animal.

  Van made his way through the front door of his home and stopped cold. He saw Saldivar sitting in a chair, his hands at his knees. Not odd to some but very out of the ordinary for Van to see. Saldivar was the epitome of calm. And to witness him so beset made him take a step back.

  Saldivar’s face looked set in stone. Nothing moved, save for his chest moving in and out rapidly with breath. He hardly blinked. His amber eyes glowed with the fire of a rage unknown to Van. He seemed not to notice Van even when he stepped in front of him.

  Saldivar’s eyes weren’t vacant but, yet, held a transparent kind of void. Van couldn’t describe the look. How it baffled him so. Van studied Saldivar’s body language. Rigid. Rapid breathing. Eyes narrow in an anger that was almost tangible. Van was uncertain on how to approach him. Given his state of trance, he might startle Saldivar into acting first, thinking later.

  Van looked around. Studied the living room, trying to find out what was causing his friend such perturbation. His gaze honed in on a crumpled ball of paper on the floor near the table. He bent down to retrieve the object. He knew it wasn’t his. It wasn’t there when he had left to meet Simone. He opened it and smoothed it as best he could. His heart turned to ice as he read it slowly and silently.

  He didn’t understand. Where did this awful poem come from? He knew for certain Saldivar didn’t write it. The poem explained how this guy loved to torture his prey, loved to absorb their pain, their life. He explained himself as a beast and his love of fresh blood. And draining them to the point of death made him feel somewhat invincible.

  Van studied the penmanship. He was unknowing of the author but had a sick feeling Saldivar knew exactly who, where, why and how this poem came to him. He wished he knew what was in Saldivar’s mind right now but was unwilling to pry. Saldivar wouldn’t appreciate the intrusion like this. Especially now. So he crumpled the paper and tossed it into a black waste basket and waited for Saldivar to acknowledge him.

  A few minutes must have gone by before Saldivar blinked away the haze that had engulfed him.

  Saldivar finally looked up and was shocked to see Van standing there. “Van?”

  “Saldivar. What is the matter? This is unlike you. You didn’t even hear me enter my home five minutes ago. You have never acted this way before. You tuned you mind out to everything.” Van’s voice was filled with worry. “I don’t have to look inside your mind to know that the reason you’re in this state is because of that black-hearted poem.”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me who sent it. Who wrote it?” Van demanded softly.

  “The author is none other than my transformer.” Saldivar stood up to face Van.

  “Why is Zane doing this? Why does he wish to torment you so? And why use this tactic?” Van walked to Saldivar and placed a hand on his shoulder. “What makes him hate you with so much voracity?”

  Saldivar remained silent then spoke in a hushed voice. “I cannot tell you right now because I hardly understand it myself. Please do not ask me to explain right now the things I need to understand.”

  Van gritted his teeth in frustration. “Why not, Saldivar? Why don’t you trust me enough to explain this eight hundred year vendetta? Why can’t I help you? You helped me centuries ago. Do you know how many regrets have stacked up by now? Why is it you let no one help you? You don’t always have to take on the role of protector?” Van tapped his own chest harshly. “When is it my turn to aid you?”

  A deep and resonate sigh escaped Saldivar’s lips. “You don’t know what you ask, Van. You do not know what Zane is capable of. And yet you’re willing to meet your doom head on, knowing what the outcome may be. You need to be prepared. Believe me when I tell you, until I am sure of it all.” He walked over to the waste basket and grabbed the crumpled poem. “I do trust you. But if I tell you now, even though I know little, knowing you, you’ll still go off…….how do they say?–—ah!–-half cocked. I will tell you everything in due time. I know Zane well enough to know he is going to lay low. He will not strike now. It would be too easy, yes, but very clumsy of him to do anything at this time. I know he loves a challenge and he
is never clumsy. He has other things in store. He’ll work very meticulously. He has a certain methodical way of doing things before he tries to kill me. I guess that whatever it is, he wants me to take it to my grave and beyond. And to this day, I don’t know exactly what it is.” Saldivar pocketed the ball of paper. “Please. Do not harry yourself. Let us talk of happier things.” He pointed to a chair. “Tell me about Simone.”

  *

  Simone sat on the edge of her bed, explaining her wonderful night she had spent with Van. She told Indea about walking through the Louvre, about walking along on the un-crowded sidewalks. Sipping cafe au lait and just talking of simple things.

  Van had explained Bastille Day with such a fire and accuracy that it looked like he was reliving the day so long ago.

  “He’s so fascinating, Indea. He’s intelligent, charming and sexy. I could get lost in eyes that shine like his,” Simone said breathlessly.

  Indea took note of Simone’s demeanor and the way in which she told her about Van. “Well. Your first intentions of coming here were to satisfy your lust of a Frenchman. It’s changed. Not only lust swims in your eyes.” She studied Simone further. “No. Simple lust is shallow. You are not. You feel something for this Van already,” she ascertained.

  Simone let Indea’s words sink in. She’s considered that there was more then lust going on when she’d first met Van. It was a connection she’d felt a lot deeper than your run-of-the-mill lust. Van was more than a mere fantasy. Sure, she couldn’t deny the attraction. The passion she’d experienced when their lips met. He was almost too good to be true. In the back of her mind, she could hear Mr. Brant’s philosophy on that matter: “If it’s too good to be true, it probably is.” For Van, however, this didn’t seem to be the case. He seemed to be the genuine article.

  Which reminded her. She made a mental note to get some writing done for her article she wanted to present to Mr. Brant.

  “I suppose you’re right, Indea,” Simone said now. “I’ve only known him a day and already he’s the most decent human being I’ve ever met. I know I’m probably presuming more than I should but there’s something about him….he’s….different. I don’t know specifically what but I know that he is.” Simone clasped Indea’s hands. “Speaking of different, Saldivar is also going to Bastille Day and wants you to be his date. Van told me to give you Saldivar’s message. He was sorry he couldn’t see you sooner. Business took him away.”

  Indea’s heart skipped a beat. She was finally going to see Saldivar. Once was definitely not sufficient. It wasn’t much of a meeting to begin with. He rescued her when she needed it. Comforted her, told her his name and vanished. She wasn’t desperate but she’d been aching to see him since that night.

  Indea downplayed her excitement, even though inside she felt like a schoolgirl. “It will be great to see him again. We were never properly introduced. He seems to be a great guy as well as your Van. They are good friends. What you say of Van, I’m sure he wouldn’t keep bad company,” she theorized.

  “They’ve been friends for a very long time. Like you and me. From what Van has told me, they can just about read each other’s minds,” Simone informed her as she got up and grabbed her hair brush and ran it through her red waves.

  Indea propped up on the bed. “What’s the plan? Pick us up or meet us?”

  Simone put the brush back down on the dresser. “They’re picking us up. Around seven-thirty or so.”

  “Great. Bastille Day should be fun.”

  “That’s right. Your parents go quite often to the event. You’ve even been a few time, haven’t you?”

  “Yes. But always with my parents. I’ve never been with a date. Imagine. Seeing those glorious fireworks sparkle in the dark sky. Hand in hand with that special someone,” Indea related.

  Simone saw a gleam set in Indea’s eyes. She knew Saldivar was part of that. Van made her do that as well.

  Indea sat up on the bed. “It would be a perfect end to Bastille Day if Saldivar kissed me. And perhaps Van to kiss you, too?”

  Simone made a noncommittal sound but said nothing. Indea would find out in three….two….one…..

  “Unless……” Indea gasped. “Van’s already kissed you.” She didn’t ask and she didn’t wait for Simone to clarify. “He did! How was it? What was he like?”

  Simone couldn’t stop the smile from growing on her face. “Heaven. I mean it. Heaven is the only way I can describe it. His lips were firm and soft at the same time. He definitely knew what he was doing and how to use those lips to his advantage. I know it seems this is all happening way too fast. But it just feels right. You know what I mean, Indea? That feeling where everything is where it’s supposed to be. What’s the word…….?”

  “Fate?” Indea filled in. Simone was usually Miss Dictionary. Describing Van’s kiss must have scrambled her mind just a little. Indea could understand. All Saldivar has to do was kiss her hand and she was tripping over her own tongue.

  “Yes. Fate. Thanks, Indea.”

  “You’re welcome. That must have been some kiss for you to suddenly get a case of word block,” Indea pointed out, amused.

  Simone chortled. “I know. Strange, huh?”

  “Very.” Indea’s brows knitted together in confusion. “You know? Things have been weird ever since we met Van and Saldivar.”

  Simone nodded her agreement. “Yeah. You’re right. Kind of vexing, aren’t they? But then again, we were looking for a dark and mysterious man. Well, me more than you, I guess. I think we got what we asked for.”

  “In spades,” Indea put in. “I don’t mind a bit of mystery, though. Do you?”

  “I don’t mind at all.” Simone yawned. “It’s been one heck of a day. I’m going to get up a little early tomorrow. I want to work on an article about my time in Paris. I’m going to turn in.”

  “Sure. My parents are taking us on a picnic tomorrow for lunch. They want us to be ready by eleven.” Indea informed her.

  “All right. Good night.”

  “Good night. Sweet dreams.”

  *

  The sun beamed warmly down on Simone’s upturned face. She inhaled the sweet breath of wind as it subtly wafted through her hair.

  “This is such a glorious day,” Simone remarked. “And this food is sumptuous.” She scooped up a bit of herbed goat cheese and spread it on a crusty slice of baguette. She bit off a piece, savoring the tangy cheese as it melted on her tongue. She sipped on a fruity chardonnay, enjoying the mingling of flavors. She picked up a few white grapes and popped them into her mouth, enjoying the sweet juice as they burst between her teeth.

  Indea polished off her third chocolate covered strawberry. “Oh, I know. I’ll never tire of this. It could spoil me for life. Mere. Mother.” She turned to her mother. “You know how to throw a fine spread. You should really consider restarting your catering business.”

  Mrs. Sky smiled fondly at her only daughter. “Oh, sweetie. Thank you. But I really don’t know. It’s been a while since I had catered. I do love hosting elaborate parties, teas and the like.” She looked at her husband who was helping himself to a spoonful of caviar and smearing it on a toast point. “What do you think, Douglas? We did enjoy the catering business together.”

  Douglas put a loving arm around his wife of thirty-three wonderful years. “I’ll support whatever you want to do. I have to say, though, you do come up with the most creative, tastiest recipes. I wouldn’t complain the slightest if you wanted to restart.” He patted his still firm belly. “My stomach would always be more than happy to test you creations. And I’m not saying that because you’re the love of my life. I say it because it is the truth.”

  Fredrica kissed her husband unabashedly. “Thank you, dear.”

  Douglas smiled. “Who knows? It could be very well the crux in your career. You’ll be famous, my dear.”

  Simone observed them without jealousy. She didn’t begrudge the Skys’ their happiness. It was great seeing a couple share their love of one another so open
ly. She wanted that. It was the one thing she craved most of all.

  And with no motive, she thought of Van and suddenly, it did seem possible to have that with him. He was magnetic and she was being pulled to him. Not that she was resisting. Okay, sometimes she wanted to deny it; tried her best to deny it. Logic told her that she only knew him for a very short time. Told her it should be too soon to feel this way. It should.

  But it didn’t.

  Intuition said otherwise. For some reason, it spoke twice as loud as logic. As if it should be heard and heeded to instead. She was inclined to agree. So far, her intuition has never guided her astray. She relied on that far more than logic. Though, she did depend on logic to get her through her articles. Of course she had to use it then. That was a given. But this was matters of the heart. Sometimes, mind and heart vied for dominance. And all in all, it was up to her to choose a winner. And that was truly the toughest part.

  And when it came to men, it was a tad catastrophic. Well, maybe not that bad. Somewhere in the ball park though.

  Right now her decision was to take it one day at a time. See how it goes. She didn’t have to commit herself now. Not that she wanted to go gallivanting with other men. She was quite content just being with Van.

  Van. Even his name made her body warm pleasantly.

  Mmm. Maybe she should rethink this one day at a time thing. It’s not like she made her home here in Paris. She had less than two weeks before she headed back to the States.

  The mere thought of leaving Van made her heart sink, made her feel dejected.

  She would just have to wait and see what happened when she was to meet him in a couple of days during Bastille Day. She could hardly wait to be with him again.

  “Simone. Are you ready to go?” Indea asked, scattering Simone’s thoughts to the wind.

  Simone noted that Indea and her parents were putting any left over food and other supplies back into the basket. She got up and helped with the rest. “Sure.”

  “Mom and Dad thought we could get some movies and popcorn and veg out in front of the television tonight. How about it?” Indea suggested, folding the picnic blanket.