Eternal Hunger
Page 20
“See!” I heard the Chairman cry. “See, it is the power of the god!”
I felt Ash’s body spasm upward, suddenly filled to the brim with unimaginable power. Then, as if a circuit breaker had been tripped inside my brain, our rapport snapped off. I saw the Chairman surging toward Ash, desperate to feed, to draw the power of the god into himself. He stepped into the ray of light.
And was caught in the web of time.
With a horrible scream, the Chairman stopped short, immobilized by the light. Around him, the other Board members froze as well. Linked to the Chairman, all were held captive by the revitalized power of Thoth. A power that now made them prisoners of a power even greater than the god’s own. The power of time.
For one crystalline moment, the Chairman’s astonishing beauty shone forth. Never, or so it seemed to me, could he have been as beautiful as he was at that moment, the end of his long span of time. And I realized that I could see right through him, as if his body had become a thin cotton handkerchief with his image stamped upon it. I felt the wind return then, no more than the briefest flutter of air. But it was enough. The image of the Chairman rippled, then wavered. And then the wind sighed through it as the Chairman and all his followers crumbled into dust. I saw them fall through the air, as if in slow motion, even as the light grew so bright I had to shield my eyes. The last thing I saw was the great golden image of Thoth, standing over Ash’s motionless form.
When I opened my eyes once more, I was alone. The cavern was empty. The statue of Thoth was gone. I staggered to my feet, stumbled to the altar where Ash had been held captive. The leather straps were still in place, their knots still tightly tied. I could just make out the outline of where Ash had lain, as if his form had literally been etched into the stone by the strength of the light.
I stared at the empty altar, feeling my own heart shatter. Ash was gone. He had disappeared. As utterly and completely as the Chairman and his Board.
I climbed onto the stone, fit myself within the confines of the outline of his body, and wept. I was still there when the sun rose and I discovered I was human once more.
Twenty
Several days later, I stood at Chet’s grave, Al on one side, and Bibi on the other. With us stood various other staff members from the Scheherazade. Chet had no family. The group of friends who had assembled to honor his life was small. But I knew all those present would miss him. I would miss him, and I would do my best to honor his memory with my own actions. Though only Bibi and I knew it, Chet had given his life for mine.
My life, which I would never take for granted again. Not that I had for a good, long while. But unlike literally anyone else I knew, I had firsthand experience of at least some of what lay beyond. I had been both more than human, and less.
I wasn’t quite sure what that made me now.
The minister finished the quiet words of the ceremony. Chet’s coffin was lowered into the ground. Al stepped forward to cast the first handful of earth upon the dark, glossy wood. Then Chet’s other co-workers from the Sher did the same, one by one. I went last, gathering up a handful of earth, stepping to the edge of Chet’s grave until my toes extended into space. I reached out my arm. But then, for what seemed like endless moments, I could not make my hand open. Instead, my fist stayed clenched tight. As if I could not quite bring myself to perform this last act. To admit that Chet was well and truly gone.
“Candace?” I heard Bibi’s quiet voice say, heard the worry in her tone. And as though the sound of her voice had broken a spell, I opened my hand and let the earth fall. It landed on Chet’s coffin with a sound like rain.
Good-bye, Chet, I thought. Thank you for being my true friend. Thank you for my life.
I’ve never been big on trying to figure out what the dead would have wanted, and then acting accordingly. Too many gray areas where self-indulgence and self-deception can roam. But in Chet’s case I had to figure it was pretty much a no-brainer. Vampires had taken him; they’d taken his wife.
I’ll continue the fight, I vowed silently. Our fight. Being a vampire briefly hadn’t made me think they were the good guys. An eye for an eye. Blood for blood. A life for a life. Chet would have wanted me to do what he’d tried to do himself. Take the vampires out of the equation, even the score.
Arm in arm, Bibi and I stepped away from the grave and began to walk across the freshly clipped grass toward where we’d parked our cars. Al stayed behind, talking to the minister.
“Look,” Bibi said suddenly. “There’s Carl.”
I hadn’t heard from Carl Hagen in the days since Chet’s death, since I had staggered down the mountain. The police had questions regarding the hiking accident that was listed as Chet’s official cause of death. Carl hadn’t posed them.
But my own condition—severe dehydration, a variety of cuts, bruises, and scrapes—had convinced the detective who interviewed me that no foul play had been involved. Chet McGuire had met with an unfortunate accident. I was lucky to be alive. As to the third member of our party, Ashford Donahue III, his body had yet to be found. After several futile days of combing the area where Chet’s body was recovered, the police had reluctantly called off the search.
I knew Carl still had questions. He was too smart a man, too good a cop, not to. I also knew him well enough to know the breathing space he’d given me was only postponing the inevitable. Sooner or later, the day of reckoning between us would come. But he’d held off so far, and for that, I was grateful.
“You should talk to him,” Bibi said. “He’s called every day to make sure you’re all right.”
In the days since the accident, I had been staying with Bibi. My own house was still undergoing repairs.
“Okay,” I said, not seeing any way around it.
“I’ll have a pot of coffee ready when you get back to my place,” she promised.
“Bibi.” I made a spontaneous decision. Actually not so spontaneous. It was something I’d been thinking about since coming down from the mountains. “I’ll stop by and get my stuff, but then I need to go to Ash’s house. I want to stay there for a while—at least until my own place is ready.”
“Why?” she asked bluntly. “Isn’t that a little like rubbing salt into a wound?”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But I need to face it. It’s the only way I’ll move on.”
“Are you sure you’re ready?” she asked. “You’re sure you’ll be all right on your own?”
I won’t be on my own, I thought. I think about Ash, every minute.
“I’m sure,” I replied. “I have to go back there sooner or later. You know me: When in doubt, meet things head-on.” I gave her a quick hug. “Now stop worrying. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” Bibi said. I saw her focus shift. “Hello, Carl.”
“Hi, Bibi,” Carl said. His gaze flicked to me. “Steele. I’m glad you’re still alive.”
“That makes two of us,” I said. “It was good of you to come, Carl.”
Something in his expression lightened. “Thanks,” he said. “I wanted to, I just…we didn’t part on the best of terms. I didn’t want to intrude.”
“You didn’t,” Bibi said swiftly. “Not at all.” She stepped away, moving toward her car. “I’ll talk to you tonight, Candace.”
“Okay,” I said. Carl and I were left alone.
“You doing okay?” he asked after a moment.
“For the most part,” I said. “It’s going to take some time, Carl.”
“Sure, that figures,” he said. “I’m pretty good at waiting.”
I gave a smile, as I thought he’d intended me to. “I know.”
“How soon are you going back to work?” he asked.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. Al’s being really great about cutting me a lot of slack. We’re going to talk about it some more next week.”
“If you need a place to stay,” Carl went on, his tone slightly awkward now. “I’ve got that spare room.”
“You mean the one filled with
fishing tackle?” I asked, and won a smile of my own. “I think I’ll pass, but I appreciate the thought.” I hesitated for a moment, then decided the truth was best. “Actually, I’m going to stay at Ash’s place until mine is fixed up.”
“I see,” Carl said. He took a breath then added, “I’d like to call you, if that’s all right.”
I put my arms around him in a spontaneous hug. So warm, I thought. So solid.
“Of course it’s all right. Is Tuesday still your day off?” I asked.
He nodded. “Outstanding,” I said. “I’ll call you, and you can take me to dinner. How does that sound?”
“Like I just walked straight into that one,” Carl said.
“That would be because you did,” I replied as I got into Ash’s car. “I’ll see you Tuesday, Carl.”
Carl was still standing at the edge of the grass, the headstones in tidy rows at his back, as I pulled out of the graveyard and headed for Ash’s house.
Late that night, I lay awake in the bed Ash and I had once shared, listening to the beat of my own heart. Its sound filled my head, moved outward from my body until it seemed to fill the entire house. Ash was dead; I was alive. For as long as my heart beat, those two facts would be inextricably entwined. The very rhythm of my heart pounding out a song to life with one beat, with the next, a hymn of loss.
I don’t know how to bear this, I thought. I don’t know how to live without you, Ash.
Finally, unable to stand the bed any longer, the scent of Ash’s skin clinging faintly to the sheets, I got up and roamed the house.
I walked to the living room, moving to stand before one of the big, picture windows. Leaning against the cold glass, I gazed up at the stars. The stars that would always remind me of Ash’s eyes, just as they had from the very first night. And suddenly, my own eyes were filled with tears, the first I had shed since becoming human once more. That most human of feelings, regret, seemed to fill every cell of my body, and I wondered if I would spend the rest of my life wishing I could go back, be given a second chance. Start over.
I’m sorry, Ash, I thought. Sorry I didn’t see the truth of what I wanted sooner. If I had, would he be with me now? If I had become a true vampire the night of Sloane’s attack, would we have been strong enough to defeat the Board together without either one of us paying such a terrible price?
Stop it, I told myself sharply. This was not doing me any good. In fact, it seemed a straight road to a complete and utter breakdown.
You can get through this, not just because you have to, but because it’s what you want. Ash wanted you to live. You want to live. There’s no time like the present.
Love him forever, but get on with your life. Stop screwing around.
And in that moment, I could have sworn I heard Ash laugh, felt the brush of his thoughts against my mind, his pleasure at my strength. I drew in my first breath of peace. For the first time believing that, even if I could not see the way yet, somehow, I would go on. You’re giving me this, too, aren’t you, Ash? I thought. Not just life but the will to live it.
I turned away from the window, then cried out as my bare feet encountered something I knew had not been there before. Scattered across the wood of the living room floor, trailing off down the hall like a path of polished shells.
Sweet pea blossoms.
“Ash,” I whispered, as my heart did a great leap into my throat. Only Ash knew my love for this particular flower. “Ash!” I said, more urgently now.
Around me, the house stayed silent. But, as if in answer, the scent of the blossoms rose up. I knelt, scooped up a handful, and brought them to my face and, as I did, I swear I felt Ash’s presence for a second time.
You’re here, aren’t you? I thought.
Now and forever. That’s how long we had sworn our love would last. Forever and now. Ash had not let go of me any more than I had let go of him. Somewhere, somehow, what he was lived on.
I gazed down at the blossoms, shimmering in my hand. White, for mourning, I thought. White, for hope.
I walked to the front door, pulled it open, stepped out onto the walk. And then I flung the blossoms as hard and high as I could. High enough to reach the stars.
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Passionate Thirst
The first book in the Candace Steele Vampire Killer series by Cameron Dean!
Prologue
Just another night in Sin City…
He was the sexiest guy I had seen in Vegas.
Considering how many guys I see in a day, that’s saying something.
Not only that, I see all kinds, from sleek high-rollers in silk shirts and Italian leather shoes, wreathed in clouds of expensive cologne, to slobs in Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops, oozing bad body odor. As a general rule, casinos don’t get terribly exercised about dress codes. Most don’t care too much about what you’ve got on, or what you don’t, as long as you can make it through the door to lay your money down. For a guy to make me sit up and take notice like this one did, he had to really be something special.
Trust me, he was.
Though mentioning sitting up is slightly misleading as I was on my feet at the time, and they hurt. But then they usually do. Occupational hazard of my job. I’m on my feet, my high-heeled feet, a good eight hours a day, cocktail waitressing at Vegas’s newest mega-casino, the Scheherazade. One of the first things you learn: Do not, under any circumstances, take off your shoes till you go off-shift, no matter how much you might want to.
After shift, however, you can take off anything your little heart desires. Which brings me back to the guy.
“It’s so unfair,” my co-worker, Marlene, moaned as we shared a rare moment of togetherness while waiting for our drink orders. In our regulation high heels, gauzy harem pants, and pillbox hats, I figure we looked like two I Dream of Jeannie clones, Vegas style, though I think even Jeannie would have drawn the line at the pink velour halter tops.
“Who shows up in my section?” she went on. “Guys who look like Beavis or Butt-Head. You get Sean Connery as James Bond.”
It was a good description, I had to admit. The male in question was currently at the blackjack table I covered, looking like he owned the place and winning like there was no tomorrow. I spotted him as soon as I came back on the floor from my mid-shift break. Tall, dark, and handsome with a sort of lean and rangy build that kept him from sliding too far into GQ territory. Though his clothing was plainly expensive, charcoal-colored pants and a white cotton shirt so sheer I could almost see right through it, he didn’t look as if he had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Instead he looked…hungry. An alpha male wolf in designer clothing. As combinations go, it packed quite a punch.
Down, girl. You’re still on the clock, I thought.
I have very strict personal rules about tangling up the sheets with casino patrons, a thing my co-workers know quite well. Going to bed with strangers may sound exciting. And it is, sometimes. But a girl gets tired of being the thing that happens in Vegas and stays in Vegas.
Marlene has a good ten years on my twenty-something, all of which she’s spent happily married to her high school sweetheart, a guy with a face so gorgeous it almost has me convinced angels really do walk among us. She was about as likely to take a roll with a customer as she was to flap her arms and fly to Mars.
“You’re tempted. Admit it, Candace. Please, please tell me you’re going to cut loose just this once. If you don’t, Gloria will get him and we’ll all have our noses rubbed in it for weeks.”
Gloria, a stacked blond who staffed one of the roulette wheels, was a notorious man-eater of the kiss-and-tell variety.
“Well,” I said slowly, no longer making any attempt to hold back the smile. The truth was, I was tempted. Very. In a way I hadn’t been in quite some time. “He is pretty spectacular. And I guess there’s not much point in having
rules if you don’t break them every once in a while.”
Marlene gave a whoop of triumphant laughter. “Now you’re talking. Have I ever mentioned one of the things I like best about you is your sense of…proportion?”
“Oh, now you’re just talking dirty,” I chastised.
She leaned toward me, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Let Mama Marlene give you one little tip. Do absolutely everything I wouldn’t do. And for future reference, always remember that Butt-Head is the ugly one.”
I was laughing as I plunged into the crowd.
“ ’Night, James,” I said to the employee entrance doorman four hours later. I was now officially off the clock.
“ ’Night, yourself, Candace,” he said, his voice like ground gravel. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, now.”
“Wouldn’t think of it,” I said, and earned a smile.
Cutting around the side of the building, I headed for the Strip. The truth is, I love Vegas at night. Sure it’s loud and bright and phony. It’s also vibrant, colorful, alive. The truth is, I’ve never seen a place more dedicated to the future than Vegas is. Even the air seems filled with a sense of anticipation. Because the thing about gambling is that you can never quite predict the outcome.
I heard a car horn honk, a voice call out, and I lifted my hand in greeting as one of the city’s numerous cabs shot by. Tourists almost never realize this, but there’s actually a strong connection among the locals in this town. So many faces coming and going, you get so you notice the ones who stay put. I paused in front of the Bellagio, watching the way the lights flirted with the waters of the fountain.
“That’s the first time I’ve ever seen anybody do that,” a voice behind me said.
I felt a cool shiver of anticipation slide straight down my spine. I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Throughout the rest of my shift, Mr. Tall, Dark, and, Handsome and I had played a silent game of seduction. A quick brush of my bare arm against his sleeve as I delivered his drink. The stroke of his fingers along the top of my hand as he set a chip on my tray. Was I interested? Yes, but not in my own casino, my own backyard.