by Nancy Gideon
Were her feelings for Louis genuine or a product of his vampiric claim?
Another risk she would just have to take.
Cobb pulled up outside her building and cut the ignition.
"You don't have to come up,” she said somewhat peevishly, annoyed that his lack of communication had left her in an emotionless lurch.
"Yes, I do."
His flat summation should have warned her, but she was too tired to read more into it. She trooped obediently up the stairs behind him, passing over her key so that he could give the rooms his all clear pronouncement. But then, instead of bidding her good night, he confronted her with the reason for his taciturn mood.
"Put what you'll need to get by for the next few days in a bag."
"Excuse me. Are we eloping?"
But it was nothing that intriguing.
"You're a target here. I'm taking you someplace safe."
"Someplace like where?"
He grimaced slightly at her strident demand, having known it wasn't going to be easy. “There are some guest facilities at the Center—"
"I am not going to be a prisoner at Harper."
"You'll be out of danger there and near your work,” he continued as if he hadn't heard her protest, or didn't want to recognize it.
"I'm willing to renegotiate your sleeping on my couch."
"Too late for that. Get your things."
"You can't force me to go with you."
His stare was direct and uncompromising. “Don't make me."
"Harper is not going to take away my life, Frank. I won't allow it."
"They're trying the best they know how to save it. And so am I,” he added more softly. His voice gentled, growing persuasively reasonable. “C'mon, Doc. Pack light. I can come back and get anything you might miss."
"I don't want to go with you."
"I'm afraid you don't have a choice."
That was it. The bottom line. No choice. She couldn't take Frank Cobb in hand-to-hand even if she was crazy enough to attempt it. Harper had won this round.
Uttering an explicit oath, Stacy went into her bedroom and yanked an overnight case out of her closet. Indiscriminately wadded handfuls of undergarments were followed by carelessly flung work clothes. Still muttering, she stalked into the bathroom to cram her necessities into her vanity case. Cobb stayed pointedly out of the way, content to let her wreck havoc upon inanimate belongings instead of him.
A knock on her door made Stacy pause in her irate tirade. Louis wouldn't knock. So far, even though night had fallen, there'd been no sign of him. Could he sense Cobb's presence in her apartment? Perhaps she should try to contact him along the fragile new lines of telepathic communication she'd just learned. And tell him what? Help, I'm being held prisoner...
The knocking grew louder, taking precedent over other concerns.
She walked into the living room to find Cobb standing by the door, gun in hand. After first recoiling at the sight, she responded to his gesturing with the barrel for her to answer the door.
"Who is it?"
"Fitzhugh."
"The police officer,” she whispered to Cobb in an aside. He nodded and tucked his revolver out of sight as Stacy opened the door to emit the youthful lawman, hoping he'd come to do more than ogle her with his moonstruck gaze.
"Ken, has something happened?"
That something glittered within his pale-eyed stare as he said pleasantly, “Not yet."
And he struck.
Stacy could only stare in horrified surprise as Fitzhugh's backhanded blow smashed the side of Frank Cobb's face, sending him flying into the far wall with enough force to leave the outline of his body in cracked plaster.
Then the stranger before her smiled serenely and said, “It's time I introduced myself. To coin a phrase from the Rolling Stones, ‘Pleased to meet you. Won't you guess my name?’”
* * * *
Mortality.
Louis arose from his daytime confines with that thought on his mind, as he had most of his five hundred years of captivity. Only this evening, it was different.
It was obtainable.
All his doubts about Stacy Kimball's ability had fallen away, leaving a confidence that fueled more than the transient hope he'd clung to for past centuries. She could restore him to his humanity. She could give him back the kiss of daylight upon his upturned face, the pleasure of enjoying a meal not drawn from living veins, an escape from fear ... and the freedom to love again.
His gratitude for Stacy went beyond her scientific skill. She'd awakened him to long dormant emotions, making him feel alive before he was actually living again. Smart, brave, determined—all the qualities shared by two others who had briefly companioned him within the all too finite boundaries of marriage. She trusted him enough to expose her vulnerabilities and to risk her career and very life. She'd lowered her strict rule of noninvolvement, coming to him willingly, accepting his gift of passion even before his dark immortal embrace. A special woman of rare courage and an infinite supply of untapped desires. Could she devote herself to him with the same zeal she applied to her position at Harper?
"Bella, Cassandra, tell me what to do. What I feel for this woman is love, I'm sure of it. The same love I felt for the both of you. It is unfair for me to ask or expect you to understand my desire to grow old with her when our own time together was cut short by your mortality. I need your blessings. As you loved me, wish me happiness."
He hadn't expected an answer, not in the physical form. But it came, a deep abiding sense of peace, of acceptance. Their unselfish support of his choice, their approval of his actions, gave an infinite relief.
He would feel no betrayal in going on with his life, at last.
The thought of Stacy committed to their shared future inspired him to a restless anticipation. He would go to her. Though it was too soon to initiate another linking kiss, he was eager to reestablish their more intimate bond. He found himself as greedy as a child who'd been given a wonderful gift. He couldn't bear to set it aside even for a minute.
So, he rose from his crypt with the expectations of a courting youth, only to be shocked from his randy fantasies by a harsh slap of reality.
Stacy's cry pierced through his brain in a shaft of white-hot urgency.
"Louis, I need you!"
* * * *
Had he heard her?
Stacy's gaze flew frantically to where Cobb sagged, dazed and bleeding, against the shattered wallboard, no help to her for the moment.
It was up to her to stall the inevitable.
"Quinton Alexander, I presume."
"At your service, Doctor Kimball. A pity we don't have the time to truly get acquainted, but your annoyingly diligent friend there has made it uncomfortable for me with his questions. I fear it's time I moved on, lest loose lips announce my whereabouts to those I prefer to remain hidden from. That, unfortunately, would prove quite fatal."
"What do you want with me?” Stacy demanded.
"Why, dear Stacy, I want you to die."
He smiled then, a broad grin that revealed his hideous fangs and the true evil inside him. How had she ever been fooled by his mild manner?
Stall. Stall.
"Surely you have time to boast about how you maintained this charade. Your Officer Fitzhugh was quite convincing."
His arrogance wouldn't allow him not to take a minute to preen. “Yes, I was good, wasn't I? Become that which you hold in contempt, I always say. Wearing the symbol of the authority I disdain was endlessly amusing, as was investigating the same murders I committed. Using my late and very tyrannical father's name, Fitzhugh, was also most enjoyable, though I doubt that he would have appreciated the irony. Well, enough chitchat. Time to tie up loose ends and move on."
Knowing herself to be that loose end, Stacy was anxious to delay his plans.
"If you think my death will in some way hurt Louis, you're wrong. He could care less about me. I'm not the prize he's after. It's my research he's interested in, and
that will continue with or without me."
That took the killer aback. His eyes narrowed as he considered her claims and pronounced them unworthy. “I don't believe you. I know my enemy well, and know you are the kind of woman he can't resist."
"But he has. He's immune to your games. The victims were nothing to him, just as I'm nothing to him. You've been wasting your time, Ken."
Her amusement at his expense was too much for him. With a roar, he gripped her by the forearms and thrust her away. Her airborne flight was interrupted by the yielding cushions of the couch. He was straddling her there before she had the opportunity to flee. She scented death in his fiercely panted breaths and saw her demise in his manic glare.
Louis, where are you?
"I would have preferred that he held you in some affection, but it really doesn't matter. After I tear out your throat and use your blood to point my colleagues in his direction, I'll let them do the rest while I quietly slip away. That was my original plan, anyway, before you proved such an entertaining distraction. And an annoying one. You've managed to cover up much of what I wanted revealed. You were supposed to have run screaming to the police, sending them to my enemy's door. But you didn't, did you? Instead, you chose to ally yourself with him. Well, if you won't tell the authorities where to look, I'll have to be more obvious. They've proven highly ineffectual to this point, but I suppose I have you to blame for that, don't I? I hadn't counted on your willingness to conceal the evidence to protect a creature who deserves to die. But Louis will soon follow you to the grave he's denied for so long, leaving me to enjoy the last laugh."
"Don't laugh too soon,” she sneered.
Alexander snarled as his arms were gripped from behind. Though no match for him, Cobb distracted the fiend long enough for Stacy to pull out her crucifix and press it into the ghoul's forehead. The sizzle and snap of flesh burning was overwhelmed by the vampire's screech of pained surprise. He slapped her arm aside, breaking the connection.
Howling madly, he rose straight up in the air, bashing his assailant into the ceiling with a near spine-snapping violence. Still in midair, he gripped Cobb by the collar and flung him off as if discarding a heavy cloak. Her bodyguard went tumbling into her dining table, his elbow fragmenting her computer screen as the whole thing collapsed beneath his weight.
Then the enraged Quinton Alexander turned to her in full blown fury. The imprint of her cross glowed where it had cut into his brow, oozing noxious fluids.
"You should not have done that, Stacy. After all we've been to one another, I would have been kind."
With a desperate cry, she lunged off the sofa, darting toward the door as if it held some hope of salvation. Alexander's hand closed about the back of her neck, jerking her up short even as she screamed. She squeezed her eyes shut, expecting to feel the sting of his teeth in her throat at any second. When the savage attack didn't come, she dared to open her eyes.
There, in her open doorway, stood Louis Redman.
"Come, you coward,” he taunted the seething Alexander. “Isn't it time you stopped hiding behind women and faced me man to man?"
"I'm fine right here,” Quinton hissed, tightening his hold on Stacy until she was close to swooning. But she wouldn't gratify him with an outcry. “Like old times, eh, Louis?” Quinton panted in a rapturous rage. “We meet again over the fragile form of a mortal woman. How easy to destroy her. One twist of my wrist. One strike of my fangs. Should I end it quickly, or should I let you suffer, not knowing when it will come? Like I've suffered these past decades, hiding, waiting for the past to catch me? You turned Bianca against me, just as you turned Cassie away from the fondness we shared."
"You create your own misery. It stems from the ugliness in your soul. Don't try to blame me for the symptoms of your madness. I accept none of your guilt. Stacy has no part in this. Let her go."
"So the two of you can be together? I don't think so. The idea of your happiness sickens me. I will end it, here, now, leaving you with nothing, just as I've had nothing since you interfered in my life."
Louis drew slowly closer. “You drove those who loved you away. Cassie cared for you, Quinton. You are the one who turned her against you with the same cruel and brutal games you've been playing with Stacy."
"It's because I love them."
"You don't love Stacy. You don't even know her. You only want to use her to hurt me. Well, come on then. Hurt me. Step out from behind her and face me, uomo d'uomo."
The stalemate continued. Stacy could feel the fury pulsing through Alexander's panted breaths, through the crush of his fingers as Louis goaded him beyond reason, pushing him toward an irrational act.
"Your childish games bore me, Alexander,” Louis drawled at last. “Bianca will not come to your rescue this time. Even she who made you is tired of your inept attempts to gain attention. You are worth no recognition. When I've destroyed you, you'll be quickly forgotten."
"You are wrong there,” Quinton raged.
"Am I?” Louis questioned with a supreme ennui. “I think not. I'm going to swat you like the bothersome gnat you've become."
"But not before I've snapped her neck."
"Then do it,” Louis snarled impatiently, “and move on to me."
Using Stacy as a shield, Alexander began to move backwards, going further into the apartment to increase the distance between him and his tormenter. Louis followed, maintaining the threatening distance.
"What's wrong, codardo? No stomach for confrontation when it's a fair match? Your father was right to despise you for your craven weakness. How could you have ever thought that my Cassandra would love you?"
A frightening shout of impotent rage burst from the crazed monster as he threw Stacy into Louis with a strength that left her winded and dependent upon his arms to sustain her. Louis had no choice but to hold her, giving Alexander the necessary time to escape.
But as the vampire whirled, planning to leap through the window to freedom, he was met with the impaling thrust of one of the broken table legs, driven through his chest with all Frank Cobb's remaining energy. Cobb collapsed upon the flailing then eerily still Alexander. And for a moment, no one moved.
Then, slowly, gingerly, Cobb sat back, observing through disbelieving eyes what he'd captured. His gaze lifted to Stacy and Louis.
Clutching at Louis, seeking to protect him, Stacy made a soft plea. “Frank, it's not what you think."
Bleeding from the terrible gash that split his face from cheekbone to jaw, Cobb's smile was gruesome. “Really? And what do you want me to think has happened here, Doc? Nothing out of the ordinary?"
He laughed a bit crazily then sighed, his shoulders slumping.
"Frank—"
"You don't need to worry that I'll expose any of your secrets. The media will never hear a word of this from me."
"What are you saying, Frank?"
Dare she hope...
But he didn't respond to her directly. He was studying Louis through hard, emotionless eyes.
"You're off the hook, Redman. I've got what I need to satisfy the honchos at Harper. I'm bringing them their test subject on a silver platter, along with the brilliant scientist who's going to make all their greedy dreams come true."
Chapter Nineteen
Harper came to clean up with a frightening efficiency. An unmarked ambulance arrived to quickly carry out the restrained and discretely covered body of Quinton Alexander. The official-looking attendants remarked to all who asked that the victim was a guest who had suffered from a seizure after a party on the third floor got out of hand, turning into a domestic squabble. He was loaded into the back with none of the onlookers any the wiser, and gone with lights flashing.
While the remaining team of four sanitized her apartment, Stacy stitched and dressed the gash on her bodyguard's cheek. He sat unflinching through the ordeal, his wary and speculative gaze fixed on a silent Louis Redman.
"It's going to leave a nasty scar,” Stacy advised as she gently taped down the length of ga
uze.
"It'll make me look dangerous,” Cobb replied with a lopsided smile.
"You're already dangerous. I can give you the name of a good plastic surgeon, if you like."
He shrugged stoically then touched cautious fingertips to gauge her handiwork. “Nice field dressing, Doc."
"It's been a while, but it's like riding a bicycle.” She glanced up at Louis, who'd been purposefully withdrawn from the situation. His returning gaze glimmered as he caught the reference.
"Any allergies?” she asked, popping the top of her antibiotics. When Cobb shook his head, she passed him two pills. “Take those."
He dry swallowed them without comment. From the look in his eye, she could tell there were plenty of other things he wanted to express an opinion on.
"All clean,” one of the crew told him.
"Do they work by the job or the hour?” Stacy asked in a low aside to earn a faint smile from Cobb.
"You couldn't afford them."
Cobb stood, wavering slightly but able to push off Stacy's stabilizing grip as the last of Harper's crew left the place looking like nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened. “I should go and make sure our new guest is comfortable. Is he ... what I think he is?"
"Not of the Transylvanian branch of the family, but no less dangerous,” Louis stated with enough dry humor to coax another reluctant smile from Cobb. Stacy could see he really wanted to dislike the suave enigma but was having a hard time doing so.
"Any special precautions I need to know about how to keep him from turning to dust or us into appetizers?"
"Keep him out of the sun, chained in a coffin if you have one. He'll be weak and manageable for a while, but I wouldn't recommend underestimating him."
"I won't make that mistake again."
