Amanda Ashley - [Children of the Night 02]

by Night's Touch

  Roshan sat back, his eyes closed beneath the mask. His skin burned like hellfire where the handcuffs touched his skin. It was a pain he had suffered in the past at the hands of Anton’s father. The mask, too, had been lined with a sheet of fine silver, burning his face even as it prevented him from seeing through the material.

  He swore softly, his rage growing with each passing mile. No matter what happened this night, whether Cara was hurt or not, Bouchard and the witch would die for what they had done.

  Roshan? Brenna’s voice sounded in his mind. What should I do?

  Nothing at the moment, love. Keep Di Giorgio with you when he gets home.

  You’re in pain. I can feel it.

  He’s handcuffed me with silver to restrain me. I think we’re going out to Loken’s old lab.

  I should be with you.

  No.

  You’ll call me if you need me?

  He smiled in spite of the pain in his wrists. Who else would I call?

  I love you. Be careful.

  A short time later, the car rolled to a stop. The engine stilled. The door beside Roshan opened, admitting a draft of cool air.

  “We’re here,” Anton said. “Get out.”

  Moving blindly, Roshan did as he was told. He felt Anton’s hand close over his arm, guiding him toward the lab. There was the sound of a key turning in the lock. Roshan followed Anton until the threshold’s power stopped him.

  “Oh, I forgot,” Anton said, his voice thick with contempt, “come in.”

  Roshan crossed the threshold. Feeling like a lamb being led to the slaughter, he followed Anton down two flights of stairs. A door opened and he caught his daughter’s scent.

  “Cara?”

  “Daddy!”

  “Shut up, both of you!” Anton said brusquely. He shoved Roshan backward. “Climb up on that table.”

  Revulsion swept through Roshan as he did as he was told. He remembered all too clearly the last time he had been in this place. He flinched as someone carelessly cut away his shirt, slicing into his flesh as well. The silver blade seared his skin, as did the heavy silver strap they laid across his chest to secure him to the table. Silver manacles were clamped around his ankles; the handcuffs were removed and replaced by silver shackles. A thick silver strap was fastened across his neck so that he couldn’t raise his head.

  They were taking no chances this time, he thought. He could already feel the heavy silver leeching his strength, weakening his powers, leaving him blind and helpless.

  “Get the baby.” Serafina’s voice, filled with barely suppressed excitement. “It’s upstairs, in the lab.”

  A baby! Roshan shuddered to think what they would do with the child, but it was the fate of his own child that filled him with despair. “Bouchard?”

  “He’s not here,” Serafina said.

  “I came without a fight, now let my daughter go.”

  “All in good time,” the witch said. “We are not through with her yet.”

  “What are you going to do to her?”

  “Take a little blood.”

  Roshan swore a vile oath. “Don’t tell me you’re pursuing Loken’s foolish dream of immortality!”

  “No.” She laughed maniacally. “Something better than that.”

  He strained against the bonds that held him, wincing as the silver shackles cut deeper into his flesh. “Damn you!”

  He heard the sound of Anton’s footsteps coming down the stairs, a baby’s sleepy whimper, caught the odor of sulfur as someone lit a match.

  Roshan tensed as hands took hold of his arm.

  “Keep him steady,” Serafina said.

  He felt a sharp jab as she plunged a needle into his arm, smelled his own blood as it filled the syringe.

  “Now the girl, and then the baby,” Serafina said.

  Roshan heard Cara gasp as Serafina drew her blood. The baby made no sound at all. He wondered if it was still alive.

  “Take the brat back to the lab,” Serafina said.

  He listened to the sound of Anton’s footsteps walking away, heard the woman muttering to herself as she paced the floor. A short time later, he heard Anton return.

  Roshan tugged against his bonds again, but the silver was already doing its work, sapping his physical strength, weakening his preternatural powers, burning his skin everywhere it touched. If only he could see what was happening!

  As if in answer to his unspoken wish, Anton removed the hood.

  Roshan glanced to his right where Cara was bound to a metal table. Blood dripped from her arm. The scent of it enflamed his preternatural senses even as it stirred his hunger.

  He turned his head to the left and Anton and Serafina came into view. For the first time, he saw the stone crypt in the corner.

  Was it for his daughter, he wondered bleakly, or for himself?

  Chapter 31

  Vince glanced at his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. Eight-thirty. He swore under his breath, wondering if the damn thing had stopped.

  He stared into his empty glass, thinking he hadn’t been this nervous about seeing a girl since he was sixteen years old and had a crush on Amy Broderson.

  He thought about Cara and realized he didn’t have the vaguest idea of what he was going to say when he saw her again. He supposed groveling would be in order. And confession. It was supposed to be good for the soul, though he wasn’t sure he possessed one anymore.

  So, what should he say to her? Cara, I’m sorry I left without saying good-bye. I was a fool. I love you. And oh, by the way, your dad was right. I’m a vampire.

  Blowing out a sigh, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Soon after leaving town, he had gone home to visit his family. He hadn’t seen his folks in over a year, and he’d wondered if they would notice the change in him. He’d shown up on a Sunday evening, making sure he arrived well after dinner and dessert. Even then, his mother had offered him cake and coffee, which he had politely refused, insisting he’d stopped for dinner on the road.

  It had been good to see his folks again, to feel the love of his mom and dad, his sister and his brothers and sisters-in-law, to play with his nieces and nephews, and to catch up on their lives. His sister, Eve, was pregnant with twins. Once he’d gotten caught up on what they’d been doing, they wanted to hear about him, curious to know how he was doing, and if he had met anyone.

  He had found himself telling his family about Cara and, with every word, he realized he didn’t want to exist without her, that he loved her with every fiber of his being, and that he wanted nothing more than to share the rest of her life, however long or short that might be. It wouldn’t be easy. She would age, sicken, and die. But that was the way of the mortal world and he couldn’t change it.

  His mother had been excited at his news, eager to see her youngest son marry and settle down, eager for more grandchildren. He had teased her, asking if ten grandkids weren’t enough, and she had replied that, “you could never have too many grandchildren.”

  Now, sitting in a darkened nightclub, Vince felt a twinge of regret that he would never have a child of his own, never know what it was like to hold a son or a daughter in his arms. It was something he hadn’t considered when he chose the life of a vampire. Of course, fatherhood would also have been out of the question if he had chosen death instead of life when Mara offered him the choice, so maybe it was a moot point and not worth thinking about.

  Had Cara missed him as much as he had missed her? Was she angry because he’d been too gutless to tell her good-bye in person? Would she forgive him? Would she even see him?

  He shook off his doubts. If she truly loved him, she would at least give him a chance to explain. He held that thought close as he glanced at his watch one more time.

  It was eight forty-five.

  Chapter 32

  Cara glanced at her father for reassurance, though she found little to reassure her. The smell of his singed flesh filled the confines of the room. The skin at his wrists was raw and bright red,
as was the skin at his neck, ankles, and chest. His face was also badly burned. Though his expression remained impassive, she knew he must be in agony.

  She tugged on the leather straps that bound her hands and feet. She had to get free, had to help him. She had always thought her father was indomitable. Since learning he was a vampire, she had assumed he was indestructible. It was frightening to see him subdued and helpless. If he couldn’t fight Serafina, what hope did she have of getting away from the woman?

  A movement at the other end of the table drew Cara’s gaze. There was a sudden hush as Serafina lit a long white candle and placed it in a holder in the center of the cloth-covered table beside the crypt. Shaking out the match, Serafina turned toward Anton, who held out his left arm. She filled a syringe with his blood and emptied it into a small glass vial. Next, she drew blood from her own arm and put it into another vial. In all, there were five vials on the table, along with three jars and a silver bowl. Serafina smiled at her son, and then she began to chant softly.

  “On All Hallow’s Eve, between dusk and dawn, the blood of kin must be drawn.” She picked up an eye-dropper and dipped it into one of the vials. “Nine drops, no more, no less, the blood of kin you must bless.”

  She made a pagan sign over the eye-dropper, then slowly added nine drops of Anton’s blood to the silver bowl.

  “To this the blood of love you add, and the blood of an enemy, it must be had. Seven drops of each, one by one, quickly now, it must be done.”

  Once again, she added blood to the bowl, seven drops of her own blood, seven drops of Roshan’s.

  “Five drops of a maiden’s blood,” she intoned, and added five drops of Cara’s blood to the bowl. “Rosemary for remembrance.” She sprinkled rosemary into the dish. “An infant’s blood, three drops for life anew.” More blood was added to the bowl. “A sprinkling of yarrow, a dash of rue.”

  Serafina added the remaining ingredients, then stirred them together with a silver spoon. “Spread the blood upon the crypt, when the moon commands the sky.” Serafina knelt beside the crypt, her expression rapt as she poured the contents of the bowl onto the crypt and then smeared the bloody mixture over the top with her bare hands. When that was done, she nodded at Anton, who pushed the top of the stone crypt aside. It fell to the floor with a resounding crash, revealing the casket within.

  “Call forth the dead, his name times three. Doubt not, and he will come to thee.” Serafina stood, her arms lifted over her head, blood dripping from her fingertips. “Anthony!” she cried. “Anthony! Anthony!”

  Cara felt a shiver run down her spine as Serafina’s voice echoed off the walls. She felt the hair raise along the back of her neck and along her arms as a strange current ran through the room. She glanced at her father. Judging by his expression and the way he jerked weakly against his restraints, she guessed that he, too, had sensed the otherworldly power vibrating through the night.

  Serafina continued to stare at the coffin, as if she could will her beloved to rise.

  Anton frowned at her. “Maybe you did it wrong.”

  “No!” Serafina exclaimed. “I did everything I was supposed to do.” With her bare hands, she ripped the lid off the coffin. A horrible smell rose in the air. “Anthony, come to me!”

  A low hum vibrated through the air and then, to Cara’s horror, the body inside the coffin moved.

  “Yes!” Serafina’s voice was filled with exultation. “Yes, my love, come to me!”

  And Anthony Loken rose from the coffin.

  Cara stared at the thing that had once been Anthony Loken. His eyes glowed a dull red, his skin was pale; in some places, it had rotted away.

  Anton stared at his father in horror. “Something’s gone wrong!”

  Serafina whirled around, her eyes wild. She held up her hand, fingers spread wide. “The blood of kin,” she said, folding one finger down. “The blood of love.” She folded another finger down. “The blood of an enemy. A maiden’s blood.” She stabbed her forefinger in Cara’s direction. “Are you a virgin?”

  Cara stared at the woman, wondering which would serve her better, the truth or a lie?

  The witch turned on her son. “Did you touch her?”

  “No, I swear it.”

  Once again, Serafina directed her attention to Cara. “Whore! Your blood was not pure! See what you’ve done!”

  She turned toward the thing that had been Anthony. The creature stood in front of the coffin, unmoving except for his eyes, which were filled with confusion.

  “Mother, you’ve got to put him back,” Anton said. “You haven’t raised my father. You’ve raised a monster!”

  The thing that had been Anthony Loken turned its head and stared at Anton. “Son?” His voice was rusty with disuse.

  “Yes,” Serafina said, her smile radiant. “Our son.”

  “Liar!” Loken roared.

  “It’s true, my love.” Apparently unaware of any danger, Serafina moved toward Anthony, one hand outstretched, a smile of welcome on her face. “Anthony, my beloved, come to me.”

  Teeth bared, he reached for her. There was a sharp crack as he broke her neck, and then he tossed her aside.

  Anton took one look at his mother’s broken body and ran out the door and up the stairs.

  Fear congealed deep in Cara’s belly as Anthony Loken moved woodenly toward her. She screamed as he drew near, went weak with relief when he lumbered past her toward the stairway.

  Vince’s head snapped up as Cara’s voice rang out in his mind. He had no sense of where she was, only that she was terrified.

  With preternatural speed, he left The Nocturne. Where was she? He knew Mara could find anyone at any time, but he hadn’t yet perfected that part of his vampiric nature.

  However, some things came easy. A thought took him to the library. Sarah Beth told him that Cara had gone outside with Anton a little after six o’clock and hadn’t returned.

  “I went outside at six-thirty and she was gone, though her car’s still here, and so is her bodyguard’s. I called her cell phone a few times, but she’s not answering.” Sarah Beth shook her head. “I’ve spent the last half hour wondering if I should call the police. Do you think I should call them?”

  “No,” Vince said curtly. He didn’t want anyone to get hold of Anton before he did. Keeping a tight rein on his anger, he headed for Cara’s house, telling himself all the while that there was nothing to worry about. She had dated Anton before; perhaps she was dating him again. He didn’t believe it for a minute, but he clung to the thought in an effort to stave off an ever-increasing sense of dread.

  He knew her house was empty even before he rang the bell. Something was definitely wrong. He could feel it in his gut. Fighting down a growing sense of panic, he headed for DeLongpre’s house. He needed help, and he couldn’t think of anyone more qualified than her father.

  Brenna met him at the door. “Roshan, did you…Vince! What are you doing here?”

  “I’m looking for Cara. Do you know where she is?”

  “No, and it’s driving me crazy with worry. Roshan left here hours ago with Anton Bouchard.”

  “Bouchard!” Damn, what was Anton up to? Nothing good, that was for sure.

  “Yes, I wanted to go with them, but Roshan told me to stay here. I overheard Anton telling Roshan that his mother had Cara.”

  “Do you know where they might have gone?”

  “I have a feeling they’ve gone to that abandoned laboratory outside of town. I was just about to go out there.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “I sent Frank to check it out. He’s probably there by now.”

  “Let’s go.”

  It was strange, traveling at preternatural speed with another vampire. He had never done it before. They passed through the night like shadows, invisible to human eyes. It was a peculiar sensation. Like everything else in his new lifestyle, it had taken some practice to master, and some getting used to. He wondered how long it would take for things like shape sh
ifting and dissolving into mist to become second nature.

  They reached the lab in a matter of moments. One of DeLongpre’s cars was parked off the road, screened by a section of dense brush. Di Giorgio was waiting for them by the car. He carried a sawed-off shotgun. It looked very much at home in the crook of his arm.

  “Have you seen anything?” Brenna asked anxiously.

  “No. I circled the building. The only entrance is the front door, and it’s locked.”

  “Come on,” Brenna said. “Roshan’s in trouble.”

  Frank went first, followed by Brenna and Vince. Vince nodded in grim satisfaction as a blast of the shotgun shattered the lock. So much for the element of surprise, he mused as he followed the bodyguard and Cara’s mother down a flight of stairs, wondering, as he did so, why the threshold had no power to stop him. Perhaps it only worked on homes, he thought, and then he smelled blood and he knew the answer. Violence had been done here, shattering the threshold’s protective power.

  They paused in the first room before moving through it to another flight of stairs.

  Again, Di Giorgio went first, his shotgun at the ready.

  A cry of horror escaped Brenna’s lips when she entered the room at the bottom of the stairs.

  Coming up behind her, Vince swore a vile oath. The last vestiges of black magick hung heavy in the air, along with the scent of blood, death, and decay.

  He stared at the woman sprawled facedown on the floor. It was obvious, from the angle of her neck, that she was dead.

  He swept past Brenna to Cara. After freeing her from the restraints, he drew her into his arms. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “My dad…”

  Vince glanced at the vampire. Roshan’s eyes were closed, his skin the color of old parchment.

  Brenna reached for one of the straps holding her husband down only to let out a harsh cry of pain as the silver burned her hand. “Frank! Do something!”

  Setting the shotgun aside, Di Giorgio quickly removed the silver manacles that bound DeLongpre to the table.