Stop scaring yourself. Strong emotion can make you a target. So calm down and quit broadcasting, already!
Britt couldn’t tell how nervous Eloise was. Eloise edged along the building with a faint smile on her lips, as if the joy of taking positive action outweighed all the negatives. A couple of feet from the closed door she reached out to tap with her fingernails and spoke Gillian’s name.
No answer. Britt clutched the flashlight in a sweat-slick hand, reminding herself to stay put, not to increase the risk by any rash outburst.
Eloise said, “Gillian, are you in there? It’s us, Britt and Eloise. Please come out and talk to me.”
The door inched open. Eloise sprang back. The opening widened just enough to admit a human form. Gillian sidled out. She immediately closed the door behind her.
A gleam of red in her eyes, she stared at Eloise, who retreated several yards from the building. “Come with us, Gillian,” she said softly. “Hurry, before she wakes.”
Gillian took one step in Eloise’s direction. “You should not be here without protection. Why didn’t Roger come?”
As quietly as she could manage, though painfully conscious of the tap of her shoes on the pavement, Britt walked up beside Eloise. “Don’t worry about that. Come on, we have to get you away from that creature.”
Gillian’s eyes flashed between the two women. “You don’t understand. Camille will destroy you. She doesn’t care about the risk—she kills. If I go with you, she’ll track us down.”
Eloise clenched her fists in frustration. “No, I don’t understand! Let’s get out of here, and you can explain later.”
Gillian glanced over her shoulder at the door she’d emerged from. “I can’t escape her. We are bonded. She—forced me.” She lowered her eyes as if ashamed of the admission. “I do not want to cause your death.”
Eloise stepped forward and clasped Gillian’s hands. The girl flinched but neither pulled free nor attacked. “I won’t abandon you to that—monster,” said Eloise, tears trickling down her cheeks.
Suddenly Britt saw the door behind them swing open. Britt swept the flashlight beam across the space. She saw only a shadow that flitted across her field of vision.
An instant later Camille materialized beside Eloise.
Before Britt could move, Camille wrenched Eloise from Gillian’s grasp. Leaping backward, dragging Eloise with her, the vampire woman stood with her back against the wall. One arm encircled Eloise’s waist, pinning her arms to her side. Camille’s other hand covered Eloise’s mouth and bent her head sideways to expose her neck above the coat collar.
“Please,” Gillian hissed. “There is no reason to harm her.”
For an answer, Camille grinned and leaned over to bare her teeth an inch from Eloise’s throat.
AT THE DOOR of Britt’s apartment Roger barely paused for a mental probe. The stillness instantly told him Claude was asleep and wouldn’t hear a knock. Still asleep, this far into twilight? Using his key to open the door, Roger felt a pleasant coolness; they had turned the heat down to sixty or so. He hurried to the main bedroom.
A ghost of Britt’s fragrance lingered in the room. Claude lay face down on the queen-size bed, naked, with the sheets flung back to expose him to the cool air. His lack of response to Roger’s steady gaze revealed the depth of Claude’s weariness. Roger wouldn’t have disturbed him for anything less than this emergency.
“Claude, wake up.” No response. This is worse than I thought. He placed a hand on his brother’s bare shoulder and began to turn him over.
Claude exploded out of torpor. Face contorted in a growl, his eyes aflame, he pounced like a rabid tiger. He threw Roger to the floor and landed on top of him, going for his throat. The mindless rage scalded Roger, clouding his mind also. He barely managed to raise an arm to block the attack. Claude’s teeth slashed his wrist.
Claude’s frenzy detonated inside Roger’s skull, blazed through his veins. Unthinkingly he backhanded Claude and leaped on him. Kneeling on Claude’s chest, Roger clamped his hands around his brother’s neck. He couldn’t distinguish between his own panic and rage and the other’s.
A silent cry from Britt pierced the crimson fog like a laser beam. Roger let out a long, trembling breath. He shifted his grip from neck to shoulders, digging his nails into Claude’s flesh. The scent of Claude’s blood, mingled with his own, stung his nose. “Wake up!”
When he saw recognition in Claude’s eyes, he stood up. Claude pulled himself cautiously to his feet. “Damn it, you should know better! Can you imagine how close you came to getting your throat ripped out?”
Roger compressed his wrist and concentrated to stop the bleeding. “I didn’t realize you were operating on a hair trigger. You were so deep under—”
“Well, you should have!” Claude snarled. He rubbed at the oozing scratches on one shoulder.
Yes, I should—I saw how edgy he’s been the last couple of days. Cut off from communion with his lover, Claude was suffering from withdrawal like any addict deprived of a drug.
Claude reached for the clothes he’d left folded on the brocade-covered chair. “You’ve matured, little brother. Ten years ago you couldn’t have taken me. Well, what’s so damned urgent?”
“Britt and Eloise—”
Claude went rigid, eyes blank. His inner senses blasted open by the violent clash and the shedding of blood, Roger felt Claude groping along the psychic cord that linked him to Eloise. A second later Claude erupted into action, scrambling into his clothes. “Bloody hell, what are they doing?”
“Eloise had some farfetched scheme of tracking down Camille and Gillian and using herself as bait. Britt went along to keep an eye on her. It seems they’ve found their quarry.”
Fingers flying down a row of shirt buttons, Claude said, “Why didn’t Britt stop her? And her leaving didn’t wake me—” His hurt seared Roger’s own chest like a raw wound. “Are we really that far out of touch?”
“Not necessarily,” Roger said. “I didn’t sense Britt leaving either. Both of us are simply worn out.”
Claude pulled on a black turtleneck over the half-buttoned shirt and shuffled into his shoes. “If Eloise took the rented car over to your place, we’re stuck with your Citroen.”
“Yes, and I’m driving. You don’t know the area well enough, and Britt has already given me directions.”
“Agreed.” They raced downstairs and around the block to the cul-de-sac where the car was parked.
All the way across the river to Interstate 97, Claude fidgeted. Early evening on a Monday was the worst possible time to make any speed between Annapolis and Severna Park, but Roger figured they would get there faster by following the freeway to the exit nearest their destination than crawling up Ritchie Highway past innumerable traffic lights. Claude’s fear made Roger feel as if he were standing naked in an icy wind. I’m too open to him—I don’t like this at all! When they finally turned off 97 onto Route 2, Claude cursed under his breath at the line of traffic stretching into the distance. “Can’t you step on it? Pass the blasted idiots and get moving!”
“Not unless you want to lose five more minutes dealing with one of Anne Arundel County’s finest. And to answer your next question, there’s no practical shortcut by way of side roads.”
Claude subsided, glaring out the window at the stretch of woods that flanked the highway. Roger said, “Try to relax. You won’t do any good by gnawing both of us to death with anxiety. Britt and Eloise are safe thus far. Here’s the intersection. We’re almost there.”
Minutes later, he felt Britt scream inside his head. Through her eyes, he saw Camille grab Eloise.
I’M NOT PREPARED for this! Britt squeezed the flashlight, wishing it were a gun. No, I’d probably end up shooting Eloise. I didn’t seriously believe we’d find them, or I’d have thought to bring a weapon.
“Let her go,” Gillian persisted. “She’s done nothing to harm you.” She fingered the cross at her neck in an oddly human gesture of anxiety.
&
nbsp; “Human standards of justice don’t matter to us,” Camille said. “For my purpose, one ephemeral is much like another.” She spread her fingers to cover Eloise’s mouth and nose at once. Freeing her other hand, she slammed her fist into Eloise’s temple.
Eloise wilted, stunned. Hoisting the unconscious woman in her arms, Camille bounded like a doe toward the back of the complex.
Gillian stared after her, then threw an anxious glance at Britt. “If I don’t come with her, she will—” Gillian raced after Camille.
To Britt’s eyes, Camille seemed to flicker in and out of existence as she ran from light into shadow and out again. Britt thought she saw the vampire’s upper torso sprout luminously pale wings. Here? She can’t be that reckless! Britt trailed after Gillian, who ran in Camille’s wake. Scarcely able to keep them in sight, Britt glimpsed only darting silhouettes.
At the rear of the buildings she caught up in time to witness Camille soaring over the high chain-link fence, still carrying Eloise. With a glint of red-tinged eyes, Gillian glanced back at Britt, then scaled the fence. Near the top her climb merged into a leap, so that for an instant she seemed suspended in the air. She sprang to the ground on the other side running so fast that Britt saw only a blur. Camille, however, gliding overhead in her winged form, provided a clear reference point.
Britt wasted no time staring after the fugitive. She ran for the entrance at an uneven pace, her shoulder purse awkwardly thumping against her side. Her lungs labored; she was used to jogging, not sprinting. Gulping the cold air made her throat sore. Scrambling under the vehicle barrier, she dashed for the car. Her hand shook when she tried to jam the key into the ignition. She knew she needed to collect herself with a few deep breaths but was afraid of wasting the minute or two that would take.
What’s the hurry? she thought as she whipped the car around. She’ll wait for me. She wants me to follow her; why else would she make such a flashy exit? Eloise is just bait for me and Roger.
Sure enough, Camille hovered in the sky less than a mile away, circling like a giant, moth-winged vulture. I wonder how many UFO reports we’ll see in the paper tomorrow? Britt steered the car in the direction of her quarry’s flight. In the back of her mind she felt Roger approaching.
The side streets feeding onto Ritchie Highway bustled with going-home traffic. Perhaps, after all, few people would notice the creature gliding overhead; they were too busy watching stoplights and competing for gaps in the passing lane. Camille seemed to be flying parallel to the highway. After several minutes she veered off to the right.
Muttering curses, Britt inched into the right lane of the feeder road she was on and cut through a restaurant’s parking lot. An irate chorus of horns beeped behind her. The chase led her toward an unfinished stretch of the projected Route 50 extension. When Camille began to drift downward, Britt found herself pulling up to a spur of roadway blocked with cones and Do Not Enter signs. She parked on the shoulder and got out. Camille had sunk out of sight behind the trees. Rather than deal with the encumbrance, Britt locked her purse in the car and tucked the keys in her slacks pocket.
She trotted up the unfinished grade, past the hulks of deserted earth-moving equipment. Blacktop soon gave way to dirt and gravel. Britt caught herself panting again. Good grief, I thought I was in better shape. Rounding a curve, she froze.
The site was a future overpass. Vehicle lights and the roar of engines below told her she was standing above a four-lane highway. Camille stood about a yard from the edge, her arms clasping Eloise around the waist. There was no railing. The quiver of Camille’s wings suggested she might glide aloft at any second. Gillian confronted her from a few feet away.
Britt wished she had the night vision to distinguish details. Gillian bent forward, her arms reaching, as if poised to spring but afraid to. Her eyes gleamed like Camille’s. Eloise stirred feebly in her captor’s grip.
“Isn’t this what you want?” Camille hissed the words. “Come and take her. She wants to serve you—she will enjoy it. Haven’t you been yearning for just this chance?”
“Not like this!” Gillian cried.
“I’m disappointed in you. Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said? Her life is no longer than a butterfly’s compared to yours. Why should a few years, more or less, keep you from sharing that pleasure with her? Come on, prove you deserve to be one of us.”
Gillian raised her arms, fists clenched. “Claude is purebred, and he doesn’t treat them like animals. I would rather enjoy them the way he does.”
“For what? At most, one of their brief lifetimes. And then what are you left with? Nothing but a grief our kind should be above.”
“Gillian, don’t listen!” Britt called. “Camille, stop playing games. You don’t want Eloise. You want me. Let her go, and I’ll surrender to you.” She felt the pressure of Camille’s eyes upon her. “You know I’m not lying. I’m ready to face you. Or are you too much of a coward to handle a donor who’s not unconscious or scared witless?”
“Why should I make a trade,” Camille said, “when Gillian and I can have both of you?”
RORGER FOLLOWED BRITT’S silent call to the half-finished road. Beside him Claude expelled loud, hissing breaths and exuded a rage that shimmered in the air like a scarlet mist.
“Steady,” Roger said as he braked behind Britt’s Porsche. “We can’t help them by losing control.”
The truism was lost on Claude, who leaped out of the car before the wheels stopped spinning. Together they raced up the curve to the incomplete overpass. The tableau that faced them shocked even Claude into immobility.
Camille held them in checkmate. At their slightest move to attack she could fling Eloise onto the highway below. Eloise’s eyelashes fluttered. She let out a moan, then suddenly doubled over in Camille’s loose embrace, retching. Nothing came out. When she straightened up, she shivered in the frigid wind but met the newcomers’ eyes with a weak smile. Roger and Claude flanked Britt, watching Gillian edge toward Camille.
“I don’t want this,” Gillian said. “If I aid you in stealing Claude’s—lover, I’ll be as outcast as you are.”
With a snarl Camille jerked on Eloise’s hair. Eloise emitted an involuntary groan but refused to scream. “Too late, cub, you’re already an outcast—as my bond-mate, what else can you be? Our destinies are linked. Come here and satisfy your hunger. Haven’t you heard, a knowing victim who’s been had by someone else makes the best of all feasts.”
Roger felt bloodlust pouring off Camille, immersing Gillian, who inched forward like steel to a magnet. She craves human blood! How could this happen? She’s too young.
“What’s stopping you?” Camille’s attention focused on taunting Gillian. She held Eloise loosely, almost casually, as if trusting in her strength to thwart any attempt at flight. “Are you still trying to be part human? It’s hopeless, so why waste energy on it? You’ll always be a monster to them.”
“Not to Britt and Eloise.” Gillian panted with thirst.
“Yes, even them. Why do you think they want to feed you? Because they’re sorry for you. Poor freak—poor little monster! Is that what you want? To twist your nature out of shape just to earn pity from your inferiors?”
Gillian’s lips writhed in a sound between a snarl and a moan.
“Gillian, she’s lying!” Britt cried. “My feelings are open to you. You know that isn’t how I see you!”
“Are you prepared to spend eternity as neither fish nor fowl?” Camille persisted. “Take her! Don’t wait for their pity to give you what is yours by right. Claim what you need—show me you’re really one of us!”
In a predatory crouch with her fingers curved like talons, Gillian crept closer. Her mind boiled with such confusion that Roger couldn’t sort out the emotions she projected. Grinning, Camille scored Eloise’s neck with her index fingernail. The sharp scent of blood pierced the frosty air.
A growl rumbled in Claude’s chest. Roger, unable to shut out what Claude projected, sensed his muscles
knotted with the agony of restraint.
“Don’t do it,” Britt whispered.
Eloise rested limp in Camille’s grasp. While Camille’s eyes bored into Gillian, Eloise tilted her head as if in invitation. She slowly turned in Camille’s embrace and put an arm around the vampire’s shoulders. Distracted from Gillian, Camille looked down at her unexpectedly cooperative victim.
Eloise reached over Camille’s shoulder to the nearer of the shimmering wings. She grabbed the delicate membrane and gave it a fierce wrench. Camille howled in torment. Her pain blazed out, engulfing Roger.
In the back of his mind he was thankful that the traffic noise on the highway would drown out her scream. He watched Eloise break free and run. She lurched out of the vampire’s reach and fell headlong on the ground. Instantly Claude leaped between his wife and Camille.
Roger helped Eloise to her feet, keeping one eye on Camille. Simultaneously, Gillian lashed out at Camille with all the force of her revulsion. Along the enforced bond that linked them, the child’s rage crackled like a bolt of electricity down a lightning rod. Roger saw Camille’s aura coruscate with the untamed energy.
Chained by the tie of her own making, Camille had no defense against Gillian’s anger. Collapsing to her hands and knees at the edge of the drop-off, the woman convulsed in agony. Her appearance oscillated from human to beast and back again, finally subsiding into her normal shape. To Roger’s ears, the wind that gusted around them seemed shot through with peals of thunder. It took him a moment to realize that the roar sounded only inside his head.
Claude lunged toward Camille. Their auras clashed like a pair of exposed high-tension wires crossing in a cascade of sparks. The woman struggled to rise and face her attacker. She succeeded only in getting up on one knee before Claude seized her. With one hand knotted in the tangle of her unbound black hair, he slashed her throat with the claws of his other hand.
Child of Twilight Page 30
