by Linn Chapel
“Are you sure you’re alright, Holt?”
“My arm is unbroken, only bruised.” With a grimace, Holt peered down at his chest and tugged. His hand came away with an inch-long wooden peg, stained with his blood. “Utterly useless now that I’m human, but painful, nevertheless,” he muttered, tossing the peg aside.
He helped her down from the table and held her by the shoulders until her legs no longer wobbled. Then he leaned over to drag Eleanor’s body across the room to the hearth. “She’s dead, Tressa, but I cannot allow her corpse to be found.”
Taking up the remaining candle that still flickered on the mantle, he tossed it into the hearth. Tressa had learned during her training sessions that vampires dreaded any bodily contact with fire, and when she saw the speed with which Eleanor’s corpse burst into an upward rush of flames, she understood why.
A queasy feeling swept over Tressa as she gazed at the shriveling body within the flames. She swept a hand over her forehead.
Firmly, Holt drew her to the cottage door. “Don’t look anymore, Tressa. I should have made you leave the cottage, first.” They passed outside into the darkness where a burst of cold rain spattered down on them.
Holt brought her to a sheltered spot under the spreading branches of a tree. “Wait for me here, Tressa. I must retrieve the other corpse before we go. This cottage has had a reputation for being haunted ever since a notorious highwayman used it for his lair. He was hung from this very tree, in fact. I mustn’t allow the locals to find a body behind the cottage with a stake through its heart.” Holt left her to disappear around the corner of the cottage.
Tressa’s eyes rose to the heavy branches overhead. Her thoughts were still thrumming with so much tension that she could almost imagine the body of a highwayman hanging above her in the shadows. She quickly lowered her gaze and wrapped her arms about herself as she waited for Holt’s return.
The front windows of the cottage had been brightly glowing ever since she had emerged with Holt. When the light suddenly flared and grew even brighter, Tressa knew that the second body had just gone up in flames.
Before long the front door opened and a tall, dark figure appeared in the doorway, backlit by the glow of the fire. Then the door closed, and moments later, Holt’s arms were around her, pulling her up against his chest, holding her tightly.
“Why didn’t you dress for the rain?” he chided. He ran a hand over her wet hair, and then he took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“Holt,” she said unsteadily, “Was Eleanor the vampire who turned you?”
Holt’s hands dropped from her shoulders. “Yes. She was the one.”
“Why did she do it? And why did she hate you so much?”
It took long moments for Holt to answer. “I first met Eleanor two hundred years ago. She had arranged for us to be introduced. She later told me that she had seen me by chance at the theater and had been instantly smitten,” he said woodenly. “I had no inkling of what she was, not then, but her lack of human emotions repelled me. When I made it clear that I did not return her interest, her obsession with me grew and she made up her mind to turn me.”
“She had to have known that two vampires could never live together for long.”
Holt said bitterly, “Yes, she knew that I would eventually perish at her hands, or at the hands of another vampire. It was her intention to keep me at her estate in the country for as long as she could.”
“How could she take your destiny so lightly?” said Tressa, incensed.
Holt only shook his head and went on. “When her obsession with me grew, I decided to investigate some of the rumors about her that were passing among the servants in London. I began to realize that Eleanor might not be a human woman at all, but some kind of predator. I avoided her company after that, but she followed me home one night and entered my lodgings just a few steps behind me, without my knowledge. I heard the door being closed and locked and when I turned around, there she was, standing before me. I was unprepared for her mental powers and she mesmerized me very quickly. I was not conscious when she preyed upon me and made an exchange of blood.”
Tressa had been feeling more and more distraught as the tale unfolded, and now she uttered a soft cry of dismay.
Holt went on in a low and heavy voice. “She conveyed me that night by carriage to her country estate, where I languished for days as the changes within my body overcame me. When I became lucid again, she told me what she was, and what she had done, and what she expected of me in my new role as her consort.” There was a long silence. “But I had gained new powers and was stronger than I had ever dreamed was possible. With my new powers, I attempted to kill her. She was too quick for me then, but I was much more cunning than she had expected, and a fast learner. Eleanor wisely kept her distance after my first attempt to take her life. As the years passed, she turned a long series of human men into vampire servants for her own protection.”
How horrible, thought Tressa. She reached for Holt’s hands in the dark. “Finding out that your body was changing again without any warning must have brought back some bad memories.”
Holt gave her hands a squeeze. “It did. And both times it was a woman who had taken it upon herself to decide my fate for me. Believe me, Tressa, you are nothing like Eleanor! But to be tricked again – by a dose of blood again, no less – it was so difficult to bear, even though I would have eagerly chosen the transition myself if given the chance! Yet with the fever of the transition upon me, I was trapped. To speak of my distress, I would have had to explain about my past, about her. It seemed impossible at the time.”
“Now that I know about Eleanor, everything makes more sense.”
Holt said with sudden savagery, “I should have found a way to eliminate her long ago. I knew that she had never forgiven me for scorning her, and when I arrived here tonight, I was in agony. I thought she’d already captured you.”
“I hid outside, because I realized that something was wrong as soon as I heard Eleanor laughing,” Tressa explained. “It made no sense, for she’d left me a note that you’d been wounded in a fight with an intruder. I was convinced that you’d met up with someone from the Operation, or one of Ted and Margot’s half-turned vampire experiments, and I came as soon as I could. I was assuming that – that you and Eleanor...”
Holt’s hands came to rest on her waist. “I know that Eleanor found you before tonight and hurt you with her lies. Is that the reason you’ve been avoiding me, or have I only myself to blame?”
Tressa tried to laugh, but it was a painfully choked sound that emerged from her throat. “Eleanor’s story explained everything, or so I thought. It made me so miserable that I decided to leave England for good. I was going to call a taxi tomorrow morning before anyone else woke up.”
Holt gave her a strong shake. “You were very foolish to believe her, Tressa!” Roughly cupping her face with both hands, he tipped it to one side and kissed her, his mouth finding hers unerringly, even in the dark.
“Not only foolish, but idiotic,” he added in a moment. He tipped her head to the other side and kissed her again, longer this time, his arms coming around her so tightly she could barely breathe.
All of the sinister and frightening events that had just occurred quickly vanished from her mind, and she saw nothing of the darkness or the rain or the lurid light in the cottage windows.
Holt’s arms tightened even more about her as his kiss deepened. Her response must have pleased him, for soon he murmured, “It seems that you have not lost any of your regard for me, by some miracle.”
Taking her by the hand, Holt drew her away from the cottage. “This spot is cursed. We should not linger here any longer.”
Thirty-three
Together they dashed through the rain, following the narrow track through the dark fields with the aid of Tressa’s flashlight. When they came to Windy Top Cottage they ducked inside for Holt to gather a bundle of dry clothing, and then they ran the rest of the way to Cup Co
ttage.
As they stepped inside the front door, dripping with rainwater, the murmur of voices within the living room suddenly ceased. Tressa’s glance traveled about the room, taking in all the startled faces.
Luke was standing near the hearth with a chunk of firewood in his hands, frozen in the act of stoking the flames. Nearby in an armchair, Albert stared open-mouthed.
On the sofa sat Wesley Pendleton, who must have just arrived at Langley. His sunken eyes registered astonishment. Next to him, Peter leaned forward as his gaze darted over Tressa and Holt. Then he shot to his feet.
“Tressa, we’ve been searching everywhere for you! We couldn’t find Holt, either, and we thought you’d both been captured by the Operation – or even killed. Holt, why are you bleeding?”
Tressa turned quickly to Holt. In the bright light within Cup Cottage, she could make out a smear of blood on his neck that she hadn’t seen before.
Holt closed the door and stepped forward. “I was attacked by a vampire. But she’s dead now, along with her vampire associate.”
Peter and the others were left speechless by Holt’s terse account. Then Peter found his voice. “Vampires! The pair from London?”
Holt answered over his shoulder as he guided Tressa to the stairs. “Yes, the same. We’ll explain everything once we’ve changed into dry clothing.”
Upstairs, Tressa entered her chamber and unpacked the clothing she had gathered for her flight back to the United States only a little while ago. Her plans to leave England seemed strange and unreal to her, now.
After she’d changed, she opened her door just as Holt was emerging from the bathroom across the hallway, dressed in dry clothing as well. A possessive light entered his eyes as he caught sight of her.
Suddenly concerned, she peered more closely at his neck. “Holt, you’re still bleeding a bit. Come into the bathroom so that I can bandage you up.”
As she stood on tiptoe to clean the wound on his neck, she murmured unhappily, “There’s a pair of gashes instead of the usual punctures, and they’re not healing over as quickly as they should. If only I could have stopped Eleanor before she reached you.” Tressa found some bandaging in a cupboard and applied it, then stepped back a pace and looked up at him. “How much of your blood did she take? Are you feeling weak?”
“No. You interrupted her in time. She was planning to kill both of us, starting with me.”
The despair that Tressa had felt throbbed in her temples once again, like an aftershock. “I know, Holt. I could hear her speaking about it from outside the cottage.”
“I owe you my life, Tressa.”
“And I owe you mine. Several times over, in fact,” she pointed out softly.
The bandage Tressa had just applied to his neck reminded her of the night he had returned with the passports, bearing a nasty wound on his temple, one that had also required cleaning and bandaging. “Just try to stay out of danger from now on,” she added as they emerged from the bathroom. “Remember that you’re human, again.”
She turned and was about to descend the stairs when Holt stopped her, drawing her into his arms. “Tressa,” he murmured against her hair.
“Why are they taking so long?” complained Luke from downstairs.
Peter’s voice drifted upward. “At least they’re not fighting anymore.”
Holt uttered a low laugh and then he led her downstairs.
The others were disturbed to find that they had been joined at the Langley estate by a pair of vampires. Their reaction changed to shock when they learned the depths of Eleanor’s hatred, although Holt made no effort to elaborate on Eleanor’s reasons for desiring vengeance.
When all of the dangerous events had been recounted, Luke stared off into space, thinking. It didn’t take long for him to come up with a missing piece of information. “Eleanor’s the one who turned you, Holt.”
Holt groaned. “Yes, but I would rather not speak of it.”
Luke didn’t seem to hear that. His mind was apparently still churning out conclusions, for he added, “She must have been jealous of Tressa. That’s why she wanted to kill her.”
“Yes, Luke.” Holt rubbed a hand over his face and gave his head a shake. “Your psychic talent is very good, but even you might have a hard time guessing how relieved I feel now that Tressa is safe, and Eleanor is finally dead.”
Wesley stood up and crossed to the door. “Come, John, it’s time you slept. Then perhaps we can begin my own transition tomorrow evening, for that is the reason I returned to Langley.”
Holt gave a nod, but before he left Tressa’s side, he murmured next to her ear, “Until the morning, then.”
Exhaustion swept over Tressa after he’d departed with Wesley. Her feet were so heavy that she could barely climb the stairs. Reaching her chamber, she sank into the softness of the four-poster bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.
In the middle of the night, Tressa was roused from a deep sleep.
Tressa.
Her eyes were still closed, but she seemed to be in the middle of a soft gray void. The voice had to be coming from the trailing remnant of an earlier dream.
Tressa, it called again.
Suddenly, she realized that Holt was sitting nearby, on the edge of her bed. He reached out to caress her cheek, but she must have been very sleepy, for she couldn’t feel his touch at all.
“Holt! I never heard you come into the cottage,” she said, turning her head on the pillow to see him better and smiling drowsily up at him. She noticed that a faint pink light was surrounding them. It must be near dawn, she thought. “And you’ve never woken up this early in the morning, before now.”
His eyes were gleaming. “It’s not morning yet. As for the manner in which I arrived, I didn’t use the front door.”
Tressa sat up, blinking sleepily. “Are you playing some game with me?” she asked accusingly.
“Of course.” He leaned forward to give her a little kiss, but she couldn’t feel that either. “I came by to tell you that I have a journey planned for us. Meet me at Arbor Cottage for breakfast.”
“Breakfast,” she repeated, still feeling foggy. “Will you eat something, too?”
Holt laughed. “Yes, and Hugh will be watching me with relief. When he came upon me eating a scone the other day he nearly fainted with surprise, and so I thought it was time to take him aside and explain about the transition. He’s still not over the shock, I’m afraid, but at least he’s no longer so worried about you.”
“Why would he worry about me?”
Holt’s eyes were filled with amusement. “Why, because he thought I was bound to turn you, sooner or later. He was suffering from a terrible sense of guilt, for he confessed to me that he had decided not to lift a finger to intervene. He thought you and I might find happiness that way, for he didn’t know that two vampires could never live together.”
“Poor Hugh,” said Tressa, smiling. “All his worrying was for naught.”
Holt leaned closer. “You look very lovely when you’re sleepy, Tressa.”
Her heart began to race as he gazed down at her.
“I’ll be waiting for you at Arbor Cottage when you wake.” He passed a hand downward through the air in front of her face. Her eyelids seemed to close in response, for her vision went dark.
Drowsiness came over her, but the suspicion that she had only been dreaming about Holt’s presence made her turn over onto her other side, feeling disappointed.
Just to be sure, she reopened her eyes, rose from bed, and crossed the room to stand by one of the windows. Hoping that she’d catch a glimpse of Holt leaving by the front gate, she opened the window and leaned her head outside. Down below, darkness lay over the land. There was no hint of the pinkish light she had noticed earlier.
There was no sign of Holt, either. His visit must have been just a dream, after all.
A bit deflated, she closed the window and returned to bed.
When she woke again, the brightness of a clear blue sky showed bey
ond the diamond-paned windows. The day was warm, so she changed into the white embroidered sundress she had bought in London, washed up in the bathroom, and exited the cottage.
As she passed through the garden gate and entered the lane, she wondered a bit wistfully when she’d see Holt. Despite her odd dream, she knew that all the changes of the transition had been keeping him abed late, and she decided that the earliest she’d see him would be around lunchtime.
As she arrived outside Arbor Cottage, she could hear the murmur of voices from within. Hoping to have a cup of tea and some breakfast before Peter and Luke caught her up into a worrisome discussion about the Operation, Tressa made her way around the side of the cottage to the rear door.
To her amazement, she found that Holt had already risen for the morning and was standing near the kitchen table with a plate of muffins. He turned when Tressa entered and his eyes swept over her in a brief inspection.
“You look even more lovely in that dress than you did last night with your head on the pillow.”
“So, you were there!”
Holt calmly lifted a muffin and took a bite. “In a manner of speaking.”
Tressa drew in a quick breath, for the most likely explanation had just occurred to her. “Holt, you could have told me.”
He laughed. “Why spoil the fun?”
“We should use our psychic link to communicate with each other,” she warned, “not to stir up mischief.”
“Mischief? How much mischief can I stir up, given the fact that I can’t even touch you?” Holt murmured as he poured her a cup of tea. “Have some breakfast, Tressa. We’re about to leave on a short journey.”
“But Holt, what about the Operation? Ted Johnson has traced us to England,” she reminded him as she sipped from her cup.
“We’ll take the risk. Your brothers were about to take a trip to Bath themselves, but I’m afraid they were forced to alter their plans.”
