Blood Red (22 page)

Jonas didn't move from Deanna's sid, sticking so close that. there was no way for Lauren to actually get near her. But there was also no way she was leaving her. Not even if Sean Canady was the one sitting guard.

However, the rest of the night passed without incident.

She discovered that she had fallen asleep when the nurse came in at the crack of dawn to change the IV and check on Deanna's vital signs.

Lauren felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Sean Canady. “Come on. I'm taking you home.”

“I can't leave her,” she whispered, indicating Jonas.

“Yes you can. Bobby is on duty. He'll sit right here in the room, and he won't be alone.”

She looked over Sean's shoulder, to the very attractive, auburn haired woman standing behind him. She introduced herself as Maggie Canady, Sean's wife.

“I swear, your friend will be safe,” she vowed.

Lauren was exhausted and knew she really did need to sleep. She might be insane to be so trusting, but if she didn't accept these people, she might as well lie down and die then and there. They were all she had.

The sun was out as Sean drove her back to Montresse House. Birds were singing. Pretty ones, in beautiful colors.

He let her off at the end of walk.

“Aren't you coming in?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “Stacey knows you're here. Look, she's got the door open already.”

“You have to work?”

He looked away. “I have an autopsy to attend,” he said wearily.

“The second girl who was found in the Mississippi?” she asked.

He paused for a moment, then handed her a newspaper from the back seat. She saw the headline as he spoke.

“Third victim,” he said briefly.

“It's like…one a night,” she murmured.

Sean shrugged. “Actually, it could be worse. Stephan Delansky is apparently keeping his minions in check and killing just enough to make sure that law officials up and down the Mississippi wind up chasing their tails.”

“He has to be stopped,” Lauren said.

“Yes, he does. But not by you, especially not now. Go get some sleep,” he told her.

She started to exit the car, then paused. “Mark?”

“Mark will be all right. Go on in.”

She obeyed at last. Stacey was waiting for her at the door, and w2hen Lauren entered, Stacey stepped outside, waved to Sean, then looked around—upward. Seemingly satisfied that no one was there, she followed Lauren inside and closed the door.

“Coffee's on,” she told Lauren. “Except maybe you don't want coffee. It would just keep you up. But I made waffles, and they're delicious. Eat, grab a shower, curl up and get some sleep.”

“What about Heidi?” Lauren asked her.

“Heidi's doing well. I gave her a sedatives, enough to keep her out for a while. She won't be doing any communicating until she's had some time to get rid of the…infection.”

Lauren looked around warily. “How do you know that, er…
evil
can't get in?”

Stacey laughed. “Take a good look around. See the planters? We water them very carefully—with holy water. And if you if you take a good look at the way the windows are constructed, you'll see that the beams are crosses. There's also garlic powder worked into some of the molding. Trust me, we have any number of protective devices here. Of course, you still have to be careful.”

Stacey led the way to the kitchen, reached into the microwave and produced a plate for Lauren. “Sit down. Eat.”

Lauren discovered that she was famished, and the waffles were as delicious as Stacey had promised. “Are we safe by day?”

“Saf
er
,” Stacey said. “Vampires—good and evil—are at their greatest strength at night. And I sincerely doubt Stephan will attack by day. He's not some idiotic young vampire, out to feed his way through the city. Not that many would be that stupid—this being the home of the Alliance.”

“What?” Lauren said.

“The Alliance.”

Lauren frowned, shaking her head. “So Jonas was telling the truth.”

“That there is an alliance of…shall we say…other worldly beings who make their home here? Yes. Unfortunately, Stephan knew right when to hit this area. Almost everyone's away. I just hope they'll return in time.”

“You hope?”

“Don't be afraid. Mark clearly knows his enemy. And Sean and Maggie—well, no one knows more than they do. It's really too bad that Jessica's partner, isn't here. Guardians are…are ancient and because of that, they're powerful. Very few…people have survived since the middle ages. Look, it's all right. Sean's officers are more than capable of handling vampires. I mean, he doesn't give classes on fighting vampires, 101, or anything like that. There are just some guys on his squad who naturally…know. It's not so difficult, really. If you have believe in a higher power, you believe in good. If you believe in good, you have to believe in evil. I'm sorry. I'm getting very complicated here, and you probably just want to get some sleep. Would you like more waffles?”

“What?” Lauren realized she'd been drowsing and had barely heard whatever Stacey was saying.

“Waffles. Would you like more waffles? You've cleaned your plate.”

“Oh, no, thank you. They were delicious. I guess…I guess I'll just peek in on Heidi and then get some sleep myself, if that's okay?”

“Sure.”

They went upstairs, where Stacey opened one of the bedroom doors. Heidi was soundly sleeping, cradling a stuffed Teddy bear.

“Bobby won it at the fair,” Stacey explained.

“Nice. Thank you,” Lauren told her.

“No prob. Call me if you need me,” Stacey said, heading back downstairs.

First things first. In her own room, Lauren took a long, hot shower after realizing just how…grimy she was. The thought that the specks of soot on to her flesh and in her hair were the remnants of evil beings was not a pleasant one. She scrubbed herself vigorously, then repeated the process.

At last, though, sated from the waffles, clean and warm, she practically crashed down on her bed, images spinning through her mind. Vampires. Shadows. Darkness. Bats. Amorphous shapes that solidified in the night. Terrible things. Evil creatures….

And Mark.

Mark last night.

She curled into the mattress. Mark was all right. Sean Canady had assured her that he was fine. Safe.

At last she slept.

And later…he came to her.

She thought she was dreaming at first. That she heard his voice because she longed to hear it. That he was touching her, his fingers running through her hair, because she wanted to be touched.

“Lauren.”

She realized that he was really there, at her side. Blue eyes deep as midnight, yet brilliant as the day. The contours of his face as rugged and strong as ever, but the look in his eyes so tender.

Then he was kissing her.

Lips moving on hers, coaxing, powerful. His hands sliding over her, cupping her breasts, traveling down to her hips.

She wasn't dreaming. He was with her.

Making love to her.

And, oh, God, it was good.

She curled into his arms, returned his kisses with searing wet ardor, broke away, kissed and teased and laved his flesh. Somehow the nightgown she had donned after her shower was gone. Somehow his naked flesh was erotically close to her own. She felt the hardness of his arousal against her, the vitality of him, the pressure of his muscles and movement. The drapes were drawn, only a touch of the sun entering, and it seemed he was bathed in gold. It was as if real fire emanated from her when he touched her, that the elements themselves combined to arouse and seduce her.

She had never known such a lover. He had clearly decided to go slow. She had met his first caress so easily, only to discover she was firmly pressed back again and again, that he wanted to stroke each niche and curve of her, the brush of his fingers followed by the pressure and caress of his lips and tongue. He traced a slow pattern on her flesh, making her ache and writhe as he moved from her throat to her collarbone, breasts, midriff, belly, thighs…until he delved intimately between them, driving her to a point of madness, a point of searing climax…and then took her there again.

His lips were forceful, his entire body thrusting in a way that seemed to penetrate her every pore, even her very mind. She thought she might well die as she arched against him, seeking more and more and more of him, or at the very least that she would go mad. But then the sweet delirium of climax burst upon her again, and his flesh against her flesh, their hearts thundering, pulses racing, breathing coming in gasps of wind….

Then dying down.

She didn't lie quietly at his side, waiting for the wonder to subside. Instead she sat up, staring at him, frowning, worried. “You're all right?” she asked anxiously.

“I thought I was much more than that, actually,” he teased.

She almost hit him.

“I'm serious. You escaped him, but you were hurt. How in God's name…?”

“I'm all right,” he said quietly. “Really.”

She hopped up, comfortable with him, heedless of her nudity, anxious to see him clearly and assure herself that he really was completely well.

She turned on the light and went back to his side, then searched him head to toe, anxiously, with her eyes, with her touch.

“You…you're not even bruised.”

“I'm tough,” he told her. “Worn, rugged and tough,” he added with a soft laugh.

“I was so worried when you didn't come back.”

He reached up, his eyes on hers as he touched her cheek. “You were worried? So was I. Trusting Jonas wasn't easy.”

“He took me straight to the Square.”

He nodded, looking down for a moment. “Sean had told me he was pretty sure the guy was decent.”

“Deanna…liked him,” she murmured.

“Yeah, well, I guess he was there at the right time last night,” he said. “Still…I don't like it. The thing is, though, I have to find Stephan's hideout. His lair.”

Lauren frowned. “You're certain that he has…a lair?” she asked slowly.

“Of course.”

“Well, excuse me if I'm asking silly questions, but…accepting that vampires exist is still new to me. So…does he have a coffin somewhere? Native earth and all that?”

He was looking at the ceiling, his expression serious, and he gave no hint that she was asking something bizarre. “It's not as complicated as you think. He has native earth somewhere. A place where he can go to rest…to heal, if he's wounded. But he has to have a place large enough for his followers, togo.” He turned and looked at her, suddenly almost angry. “Where the hell did you go last night? Why did you leave the hospital? You know it's not safe for you to be out alone.”

She was startled by the question. And though she didn't know why, she didn't want to tell him the whole truth.

“I…I thought it might be important to find the fortune-teller.”

He frowned. “The woman in your sketch?”

She nodded.

“Did you find her?”

“No.” Why had she lied? She wasn't sure. Then she knew. Susan had given her that paper, the copy of whatever she had found at the library, and Lauren realized that she wanted to read it herself. To see if it was something that made some kind of sense. Her meeting with the woman had been unnerving.

She felt very guilty about the lie, however, so, without prompting, she began to explain. “I don't think I ever told you. I…I saw Stephan in her crystal ball. The night we arrived, Heidi and Deanna wanted to have our fortunes told. Susan had a little tent and a crystal ball. And when I looked into it, Stephan appeared.”

His expression grave, he asked, “Why didn't you tell me this before?” He was still angry, she realized, but trying to keep his temper leashed.

“I'm sorry—but you didn't exactly seem sane at first.”

“But since then…” He closed his eyes, shook his head. She could almost hear the grating of his teeth.

He sat up, then rose, reaching for his pants. “So that's when and how he found you,” he said quietly. “I'll see if I can find the woman. See what else she may be able to tell us. And
you
—you have to be extremely careful. No—I mean
no
—wandering off on your own. Please, Lauren, I'm begging you.”

She nodded, watching him. “He's killed again, you know. They found a third body in the river.”

He swore, pulling up his jeans. “He has to be found. And stopped,” he said grimly.

“What do I do…what
can
I do, about Deanna? And Heidi,” she added.