Authors: Jean Lorrah
“Gruesomely,” he agreed. “It heals overnight, but that doesn't keep it from hurting. I'm lucky, though, to have some natural color in my skin. Northern European types stay very pale. That was one reason I suspected Rett Land."
Because he had appeared so old, Brandy had found no significance in Land's pallor. “You think he died of natural causes?"
“I think so,” Dan told her. “I assume our cells, too, lose the ability to reproduce accurately. Just the timing is different—in most people it happens gradually; in vampires it's sudden. But that is just a theory.
“Brandy, I don't have all the answers. Vampire lore is a mass of contradictions and superstitions, not scientific studies. I don't know how long I can expect to live before I wear out, the way Rett did."
“You said you can be killed by destroying your heart or brain,” said Brandy. “The Andersons’ murderer knew that."
“Beheading also kills us,” Dan said, “or burning. Such forms of execution were once used so if criminals were vampires they wouldn't come back from the dead. There's supposed to be another method, draining out all the vampire's blood, but that's pretty hard to do. It's easier to cut the vampire's head off, or burn him at the stake."
Brandy shuddered. “What about the traditional stake through the heart?"
“That would pretty well destroy it,” said Dan. “Mr. Pointy is not the safest way to kill a vampire, though."
“Why not?"
“Most people don't know exactly where the heart is, and ribs can deflect the blow. Miss, and you've got one very angry vampire."
“I see,” said Brandy. “And you wouldn't lie still for it, either. I already know you don't sleep in a coffin.” That reminded her of something else. She took his hand, as warm as her own, and felt at the wrist for a pulse. A reassuring beat thrummed beneath her finger.
“I'm not dead, Brandy. I'm a genetic variant, not a walking corpse."
“It sounds as if being a vampire is a pretty good thing."
“In some ways. Sunburn, hurting yourself because your body doesn't develop defenses—those are minor annoyances. Missing teeth in a young, healthy person were the mark of a vampire in the Middle Ages, because teeth wear out with age. Now we have them repaired, capped, crowned. It's easier than ever to be a vampire today.
“The hard parts are the same as always, though: making friends, loving people, and leaving them behind. Either they die, or you watch them grow old while you don't. Eventually you fake your own death and go away, never to know what happened to them."
“I see,” said Brandy again.
But Dan wasn't finished. “The worst part is the Craving. Each month at the full moon I must hunt."
“You've never killed."
“That's right. But—I'm capable of it. I—lose control, Brandy. You have to know the whole, ugly truth."
His eyes met hers again. “When the Craving is in me, I know what drug addicts suffer when they need a fix. I won't kill my donor—we are in too close rapport. But I fear someone else coming between me—and my—prey. If anyone tried to stop me, I'm afraid I might kill, like some mindless beast."
Brandy remained silent for a time, trying to digest all he had told her. But there were still questions. “You said you were married."
“Yes."
“Your wife knew what you are."
“Yes."
“Do you have children?"
“No. It was over forty years ago. In those days people didn't rush to fertility clinics when they weren't pregnant in a few months of trying. When Megan finally went to a doctor—he found cancer. Today she might have survived. In those days, despite surgery and radiation, she was dead within a year."
Forty years ago. Far longer than Brandy had been alive. Yet Dan still felt the dull ache of a wound healed, but not without a scar.
“I searched for other vampires after that,” Dan continued. “I thought I could avoid such pain by befriending, possibly loving, my own kind. I did find one other vampire, a woman. She told me what I really needed—but she could not be that for me, nor I for her."
Brandy could feel him wanting her to ask what that was, but resisted the compulsion, seeking other information first. “How long do you expect to live?"
“I don't know. Possibly centuries."
Brandy slid away from him. “In thirty years I'll be old,” she said. “In fifty years, I'll likely be dead."
“No,” he said calmly.
“Dan, I don't want an affair."
“I don't either,” he replied. “I want to marry you."
“And put yourself through what happened with your first wife? I don't have a fatal disease that I know of, but you'd feel awful watching me age, and I'm vain enough not to want to watch you not age. What would we do, change our identities in a few years, to pass me off as your mother?"
“Brandy, you don't have to age that fast."
“You said you couldn't turn me into a vampire."
“I can't. But you and I have something I didn't have with Megan. I had decided it was just another myth. Now I know it's possible."
She saw it coming: if she wouldn't ask, then he would tell her. “Brandy, you are my perfect match."
“What, blood type?” she quipped angrily.
“No. It's a mental, physical, and emotional match. From the moment we met I sensed it. You did, too. Not only do I know your thoughts, but you know mine. And you can influence me. No one I've ever met before can do that."
“You want that?"
“When it goes both ways.” He turned her to face him, searching her eyes. “I don't want to change you. I can't hurt you—it would hurt me equally. Can't you tell that we're made for one another?"
Although she could not deny the feeling, she said, “I suppose with your hypnotic powers you could offer some wild emotional high—but it wouldn't be real. Loving you would eat the heart out of my life, so that when you left me—"
“I won't leave you!"
“You'll have to change identities and move on, leaving me too old to get married and have children, and possibly incapable of loving anyone else."
“I want you to have my children."
“Is that possible?"
“Of course it is. It's true any child of mine might be a vampire. I don't know the statistical probabilities. Unless you carry the gene too, I think they're zero, but if it happens our child would be better off than I was. I could at least tell him what I know."
Brandy had never been one to follow her feelings and face the consequences later, so she refused the urge to collapse into his arms like the heroine of some insipid romance. “We could get married,” she said, “and go on living here in Murphy for fifteen or twenty years."
“Longer,” he said, “either here or elsewhere. I would want to retain my present identity until our children are grown. How many children do you want, Brandy?"
“Two, I think. Do you want more?"
“I'm just glad you want kids, because I've missed that. I'll take one or a dozen, whatever makes you happy. Assume two, and assume for the sake of argument we have them within five years. Another twenty-five years to be sure they're okay. We can make it work with a little makeup and acting."
“Thirty years,” said Brandy. “Lots of people never get that long. Dan, I think I would be happy with you—but I don't know how badly that happiness would be spoiled by knowing when it would end."
“But we don't know,” he said.
“Not to the day. But about thirty years from now you'll have to leave me—and of course you could decide to leave sooner."
“You don't understand. You will be in a symbiotic relationship with me. The information is scanty, so I don't know if it's a side effect of excellent health or a benefit in itself, but you will live an exceptionally long life."
“How long is exceptionally long?"
“I found a mention of centuries, but not how many. It's the same for me—I don't know if I can expect two hundred years or a thousand. I only know I don't want to spend them without you."
Again she fought his influence. “You're also hungry, and want to drink my blood."
“When I'm with you I don't feel the compulsion. That's how I first realized our potential. The night we met, after I left you, the Craving hit as never before. Your mere presence had assuaged it—long after I had stopped searching, I had found my perfect match."
Brandy recalled that night, Dan's sensuous kisses, how she had uncharacteristically melted in the arms of the dark, handsome stranger. “You could have—"
“I could have taken from you, yes. When I realized that what I felt was desire, not compulsion, I broke away. The potential between us was too important, and at that point I could not have allowed you to remember anything except a sexual encounter."
“I wanted it,” Brandy remembered.
“Your blood called to mine. Denying it was the hardest thing I had ever done, and the next full moon it was even harder. Tonight—if you tell me to leave, I will, but I can't unless you mean it with all your heart."
“Dan, this is crazy,” said Brandy. “You're offering me—"
“Long life, excellent health, my protection for whatever that may be worth to a police officer. But none of that matters unless you love me. I want a normal life, Brandy, family, someone to turn to in good times and bad. That's what I'm offering."
“And you are asking—?"
“The same from you—plus less than a pint of blood at each full moon."
“That's all?"
“That's all physically. Emotionally, I can guarantee you pleasure. What I need is not just proteins and sugars. Dead blood from the blood bank is useless. I want to share everything, the act, the afterglow, having you remember what we did and anticipate the next time."
“You had that with your wife?"
“Yes, even though Megan and I were not a perfect match. If we had been,” she felt his pain, “she might not have died—not become ill in the first place. But Megan is the past, Brandy. You are the future."
Brandy had finally run out of questions. What she had learned was unbelievable—yet fit the facts. Dan needed her more than he realized. There were other vampires in the area. Whoever killed Carrie had sent them a message: behave or be exposed. Or killed, like the Andersons.
Those mysterious smiles. The Car 108 murders had been committed by a vampire using influence, the shotgun blasts used to cover the fact that only the Andersons needed to be eliminated in a particular way.
Could one vampire overpower another? Perhaps with the element of surprise. Perhaps some were stronger than others. The Andersons were not very bright; perhaps another vampire outsmarted them. Dan, she knew, was very smart.
But Brandy herself was Dan's alibi for Car 108. Somebody else was killing vampires. Did they know about Dan? How much danger was he in?
As her thoughts churned, two things became eminently clear: Brandy loved Dan, and she wanted to protect him. Both desires would be best served if—
“You'll move in with me right away,” she said decisively.
“What?” he asked blankly.
“There's plenty of room. Mom used the spare bedroom as a sewing room. We'll turn that into your office—"
“Brandy!” His eyes glowed with nothing more supernatural than the excitement of a happy man. “Are you saying yes?"
“I love you,” she replied.
He drew her into his arms again, and all thought fled except the warm, sweet closeness. As he had often done before, he slid his lips down her throat, licking gently. Brandy arched her head back, trusting him not to hurt her.
“It's more than just not hurting you,” he murmured against her neck, then got up and drew her to her feet.
They went upstairs to her bedroom. Without turning the light on, Dan began helping Brandy out of her clothes.
Under her sweater she wore a silk camisole. Dan stripped her that far, knelt to remove her shoes, then picked her up with ease and laid her against the throw pillows. He took off his jacket, kicked off his shoes, and settled comfortably with an arm about her against the chill. Outside, snow fell again, flakes large enough to throw shadows from the streetlight on the curtains.
Dan was in no hurry, kissing and caressing Brandy until she relaxed. It couldn't be any worse than donating blood, she reassured herself. Her eyes had adjusted to the dimness, but when his fangs extended she felt no fear. She leaned forward to brush her lips against his, ran her tongue down to one razor-sharp fang tip, felt it cut at the merest touch. She brought the tip of her tongue to his, offering.
He gasped, accepting. When he bent his head to her throat, Brandy instinctively arched her head back. A touch of lightning flashed along her nerves.
The experience bore no resemblance to donating blood. Instead of the lassitude she expected, sweet warm strength sang through her. The feeling was akin to assuaging hunger or thirst, but unique, powerful, and good. The pleasure intensified, carrying her to a crescendo of satisfaction.
It wasn't like orgasm, either, but equally fulfilling. She was content on one level, inspired on another. Dan lapped gently at her throat as Brandy ran her fingers through his thick dark hair, feeling an overpowering love for this man who needed her so, who gave her such incredible warmth and closeness.
When Dan's lips returned to hers, Brandy slid her hands under his sweater, feeling his deep chuckle reverberate at her desire. “Oh, yes,” he murmured into her ear, and stripped off first his sweater, then the shirt he wore under it. Kneeling beside her, though, he found the will to pause and ask, “Do you have protection?"
Brandy laughed giddily. “You've just had your teeth in my neck. It's a little late for latex, don't you think?"
He smiled his rare warm smile. “I believe in getting married before starting a family."
“I'm on the Pill."
“Good.” He kissed her again. There were no foolish questions, no insincere apologies. Each knew what the other was feeling, which meant that Brandy couldn't hide her apprehension concerning her technical virginity.
To her annoyance, Dan was pleased—she didn't know why it surprised her to find that in some ways he was a typical male. But she reminded herself that he had grown up in a earlier era—actually, he had done an incredible job of turning himself into a modern enlightened man.
“Hey,” he murmured, “pay attention."