Immortal Sins (8 page)

“Not yet,” he said.

“What do you mean?” she glanced around, suddenly aware that they were quite alone. What if he…She clamped down on her all too active imagination. If he’d wanted to hurt her, he’d had plenty of opportunity before now.

“I have been imprisoned for three hundred years. I should like to go for a walk and enjoy my freedom.”

With a shrug, she said, “So, go.”

“I would like some company,” he said, gifting her with a wistful smile. “I have been alone for a very long time.”

How could she argue with that? She tossed her handbag into the trunk, closed it, and slipped her keys into her pocket. “So, where do you want to go?”

“No place in particular. I just feel like walking.”

She fell into step beside him. “I didn’t know vampires liked to walk. I thought they always just turned into bats and flew off to wherever they wanted to go.”

He looked at her, one brow raised in amusement. “Is that what you thought?”

“Happens in the movies all the time,” she said with a shrug.

“Ah, yes, on the television.” He had seen movies from time to time. He grimaced at the memory. He had not yet been able to move through the painting the first time he had seen a motion picture about the Undead. Trapped behind a wall of glass, his only entertainment had been watching the moving pictures, some of them in black and white, some in all the colors of the rainbow. One of his former owners had spent hours in front of the screen. Rourke had watched, too, though he had not always understood what he was seeing, or hearing. Shows like
Batman, The Twilight Zone, Star Trek, The Rifleman, Gunsmoke, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, My Favorite Martian
, and
Laugh-In
. His favorites had been
Dark Shadows
and
The Addams Family. Dark Shadows
hadn’t been intended to be a comedy, but he had found the life and times of Barnabas Collins rather amusing. Rourke couldn’t recall now if Collins had ever turned into a bat. It was something Rourke, himself, had never tried. He grinned, wondering what it would be like. In his time, he had transformed into mist and into a wolf, but never a bat. It seemed undignified, somehow.

“What are you smiling at?” Kari asked.

“I was thinking about turning into a bat.”

“Can you really do that? Be a bat?”

“I have no idea. I have never tried.”

She stopped walking, her hands fisted on her hips, her head tilted to one side. “I’d like to see it.”

“Here, now?” he asked, glancing up and down the street. “Might cause quite a stir, I should think.”

“Yes,” Kari said, grinning, “I suppose it would. Might even make the news. ‘Man turns into bat on Main Street. Film at eleven.’”

Rourke regarded her for a moment, and then he laughed. Times were different now. When he had first been made, everyone believed in vampires. Grisly steps had been taken to make certain that those suspected of being Undead didn’t rise again. Heads were lopped off, hearts torn out and burned, bodies buried facedown so that if the dead tried to dig their way out of their graves, they would, instead, dig deeper into the earth. People had hung strings of garlic around their doorways and windows and displayed crosses and crucifixes in prominent places.

With a rueful shake of his head, he continued on down the street.

“I still can’t believe you’re really a vampire,” Kari said, hurrying to catch up with him. “Are there any more of your kind?”

“I am sure there are a few, here and there.”

“How can that be? I mean, how is it that nobody knows vampires exist?”

He didn’t reply, merely looked at her, waiting for her to reach the obvious conclusion.

“Oh. I guess you’d rather keep it a secret.” She laughed nervously. “In case Van Helsing is lurking around the next corner.”

He nodded, and then wondered if there were any other vampires in the city, and if vampire hunters still existed.

“I don’t believe any of this!” she exclaimed. And yet, as impossible as it seemed, she knew it was true. He was a 767-year-old vampire. “Where do you sleep during the day?”

“Nowhere in particular at the moment. Just some place out of the sun’s reach.”

“That’s the reason I could never find you in the painting during the day, isn’t it?” Her heart skipped a beat as she recalled the glowing red eyes she had seen in her dream. “You were sleeping in the cellar of the castle.”

He nodded, his expression shuttered.

“I had a dream…at least I think it was a dream. It seemed so real. Were you…did you see me there, in the cellar?”

He nodded again. He recalled that night vividly. The pain had been excruciating. He had been about to go outside and feed off the horse when Karinna appeared in the cellar. At first, he had thought she was real, but then he had realized it was only a dream. Had she been flesh and blood, he would have taken her then, taken her and drained her dry.

As if reading his mind, Kari stopped walking. “I think I want to go home. Enjoy the rest of your walk.”

“You cannot be rid of me so easily, Karinna Adams.”

She scowled at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I like your company, and I do not know anyone else in this country or in this century.”

“I’ll introduce you to someone,” she said with a toss of her head. “Good night.”

Grinning, he watched her turn and hurry back toward her car. He wondered if she recalled the other dreams they had shared, wondered if they had been her dreams or his. They had seemed so real, perhaps they hadn’t been dreams at all, yet, what else could they have been?

With a shake of his head, he continued down the street. He didn’t know how he was going to find his father’s sword, or locate the wizard who had stolen it from him, but in the meantime, Miss Karinna Adams was sure to provide a pleasant diversion.

Because Jason Rourke was curious to learn about the century he found himself in, Kari was soon acting as his tour guide.

Her evenings and weekends, once spent in mundane tasks, took on a new life. As soon as the sun went down, Rourke appeared in her living room, eager to explore the world around him.

She spent one evening following him from room to room while he acquainted himself with things that had not yet been invented when he was a young man. He examined the gas stove, the refrigerator, the garbage disposal, the trash compactor, the toaster, and the microwave. She thought it odd that he had such a keen interest in such things, since he didn’t eat solid food, and therefore had no need of any of the kitchen appliances, but his curiosity was boundless. He poked around in her medicine cabinet, tried her blow-dryer, smelled her perfume and her toothpaste and her hand cream. He studied her while she sat at her computer, watched with some fascination as she printed a photograph from the Internet. He fiddled with the remote for the television until he figured out how it worked. He listened to the radio and to some of her CDs, then asked about her phone, her cell phone, and her fax machine.

One evening, he taught her the dances that had been popular when he was alive, and then he insisted she show him how the people of this day and age danced. Being in his arms had been intoxicating. He moved like silk, his feet hardly seeming to touch the floor as he waltzed her around the room. It was a most amazing experience.

They went to the mall again. He wrinkled his nose with distaste when she bought a bag of kettle corn. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” she said, and laughed when he scowled at her.

One Friday night, she took him to the movies. She hadn’t expected him to be awed by anything as ordinary as a movie. After all, he had seen movies on television, but he stared at the movie screen, obviously captivated by the size of the screen and the characters on it.

“Truly an amazing age you live in,” he remarked as they left the theater.

“I guess so.”

Rourke took a deep breath. His senses had been assaulted by the numerous scents inside the theater. Popcorn and butter and salt, chocolate and soda, chips and cheese, hot dogs and mustard and relish. And overall, the scent of blood pumping through hundreds of beating hearts, playing like a sweet symphony in his mind. He shook his head, relieved to be outside, though even out here, in the open, the nearby scent of blood teased and tempted him.

When Karinna pulled her keys from inside her handbag, he plucked them from her hand.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “Don’t tell me you want to take another walk?”

“No. I wish to learn to drive.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

“But…” She shook her head. It was after midnight, but she supposed that was the shank of the evening to a vampire. “I’ve never taught anyone to drive.”

“I have watched you.”

“I know, but…”

There was no point in arguing with him. He was already opening the door, sliding behind the wheel, putting the key in the ignition.

“Wait!” She quickly got into the car and fastened her seat belt. “Be sure to look behind you before you back out,” she warned. “Go easy on the gas.”

Hands clenched, she watched him back out of the parking space, put the car in drive, and pull out of the parking lot onto the street. Fortunately, at this time of night, there wasn’t much traffic.

To her surprise, he drove as if he had been doing it all his life.

“It is a strange sensation,” he remarked. “But exhilarating.”

Instead of heading for her house, he pulled onto the freeway. In the morning, it would have been backed up for miles. She was glad it was late and relatively clear.

He drove for several miles and then slowly increased the speed.

Kari’s eyes widened as he hit the accelerator: fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty, eighty-five…

“Rourke, for goodness’ sake, slow down!”

He glanced at her, his eyes alight with pleasure. “Why?”

“The speed limit is sixty-five.”

He shrugged as he goosed it up to ninety.

Kari clung to the edge of her seat. Never, in all her life, had she ridden in a car going this fast.

She wasn’t surprised to hear a siren coming up behind them.

She was surprised, though, when the police car drove on by.

“I can’t imagine why they didn’t pull you over,” she said, frowning.

Rourke laughed softly. “Perhaps because they did not see us.”

“What?”

“A bit of vampire trickery,” he explained.

“I don’t understand.”

He eased up on the gas. “I veiled our presence from his sight.”

“Sort of like using the cloaking device on the Enterprise.”

“Ah, yes,
Star Trek
,” Rourke said with a grin. “An entertaining tale.”

He slanted a glance in her direction. “Very educational, television.”

“Very,” Kari agreed with a laugh. “Oh,” she said, spying a late-night hamburger stand, “pull over there. I’m hungry.”

At the drive-through window, she ordered a chili cheeseburger and a chocolate shake. Rourke wrinkled his nose as he handed her the sack containing her order. He didn’t think he would ever get used to the smell of cooked meat. Hard to believe he had once eaten beef and mutton and enjoyed it. After so many years, he could no longer remember the taste or the texture, nor did he have any desire to experience it again.

Back on the freeway, he drove at a more leisurely pace. He rather enjoyed driving. He liked the quiet purr of the engine, the feeling of being in control, the speed of the machine.

From time to time he glanced at Karinna while she ate, wondering what a cheeseburger tasted like. He was sorely tempted to lick the drop of chocolate malt from the corner of her mouth, and even more tempted to take the woman in his arms and taste every inch of her from head to heel. The thought stirred his desire as he imagined burying his hands in the silk of her hair, raining kisses along the sweet curve of her cheek, exploring every delectable curve of her lush young body and then doing it all again.

Muttering an oath, he quickly drove her home. Exiting the car, he handed her the keys.

“Thank you for letting me drive.”

“You’re welcome.” She gazed up at him, her brows drawn together. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Good night.”

“Rourke…”

“I need to feed,” he said curtly. “Your warmth and your nearness tempt me almost beyond measure. Do you understand?”

“Not really.”

“Pray you never do,” he said, then vanished from her sight.

Rourke lingered in the shadows, keeping watch over Karinna until she was safely inside the house, and then he continued on his way.

Leaving the city behind, he ventured into the shadowy world beyond the lights. He ran effortlessly for miles, caught up in the sheer joy of being free after three hundred years of captivity. He reveled in the sting of the wind against his face, the feel of the earth beneath his feet, the rich fragrance of flowers and foliage, the heady smell of life itself.

Slowing to a walk, he ran his hands over his face, flexed his arms and shoulders. He paused to glance up at the sky, appreciating the heavenly display as never before. A full moon shone brightly; stars without number stretched away into infinity.

In spite of his preternatural powers, he felt small and insignificant as he stood there. He had often pondered what his fate would be when his existence ended. As a child, his mother had taught him that there was a power mightier than all the kings of the earth and that every man, woman, and child who ever drew breath would one day be judged by that Infinite Being. Those who believed and kept the Law would be taken to Paradise; those who rebelled against the Word would be sent to everlasting torment. There had been no mention in his religious upbringing of vampires, but from what his mother had taught him, he was pretty sure that his current lifestyle, even though he hadn’t sought it, would not be viewed with approbation or forgiveness. He could think of no worse punishment for a vampire than burning in a fiery hell through all eternity.

Shaking off such dismal thoughts, he continued walking, approaching the city from the other side. The buildings in this part of town were mostly rundown, many of them boarded up and uninhabited. It was here that the dregs of the city congregated, plying whatever nefarious trade they could.

It was here that he came to feed.

He prowled among the beggars and the winos and the shysters until he found a man who was a little less drunk and dirty than the others. He took what he needed quickly, grimacing as the stink of the man’s unwashed body filled his nostrils. There was no need to erase his memory from the man’s mind. Even if the wastrel remembered what had happened, no one was likely to believe the ravings of a sot.

With his hunger appeased, Rourke turned his thoughts to finding a place to spend the upcoming daylight hours. He needed a lair; a secure, private place to call his own. In days long past, he had taken his rest in aboveground tombs or in caves, but neither of those options was available here. A house with a cellar would suffice. Perhaps Karinna could help him find one.

If only she could help him find Vilnius. He had no way of knowing if the wizard still lived, or where he might be, no idea how to find the treacherous sorcerer in this new world.

He glanced at the sky. It was still several hours until dawn.

“Where are you, Vilnius?” he wondered aloud, and then he frowned. If he was a witch, where would he go to find other witches? A coven, of course, but how to find one in this day and age? That was the question.

Tomorrow he would search for the answer.

Kari sat at her desk at work, her gaze fixed on her computer screen, but it wasn’t the image on the screen she saw. Instead, her mind kept conjuring images of Jason Rourke. In spite of everything, it was still hard to believe he was real, and harder still to believe he was a vampire. Who would have thought that such creatures actually existed! And how had they managed to keep it a secret for so long? Of course, if she went into Charlie’s cubicle and told him she had met a vampire, he would never believe her, and neither would anyone else she knew. Like Tricia. If only Rourke hadn’t erased Tricia’s memory, she might have been able to convince Trish that Rourke had been the man in the painting. Not only that, but she would have had someone to confide in, someone who wouldn’t think she was crazy.

The thought had no sooner crossed her mind when the phone rang. In one of those spooky moments, she knew it was her best friend on the phone even before she picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hey, Kari, it’s me.”

“Oh, hi, Trish.”

“You were supposed to call me, remember?”

“I know, but I’ve been really busy.”

“I can imagine. Come on now, ’fess up. Who is he? Where did you meet him? Is it serious?”

Kari laughed softly, then quickly sobered. It was beyond belief that Tricia could have seen Rourke in the painting, met him in Kari’s bedroom, and didn’t remember a thing about it. Vampire magic, indeed!

“Kari, talk to me! My gosh, the man is gorgeous.”

“Calm down, girlfriend, you’re married, remember?”

“I know, I know, but I’m not dead or blind. So, come on, where did you meet him and how long have you known him?”

“I met him at that little art gallery over on Third and Pine a few weeks ago,” Kari said, thinking that it was true, in a manner of speaking.

“And…?”

“And what? The man is like a fair-haired angel, a gentleman unlike any man I’ve ever known, and really sexy.”

“No kidding. So, have you…?”

“Tricia! I just met the man.”

“But?”

“I can hardly keep my hands off him,” Kari admitted. If only he wasn’t a vampire! If only she could tell Tricia the truth.

“I can understand that,” Tricia said, laughing.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s too soon after Ben, and…well, it’s just too soon.”

“He’s not from around here, is he?” Tricia asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he seems like a foreigner, the way he talks, very proper, you know?”

“He’s from…Romania.”

“Really? I never knew anyone from there.”

“Me neither.”

“Well, all I can say is, wow, you’d better hang on to this one.”

“We’ll see,” Kari said evasively. “Listen, Tricia, I’ve got to get back to work.”

“All right. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Kari hung up the receiver, then stared at the phone. Darn Rourke for erasing Tricia’s memories. She really needed someone she could talk to about this whole vampire thing, someone who wouldn’t think she was losing her mind.

With a shake of her head, Kari changed the font of the text on the screen, then feathered the adjoining image. She smiled, pleased with the result, but, all too soon, she found herself thinking about Jason Rourke again. Would she see him tonight? Where was he now? Had he found a coffin to sleep in? She shuddered at the thought, and then she frowned. How would he find a coffin in a strange city? He didn’t have any money to buy such a thing. Would he steal one or just, heaven forbid, scrounge around in a graveyard for a used one?

After saving her work, she signed on to the Internet, clicked on Google, and looked up vampires. There were thousands of links! Real vampires, vampire history, monstrous vampires, vampires in myth and history, theatres des vampires. The list went on and on. According to one site, a vampire was a creature who rose at night to prey on others, drinking their blood to gain immortality. Reading on, she learned that drinking blood wasn’t peculiar just to vampires. Apparently the Aztecs and some Native Americans ate the hearts and drank the blood of their captives in special rituals in order to obtain fertility and immortality. Some of the sites included images of vampires. She perused them with interest. Some depicted the Undead as hideous creatures with bloody fangs and red eyes; others depicted them as bloodthirsty but sensual creatures.

According to
Webster’s
, a vampire was “the reanimated body of a dead person believed to come from the grave at night and suck the blood of persons asleep.”

Another site put forth the theory that a person became a vampire because the earth refused to accept the body and heaven refused to accept the soul. No reasons were given for this.

None of the descriptions of vampires painted a very pretty picture. Certainly none of them described the hunky build, long blond hair, and mesmerizing blue eyes of Jason Rourke.

Kari lifted a hand to her neck. He had bitten her and taken her blood. Funny, she couldn’t remember it more clearly, but maybe that was a good thing. What would it be like to have to drink the blood of others to live? She had tasted her own blood, of course, but then, sooner or later everyone did that. It was a common thing to lick your finger if you got a paper cut or a scratch. But to drink enough to live on? And someone else’s? Yuck and double yuck!

She glanced at the time on her computer. It was almost five-thirty. She had been off the clock for the last twenty-five minutes.

She shut down her computer, turned off the monitor, gathered her handbag, and headed out the door.

Kari’s heart was pounding erratically when she pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. The sun was down.

Where was her vampire?

Her
vampire? What was she thinking?

Feeling uneasy yet filled with a strange sense of anticipation, she unlocked the front door and quickly closed it behind her. She glanced automatically at the empty space over the fireplace, thinking how bare the wall looked without the Vilnius, then glanced at the shopping bags she had carried inside last night.

She stood in the middle of the living room, listening, waiting, then sighed with disappointment. He wasn’t there. She told herself she should be relieved. But he was bound to return. After all, he had to pick up all the clothes she had bought him last night. She grinned inwardly. If they went shopping again, she’d probably have to find a second job just to pay for it all.

Going into her bedroom, she kicked off her shoes and changed into a pair of faded jeans and a baggy sweater, then went into the kitchen, where she fixed a toasted cheese sandwich and tomato soup for dinner. She ate in front of the TV, but her mind wasn’t on what she was eating, or on the six o’clock news. Even though Rourke frightened her, she had expected to find him waiting for her when she got home. She was surprised at how disappointed she was that he wasn’t there. Maybe disappointed wasn’t quite the right word. After all, she had been obsessed with the man—or whatever he was—for over a week. Thinking about that now made her realize just how empty her life had become since she broke up with Ben. She had taken refuge at home, shunning the company of others while she nursed her broken heart. It occurred to her now that it hadn’t been broken at all, merely bruised.

After carrying her dirty dishes into the kitchen and putting them in the dishwasher, she went upstairs, changed her clothes again, grabbed her handbag, and left the house. She had been spending entirely too much time sitting at home alone. She wasn’t in mourning, for goodness’ sake. It was time to get out of the house and return to the land of the living. She grinned. Land of the living, indeed, she thought, and wondered again where Rourke was.

She had always loved dancing, so she drove downtown to her favorite club. She had never gone there alone before, but hey, there was a first time for everything and she needed a diversion. Besides, women today were strong and independent. She didn’t need a man to support her, or to give her confidence. Heck, according to a recent poll, the majority of today’s women didn’t even get married. She wondered what it said about her, that she hoped to become one of the minority.

As soon as Kari stepped into the club, she started having second thoughts. What was she doing here? She wasn’t looking for casual sex, a one-night stand, or a meaningless relationship. She wanted what her parents had, what her sisters had, solid marriages based on mutual love and respect.

She was about to turn and head for the door when a man stepped up and asked her to dance. He was of medium height, with slicked-back sandy-colored hair and pale green eyes, not gorgeous, but not bad looking.

She accepted with a smile, wishing she was as chatty as her friend Amy, at work, who was never at a loss for words, or dates.

“Hi, I’m Jack,” her partner said.

“Karinna.”

“Pretty name for a pretty lady.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled at her. “You don’t come here often, do you?”

“No, why?”

“You’re uptight. Relax, honey. We’re just dancing.”

She laughed self-consciously, eager to be rid of him, though she didn’t know why. While they danced, he told her that he was an accountant, divorced, with a six-year-old daughter. Though he seemed nice enough, there was something about the way he looked at her that set her teeth on edge and made her glad when the song ended.

She thanked him for the dance, then turned and headed for the bar. She had never been a drinker, but she thought this might be a good time to start.

Jack followed her, crowding her, making her uncomfortable. “What are you drinking?” he asked.

“Diet Coke.” She had been about to order a Manhattan, but it suddenly seemed like a good idea to keep her wits about her.

“Come on, we can do better than that,” Jack said, signaling the bartender. “Herk, give the lady a Sea Breeze.”

“Herk, the lady doesn’t want a Sea Breeze,” Kari said.

Jack put his hand on her forearm and gave it a squeeze. “Come on, honey, loosen up a little.”

“Get your hands off the lady.”

A thrill shot through Kari at the sound of Rourke’s voice. Glancing over her shoulder, she gave him a grateful smile.
My hero
, she thought.

Jack glared at Rourke. “Who the hell are you?”

“The man who is going to rip your heart out if you touch the lady again.”

Kari didn’t know if it was the tone of Rourke’s voice or the feral look in his eyes, but Jack got the message. He let go of her arm as if he’d been stung and practically ran out of the club.

Kari smiled at Rourke. “Thank you.”

Rourke glanced around the room. It was smoky and dimly lit, filled with the scent of perspiration, alcohol, and lust. “What are you doing here?” He might be a stranger to this time and place but he wasn’t a stranger to what was going on around him. Men had been pursuing women since time began.

“Nothing,” Kari said. “I just wanted to get out of the house for a little while. I thought…” What had she been thinking? Looking at Rourke, she couldn’t remember. With a shake of her head, she said, “Never mind,” and then frowned. “How did you know I was here?”