Secrets of the Night Special Edition (116 page)

"You son of a bitch!” Galan kicked a table leg.” Damn you, I care! We made an agreement--did we not? --that I would leave her alone if no danger imperiled her.”

Moloch smiled, thin lips pushing back his cheeks into deep wrinkles.” I've not imperiled her. But if others want to harm her, I'll not stand in their way.” He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his gaunt chest, looking for all the world as if he were discussing a business arrangement, or giving a benediction.

"Then the hell with you!” Galan scoffed.” Find someone else to supervise your Godforsaken Society of the Undead. I'll have no part of it.” His jaw clenched as he spun away to leave the hall, striding along the stone floor past the open windows.

". . . all manner of hideous deaths,” Moloch called after him.” How would you like to see her suffer on the rack, to have her body torn apart until she's a helpless mass? Or to be burned at the stake, where you can smell her roasting flesh?”  He chuckled.” I assure you she'd take hours to die. You understand me?” 

Slowly, Galan turned around, his shoulders sagging. Misery stalked every cell of his body, but he must protect Stevie with his life.” Very well. It shall be as you say. I'll stay away from the mortal woman.”

Galan's despair deepened. Would the fiend keep his word? No need to ask.

* * *

As he observed Galan leaving the hall, Moloch remained at the table, drumming his fingers, his long sharp nails tapping on his wide belt. Click, click. Despite pretending otherwise, he liked Galan's impertinence, his grit, his determination. Galan had guts, a necessary qualification for dealing with the nightwalkers throughout the world. The young man had tenacity, too, a trait not to be disregarded. If only he would forget this stupid mortal woman . . .

Moloch reached for a crystal flagon to pour a glass of red wine. He was fed up with the mortal woman, a constant disruption to his peace of mind, like a stake aimed at his heart. He would destroy her himself, but not now . . . later. Let Galan be lulled into a false sense of security. Let him think she was safe. Then her destruction would be so much more satisfying.

Soon, he'd get rid of her, torture her while she begged for mercy, watch with pleasure as it took her hours to die. But how? Thinking hard, he rested his head in his chin. Should he stretch her on the rack until all her bones broke and she screamed in agony, or should he hang her upside down while he held a flaming torch to her face?

A speck of dust on the table irritated him, and he brushed his fingers across the table, then returned to his joyous musing. His hand trembled with anticipation, the wine spilling down the side of the glass, onto the table. He could hardly wait to kill the mortal woman.

Chapter Twenty-one

The last deadly rays of sunlight thrust through the window blinds as Galan slept in his coffin, oblivious to the sights and sounds of the mortal world.

He awoke, and after pushing the coffin lid up, he stepped out and opened his closet door as darkness covered the room and sounds of the mortal world blasted in his ears. Two foxes prowled a porch three houses down, their footsteps on the wooden planks sounding like a herd of elephants to his acute hearing, their squeaky squeals thundering like a foghorn in his ears.

Smells, too, became magnified within his bedroom. The fragrance of smoke and barbequed beef floated his way while someone down the street presided over an outdoor barbecue. Hunger roared inside him, a powerful reminder he must go feed this night.

He clutched the doorknob as impossible dreams and futile wishes raged within him. Like a comatose human, he slumped against the closet door, his need for Stevie a burning ache, infinitely more intense than his hunger for sustenance, yes, even greater than his desire for mortality.

A long sigh of despair escaped him as he sank onto the bed and leaned forward, his hands locked between his knees, too well aware he must never forget Moloch, a continual danger to his beloved.

Enough brooding. Now he must--

Galan sat upright.” Octavius!”

"Lilith is visiting friends, so I thought this would be a good time to visit you.” In his long white robe, the maverick drifted across the room and sat in an easy chair next to the bed, crossing his legs.” You've been much on my mind lately.”

Galan smiled.” Is that meant as a compliment, or am I about to get a lecture?” 

"Neither, but . . .” He paused, a grin brightening his face.” Is it still true you wish for mortality?” 

Galan sprang from his chair.” Octavius, what have you heard?”

Octavius spoke with exactitude, as if imparting a secret, which he was.” After all this time, I finally have some good news for you. Word has reached me--never mind the source--of a former vampire who, like you, hates Moloch for what that fiend did to him. He is human now, has a wife and family. Another thing--and this is what you wanted to know--he holds the secret of mortality. Not very many of our kind know about him.”

Opening and closing his fists, Galan gave him a steady look, his voice rising.” What is his name? Where does he live?” 

Brow furrowed, his visitor pressed a hand to his forehead.” Name's Roger Dorsey, lives in
New York City
,
Number
Five
Empire
Towers
. Here's his phone number,” he said, handing him a paper.” Oh, by the way, don't worry about Moloch following you. He's busy initiating a neophyte vampire, which is why I came to you now.”

"Does Moloch know about this man?” Galan asked.

Octavius shook his head.” Much as Moloch likes to think he can control all the undead of the world, there are a few that fall through the cracks, as the saying goes. But believe me, Dorsey is aware of Moloch.”

Galan paced the length of his room. Happiness welled inside him, more potent than an army of vampires, more beguiling than a lover's smile. Mortality! He stopped by his friend.” Octavius, should I become mortal again--and I pray that I shall--let that not end our friendship. I would hope to see you from time to time.”

A stunned look came over Octavius, then a slow grin took its place.” Friendship between a vampire and a mortal? Nothing surprises me anymore.” Octavius stood, fingers combing his golden locks.” I must leave you now. Time to fetch Lilith so we can feed together.”

Galan smiled.” Thank you, my friend. I can never tell you what this means to me.”

But he was speaking to an empty room.

Euphoria welled inside Galan, his hunger forgotten. But wait--what would Moloch do to Stevie if he gained mortality? The fiend's ghastly threats surfaced, a continual torment. He shook his head, unable to think clearly, his main consideration to protect his beloved. Go visit this man first, he decided, and see what he says.

That settled, he closed his eyes in deep concentration, and within seconds, he arrived in
New York
, amid the razzle-dazzle of
Times Square
. Reluctant to appear at the man's doorstep unannounced, he decided to phone him first.

Three rings later, a man answered the phone.” Hello.”

Galan scratched his chin. How best to introduce himself?”  Sir, you don't know me, but we have a mutual friend--Octavius.” 

An indrawn breath, then silence. Finally: “Who is this?” 

"My name is Galan Kent, and I assure you I mean you no harm. Rather, I have a favor to ask of you. May I visit you to discuss this favor?” 

"I want nothing to do with you,” the man replied in a voice full of anguish.” I put that former life--or death--behind me.”

Galan paused.” Yet I understand you have certain knowledge that may prove beneficial to me, a secret you must share with others who want to follow in your steps.”

Another long moment of silence.” Very well. You may visit me, but I make no promises. I shall inform the security guard you're coming. Do you need directions?” 

Galan managed to keep his voice even.” That won't be necessary.”

Seconds later, he reached the man's apartment on the fifth floor of a magnificent red brick building, twenty stories high. He knocked on the front door, preferring to approach him the mortal way, rather than make a sudden appearance, vampire style, inside the room.

The door opened.” Mr.
Kent
, come in.” Tall, with gray hair and a trim build, Dorsey looked to be in his late forties. He had a low, pleasant voice with a slight French accent, prompting Galan to wonder why he resided in the
United States
. In a slate blue cashmere sweater and charcoal wool gabardine trousers, he exuded an air of wealth and distinction.

Galan stepped inside a spacious apartment, decorated in shades of rose and aqua, with here and there a dash of yellow. A lovely abode, tastefully done. Not bad for a former vampire.

"Mr. Dorsey, I can't tell you how much I appreciate--"

"Sir,” Roger Dorsey said, raising his hand, “you must understand that it is only because of Octavius that I agreed to see you. You spoke of knowledge I have, knowledge that may prove useful to you. But for all I know, you may have come under false pretenses. Perhaps the leader of the undead--"

"Moloch? Believe me, Mr. Dorsey, he has no idea I'm here. I do assure you once more that my interest is sincere. I shall tell you frankly that I want to become mortal again. That is my greatest wish.”

Dorsey gestured toward a chair.” Sit down, won't you, and may I get you a drink? Wine, perhaps?” 

"Nothing, thank you.” About to sit down, Galan paused as a pretty woman of forty or so walked into the room. Clad in beige linen slacks with a matching silk blouse, her light brown hair drawn into a chignon, she looked every bit as sophisticated as her husband.

Roger Dorsey slid his arm around the woman's waist.” My wife,” he said,” and the reason I turned away from . . . from all that I was.”

After the introductions, Galan settled himself in a wing chair, Dorsey and his wife sitting opposite on the sofa.” The same with me,” Galan said.” I have yearned for mortality for a long time, but it is only recently, since I met a human woman, that my wish has taken on an urgency.”

"Which brings us back to my doubts,” Dorsey said.” Why should I believe you? Moloch--how I hate that fiend! --has his spies. You may well be one of them. I'm sure he'd do anything to obtain the secret of mortality, if only to destroy the concoction.”

"Sir, I--"

"So how do I know you can be trusted?” he asked on a desperate note.” Going on the assumption you mean us no harm, I agreed to see you. Yet you must realize I'm taking a big risk.” Galan spread his hands wide.” What can I say to convince you? All I can tell you is that I mean every word I say . . . from the bottom of my heart.”

For the first time, Dorsey's wife spoke up.” Darling, have you forgotten that you've retained your psychic powers? Surely you can tell if you can trust our visitor--"

Dorsey waved his hand dismissively.” I've tried to put every aspect of that previous life behind me. My psychic ability causes me more misery than joy. I want only to live a normal life.” He nodded toward Galan.” As for this gentleman, already I'm wondering if we may have to move, to escape Moloch's clutches once he discovers where we live.”

Galan held his hands out.” Sir, I swear to you that I mean you no harm. I hate Moloch as much as you do. You must believe me!”

Touching his arm, Dorsey's wife spoke again.” Honey, please, just this once.”

He sighed heavily.” Very well. Mr.
Kent
, hand over your keys, anything of yours that I can touch and hold.”

"Of course.” Galan dug into his pants pocket and handed over his gold pocket watch.

Eyes closed, Dorsey held the watch for a long moment, turning it over in his hand, his fingers covering the entire surface. A myriad of expressions played across his face, then a slow smile appeared, and he opened his eyes again.” Ah, yes, we can trust him. Very good.” He handed the watch back to Galan.” Mr.
Kent
, I see now you're not lying, that you truly wish for mortality.”

"I can't tell you how much it means that you put your faith in me,” Galan said, returning the watch to his pocket.

"Sorry I doubted you, but you have to understand why I must be cautious.” Dorsey tapped his fingers on his thigh.” One mission I shall ask of you first which is no easy matter. Destroy Moloch, eliminate him once and for all so he can no longer endanger another mortal.”

"But--"

"Mr.
Kent
, let me finish. Should have done this long ago. Always regretted that I never eliminated the fiend.”

"What does he matter to you now?” Galan asked.” I mean, if you are mortal, and you know I won't betray you--"

"Revenge, mainly, for what he did to my loved ones and to me,” he said, his voice choking.” Killed my first wife and young son before transforming me into a vampire. There! First time I've used that word 'vampire' in a long, long time.” As if lost in memory, he stared off into space, then slowly returned his gaze to his visitor.” For the present, I am safe from him. He doesn't know where I live. Even though I became mortal twenty years ago, it's been a constant worry how long I'll remain safe, for, as you know, time means nothing to the undead. Others, too, might betray me.”