Secrets of the Night Special Edition (118 page)

She had so much to do, a life to live, friends and family she loved, people who loved her. This monster would not kill her. She wouldn't let him.

He laughed, that low, wheezy sound that chilled her like an ice cube against bare skin.” Don't think you can stop me.”

"Oh, can't I?” she cried with false bravado.” Don't try me too far.”

Shrieking with angry frustration, he lunged drunkenly for her, but she side-stepped and banged into the refrigerator, a hard jolt that sent mag notes tumbling to the floor.

Her breath came in gasps, every muscle tense. Nausea churned in her stomach, but damned if she'd let him see her fright.

"You stupid mortal woman, don't ever think I can't kill you. Soon you'll find you have no place to run to, no place to hide. You're no match for me.”

"That's what you think.” Strands of sweat-soaked hair fell in front of her eyes, hindering her vision. With shaky hands, she shoved the locks from her face. Please, God, give me strength.

The knife, get the knife! She rushed for the counter, her gaze on the back door. Let him think she was headed outside.

Almost there--

"You bitch!” The brute jerked her from behind, pulling her backwards. He sank his teeth into her neck, a sharp bite that sent alarm racing through every cell of her body. Skeletal hands held her in a firm grip. Scissorlike nails dug into her shoulders, scratching her skin. His fetid breath fouled the air, blowing across her shoulder like poison gas. Fear froze her reaction as he sucked on her neck and slowly drained the blood from her body.

Galan, please help me!

Desperation gave her strength. Raw power built inside her muscles and flowed throughout her body, growing stronger, stronger, stronger, until it reached a crescendo in which nothing was impossible. With the brazen assurance of a kamikaze pilot, she knew she would defeat him.

Karate class! Think, think! Frantic thoughts raced through her head. Heart thudding, she turned to her right. She pushed her hips back, and drove her elbow into his right side, forcing him to release her. Hurry, hurry, get him! She grabbed him by his right underarm and swung him past her hip, then onto the floor.

He jumped back up and spat at her face, bloody saliva scorching her skin like acid. Screaming with pain, she pressed her hand to her face. With a low growl of satisfaction, he took advantage of her weakness and clutched her again, twisting her arm behind her back.

Stevie raised her foot to wrap it around his leg, sending him backwards, forcing him to release her again. One foot flying out in front of her, she hit him full in the face.

He shrieked and reached for her again.” You little bitch! I'll get you yet.”

"Oh, yeah? That's what you think!” 

He headed for her, his hands shaking. She spun around, using the momentum to kick behind her again, this time knocking him to the floor, his head pounding against the hard tile.

Hands pressed to the floor, he tried to rise, but she kicked him again, in the face and the chest.

The demon screeched, a high-pitched sound that blasted from one end of the apartment to the other, louder than a thousand frenzied rats. Her hand trembling, she gripped the bottle of Clorox from the counter and splashed the liquid into his eyes, blinding him.

"Ahhh!” He writhed on the floor, banging his arms and legs on the tile. Gaunt fingers scraped at his eyes. Bloody saliva spilled from his mouth and stained his robe. Ear-splitting squeals came from his throat, like an injured animal.

Kill him now!

She seized the knife, but it fell from her slippery hands and clattered to the floor. She screamed with frustration. Shivering all the way to her feet, she clasped the weapon again and plunged it into his heart. He lay still, the skin now burned from his face, revealing bony eye sockets, every skeletal feature. Had she killed him? She didn't know! She jerked the knife out and plunged it into his heart again and again, then dropped the weapon, certain she had destroyed him.

On her knees, she bowed her head while tremors shook her body. Her skin turned hot, then cold. Damp hair fell in front of her eyes. She raised a shaky hand to brush the locks away. She swallowed again and again, her stomach queasy.

Black shoes and dark trousers caught her attention, and a glance upward sent her heart leaping.

"Galan!”

He helped her rise to her feet, his look tender and comforting.” I heard you call me, but you've managed quite well by yourself.” He gave her a puzzled look.” Tell me later how you defeated him. But he's not truly dead. Only an oaken stake through his heart will destroy him. Or burning. I'll take him outside to finish the job. You stay here,” he said, glancing her way.” No reason for you to see. Best you lie down.”

After he retrieved a box of matches from the counter and slipped it into his pocket, he dragged Moloch across the tile and headed for the back door.

Outside, he pulled the demon to a far corner of the yard, where the monster's body scraped against the grass, the pendant bouncing across his chest. With one quick look around, Galan glimpsed a tool shed behind the house next door. It took a scant moment to transport himself to the shed and fetch a gallon of gasoline, then return. Bending over, he jerked the pendant from Moloch's neck and pocketed it, then splashed the fuel on the fiend and lit a match. The vampire blazed and orange flames leaped to the sky, the stench of burning flesh filling the air, the smoke blending with the thick haze that hung over the city. Time lost all meaning as Galan waited, until only ashes remained. He sighed heavily as he absorbed the reality of Moloch's demise. A medley of emotions roiled inside him, relief above all, but happiness, too, and especially such a fierce pride in Stevie. Reflecting on her courage, he could only shake his head in amazement. His Stevie. His dear one.

After he dispersed the pile of ashes with his foot, he returned the gasoline can and rushed back to Stevie. Inside the living room, his gaze covered the apartment, each room brightly lit. She sat on the sofa, her hands clenched in her lap, a stunned expression on her pretty face.

She glanced up as he approached.” Is he . . . is he . . . ?” 

"Dead, thanks to you, sweeting. I merely finished the job.” On a wave of tenderness, he stared down at her.” How in God's name did you overpower him?” 

"Karate,” she replied with a forced smile.” I always knew my lessons would come in handy some day.”

Clad in jeans and a gray sweatshirt, she was lovelier than a queen in full regalia. His gaze roamed the length of her, to every feature he held dear, from the golden crown of hair, past the soft curves of her breast, on to moccasin-shod feet. He joined her on the sofa and took her in his arms, his fingers grazing her cheeks.

So proud of his beloved for defeating Moloch, he knew he must erase the memory of the fiend . . . and of his own visit. God forbid that she should recall this confrontation for the rest of her life. Best she think he remained devoted to his--imaginary--vampiress lover, at least until he became mortal again . . . if he ever did.

Whispered words and a light touch on her forehead removed all memory of the struggle.” Forget, Stevie . . . forget you ever knew Moloch . . . and sleep.” Blue eyes fluttered closed, her head falling back. His heart swelled with love as he feathered kisses on her scratches, certain his touch would soon heal her skin. Gently, he lifted her from the sofa and carried her to the bedroom.

With every step, his heart cried out with love for her. A lilac scent lingered about her, an enthralling aroma that spawned a hundred memories of far-distant fields and meadows, of stately trees and meandering streams. Warm and soft, her body pressed against him, long blonde hair cascading over his arms. How dear she is, he mused, caught in the lure of her seductive face--the strands of silky hair, pink-tinged cheeks, inviting lips he ached to kiss again and again.

Unable to remove his gaze from her, he reached the bedroom and set her on the bed. Even then, he didn't want to leave. He wanted only to stay throughout the night and for all the nights to come. He sat beside her, staring at her for heart-filled moments, finally getting up to leave.

Reassurance that the danger was past--Moloch was  destroyed! --overcame him, but sweet anticipation, too. The next time he saw Stevie, he would be mortal again.

God, he prayed, please let that happen soon.

* * *

"The pendant,” Galan said the next evening as he set the ornament on Roger Dorsey's oval coffee table.” I'm sure you remember Moloch always wore this around his neck.” By itself, the pendant lay like a lump of glass, as lifeless as dirt.

"Ah, yes.” The other man reached for it and held the pendant up to the light, then dropped it onto the floor as if it were red hot. He motioned for Galan to sit down.” How did you kill him?” 

"Would you believe it was the mortal woman who overpowered him and rendered him unconscious,” Galan said, settling into a wing chair.” Then--"

"How did she do that?” Dorsey asked in surprise.

Galan told him about Stevie's skill in karate, soon finishing the tale.” A remarkable woman,” he murmured.

"Indeed she is.” Dorsey threw him a sharp glance.” And you completed his annihilation? You're sure he's dead?” 

"No doubt about it.” Galan related the fiend's fiery death.” Eventually, only ashes remained, now carried away by the wind.”

"Thank God!” Dorsey crossed himself.” I've waited centuries for his destruction.” His eyes clouded over, as if a hundred sorrowful memories taunted him.” Blessed Virgin! I can breathe freely again. Never again need I worry about my family.” He rose from the sofa, a smile creeping across his face.” Now I'll keep my end of the bargain.” As he strode toward a short mahogany cabinet set against a far wall, he withdrew a key from his pocket. Crouched down, he unlocked the cabinet and seized a crystal bottle with a glass stopper, shaped like a cruet.

By the light of the crystal chandelier, the bottle sparkled in a dazzling array of colors--pink, blue, green, and gold, the hues coruscating in a hypnotic fashion. Dorsey held the container aloft, like a priest grasping a crucifix.” The elixir!” His gaze lit on Galan.” It will make you mortal again!” 

"But . . . but it's empty.” Galan wanted to cry from disappointment.

"Not quite.” Dorsey smiled with encouragement.” This elixir has been passed down throughout the centuries. Each desirous vampire has taken the required amount. Now very little remains. But enough, my friend,” he said with another hopeful smile.” I must warn you--wait until tomorrow night before you take it. Too late to drink it this night. Daylight may find you before the transformation is complete.” He frowned, staring at the bottle.” I fear you will be the last of the undead to become mortal again. The necessary portion you must take will indeed finish the bottle.”

He returned to Galan and carefully handed him the container, as a mother would transfer a newborn baby to the arms of another.” So take what remains of it--a combination of foxglove, strychnine, and a trace amount of other ingredients. Afterwards, you may discard the container.” Beside Galan on the sofa, he laid a hand on his arm.” You will recall I mentioned the painful effects of this solution. But you can bear it. The promise of mortality is adequate reason.” 

Galan clasped the bottle and nodded, tears misting his eyes. A life with Stevie was more than reason enough. Afraid he'd break down in front of the other man, he fought the tears.

Dorsey eased away.” One thing I must tell you. When you feel no more pain, you will know you are mortal again. But then the soporific effects of the concoction will take hold, and an overwhelming sleepiness will come over you. But this is good, for you will need to rest after your ordeal.” He draped his arm across Galan's shoulder and hugged him.” The pain will be great, but never doubt your ability to persevere. My thoughts and prayers will be with you tomorrow night.”

Tears streamed down Galan's cheeks, and he spoke in a wavery voice.” My friend, I can't tell you how much--"

"No need to say a word. Your transformation will be my thanks.” He looked out the window, where a bluish-gray tint colored the eastern horizon.” Hurry home, Galan, and later you must visit again.” He winked.” And don't come alone.”

* * *

The first murky shadows stole into the corners of the room while Galan stood by his bed, clutching the bottle. Excitement warred with fear as he raised the container to his mouth and drained its contents, then winced at its bitter taste. After he tossed the bottle into a wastebasket, he waited a few moments and braced for the pain he knew would follow, but nothing happened. Not yet. No, not yet!

He shoved quivery fingers through his hair, then left the bedroom to head downstairs to the living room, past the glass door of the Florida room and on outside, to a light breeze and a plethora of pleasurable aromas. Among the trees and bushes, he prowled the backyard and stared up at the night sky, where a vast canopy of stars arrayed the heavens. A quarter moon floated in the east, flanked by Venus and Jupiter. Overhead, a plane roared northward, its lights flashing. On the street in front of his house, an ice cream truck rumbled past, playing--of all things! --Beethoven's Fur Elise.

A hundred questions teased him. Would he see the stars with different eyes this time tomorrow, or was the elixir only a hoax? What if it destroyed him? Anxieties tortured him, a relentless bombardment of worries that paralyzed all rational thought. Most of all, how would he adjust to life as a mortal after being a vampire all these centuries?