Secrets of the Night Special Edition (2 page)

She twisted around. By the moonlight that pooled into the cave, she saw a tall man rush her way from the dark interior. His eyes were like pinpoints of light, and he moved with the sleek grace of a leopard. He exuded vitality, a raw, sexual power. With dark hair and a sinewy, solid build, he was quite handsome, but no less dangerous. Run, get away! every beat of her heart told her. She'd never get up in time.

Reaching down, he placed his arm around her waist and helped her rise, his hands strong but gentle. "Are you all right?" he asked in a deep voice.

Breathless, she nodded, still unable to talk. "All right," she said after a few moments of charged silence. She sank back down and blew on her bruised hands and rubbed her knees. Still noting his worried expression, she dropped her hands to her sides. "See, all in one piece." She spoke flippantly, needing to mask the fear that pulsed through her body. She licked dry lips, but no words came. Shivers raced down her arms and legs. Perspiration slicked her skin. She was no match for this stranger, this man who could overwhelm her, have his way with her.

"If you're sure . . . " He stared at her for a few moments. "Well! I must say, this is a pleasant surprise. Up to now, I've had this dwelling to myself." He made a wide gesture. "But surely two can share this primitive abode." His voice, deep and sensual, washed over her like a perfumed bath, making her forget her fear, forget everything but his presence. If he was going to ravish her, he would have taken her by now. Or so she hoped.

He made a slight bow. "Permit me to introduce myself. I am Gaderian Wade of Moytura, taking up temporary residence here. I recently purchased a house in the city and am having it renovated."

So why didn't he sleep at an inn?

"Ah, the inns," he said, as if he could read her mind. "Quite noisy at times. Difficult for a fellow to sleep." He crouched down beside her, and she wrenched back, wildly looking around for a way to get out of the cave.

"No, don't be frightened. I won't hurt you. But it puzzles me to see such a pretty young lady residing inside a cave. I hate to see a lady in distress."

"I–" She bit her lower lip, at a loss to explain her predicament, still wondering if she could trust him, despite his reassuring words.

He sat down and stretched one leg out, his hands at his side. His tunic looked to be of silk, a wide belt circling his waist, the black leather studded with silver. Even in the dark, she saw his shiny leather boots that reached just past his ankles. His eyes covered her, his gaze clear and direct, as though he could see her unclothed. Her face burned at the thought. At the same time, his gaze held a look of sympathy, but surely that was her imagination.

"Madam?"

Pushing herself up straight against the cave wall, she found her voice. "I left my home in Ros Creda several days ago and–"

"Mind telling me why?"

"Sir that is not your concern."

He dipped his head. "Very true. But you must admit it's unusual for a well-bred lady–which you appear to be–sleeping in a cave, after running away from home."

"I never said I ran away from home," she countered, stunned by the accuracy of his guess.

"Ah, my mistake. You are merely taking a vacation by yourself, and you met with misfortune along the way."

"Something like that." The robbery, her jewels gone! Her stomach lurched at the memory.

He brushed limestone dust from his hands. "I hate to see a lady in such unfortunate circumstances as you appear to be. Gladly would I pay for your food and lodging until you find employment, if that is your plan. Once I fetch gold from my home, I can meet you someplace and lend you the money."

"You are kind, sir, but I prefer to make it on my own."

He threw her a sharp look. "How, if you have no money?"

Did he think he was her guardian, asking her these personal questions? "That's my business."

He nodded, drawing his legs up. "True enough. And I'd like nothing more than to stay here. But I fear I must leave you now." Before she knew what he intended, he leaned closer to kiss her, his hand behind her head. In spite of her misgivings about this stranger, she found herself responding as a wave of heat hit her midsection. Was her reaction because of her depression? Or in spite of it? No matter the reason, she didn't want the kiss to end. The touch of his lips filled her with so many teasing thoughts, of fantasies she had only dreamed about. Tempted to reach up and touch his face, run her fingers through his curly hair, she kept her hands demurely at her side. But he stopped all too soon and pushed himself to his feet. He made another slight bow. "Goodnight, madam. Sleep well. Perhaps we will meet again."

She hoped they would, and why, she had no idea. "Goodnight, sir."

"Gaderian," he corrected. "And I didn't get your name."

"Fianna." No point in telling him her last name, and she immediately regretting telling him her first. No word must reach her father or Angus that she had escaped to Moytura.

"Goodnight, Fianna."

As he disappeared from view, the question persisted. Would she see him again? She touched her lips where he had kissed her, and another wave of warmth stole over her body, settling in the lower regions. Strange, no one had ever kissed her like that before, an experience she would never forget.

* * *

Outside the cave, Gaderian walked a few yards down a rocky cliff thick with weeds and overgrown shrubbery to a copse of elms where his horse, Bryce, was tethered, the black stallion munching on the grass. With a skill honed throughout many centuries, he had created a spell around the horse, so that no one could approach it closer than three feet. An invisible shield protected his horse from theft.  After loosening the reins, he placed his foot in the stirrup and mounted the stallion, then trotted down the hill, easing his horse to a canter after he reached the
Royal North Road
. The light of a full moon brightened the trees and the isolated houses along the route, a million stars illuminating the way. Overhead, a cloud drifted in front of the moon, then passed on, leaving the night sky clear. A soft breeze rustled the leaves of the trees and ruffled his hair.

Of course, he could make himself invisible and transport himself to the capital, but his horse needed exercise. Besides, the ride into Moytura gave him time to think and plan.

He smiled, recalling the lady he'd so recently left, and wondered if he would, indeed, meet her again but considered it unlikely in a city the size of Moytura. And why did he want to see her again? There could never be anything between a mortal woman and a creature such as he. Not that he regretted his world of the undead, far from it. He'd chosen this path centuries ago, and not once had he regretted his decision. To think of the power, not to mention immortality, why would anyone choose otherwise, if given a choice? Night after night, he gave silent thanks to Moreen, the woman who had transformed him so long ago, at a time of deep despondency, when he had seriously contemplated suicide. Once or twice every year, he and Moreen met again, renewing their friendship, sealing their relationship with a frolic in bed, a romp that left them both satisfied, but nothing more, for each remained free to seek pleasure elsewhere. And he found enjoyment in many places, Gaderian mused with a chuckle. 

Passing the cluster of trees and bushes along both sides of the road, the cottages that rested on small plots of land, he slowed to a canter again. The spires of Moytura came into view, the houses becoming finer as he neared the city, these mansions of brick or gray stone and boasting three stories. No small plots of land here, for most of these stately houses were set on several acres. His house, recently purchased, stood farther back from the road.

Tempted to stop and see what progress the workers had made in renovating the place, he decided to continue on, for he had lost precious time in his encounter with the young woman.

Shortly after his transformation centuries ago, he'd bought up plots of land in Avador, with the little money he'd saved as an apothecary in his mortal life, this at a time when land was cheap. Over the years and centuries, the value of the land had increased, enabling him to sell the land at a profit and buy up more acreage. By now, he had amassed a fortune, his gold transferred to a safe in his new house. Yet he would soon have to move again, as he had so many times over the centuries. He couldn't stay in one place for any length of time, while the mortals grew old and he remained eternally young.

Minutes later, Gaderian reached Moytura and approached the main city stable on the southern edge of the city, the pungent smell of the stable tickling his nostrils from a block away. He left his horse at the stone stable and tossed a copper coin to the sleepy stable boy, after giving instructions for the care and feeding of the stallion. Past the many shops, a walk of several blocks led him to the Snow Leopard. Like most taverns and inns in the city, the tavern stayed open until the late night hours. He pulled at the iron handle on the heavy oaken door and stepped inside, greeted by the yeasty aroma of ale and the smoke of countless pipes. Stained glass windows lined one wall, the colors indistinguishable in the semi-darkness. Oil lamps attached to iron chains hung from the ceiling, casting faint light and shadows on the room. A buzz of conversation and laughter filled the air in the main dining room with more than twenty round tables. Here and there, a patron sat by himself, eating a very late meal, but most customers indulged in talking and drinking, or playing dice. 

He stood at the entrance for several moments, his gaze roaming the dark room, cloudy with pipe smoke, until he found the friend he had come to meet. Weaving his way among the tables, he reached the man at the far side of the room. He eased out a chair and sat down.

"Why so late?" Egan asked. Shorter than Gaderian, with blonde hair and blue eyes, he looked young and innocent, his baby face belying his recent occupation as a professional soldier before his transformation. "If you stay here too long, the sunlight will find you. That's a chance I never take."

"Nor I." Gaderian shrugged. "I intend to leave soon. A distraction detained me." He decided not to relate his encounter with the young lady, for there was scant chance they would ever meet again, a prospect that depressed his spirits, for reasons he feared to examine.

Egan raised his mug to his mouth and drank. "We're both taking a chance by coming to this tavern. If anyone should suspect what we are . . ." He raised his eyebrows but said no more, his meaning clear.

"And it's only because of the dull light in here that no one suspects what we are.  If we stayed out in the bright sunlight–Otherworld forbid!–people would know we belong to the undead. And the sunlight would burn us to ashes." Gaderian gestured to a waitress to indicate that he wanted ale also. "Sorry I have no money with me," he said to his companion. "How about lending me the money this time, and I'll pay next time." After Egan placed the coins on the table, Gaderian continued, "As for your comment—I intend to so something about that danger, no matter how long it takes or the obstacles I must overcome. Other creatures are killing the mortals and making it look as if the vampires are committing the murders. And we know what creatures.  Damned bandregas! I'd like to kill them all." His mouth tightened, a muscle jerking in his jaw.

"A process I don't understand, how the bandregas can make it look as if the vampires are killing."

"Easy enough to understand. The bite of a bandrega itself is poison to a mortal. Kills them instantly, like snake venom. Can even sicken the undead, at least for a few days. Then the bandregas drain all the blood from the humans, so that the mortals think we are doing the murders. All these years we've built up trust among the mortals–now gone–" He snapped his fingers–"just like that! Before these murders, we were at least tolerated among the humans. And we never killed any mortals for sustenance, just took only what we needed. At least, I never killed any humans.  I hope that is true of the other undead, also." Anger heated his blood. The bandregas were powerful creatures, cunning, too, who could assume human features and human ways, although they were actually demons with sharp features and claws. Where did they get their power? How were they able to practice black magic? Just as important, how did they make themselves look human? He'd give anything to know.

"Deceitful creatures, the bandregas. Over the years, they've led the mortals to believe they gradually disappeared, going to other countries." He shook his head. "But they are still among us, like a poisonous weed. Like poison."

Egan blew out a long breath ... "And what about the price on our heads, rewards for turning us in?" Even in the dim light, his face showed red with fury.

Gaderian clenched his hands on the table. "Those who are captured are killed with a stake through their heart."

Egan paused.  "But are we absolutely sure it's not the vampires who are killing the humans?"

Before replying, Gaderian waited while the waitress set a mug of ale on the table. She scooped up the coins and dropped them in her apron pocket.  He lifted the mug to his mouth, revelling in the cool liquid that soothed his dry throat. "This was before your time as a vampire, but several centuries ago, the Guild of the Undead ruled that we would prey only on criminals and take no more blood than we needed. At the same time, we pledged to the mortals that we would protect them against the bandregas."

Absently, he traced an indentation on the wooden table, initials carved by a long ago patron. "You have no idea the distress those bandregas caused the humans–stealing their young and ravishing the women. So for the longest time, we have protected the humans against these evil creatures by killing them, chasing the bandregas away." He lifted his hands. "Now look what's happened. The bandregas far outnumber us. Now they are killing the humans, and the humans blame the murders on us. Worse still, the humans think the bandregas disappeared long ago. The mortals don't know that these creatures still exist, here among us. And don't forget, these creatures can apply the glamour, making them look like mortals, instead of the beasts that they are."  He had to defeat the bandregas, had to! He had failed in his endeavors too many times in the past, and always the feeling had dwelt within him that he must do something worthwhile in his life.