Secrets of the Night Special Edition (89 page)

Stopped at a red light, he recalled Stevie's lovely looks. Long blonde hair framed a pretty and certainly fascinating face, one he knew would haunt his dreams for days to come. She was tall, only a few inches shorter than he. And her hair! He hadn't seen such colored locks in many years, a shade that reminded him of Linette. He sighed. Better not dwell on Linette--the recollections were too painful--but concentrate instead on the lady he'd rescued. He liked her attractive nose with a slight tilt at the tip, and he wouldn't wager on it, but he felt sure her eyes were blue. Like Linette's.

Stevie, a lovely woman. Full, lush breasts, a slim waist, and long legs aroused desire and resurrected a hundred memories that refused to stay buried.

He wanted to see her again--he would see her again--but for now, a more immediate wish demanded his attention.

He needed to feed.

* * *

On a deserted street in downtown
Miami
, Galan held a criminal in his superhuman grip.

"Hey, let me go! Who the hell d'you think you are?”  A short, squat man with beady eyes, the malefactor twisted and struggled, helpless against Galan's solid strength.

Galan shook him.” You damned son of a bitch, I saw you, not ten minutes ago, when you ravished a defenseless woman.” If only he'd arrived a few minutes sooner, he could have saved her, a regret that deepened his fury.

After he hypnotized the victim a few minutes ago so she'd forget her horrible experience, Galan had sought her assailant and found him two blocks from the crime scene, here in this dark alley.

The criminal squirmed in Galan's grasp.” I never hurt nobody.”

Galan slapped him across the face.” Don't lie to me, you bastard!”

He tightened his grip, his nails digging into the man's shoulder.” You'll pay for your sin, oh, yes, you'll pay. Consider yourself fortunate I won't kill you . . . this time.” He shook him harder.” Don't ever commit such a ghastly crime again, or I promise you, next time you won't escape with your life.”

The man trembled, and frightened eyes stared into Galan's.” Wh--what are you going to do to me?” 

"This.” Galan sank his teeth into the man's throat.

* * *

Before the first faint lavender glow lit the east, Galan returned to his home, an old two-story stucco set on one-half acre, tucked among a spreading oak, assorted palm trees, and bushy foliage which hid it from view.

With only a thought, he opened his front door, then stepped into a silent, dark living room. Living room. He chuckled, finding bizarre humor in the oxymoron. Like the rest of the house, this room held elegant, comfortable furniture, plentiful adornment to ensure that his part-time housekeeper wouldn't become suspicious.

Galan snickered. Moloch didn't know he only fed on criminals but didn't kill them. What would the fiend think of him then? He laughed, not caring what Moloch thought.

As daylight began to creep into the corners, Galan rushed upstairs to his wide bedroom closet and drew the deadbolt. Satisfied with all the events this night but especially with images of the mortal woman haunting him, he climbed into his silk-lined coffin and pulled the lid shut.

* * *

The early morning sky remained dark and cloudy as Stevie exited the bus and made her way to the bookstore, a couple blocks to the south. As she walked the empty streets, she thought of her attack last week, which brought to mind her rescuer, Galan Kent. What an unusual first name, an unusual man besides, a guy who'd been in her mind a lot since that night. She sighed, wishing she would see him again.

A cold wind blasted her face, making her shiver. She quickened her steps and pushed her jacket collar up around her neck. She had a lot of books to enter into the computer before the place opened, but first, she had to check on Joe, one of the many homeless who slept on the streets and in the doorways of downtown
Miami
, one of many unfortunates she tried to help.

"Why do you spend so much time with the homeless?” a close friend had once asked.

Stevie had hesitated.” My father is a property attorney up north, and--this isn't something I like to admit--but he accepted a big bribe from a wealthy developer--"

"A bribe?” 

"To persuade the zoning board to let the developer build a high rise. The land was supposed to be used for low income housing.”

Her friend gave her a puzzled look.” So what's that got to do with you?” 

"I know it's just a drop in the bucket, but it's my way of making up for what my father did.” She choked on her words.” It's one of the reasons why I decided to study social work in college, instead of going into law like the rest of the family. I wish I could feel the same way toward my dad as I did when I was younger, but it's too late now. . . .” 

Too late now, she repeated as she hustled along the street, sidestepping an empty beer can. A glance at her watch told her the police would soon come to rouse Joe from his sleep and chase him on his way--wherever his way might be.

She arrived at Joe's "home"--and stopped. Sprawled on the sidewalk, he lay with his arms flung out at his side, his skin absolutely white. No pool of blood on the sidewalk, no blood anywhere! A look of terror darkened his face. Cold, nameless dread sent chills along her arms and down her legs, a wave of nausea making her swallow convulsively.

"Joe!”  she whispered. No answer.” Joe, wake up!”

Gingerly, she felt his wrist but found no pulse. God, how had he died? Why was his skin so pale? Her knees buckled and threatened to give out. Her heart pounded. She leaned her head against the side of the building, her hands clenched so hard the nails dug into her palms.

Long moments passed before she jerked away from the building and headed for the book store. She'd have to call the police.

Arriving home from work in the evening, Stevie tossed her purse onto the sofa and slipped off her shoes. Countless worries taunted her as she padded to the window and stared out. A full moon was rising, and wind ruffled the branches of the trees, tossing the leaves to the ground.

A week had passed since she'd found Joe's body, a time when terrifying dreams had filled her nights with images of dead bodies and pools of deep red blood. She closed her eyes, seeing herself race down dark alleys, a skeletal demon in pursuit. A chill ran down her back and arms.

She rubbed her arms. Stop thinking about it.

After she changed into a T-shirt and sweatpants in her bedroom, she checked her bromeliads, orchids, and African violets posing on a room divider, then did a few stretching exercises. House key tucked in her pants pocket, she went outside for her run, bright streetlights illuminating the area on this cool winter night. . . .

Almost home now, when she could shower--who was that man on the sidewalk, only a few yards ahead who blocked her way? He looked ancient, with long, bushy hair, dressed in a flowing black robe down to his ankles--a bathrobe? Even in the dark, she could see him clearly, a shiny pendant dangling from his neck. She caught his stench, like a dead animal. He had a face like a cadaver, wolflike eyes blazing with evil.

She glanced behind her, then veered out onto the street, careful to keep her distance from him. As she raced on, she dared a look back, but he was gone. How had he disappeared so quickly? She shuddered, afraid to think about him as she neared her apartment.

Perspiration slicked her face and body as she unlocked her door and stepped into the living room, where a white porcelain table lamp lit the room with a dim glow. The sweetly-fragrant scent of the brassavola nodosa--the lady of the night--greeted her, lifting her spirits. Now for a shower--

The phone rang.

Stevie shoved sweat-soaked locks from her forehead as she headed for the phone, more tired than usual after a run. And relieved to arrive home safely, that old guy still fresh in her mind. She picked up the receiver.” Hello.”

"Stephanie--"

Oh, oh, her stepmother.

"Your father and I want to know if you're coming home for Thanksgiving.” No greetings, no preliminaries.

"Sorry, Ellen, we're too busy at work. I'd intended to write a letter, let you know.”

"Your father and brothers will miss you, as I will,” Ellen said.” You've worked at the book store for a long time. I never heard of a place where workers didn't get at least a week off after a year's employment.”

Stevie tapped her fingers on her thigh.” It's not a matter of earning a vacation--I have--but as store manager, I can't take off at such a busy time.”

"We'll let that go for now, although I'm afraid your father will be disappointed . . . as I am, of course. But I also wanted to tell you that Greg and his wife just bought a new house in
Scarsdale
, a very spacious house, I might add.”

"Hey, great,” Stevie replied, happy for her older brother.” I'll want to see the house whenever I get back to
New York
.”

"Right. When you get back. By the way, both your brothers are doing well in your father's law practice, making good money. Bob hopes to eventually add your name to the company.”

"Sorry, I don't think that'll happen.” Stevie shifted her position, resting her hip against the end table.” You know I have other plans. I've made my feelings plain on that.”

"Do you have any idea how your attitude hurts your father?” 

Attitude?”  Ellen, I can't study law just to please Dad. What kind of lawyer would I be if I entered the profession only to make someone happy?”

"Well, I suppose I'll have to tell him you have other plans.”

"Yeah, I guess you will.”

After a few minutes of desultory conversation, Stevie hung up, sorry they couldn't have ended the conversation on a more agreeable note. All she wanted now was to take a shower and go to bed, forget Ellen's snippy phone call and the weird man on the street.

On her way to the bathroom, she thought of her mother, dead of cancer many years ago. She missed her so, even after all this time, a vacuum in her life that would never be filled.

Later, when she climbed into bed after a warm shower, a hodgepodge of pictures tumbled through her head: the mugger with the gun, Galan coming to her rescue and the ride home with him, Joe's body on the sidewalk, his skin chalk-white. And what had the police concluded from his death? No more than she already knew, and she sensed an evasiveness about their answer, one that only heightened her worry.

But most of all, the terrifying man tonight. Too much had happened within the past couple of weeks, she thought as she punched her pillow and flopped onto her side. Too much.

Troublesome images taunted her as she fell into a deep, dream-filled sleep. . . .

The young woman plunged through the
homewood
, weaving her way among the oaks and beeches, their skeletal branches stretching upward to a clear blue sky, like supplicants reaching to heaven. She drew her brown woolen cape closer as a cold wind whistled through the trees and molded her dress to her body. Her long skirt caught on the bramble bushes, and she tugged the material loose, so eager to meet her lover she'd scarcely thought of anything else all day.

She left the woods behind and emerged onto a meadow dotted with violets, where pussy willows bordered a clear, meandering stream that flowed southward, and the pleasant aroma of gorse blew her way.

Her lover waited by the chestnut tree at the water's edge. She ran to meet him.” Galan!”

He met her half-way and enfolded her in his arms, kissing her forehead, the tip of her nose, his lips finally covering hers with a passion that left her breathless.

Shading her eyes, she glanced up at the sun as it arced toward the western horizon.” I fear I can't tarry long. You know I want to stay with you, more than anything.”

He drew her close to him again.” If we were married . . .”

"After Michaelmas, we shall wed,” she murmured against his hard chest, his heartbeat strong and steady close to her ear.

"Why must we wait until we marry before we pleasure each other?” he said in his tantalizingly low voice that tempted her to surrender.

She drew away, twisting the folds of her woolen skirt between her hands.” We must not sin. . . .” She shook her head, unable to say anymore.

"What troubles you, dearling?” 

"Last night, I saw something fearful in the sky.” Tears misted her eyes.” A monstrous light with a tail trailing behind it. Oh, what could it be? Surely an evil sign!”

"I saw it, too,” he said with a grim nod. She could tell he tried to act bravely for her sake.” Cometa, the monks call it . . . hairy star.”

"But what does it mean?” she asked, on the verge of tears.

"I do not know, but it has naught to do with us.”

"It is God's warning.” She wrung her hands while tears streamed down her face.” Galan, I fear . . .I fear it means the end of the world.”

"Don't say that!”  he cried in a harsher voice than she'd ever heard him use. Quickly, he crossed himself. He cradled her head against his chest, then kissed the top of her head.” My love is yours for all time, Linette. Nothing and no one can come between us.”