Blue Twilight (20 page)

“Identical,” she said.

Stormy nodded, showing the oval miniature to Jason without more than glancing at it herself. Max wondered why. Jay thinned his lips and nodded. Max flipped
through the drawings, and Lou leaned over the table to look at them as she did.

“It's uncanny,” Stormy said.

“Not so uncanny if he's real,” Lou said. “And I think we're well beyond doubting that he is, especially after I got to see him face-to-face.” He thumped his forefinger on one of the drawings. “This is the same guy who tried to grab you the other night, Max. This is our vamp.”

Max closed her eyes. “Jesus, here we go again.”

“Max, maybe it's time we called in some reinforcements,” Lou said. “Your sister, Dante, some of their friends…”

She shook her head firmly. “Not until I know for sure what we're dealing with here. Hell, Lou, he came after me. There's every chance he wants to draw them into this—maybe it's some kind of trap for them. Maybe he has some sort of vendetta or something.”

“But how the hell would he know you were connected to others of his kind?” Lou asked. Then he lowered his head and answered his own question. “The break-in. Hell, it happened the first night you were out of the house.”

“And the computer was the only thing taken,” Max said, nodding. “That seals it. We're not dragging any other vamps into this. He might be a rogue. A killer of his own kind. It wouldn't be the first time a vampire turned on his own.”

Jason was sitting there looking from one of them to the other, his eyes grim.

Stormy put a hand on his arm. “That doesn't mean
he's done anything to harm Delia. Hell, he let the other women go. He didn't hurt them. There's no reason to believe he would change tactics now.”

Max closed the folder and returned it to Stormy, who slid it into the bag at her side. Then Max looked at the bag itself, black with twine handles and a logo on the front. “What's that?” she asked. “You found time to go shopping during all this?”

Stormy nodded. “Just some research materials.”

Max reached for the bag, pulled it into her lap and looked inside. Two fat books, hardcover, musty-smelling, with yellowed, rough-edged pages, sat inside. She glanced at the titles.
Case Histories of Demonic Possession
and
Rites of Exorcism: A Guide for the Clergy.
A business card fell out of one, and Max picked it up and read it. It was for a hypnotist in Salem.

Licking her lips, she tucked the card back into the book, looked up from the bag and saw Stormy's troubled eyes. “Good choices,” she said. “We'll read them together.”

“Okay.”

“But first, let's eat, huh? I'm starved.”

Stormy brightened slightly. “Me too.” She opened her menu, but Max got the feeling she wasn't really reading it.

M
ax hadn't managed to get Lou into bed with her again since that first night. She'd spent last night in her own lonely motel room, and he hadn't argued with her, though she guessed from the circles under his eyes that he'd been up most of the night. Didn't he realize he would sleep better with her safe in his arms? But no, he preferred to pace the floor, straining his ears to hear any sound of trouble. Maybe stepping outside every now and then to take a look around, make sure her door was still locked. She knew exactly what he was doing—because she was doing much the same, in an effort to watch over Stormy. Hell, maybe they should all just bunk together. Save everyone a lot of time and worry.

Still, he didn't ask. So she got out of the car after dinner and went to her own room, instead of his, all too aware that the earlier storm was long gone. The skies had cleared, except for the occasional lingering finger of cloud, and the wind had died to a gentle ocean breeze. Max had suggested they find a boat and head to the island, despite the added risk of going there by night.

Lou had changed her mind, though, by saying he had a feeling that was just what the vampire wanted them to do.

Hell.

The clock read 12:03 when she heard the sound of a door closing. She'd drifted off and could have kicked herself for it, but she hurried to her own door and opened it just a crack.

Stormy was walking across the parking lot. She wore a pale blue nightgown, filmy and light, and the breeze caught it and sent it waving behind her. She was barefoot. Where the hell was she going? Not to the cars. No, she veered to the side and headed around to the rear of the motel.

Max wasn't dressed. She wore a hockey jersey and panties. Nothing else. She snagged the extra blanket from the foot of the bed, because it was faster than going to the closet for her coat and shoes. Tugging the blanket over her shoulders, she hurried outside to follow. When she passed Lou's door, she almost stopped and called out to him. But she decided to see what the hell was going on first—and kept walking.

Behind the motel, there wasn't much. A Dumpster full of garbage. A thin ribbon of pavement that wound around from the front. And beyond that, a rolling stretch of unmown grass that ended at a patch of spindly trees.

Stormy walked across the field, heading for the trees. Max swallowed hard, giving one last glance back toward the motel, wishing she had alerted Lou. Too late now. If she went back, she would risk losing sight of
Stormy. She shrugged the blanket from her shoulders, dropped it in the middle of the grass and then kept walking even as Stormy disappeared into the trees. At least there would be some sign where she had gone, in case she didn't come back, Max thought. She considered calling out to her friend but wasn't sure that would be the best thing to do. Didn't they say you should never startle a sleepwalker awake? Grudgingly, she admitted to herself that she was afraid of just who or what might wake up if she did.

“Hell.” Max trudged on. She stepped on pointy twigs and bristly patches every few yards. She stumbled and hopped and fought to avoid the unseen hazards on the forest floor, though it was little use in the dark.

Stormy had no such problems. She walked smoothly, steadily, either intuitively placing her feet in the right spots or simply oblivious to the discomfort of bare feet on the forest floor, and twigs and branches in her face.

Max pushed the branches away as she went and thought she must be the noisiest thing in the woods this night, the way she was crashing through the underbrush. Stormy, on the other hand, didn't seem to be making a sound. Then again, Max thought, she might not hear Stormy over her own ruckus, anyway. Even keeping her friend in sight was becoming a challenge.

And then it wasn't a challenge, it was impossible, because Stormy was gone. Vanished.

Max strained her eyes in the darkness, but she couldn't see her. She hurried forward, racing toward the spot where she'd last sighted Stormy. The woods ended
there, suddenly and without warning. Max emerged onto a steep embankment and came to a startled halt. The slope angled sharply downward, dirt, gravel and sand. Hardly any grass grew there. At the bottom there was water, a tiny cove where the ocean lapped at the shore. A small boat sat on the beach off to one side, and a still, pale form lay nearby.

“Stormy!”

Max jerked into motion, starting down the slippery slope. The surface was loose and fell away under her feet. Her legs slid downward, and she leaned back in an effort to keep her balance. In another heartbeat, her hands were grasping the ground behind her, her butt and legs skimming downhill fast, even though she dug her heels in to try to slow her descent. And then she was at the bottom, scrambling to her feet and hurrying to where Stormy lay on the ground.

Her friend's nightgown was wet, the ocean waves rolling in gently, reaching to her legs. Max fell to her knees, grasping Stormy's shoulders. “Storm? Honey? Come on, wake up.” She lifted her friend's upper body in her arms and searched her still face. She'd obviously taken a fall. God, had she broken her beautiful neck?

“Stormy? Jesus, talk to me!”

“She's still alive. There's no need to panic.”

Max jerked her head up at the sound of the deep male voice coming from very nearby—instantly aware that it didn't belong to Lou or to Jason. And then she saw him, standing on the shore with the waves lapping over his feet and the sea wind lifting his long, black hair
from his shoulders. Clouds parted, and the moonlight bathed his face. The same face she'd seen earlier tonight, in the drawings done by his victims.

Instinct told her to back away. She didn't. In fact, she moved closer, rising to her feet to put herself between him and Stormy. “You'll leave here if you know what's good for you,” she said.

His brows rose. “Courage? Or foolishness?”

“Probably a little of both. Now, get the hell out of here before the rest of my friends arrive and stake your sorry ass.” She was painfully aware she had no weapon. Nothing to use to fight him off.

“Stake me? That's actually rather funny.” He stepped closer.

She bent quickly and snatched up the biggest rock within reach.

“Calm down, Maxine Stuart. You have no friends coming, and I think you know that rock in your hands can't harm me.”

“I also know it's going to hurt like hell when I cave your skull in with it.” She lifted the rock. “Stay back.”

He lowered his eyes to Stormy. Then they widened.

Max stole a quick look downward, too, afraid to take her eyes off him for more than an instant. But Stormy's own eyes were open. And they were a deep, dark black that almost seemed to glow in the moonlight.

Her eyes fixed on the man's, the vampire's. She muttered something that sounded like
“Print meu”
as her strange eyes turned to focus on Max and the rock in her hand. And then she shrieked something in that gibber
ish language she was always speaking, even as she shot into a sitting position, twisted her body and wrapped her arms around Max's legs, toppling her to the ground. She clambered up her, clawing, pounding. All Max could do was try to cover herself with her own arms, but that did little good. Her best friend was beating the hell out of her.

“Tarfa!
terge-o c
-t~i traq us
ut in cur!”
Stormy ranted.

The man shouted a single word.
“Stai!”
To Max's amazement, Stormy went still, then turned her head slowly toward him, her eyes welling with tears.
“Dragostea cea veche îti sopteste la ureche.”
She reached a hand up to him.
“Print meu.”
For a moment he seemed about to take it. But then she passed out, rolling off Max and onto the shore.

“Just what the hell is the meaning of this?” the vampire asked, his voice dangerously quiet, trembling, his eyes moist and focused on Stormy. “What kind of game are the two of you playing?”

“I don't know what you're talking about. She's sick. All I want to do is help her.”

“Do you think I believe a word of that?” he demanded. “Where did she learn to speak those words?”

Max blinked. “You mean…you understood her? What did she say?”

He sighed and started to turn away, but Max reached up and gripped his arm. “What did she say?” she cried.

“She called you a bitch. Said to get away before she kicked your ass, to put it bluntly.”

Max winced and closed her eyes tightly.

“And then she said, ‘Old love will not be forgotten.'” His tone had softened, and his eyes were on Stormy now. “I am not so foolish that I'm not aware this is some kind of a trick,” he said.

“I don't really care what you think.” Max knelt beside her best friend, leaning over her, touching her face.

“Move aside,” he commanded.

“If you think I'm letting you touch her, you can think again, pal.”

“You'll never get her back up that hill by yourself.” He put a cold, powerful hand on her shoulder. “And if I'd wanted to hurt you, you'd be long dead by now.”

She turned to stare up at him. “What have you done with those two girls? Where are Delia and Janie?”

“They're fine. Would you like to see them?”

She was so stunned, she sucked in a breath.

“Come to me on the island. The two of you,” he said, nodding at Stormy. “Alone and only by night.” He smiled slowly. “I think you've already realized I'll never allow you to reach it by day.”

“I knew it….” She looked around her. “This was your doing, wasn't it? Somehow luring Stormy out here in the middle of the night, putting her under some kind of trance—”

“Come to me by night. Bring her to me. When you do, the girls are yours.”

“I'll get those girls back, make no mistake about that. But my way, not yours. Never yours.”

He shrugged. “Why am I bothering to negotiate with
a mortal? I'll take her with me now. It's not as if you can stop me.
La revedere,
Maxine Stuart.”

Max stood between him and Stormy. He reached for her to move aside. “You son of a—”

“Get your hands off her!”

The shout came from halfway up the steep hill, as Lou shot down it. Even as the vampire turned in surprise, Lou was hitting him like a full body rocket. The impact took both of them into the surf, where they tumbled and rolled.

Max shot after them. “Lou, don't. Jesus, look out! He's the—”

The men sprang from the water, crouched, facing each other, knee deep in the froth. Something glinted, and Max saw the knife in Lou's hand.

“You're no match for me, mortal, and I think you know it.”

“Maybe not. But I guarantee I'll put a hurting on you that you won't soon forget.” Lou lunged forward, swinging the blade.

Max gasped, shocked at the speed of his strike, and the brutality of it, as well. The blade sliced deep, and the vampire jerked backward, clasping his upper arm. Blood swelled, oozing between his fingers, coating his hand and dripping from it.