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Authors: Sarah Madison

Crying for the Moon (6 page)

BOOK: Crying for the Moon
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“I gotta go too,” Tate agreed, rising to his feet with a little stretch. He yawned as he spread his shoulders, the action stretching the shirt over the muscles of his chest in a tantalizing way. He untied his sweater and slipped it on over his head. Alex couldn’t help but be disappointed to see Tate cover up again. He didn’t bother chiding himself over watching Tate pull his head through the neck of the sweater and thread his arms through the sleeves. Watching was just watching. There was no harm in admiring a beautiful thing.

He walked them all to the door.

“We had a lovely evening,” Tish said warmly, as they all spilled out onto the front porch. The light from the hall behind them fell in a bright rectangle on the stairs where everyone paused as they said their goodbyes. Alex could see small clouds of vapor as Tish spoke, and he glanced involuntarily up at the sky. The moon was only a thin sliver, but now that Alex paid attention to such things, he knew it wouldn’t be long until it was full again.

“Good food,” Duncan rumbled. In the darkness, his towering height seemed even more intimidating.

“I’ll say,” Peter chimed in, stretching backward to give his belly an exaggerated rub. “Yum. Seriously, I can’t remember the last time I had such a good meal.”

“You say that about
every
meal, Peter.” Tish laughed, provoking a chuckle from everyone in general. “Thank you, Alex, for having us over. And you, too, Tate, for cooking such a wonderful dinner.”

“My pleasure. It was nice meeting y’all,” Tate said with a smile.

“We should do this again sometime,” Peter suggested. “This was fun. Makes a nice change from sitting home and watching television.”

“Maybe you’d like to start an amateur theater group?” Nick suggested dryly, but Alex could tell he was just teasing. “We had a nice time, Alex. See you at the end of the month?”

“Yes,” Alex agreed. He wrapped his arms around himself in the cool night air, standing on the porch as everyone moved off and toward their cars at last.

It was an odd feeling to watch as his friends all got into their various vehicles and drove away. Friends. He had friends.

Chapter 3

 

 


Y
OUR
light’s out.”

“Excuse me?” Alex had just clicked the automatic lock button on the black Ford Escape, causing the lights to flash. He paused to look over his shoulder at the unkempt man who was walking past. It was close to dusk and there were few people in the parking lot of the home supply store. It had been a long time since he’d had to worry about a potential mugging. Most predators instinctively recognized another predator when they saw one. The last person who’d mistakenly viewed him as a potential victim had ended up providing him enough blood to slake his thirst for a very long time. Not to mention, he was no longer a threat to anyone else.

“Driver’s side headlight is out,” the man said, continuing to walk on by, not caring whether Alex heard him or not.

“Oh. Thanks!” He called out after the man. He came around to the front of the car and pressed the lock button on his key ring again. When the lights flashed, the driver’s side headlight remained dark. Damn it. The last thing he wanted was for some overzealous cop to stop him on the way home. His driver’s license might not bear the scrutiny, despite the fact that Moretti had a reputation for superior work when it came to providing documents for the vampire community. Shrugging, Alex headed into the hardware store to pick up the water filters that he needed.

He stopped by the auto supply place on the way home.

“Here you go, sonny,” the man behind the counter said, handing him the light bulb in a small box. He seemed oblivious to any potential insult in his address, and Alex let it go. He realized the old man didn’t mean anything by it. That was just the way he spoke.

“I don’t suppose you could show me how to replace it?” Alex smiled winningly at him. Hell, he wasn’t above using his charm on the guy if it would get him back on the road any sooner. Give him a car from the 1960s or ’70s and he was confident he could repair or replace just about anything. Most of the newer models seemed to have little tricks to opening the simplest latch.

The old man looked pained. “I’m so sorry, but they’ve changed the policy here. We can’t touch the customers’ cars. Guess they’re afraid we’ll break something. I can tell you, though: don’t touch the light bulb with your bare hands. The grease from your fingerprints will heat it up and make it bust. You have to use gloves.”

Great
. He thanked the clerk and took the little box out to the parking lot. In the light from the storefront, he reviewed the driver’s manual. The diagram seemed simple enough.
Piece of cake.
He popped the hood release and came around to the front of the car to lift it up, using the prop bar to hold it in place.

Step one: Remove the electrical conductor.

The electrical conductor proved to be a small rubber-covered bulb protruding from the back of the lighting assembly. Unfortunately, the lighting assembly was down in a very tight place between the battery and the front grill. The electrical conductor was hard to grip, even though Alex’s long fingers could reach down into the small space. Try as he might, he could not get the conductor to release from the back of the housing unit. Concerned that he might break it and certain there must be a simple way to perform the task, he went back to the book.

Remove electrical conductor.
That’s all it said. Even when he turned the page, there was no further indication of
how
to remove the conductor. He could just make out the word
push
in the center of the conductor, along with two large arrows that also pointed at the center of the bulb. Smiling, he gripped the conductor by the sides, pushing inward. When that failed to release the conductor, he pushed directly over the word itself with his thumb. Still nothing.

He went back to the manual again.
Remove the electrical conductor.
The words hadn’t magically changed since the last time he’d read them. Annoyed, he moved on to step two.
Remove the rubber cover.
Maybe it would be easier to see what he was trying to unplug if he completed that action. The rubber ring came off easily, up to the point where it met the electrical conductor. There, it ceased to move. As he struggled with it, his hand slipped off the plug and connected sharply with the battery.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He snarled as he went back to the glove compartment and pawed through the contents until he found a set of needle-nose pliers. He was able to manipulate the pieces together again with the help of the pliers. When he was done, he was back where he’d started. An examination of the other headlight assembly was of no use whatsoever; if anything, it was even harder to access.

Another customer hesitated on seeing him at work over the grill of his car, but one look at the expression on his face and the young man decided to go into the store without offering assistance. Alex stared down at the light assembly again. It couldn’t be that hard. It only seemed hard because he didn’t know the trick; just like the time he was changing a tire and the wheel wouldn’t come off even after he’d removed the lug nuts. He’d had to call the dealer to find out that a kick to the wheel in the right place would cause it to pop off the hub. He was going to be Damned if he let this stupid thing defeat him tonight.

He took hold of the electrical conductor again. Squeezing the sides firmly with his fingers, he pushed its center with his thumb. To his delight, the catch loosened, and he was able to remove the plug. The rubber cover and retaining ring were a snap after that. He pulled out his leather gloves from his coat pocket to handle the bulb. In no time at all, he had replaced the assembly. Closing the hood of the car, he looked up and saw the old man watching him through the window. He offered a thumbs-up. The old man grinned and waved.

Initially pleased with his mastery over the diabolical headlight, Alex suddenly felt depressed as he got back into the car and buckled his seat belt. He’d successfully changed out his headlight. Whoop-de-do. As moments of pride went, it was pretty small potatoes. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. He felt oddly reluctant to head back to the house; he didn’t exactly have any exciting plans for the evening.

The old man came to the window, cupping his hands to the glass so he could peer out into the night. Realizing he was probably starting to worry, Alex started the engine and slowly backed out of the lot. He fished around in his coat pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Thumbing through the short list of contacts, he clicked on Nick’s name.

He disconnected the call when it immediately rolled over into voice mail. They were probably out for the evening. Nick would see that he’d called; if he wanted to call Alex back, he would. Besides, what would Alex have said in a message? He was bored? Lonely? He just wanted to hang out with them? He glanced at his watch. They were probably grabbing dinner somewhere right about now.

He took the road through town instead of getting back on the bypass. Peter had mentioned a couple of bars on the outskirts of town where they’d often hung out in the past. Alex had a vague hope of running into them as he circled the block looking for a place to park. The streets were unexpectedly crowded; he realized belatedly that it was Friday night and that many of the local college students were out in search of a good time.

Is that what you’re looking for? A good time?
The voice inside his head was insidious and sly. He knew that voice well. It was the same one that suggested a night in the coffin wasn’t such a bad thing—that he needed it; he
deserved
it.

He found a parking place on one of the side streets but hesitated before getting out of the car. What was he really looking for here? The town was too small for him to take someone into an alley and introduce them to the joys of a vampire feeding. He was hungry enough now that he couldn’t be too sure he could stop a casual feeding anyway, and he certainly didn’t want to enter into a relationship of any sort. That was even harder to keep secret in a small town. He got out of the car and shut the door with unnecessary force. Maybe he should have moved into a larger city after all, especially given his preference for men.

The side street was relatively quiet. Alex shoved gloved fists into the pockets of his long coat, moving in and out of puddles of pinkish light cast by the overhead street lamps as he walked. He paused in front of a store that advertised itself as a travel agency. Pictures of tropical locations tempted the imagination with sandy white beaches and impossibly blue seas.
Not that I’d be sunbathing
, he thought with a smirk. He checked out some of the offers, wondering if he should consider taking a trip somewhere where he could seduce his pick of willing victims from the bright lights of some large city and give them the thrill of a lifetime before disappearing again.

He was deep in his little fantasy, where he was the mysterious stranger who’d picked up a beautiful lover in a resort town, when he came around the corner and ran right into Tate.

“Alex?” Tate seemed pleasantly startled. He’d gripped Alex’s arms when they’d collided, and he wasn’t letting go. “Fancy running into you! Literally. What are you doing downtown? You want to come with me to get something to eat?”

Don’t tempt me.
The thought came unbidden to Alex, all his fantasies of tropical locations and exotic strangers morphed suddenly into a cold street corner, and the way Tate’s breath plumed in a cloud of vapor when he spoke, and the pulse of his heartbeat underneath his bright, woolen scarf. Tate seemed to become aware that he was still clutching Alex’s arms and suddenly let go.

“I’m not really very hungry,” Alex lied. “But I wouldn’t mind grabbing a beer while you eat.”

“Really? Cool.” Tate’s smile was electric. They fell into step, Tate turning back to head in the direction that Alex was going in the first place. “You strike me as more a wine connoisseur than a beer drinker.”

“I do prefer wine,” Alex admitted, as they reached the street corner and waited for the light to turn. “But I have a problem paying as much for a glass of wine as I’d pay for the entire bottle.”

Tate laughed, the warm sound doing something strange to Alex’s chest, releasing a tension he had not known was there.

“So, where to?” Alex said, as Tate bounced on his heels and rubbed the sleeves of his coat, obviously cold. “Where were you headed?”

“I was going back to my car. I’d dropped off a prescription for a client and I was headed home to scrounge some dinner until I ran into you.” He made it sound like meeting Alex was such a fortuitous event, and Alex tried very hard not to read more into that than he should. Tate just liked people; Alex had yet to see him irritated or sulky at all.

“Well, since you’re the one who’s hungry, you choose.” Alex knew he sounded abrupt and wondered when he’d started to care about such things.

“Let’s go to PJ’s,” Tate said, indicating the neon sign over the small bar and grill across the street. The light changed and they crossed over to join a small cluster of people entering the restaurant. “They’ve got decent sandwiches and stuff.”

BOOK: Crying for the Moon
5.9Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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