Embrace the Night (30 page)

Sara screamed, and then fell silent as another of the brutes tied a gag over her mouth, then dropped a sack over her head. Slinging her over his shoulder, he disappeared into the darkness. The last creature lumbered across the floor and opened the drapes wide before he followed the others outside.

Gabriel writhed on the floor, helpless, while the holy water penetrated his clothing and burned through his skin. The crucifix, though no bigger than his hand, lay like a tombstone on his chest, making it hard to breathe. And all the while his skin sizzled and burned.

Wild with rage and pain, he cursed himself and Nina.

But the worst was yet to come, because all too soon he felt Sara's panic. As clearly as if he were there beside her, he saw the dark hole into which two of the beasts lowered her; heard Sara's muffled screams as they covered the deep, narrow hole in the ground with a thick layer of sod so that she was literally buried alive. He saw her struggle against the ropes that bound her hands and feet. A dirty strip of cotton cloth covered her mouth, muffling her terrified cries. The thick smell of damp earth, of fear, clogged his nostrils.

Gabriel! Gabriel, help me! Oh, please, help me.

Her cries tore at his heart, his soul.

Ignoring the agony burning through him, he tried to move, but the cross held him immobile.

Unable to free himself, he could only lie there, listening to her cries, her prayers, her silent screams. As the hours passed, hysteria threatened to engulf her, her voice grew hoarse, faint. He felt her panic when a worm crawled over her arm. And over and over again he heard her call his name, begging him to come to her, to help her.

He tried to speak to her mind, but his powers were weak, and growing weaker, and her terror shut out every other thought.

He glanced at the window. Only a few hours till dawn, he thought bleakly. And then the early morning sunlight would pour through the window, its golden rays scalding his skin, its heat incinerating his flesh.

The horror of it, the imagined agony, made him shudder.

He closed his eyes against the excruciating pain that racked him, and then, so softly that he thought he had imagined it, he heard a groan.

"Delacroix?"

A wordless grunt was his only reply.

"Maurice! Can you hear me?"

"Y… yes."

A thin thread of hope spiraled through Gabriel. "I need your help."

Another groan rose up out of the darkness.

"They've taken Sara."

"What… can I… do… ?"

"Can you reach me?"

"I'll… try."

Minutes passed. Long, agonizing minutes while Maurice slowly inched toward Gabriel.

"The cross," Gabriel said, his voice a harsh rasp of pain. "Get rid of it."

It seemed as though hours went by while Gabriel waited for Maurice to summon the strength to lift his arm, to remove the heavy silver cross from his chest.

Gabriel closed his eyes in relief, felt a small measure of his strength return. Lying there, he put everything from his mind but his hatred, his rage. He let it build within him, filling him until it consumed him, and then, with a mighty flexing of his muscles, he broke the chains that bound him.

Staggering into the kitchen, he stripped off his clothes and boots and scrubbed away all trace of the holy water. His skin was badly burned; in places, it hung from him in shreds of charred flesh.

He needed blood.

Slowly, he made his way into Sara's bedroom. For a moment, he closed his eyes and inhaled, letting her scent wash over him. Moving carefully, he slipped on a loose-fitting black shirt and breeches. Returning to the kitchen, he pulled on his boots, then went into the parlor. He put on his cloak, then knelt beside Maurice. The man was barely breathing; the back of his skull had been crushed, his hair was soaked with blood.

"Delacroix?"

Maurice's eyelids fluttered open. "Sara?"

"I'll find her."

"You… look… half-dead…"

"I am dead," Gabriel said flatly.

A wry grin pulled at Maurice's lips. "Me… too…"

There was no point in lying to him, Gabriel thought. At best, Delacroix had only a few minutes to live.

"My blood…" Maurice whispered hoarsely. "Take it… find… Sara."

Gabriel shook his head. For all the hunger burning through him, as badly as he needed nourishment to heal his wounds and restore his strength, he could not take this man's blood. Not now.

"Do it," Maurice urged.

"Are you ready to die?"

Maurice stared up at Gabriel, knowing without words what Gabriel was asking him. "You can… save me?"

Gabriel hesitated. Under other circumstances, a little of his vampire blood would have revived Delacroix, but he was too near death now for that to be effective. "If you wish."

"Would you… make the choice… to be what you are… again?"

Gabriel stared out the window, his heart and mind searching for an answer. Would he make the same choice again? He thought of all he had seen and done in three and a half centuries, and then he thought of the endless darkness, the years of loneliness, the awful, unbridgeable gulf that stretched between himself and all of humanity. Between himself and the woman he loved.

Slowly, he shook his head. In 350 years, he had never bequeathed the Dark Gift to another soul.

"I don't know," he replied honestly, "but you must decide now, before it is too late."

"Will saving me… weaken you?"

"Yes."

In that moment, Maurice made his decision. Gabriel was Sara's only chance, and the vampire was right. There was no time to waste.

"Take… my blood…" Maurice's voice grew faint. "Save… Sara…"

"As you wish," Gabriel murmured. And then, because Sara's life depended on it, on him, Gabriel bent his head to Delacroix's neck, determined to fulfill Maurice's last request.

Gabriel spoke to Maurice's mind, soothing the young man's fear as his fangs pierced his flesh. Delacroix went limp in Gabriel's arms; moments later, Gabriel felt Maurice's heartbeat slow and grow labored as he quickly drained the life's blood from the younger man's body.

Before Delacroix's heart beat its last, Gabriel drew away. Sitting back on his heels, he watched the light fade from the young man's eyes, heard the last breath of life whisper past Maurice's lips, and with it, his very soul.

Rising, Gabriel wiped the blood from his mouth. "Forgive me," he murmured fervently. "I only pray I am not too late to save her."

In the last half-hour before dawn, Gabriel carried Maurice's body into a run-down part of town and left it there, lying in an alley. The police would find him in the morning. His death would be blamed on one of the many robbers who frequented this side of town.

Returning to Sara's apartment, he cleaned up the blood, locked the door. And then, wrapped in his cloak, he crawled under her bed to wait for nightfall.

In those last moments before the deathlike sleep claimed him, he sought her thoughts, hoping to reassure her, but he found nothing. Either Nina had killed her or she was unconscious.

"Hang on, Sara," he whispered. "I'm coming."

She opened her eyes to darkness. The filthy cloth that covered her mouth tasted vile; it was hard to breathe, hard to swallow.

The endless darkness, the silence, filled her with unspeakable horror. Was this what it was like for Gabriel? But no, he had said it was like death—no thoughts, no dreams.

The earth beneath her was cold and damp. She flinched as something tiny and hairy crawled across her arm. Hours ago, she would have screamed, but her throat was raw and she had no voice left.

How long had she been in this hole? Was she going to die here?

She shuddered convulsively as she imagined herself trapped in this grave without food or water, quietly starving to death, her body growing weak, emaciated, while she went quietly mad, until the worms came to devour her flesh…

She shook the morbid thought aside, focusing all her thoughts on Gabriel. Surely he would come for her. If he could.

She remembered the creatures who had attacked them, and for the first time she wondered if Maurice was alive.

Had she caused his death, and Gabriel's, too? Would she die here, in this place?

Was it still night? She strained her ears, hoping to hear some sound that would tell her she wasn't alone. Even the company of those awful brutes who had abducted her would be welcome.

She tried to scream, to call for help, but no sound emerged from her throat.

Gabriel, please help me. Gabriel, anybody, please, please, help me.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, she closed her eyes and prayed for someone to find her before it was too late.

He moved through the night like the shadow of death, his face impassive, his eyes burning with the need for vengeance. He had drained Maurice of blood and it flowed through him, warm and vibrant with the memory of life.

He drew a deep breath, sifting the thousands of scents that assailed his nostrils, homing in on the one fragrance that was hers, and hers alone.

He felt his rage stir anew as he caught a whiff of Nina's heavy perfume, and mingled with it the pungent odor of unwashed bodies.

It took him less than an hour to find where they had taken Sara. Trust Nina to choose a graveyard for their last confrontation, he mused ruefully.

And then there was no more time to think. Like hulking beasts rising out of the mist, the mindless brutes Nina had created advanced toward him, their sunken eyes dead, soulless. But he was ready for them this time, and in less than a minute all six of them lay dead at his feet.

And then Nina was there, regal in a flowing gown of black silk. Her hair fell over her shoulders and past her waist like a river of darkness. Her skin was pale, luminescent in the light of the full moon; her eyes glowed with power and hunger and an implacable need for revenge.

"I'm here," he said, and his voice echoed off the gravestones.
I'm here, I'm here
…

He didn't take his eyes off Nina as he let his mind probe the area for Sara's presence. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he caught her scent. He could feel her terror, smell the fear that paralyzed her.

"I am almost sorry you came, Gianni," Nina remarked. "I can't help but feel regret that I must destroy you."

"Change your mind." He let his glance slide over her, his expression insolent, provocative. "Let Sara go and I'll do whatever you wish."

"I told you before, it is too late for that."

"For our kind, it is never too late."

"How long, Gianni? How long would you stay with me?"

"As long as you wish."

"A hundred years? A thousand?"

"If you wish."

"You went on your knees before. Will you do so again?"

"Yes,
bella
, if that is what you want."

"I do."

Slowly, his pride rebelling, his soul filling with bitterness, Gabriel knelt at Antonina's feet.

"Speak pretty words to me, Giovanni," Nina demanded, her voice like satin over steel.

"You are the most beautiful, most desirable woman I have ever seen. There is none other like you in all the known world. Your luster outshines the sun. Your voice is like honey; your lips are like the finest wine…"

"You mock me!"

"I speak the truth."

"Liar! If your words were true, you would be here, in my arms where you belong, instead of begging me for the life of that mortal woman."

"Nina, even a vampire cannot chose whom he will love. I cannot deny my feelings for Sara, but I swear to you that I will do anything and everything you ask of me if you will only let her go."

"Will you make love to me, here, now?"

"Yes,
bella
, but only after you have released Sara."

"And will you return with me to Italy and swear not to return to France as long as the little ballerina is alive?"

"Yes."

Nina's eyes glowed, red and evil, and then softened as she stared at the man kneeling before her. He had not changed since she had seen him in Italy all those centuries ago. He was as young and virile and handsome as he had been then, with his dark gray eyes and smooth olive-hued skin. In a thousand years, she had not found another who stirred her blood as he did.

"Tell me the truth, Giovanni, for I will know if you lie. Do you have any true affection in your heart for me?"

"No."

She nodded, as though he had given her the answer she had expected.

"Your punishment will be long indeed, Gianni," she remarked. "For I shall demand your attention every waking minute for as long as you survive. You will be my slave. You will serve me, and hunt my prey. You will satisfy my every desire, and should you displease me while this mortal still lives, I shall return here and finish what I started." Her gaze bored into his. "Do we understand each other?"

"Yes."

"Come then, kiss me to seal our bargain."

Gabriel rose slowly to his feet, his mind replaying the distant past. He looked into Nina's eyes and wondered how he had ever found her desirable. There was no warmth in this woman, no life, no laughter.

Making love to her would be like making love to a corpse, and yet he would do it for Sara.

With an effort, he masked his distaste, took Nina in his arms, and slanted his mouth over hers. Her lips were as cold as the grave; her tongue tasted of death. He flinched imperceptibly as her arms slid possessively around his neck. Her skin felt cool and clammy.

She drew away for a moment; then, standing on tiptoe, she ran her tongue over the side of his neck. He felt the sharp prick of her fangs at his throat, shuddered with revulsion as she drew his blood into her mouth, and all the while a small voice in the back of his mind warned him that he must learn to submit without recoiling, that he must get used to the touch of her hands on his flesh, her teeth at his throat, her mouth on his.

Nina stepped back, her gaze intense, and he wondered if she could sense the depths of his revulsion.

"So, Giovanni," she remarked quietly, "we have sealed our bargain with your blood."

"And now you will keep your promise."