Insatiable Desire (29 page)

“I will never join my father!” Vincent raised his hands and flung them out, concentrating all his energy and rage on destroying the demon. Rocks crumbled and shattered, the earth shook, the cave walls trembled. Pan dodged the first blow, and sent another torch falling.

“Give me your soul and you can save her.”

“No!” Clarissa cried.

Vincent raced toward him, using his hands as lethal weapons.

Pan roared in protest, a horrendous sound that vibrated through the tense silence, and then his black mass exploded, splattering particles across the walls of black rock. The particles glowed momentarily, then disappeared into the rock as if the stone had absorbed the demon.

A terrible stench filled the air as the last remnants of the demon slowly disappeared, and outside in the forest, screams and cheers resounded as if the creatures there were celebrating a new one joining their realm.

Vincent turned and walked through the fire toward Clarissa. Heat scalded his feet and legs, flames nipped at his clothing. The raging fire was about to consume her. She cried out as the flames ate at her dress, kicking wildly.

He ripped apart the ropes with his bare hands, beating at the flames, then scooped her into his arms and ran through the heat. The floor vibrated and shook, the cave resounding with the force of Zion’s protest as Vincent raced toward the cave exit.

Remembering the dangers in the Black Forest, he pressed Clarissa’s head against his chest, tucking her tightly in his arms as he raced outside. Adrenaline gave him superhuman speed and strength as he raced through the woods, fending off the inhuman creatures. Snakes and plants sucked at his feet, the screeching sounds of the monsters trying to snatch them brutal and relentless. But he didn’t pause until they’d cleared the forest.

As soon as they entered the clearing, fresh cool air brushed his skin and a gentle rain began to fall, washing away the stench of the dead demon and the horrors of the forest, cooling the fire that the devil had cast upon the land.

Moonlight fought through the ominous clouds and shone down to illuminate Clarissa’s beautiful face. A face streaked with soot and tears, one that had held terror. Pain clenched his chest.

Still he couldn’t release her. He’d almost lost her . . . had almost lost himself to the darkness, but she had saved him.

“I’m sorry,” he groaned as he clutched her to him. “I told you I was dangerous.” He dropped his head against hers, his breathing ragged. “I love you, Clarissa. God, I’m so sorry—”

Clarissa pressed a hand to his cheek. “You saved us, Vincent. I knew you would.” She kissed him on the cheek, then the lips. “I love you. I love you with all of my heart.”

He nuzzled her cheek with his, then his gaze met hers, emotions clouding the troubled depths. “How can you? You know I was born part demon?”

“And I talk to ghosts,” she whispered against his neck. “Besides, you’re strong and brave and proved how powerful you are.”

He still found it hard to accept her love. “But I may lose control again. And this fight . . . it’s not over. My father is rising tonight. He’ll come after me . . .” He made a low, guttural sound. “He might try to use you to get to me.”

“I’m not afraid,” she said. “You defeated Pan. You overcame your fear—you can defeat him, too.”

“Pan was wrong,” Vincent said in a gruff voice. “My greatest fear wasn’t that I’d be like my father, but that I’d lose someone I loved again. That’s why I tried so hard not to love you.”

She pressed her hand against his cheek, tears glistening in her eyes like diamonds. “Then we’ll fight him together, Vincent. Maybe our gifts brought us together because that’s our destiny.”

A smile fought its way onto his mouth. It was the first time he’d smiled in years. She was the perfect woman to challenge him. To be his equal and stand beside him in the war against evil.

His heart, the one he thought he didn’t have, burst with new feelings, a happiness unlike anything he’d ever expected or known existed. Then he lowered his mouth and kissed her, pouring that heart into each stroke of his tongue as he claimed her.

His friend, lover, soulmate, the one that he’d never expected to find.

The one he’d never leave again.

Clarissa snuggled in Vincent’s arms, the voices in her head momentarily quieting. She glanced back at the Black Forest from where they’d emerged and knew it was the miracle of Vincent’s birthright and his strength and courage that had allowed them to escape alive.

A bright white light suddenly peeked through the drizzling rain, and Clarissa smiled. Now that the demon was truly gone, the murdered girls could find peace and cross into the light.

Ahead, they raised their hands in thanks, as if to say good-bye, then joined hands and floated into the light.

Vincent hugged her close and carried her to the car and she settled inside. Exhausted, she closed her eyes and offered a silent prayer to her mother for giving her the courage to overcome her fears. Then she squeezed Vincent’s hand.

Her heart belonged to him forever.

Vincent squeezed Clarissa’s hand. “How are we going to explain this to the town?”

Clarissa sighed. “I don’t know. Sheriff Waller did a lot of good over the years.”

“But he traded his soul and killed four girls,” Vincent argued. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “And he almost killed you.”

“You’re right. He sold his soul, and the families and friends of the victims need to know that the killer was caught,” Clarissa said.

Vincent nodded. “We’ll talk to Tim and let him help us.”

“Tim?”

He explained about his confrontation with Bluster. Clarissa’s eyes widened in surprise. “So he suspected a demon all the time?”

“Yeah, me,” Vincent muttered dryly.

Clarissa laughed softly, and Vincent punched in Bluster’s number.

“Did you find Clarissa?”

“Yes, she’s safe.” Vincent hesitated, then explained about Waller being possessed, surprised at Bluster’s easy acceptance. “Waller is dead. He tried to kill Clarissa.”

“Then you did what you had to do.” Bluster huffed as if out of breath. “And I found photos of all the dead girls at Waller’s, so the victims’ families will have closure.”

“Right. And tell everyone that he died in the Black Forest. Everyone around here believes in the legends about that place.”

“So what do you think about Crane?” Bluster asked.

“He’s schizophrenic and made a good patsy.” Vincent cleared his throat. Now that he knew Bluster was investigating paranormal phenomena, things seemed clearer. “They’ll need you to take over as sheriff,” Vincent added.

“I’d like to do that, watch things, see if anything else strange happens around here.”

“Maybe we can create a paranormal investigative unit,” Vincent suggested. “You interested?”

Bluster grunted. “Sign me up. When I suggested this in Nashville, they thought I was nuts.”

Vincent assured him he wasn’t, then told him they’d talk later and hung up. One day he’d get Bluster’s story, what brought him to believe in the supernatural. But for now, he wanted to take Clarissa home and make love to her.

He disconnected but noticed the message light blinking. Dr. Bender from BloodCore had phoned.

His stomach clenched. She was probably returning his call about his blood test. What had she found? Irregularities?

Demon blood?

A cure for evil?

He was tempted to call her back, but Clarissa leaned her head on his shoulder, exhausted.

The amulet burned in his pocket, and he removed it, then slipped it around her neck and fastened it. The angel’s wings were back where they belonged—with Clarissa, to protect her.

The call could wait. After all, he had defied his bad blood tonight.

And he wanted a few hours in bed with Clarissa before he had to face his father’s wrath.

EPILOGUE

Midnight

V
incent sat on the floor in the attic and studied the candles as Clarissa lit them one by one.

He’d been terrified years ago when she’d offered to commune with his mother.

Tonight, anticipation zinged through his veins. She’d placed the candles in a circle and cut the lights, then began to chant,

“To the present

From the past,

Bring this spirit

To speak at last.”

Suddenly a shimmering light sliced through the darkness. He glanced up, nearly blinded by it, then watched, mesmerized as it slowly faded to a golden glow.

“It’s your mother, the Angel of Light,” Clarissa said softly.

“Mother?”

“Yes, son, it’s me.” Her voice was soft, gentle, just as he remembered, and he was starved for it.

“Vincent, you were strong today. I’m proud of you, my son.”

“We defeated the demon,” he said. “But I’ve been told that Father has been named the new source of evil, that his coronation is tonight.”

“Yes. Listen. I have to tell you about your destiny. You have two brothers, Vincent. Twins. Their names are Quinton and Dante.”

Shock bolted through Vincent. “Brothers? Is that true?”

“Yes.”

Vincent hesitated, soaking in this revelation. “Do they know about me?”

“No, you are the oldest. You were only two when I got pregnant with them.” She hesitated. “By then, your father and I were having problems, and I learned more about the Dark Lords, about the power of having three sons.” She hesitated. “Your father was also turning, starting to be cruel to you. I knew the three of you had to be separated for your own sakes.”

Pain laced her voice. “Giving my sons up was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I left an amulet with each of them for protection, and to remind them that they carry good in their souls as well as evil.”

“But why did you keep me?” Vincent asked, confused.

“I thought I could protect you, but I was wrong, and I’m sorry.” She hesitated. “And the real danger lay in the three of you being together.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Like you, your brothers are Dark Lords, although they know nothing of this destiny. However, they also have special abilities.” She hesitated as if to let that sink in, then continued.

“Each of you alone has the power to do great good or great evil. Together your power is magnified by three. But if Zion traps one of your souls, he could use the power he gains to bring all three of you into the darkness. If that happens, you would become the most powerful source of evil of all time.” Again she paused. “But if the three of you join to fight him, you can defy him. Then you will be the greatest force of good in the world.”

Vincent’s head swam with emotions. All these years he’d been alone, had no idea that he had other family. “Where are my brothers now?”

“I don’t know,” his mother said. “But other demons are looking for them. And when Zion rises, he will send out his minions to solicit them to his side. You have to find them before he does.”

For a brief moment, her angel wings glowed, sparkling with a translucent white light that was almost mesmerizing in its beauty.

Then she faded into the distance.

Clarissa slid her hand into his. “You have family, Vincent.”

He dragged her into his arms. “Apparently so. I can’t believe it.”

The earth rumbled beneath them, the house shaking as the clock struck midnight. The clouds moved across the moon, obliterating the light. The eclipse had begun.

Vincent stood.

“That’s Zion. I have to find my brothers and get them to help me stop him. There’s no way I’ll let him win.”

THE DISH

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From the desk of Amanda Scott

Dear Reader,

An incident during the Lake Tahoe fire of June 2007 proved to me once again that ideas come to a writer from unexpected sources of every imaginable kind.

BORDER LASS (on sale now) was outlined and its teaser chapter written when I decided, because of the way that first chapter brings together the hero and the heroine—Sir Garth Napier (a Scottish knight) and Lady Amalie Murray—that I should add a brief prologue to show readers why Sir Garth acts as he does.

I was sitting on the porch at the cabin where I spend much of each summer, on a lake a thousand feet above Tahoe, trying to decide how I wanted to structure such a prologue, when I looked up to see a yellow- white cloud of smoke billowing above the granite peak that shoots up another thousand feet directly across the lake.

To anyone In a forest, such a sight is terrifying, but with a medium-sized lake and a tall granite mountain to protect me, I felt fairly safe staying put.

The incident that awoke my imagination occurred a few days later when an irate man accosted a firefighter and his wife in a Tahoe supermarket. The firefighter’s T-shirt identified him as a member of the South Lake Tahoe Fire Department.

The community had signs out everywhere, thanking the firefighters for all they had done and were doing to save me many, many houses they were able to save. As a result most folks the firefighters met were friendly and grateful. Many called them heroic.

The man in the supermarket loudly began berating the firefighter about me department’s “failure” to bring in “the bombers” (planes dropping retardant) sooner. The firefighter, although exhausted, tried to explain that such planes have to be called in from other areas and asked sympathetically if the man had lost his home.

Admitting that his house was not in danger, the man continued his tirade until the firefighter walked away to avoid, losing his temper, only to look back minutes later and see the same irate man approach his wife again in the checkout line and begin poking her in the chest as he shouted at her. Fortunately, a large candy rack stood between the firefighter and the other two, and the store’s security people quickly removed the antagonist from the premises, so no blood was spilled.

When I heard about the incident, my always busy gray cells began to turn the incident into a more violent confrontation in fourteenth-century Scotland. Soon I was recalling other firefighter anecdotes I’d heard that likewise suited my hero’s character and were irresistibly easy to translate into plausible knightly actions.