Night's Mistress (Children of the Night) (12 page)

She was drying off when Rogen materialized between her and the bathroom door. With a startled gasp, Mara hugged the towel to her chest.

“I see you remember me,” Rogen said, his pale eyes glinting malevolently.

“Of course.” She glanced past him to the door, wishing her mind was still linked to Logan’s. If she called for him, could he make it into the bathroom before Rogen killed her?

Rogen took a step forward. “I knew if I survived long enough, one day I’d find you again.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he clapped his hand over it, forestalling her.

“Shut up!” he hissed. “I don’t want to hear anything you’ve got to say. You took my life, and now I’m going to take yours.” Frowning, he leaned closer, his nostrils flaring, his eyes filled with confusion. “Mara?”

She felt a rush of hope. Since she no longer smelled like a vampire, he wasn’t sure of her identity. She thought of lying, of telling him that he had the wrong woman, but her pride wouldn’t let her. Instead, she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, wishing, as she did so, that she was wearing something more dignified than a towel.

Dropping his hand from her mouth, Rogen took a deep breath. “What’s happened to you?”

“Nothing,” she replied imperiously. “Get out of my way.”

“What are you gonna do if I don’t?” Rogen asked with a sneer.

“Maybe you should ask what
I’m
going to do.” Rogen tensed visibly at the sound of Logan’s voice coming from behind him. Hands clenched at his sides, Rogen slowly turned around. “Are you the poor fool who’s fighting her battles now?”

“Sure looks that way.”

“Okay by me,” Rogen said, cracking his knuckles. “First you, then her.”

Logan snorted softly. “You think you can take me?”

“Damn right!”

Mara glanced from one man to the other. Rogen had always been quick with his fists. In the old days, he’d had quite a reputation as a bare-knuckles boxer. He was perhaps two inches taller and fifty pounds heavier than Logan, but it wasn’t size that made the difference when vampires fought. It was age. Vampires grew stronger and more powerful as they grew older. Rogen had been a vampire for a hundred and fifty years; Logan had seven hundred and fifty years on him.

“Let’s take it outside,” Logan said, jerking his chin toward the door. “I don’t want to have to clean up the mess.”

Rogen made a derogatory sound deep in his throat. “When I get finished with you, there won’t be anything left to clean up.”

Mara laid her hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Logan . . .” “You’d better kiss your pretty boy good-bye,” Rogen said, “’cause after tonight, you’ll never see him again.” His gaze moved over her. “After I settle this, you and me are gonna have a little talk.”

Rogen’s gaze swung to Logan. “I’ll be waiting out back,” he said, and vanished in a cloud of dark gray motes.

Logan drew Mara into his arms, his hands sliding up and down her bare back. “I won’t be gone long.” He kissed her once, hard and quick, and then he, too, vanished from sight.

Mara pressed a hand to her heart. Logan was older, stronger. There was nothing to worry about. So why was she suddenly so afraid?

 

Logan faced Rogen across six feet of barren ground on the outskirts of the city. He couldn’t remember the last time he had battled another of the Undead.

Logan circled Rogen warily, all his senses alert. His tongue brushed his fangs. He wasn’t afraid for his own life. He wasn’t afraid of whatever fate awaited him on the other side of eternity. He had lived a good long life, and lived it on his own terms. He had no regrets. But this was a fight he had to win, not for his own sake, but for Mara’s, and for the sake of the baby she carried. He had no doubt that if Rogen were victorious, he would go back to the hotel and kill Mara without a qualm, and her child with her.

And with that thought in mind, Logan summoned his power, lowered his head, and attacked.

Fangs bared, nails like claws, Rogen met him head on. The coppery scent of fresh blood rose on the night wind as they slashed at each other.

It was a quiet and bloody battle, one Logan knew could last well into the night unless one of them suffered a killing wound. Rogen’s minor injuries healed almost immediately, as did Logan’s.

Despite his size, Rogen was light on his feet. And he was eager for battle, certain of victory.

Logan danced sideways as Rogen darted toward him, his fangs bared. Spinning around, Logan grabbed Rogen by the back of his shirt and gave a good, hard yank. Rogen stumbled backward, momentarily off balance. Moving swiftly, Logan kicked out, sweeping Rogen’s feet out from under him. With a startled cry, Rogen fell backward and hit the ground, hard.

Logan was relishing an imminent victory when he sensed the approach of others. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a dark swirling mist moving rapidly toward him. A low growl rose in his throat as the mist got thicker, darker, taking on shape and substance, until four men materialized in its place.

Vampires all. Their combined power charged the air like the electrical energy that preceded a storm.

Rogen scrambled to his feet, a smug expression on his face.

Logan glared at him. “Afraid to fight me on your own?” he asked, his voice laced with contempt.

“I came to win.” Rogen wiped the blood from his face and licked it off his hands.

Logan swore under his breath. One on one, he could whip any vampire who came against him, but five to one?

He backed away as the five Nosferatu stalked toward him. It was like a scene from some bad horror movie: five fanged, red-eyed monsters advancing toward the hero. Logan grunted softly. In a movie, someone would have come to the hero’s aid. In his case, no help would be forthcoming.

He could have vanished from their sight, but he stood his ground. Leaving now might save him for the moment, but he knew that, sooner or later, there would be another confrontation. Now that Rogen knew Mara had lost her powers, he wouldn’t rest until he had avenged himself on her, or he was dead.

Deciding to carry the battle to the enemy, Logan bared his fangs and charged. It startled Rogen and the others, but only for a moment.

Logan’s last thought before they surrounded him was for Mara, and then there was no time for thought as they tore into him, literally and figuratively.

Logan summoned every ounce of strength he possessed but it wasn’t enough. Would never be enough. The five vampires circled him, growling like rabid wolves. Singly and in pairs, they darted in to bite and slash, and while he defended himself against those in front, others attacked from his rear, gradually wearing him down. One of them, a vampire wearing a bright red shirt, came in low and fast, his fangs opening a long wicked gash down Logan’s left side. Blood gushed from the wound, running down Logan’s thigh, staining the earth at his feet. Red Shirt’s fangs were still embedded in Logan’s flesh when a fair-haired vamp rushed Logan from the other side, his fangs scraping along Logan’s throat.

Weak from the blood he had lost, Logan dropped to his knees, snarling defiantly as four of the vampires fell on him, pinning him to the ground.

Rogen stood over him, a sinister smile on his swarthy face. He lifted one hand, bloody claws extended. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Logan glared up at him, his whole body tense as he waited for Rogen to rip his heart from his chest. He wasn’t afraid of dying, only of never seeing Mara again.

Rogen took a step forward and then, with a strangled cry, he stared in disbelief at the stake protruding, point first, from his chest, before he toppled to the ground.

Logan grinned faintly when he saw Vince Cordova standing in the moonlight, flanked by his two sons.

The cavalry had arrived, just in the nick of time.

The remaining four vampires closed ranks and stood behind Rogen’s body.

The tallest of the four gestured at the dead vampire. “It’s over as far as I’m concerned,” he muttered, and vanished from sight.

“What about the rest of you?” Vince asked. “You three up for a little one on one?”

Red Shirt and the other two vampires exchanged glances.

Rane took a step forward. “Come on,” he said, motioning them closer. “Let’s do it.”

“I’m right behind you, brother,” Rafe said, baring his fangs. “It’s been a long time since we fought side by side.”

“Hey, now, hold on a minute,” the fair-haired vampire said. “We’ve got no quarrel with any of you. As for him . . .” He gestured at Logan, and then shrugged. “Rogen’s past caring if your friend lives or dies. And I sure as hell don’t care.”

Vince looked at the other two vampires. “You boys feel the same way?”

“Like Murray said, we’ve got no quarrel with you,” Red Shirt muttered, and one by one, the three vanished from sight.

Logan blew out a shaky breath. “How’d you guys know I was in trouble?”

“Mara called us,” Vince said.

“On the phone,” Rane added. “You look like hell.”

“That’s about how I feel.” Logan pressed a hand to his injured side. Blood leaked between his fingers. “I can’t believe she didn’t think I could take Rogen.”

Rafe shrugged as he grabbed hold of Logan’s forearm and pulled him to his feet. “She said she had a premonition that you were in danger. I would say she was right.”

“Can you make it back to the hotel on your own?” Vince asked. “Or do you need some help?”

“I can get there under my own power,” Logan said gruffly. He ran a tentative hand over his face, wondering if his nose was broken. “I guess I owe you guys a favor, big time.”

“Just take care of Mara,” Rane said. “That’s payback enough. How’s she getting along, anyway?”

“She’s doing all right, I guess. I think she’s starting to like being mortal. She’s even learning to cook.”

Rafe muttered an oath. “Cook? Mara is cooking?” He shook his head ruefully. “Next thing you know, the rivers will be turning to blood.”

Grinning, Rane slapped his brother on the shoulder. “Hey, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, now, would it?”

 

 

Mara was pacing the floor when a sudden coldness whispered past her. Whirling around, she came face-to-face with a woman who looked vaguely familiar.

“Who are you?” Mara asked. “How did you get in here?” The woman smiled, displaying even white teeth. And fangs.

Mara stifled the urge to make a run for the door. The worst thing you could do when faced with a predator was show fear. She remembered all too well the thrill of the chase. “Who are you?” she asked again.

“Sasha. I’m a friend of Ed’s.”

“I see.” Mara knew now why the woman looked so familiar. She was the redhead who had been sitting at Rogen’s blackjack table earlier.

“Ed told me you’d lost your powers. I didn’t believe him.” Sasha lifted her head and inhaled sharply. “But it’s true, isn’t it?”

Mara didn’t say anything, merely stood there, her mind racing as she glanced surreptitiously around the room. If the vampire attacked, she had no way to defend herself. It suddenly occurred to her that if she got out of this alive, she needed to stock up on holy water and a couple of sharp wooden stakes.

The vampire laughed softly. “Ed said the three of us are going to party after he destroys your boyfriend.”

Mara lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “We’ll have a party, all right,” she said with more bravado than she felt, “only you’ll be the main course.”

The redhead snorted derisively. “I can’t wait to tell my friends that we brought you down. Of course, since you’ve lost your powers, it won’t be much of a coup. But then . . .” She fell silent, her eyes narrowing as she gazed toward the door.

“Then what?” Mara asked, stalling for time.

“Then we’d . . .” Sasha stilled, her words abruptly cut off as Logan materialized behind her, one hand locked around her throat.

“You wanted a party,” Logan said, his voice gruff. “Are you ready to play?”

The redhead struggled in his grasp, her nails digging into Logan’s arm, her breath coming in ragged gasps as he tightened his hold.

Mara took a step forward. “Logan . . .”

He glanced at Mara over Sasha’s head. “Did she hurt you?” he asked, his voice silky smooth with menace.

Mara shook her head. “No.” But she could see that Logan was hurt. His face was bruised and bloody, his clothing bloodstained and shredded. In the aftermath of the fight with Rogen, his eyes still burned red.

“Rogen’s dead.” Logan hissed the words in the redhead’s ear. “You can join him, or you can get the hell out of town now, tonight. What’ll it be?” He loosened his hold on her throat so she could speak.

Sasha took a deep breath, then cried, “Damn you! Let me go!” She clawed at his face, her nails raking down his left cheek, laying it open to the bone.

“Dammit!” Logan roared, and threw her across the room as if she weighed no more than a child.

Sasha landed against the wall, her head snapping back hard enough to crack the plaster, but it didn’t slow her down. Fangs bared, she sprang toward Logan with murder in her eyes.

In spite of his injuries, he was quicker, stronger. Catching her in midair, he hurled her out the window. There was the sound of breaking glass followed by a horrible, blood-curdling cry, and then silence.

Mara stayed where she was, her arms crossed over her stomach, her gaze on Logan as he walked across the room and glanced out the window.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper as that last, agonized cry replayed itself in her mind.

“There’s a little white picket fence in the side yard.” He didn’t have to say any more. A picket fence made a very fine wooden stake. She tried not to imagine Sasha’s body impaled on the wooden spikes, but the harder she tried to ignore it, the clearer the image became.

Logan turned away from the window. “Who the hell was she?”

“A friend of Rogen’s.”

He snorted softly. “More than a friend, I’d say.” He lifted a hand to his cheek. “Damn, that hurts.”

Nodding, Mara went into the bathroom, turned on the taps in the tub, and dampened a washcloth. Returning to the other room, she pressed the cloth to Logan’s cheek. “Hold that,” she instructed, even though it wasn’t really necessary. The nasty gashes were already healing. “I’m sorry you had to kill Rogen.”

Logan lifted one brow. “You’re sorry he’s dead?”

“I didn’t mean that. I meant, I’m sorry you had to fight him because of me.”

“Well, I fought him, but I didn’t kill him.”

“Oh?” Her gaze slid away from his. “How did he die?”

“Old man Cordova drove a stake through his heart.”

“Vince was here?” she asked, surprised.

“Yeah, and the twins, too. I should be angry with you, you know, thinking I needed backup. Even though I did,” he added gruffly.

“What happened?”

He tossed the bloody wash rag on the dresser. “I was whipping Rogen’s ass when he sent out a call for help and four other vamps showed up. Rogen was about to rip my heart out when the Cordova boys arrived on the scene.” Logan cupped her face in his bloody hands and kissed her. “How’d you know I was in trouble?”

“I’m not sure.” Taking his hand in hers, she led him into the bathroom. “I just had a feeling something was wrong.” She unbuttoned his shirt, slid it over his shoulders and down his arms, and tossed it into the trash can.

“Hey, I paid over a hundred credits for that shirt!”

“Yeah? Well, it’s beyond repair. Kick off your shoes. Anyway,” she went on, unbuckling his belt, “I tried to sense your whereabouts. I couldn’t, of course.”

She unfastened his trousers and pushed them down over his hips. Logan stepped out of them and kicked them aside.

“So I called Rane and asked him to find you. He wasn’t supposed to let you know he was there, unless you needed help.” She slipped her thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and slowly dragged them down his legs, chuckling softly as she did so. The man had just been in a brutal fight, had almost lost his life, but it hadn’t affected his libido in the least.

Catching her amused gaze, Logan shrugged. “Hey, sex is life affirming. Everybody knows that.”

“Maybe later,” she said, turning off the water. “Right now, you need a bath.”

“Are you gonna wash me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’d refuse me?” he asked with feigned astonishment. “Don’t you know that in my weakened state, I could drown?”

“Oh, please,” Mara said, fighting the urge to laugh.

He groaned softly as he sat on the edge of the bathtub. “I could have been killed.”

“You’re a vampire, remember? You’ll be your old self by tomorrow night.”

She was moving toward the door when he said, “My last thought was of you.”

His words, quietly spoken, went straight to her heart. How could she refuse his request? Blowing out an exasperated sigh, she said, “Oh, just get into the tub.”

Stifling the urge to gloat, Logan slid down into the water. Resting his head against the edge, he watched Mara through heavy-lidded eyes as she pulled a clean cloth from the stack on the sink. Dropping to her knees, she leaned forward and washed the blood from his face and neck.