Night's Surrender (13 page)

Blocking his thoughts, Nick forced a laugh as he guided Abbey toward the stairway. “I'm sure it's nothing.”

“It doesn't smell like nothing,” she muttered, wrinkling her nose. “It reeks!”

He couldn't argue with that.

If what they were cooking was his desired cure, he sure as hell hoped it tasted better than it smelled!

 

 

Nick confronted the two elderly vampires later that night. “What the hell were you thinking? Cooking that crap in here?”

Pearl looked up from the hearth, where she had been stirring the pot. “Where else did you think we'd make it? We can't go home.”

“You could have taken it down to the dungeon.”

“Edna saw a rat there.”

“A rat?” Nick glanced from one woman to the other. “A rat? You're vampires, for crying out loud. Our kind has been known to dine on rats when there was nothing else.”

Edna grimaced. “I'd rather starve!”

Nick jerked his chin toward the hearth. “Is that my cure you've got cooking in there?”

“Yes.” Pearl set her spoon aside and covered the pot. “It's coming along nicely.”

“It stinks to high heaven.”

“That's the wormwood. And the garlic, of course.”

“Wormwood,” Nick muttered. “And garlic.” He took a deep breath. “Whose blood is in there?”

Pearl and Edna exchanged glances.

“I asked you a question.”

“It's blood from an infant.”

Nick's eyes narrowed. “Don't tell me . . .”

“Oh, no!” Pearl exclaimed. “The babe passed away. Killed in a car accident, he was.”

Edna nodded. “We thought blood that was pure would work better than anything else.”

Nick stared at the pot. He had never tasted the blood of children. The thought of doing it now was repugnant. But he was willing to try anything to restore his humanity.

“Keep this door locked from now on.” He fixed each woman with a hard stare as he stepped into the hall. “And remember, no one's to know this is for me.”

 

 

After leaving Edna and Pearl, Nick went hunting in the city. He preyed on the first female he saw, then sent her on her way.

He was contemplating whether to stop by the local pub for a glass of wine or return to the castle when he heard Abbey's voice in his mind.

Her request stopped him in his tracks. No one, save Mara, had ever been inside his head. It was disconcerting, knowing a mortal—even when that mortal was Abbey—was walking around inside his mind.

A thought took him to Abbey's room. She smelled of soap and shampoo, leading him to believe she had bathed and washed her hair before climbing into bed.

Abbey grinned when Nick materialized in her room. The first time she had read his thoughts had been a little disturbing, but now she decided it was a pretty neat trick, being able to contact him even when he was miles away.

“You look like the cat that swallowed the canary,” Nick muttered, closing the door behind him.

“I'm sorry.” She made a vague gesture with her hand. “I couldn't help trying out my new . . . ah . . . spooky psychic power or whatever it is. Do you mind?”

“No.”

“I can't believe it worked. That is why you're here, isn't it? Because I sent my thoughts to you?”

“I got your message loud and clear.” His gaze moved over her. “What now?”

She frowned. And then her cheeks flooded with color. She had called him home and when he arrived, she was waiting for him in bed. It didn't take a genius to know what he must be thinking.

Nick laughed softly as he sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled her into his arms. “I'm pretty sure you didn't bring me here to seduce me, although I'm more than willing to let you have your way with me.”

She looked away, her cheeks feeling like they were on fire. “You're making fun of me.”

“Never.” He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head. “Now that I'm here, I can tuck you into bed and kiss you good night.”

“Stay with me for a little while?”

“I'm not sure that's a good idea.”

“Please?”

“All right, love.” He toed off his boots, removed his shirt. “But I'm warning you, I've only got so much self-control.”

Abbey lifted the covers, admiring his broad shoulders and flat stomach as he slid in beside her and drew her into his arms.

Nick held her for several minutes, dusting feather-light kisses on her brow, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, the corners of her lips. Her response was less enthusiastic than usual, causing him to ask, “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head and then sighed. “I guess I'm a little homesick. I'm fond of Mara and Logan, and the castle's lovely in an old-world way, but . . .”

“It isn't home.” He had a number of houses, Nick mused, but none of them were home.

“I don't know why I'm feeling so blue. Dad says I can come back in a day or two. I guess . . .”

“Go on.”

“Well, my life has been kind of hectic lately, what with meeting you and moving back to Auburn and then, just when I thought things were settling down, my dad decided I should stay with Mara.” She paused to take a breath. “And then Mara decided we should come to Romania, of all places, and . . .”

Nick kissed her, slowly, deeply, until he felt her relax in his arms. “I'll take you home day after tomorrow. If not to your place, then to mine.”

“Oh, Nick!” Throwing her arms around him, she kissed him, then drew back, her eyes wide. “Are you out of your mind?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don't deny it. I read your thoughts. I can't believe that on top of everything else that's happening, you're actually thinking about taking that crazy cure!”

Sitting up, Nick raked his fingers through his hair. Dammit. He hadn't intended to tell Abbey about the cure until it was a done deal, but he had let his guard down when she kissed him, and now the proverbial cat was out of the bag.

“That's what's cooking in their room, isn't it?” She scooted into a sitting position. “They're brewing one of their so-called cures.”

“Calm down, love. I'm doing it for you.”

“For me? Why?” She plucked at the edge of the blanket. “I've never asked you to change.”

“I know, but relationships between vampires and mortals rarely end well.”

“That's not true! Look at my family.”

“Do you think those relationships would have endured this long if the women had remained mortal?”

“I'd like to think so.”

“I know you don't want to be what I am,” Nick said. “And I don't blame you. It isn't a life I would have chosen for myself.”

“But . . . ?”

“I want to try the old ladies' cure,” he said. “Not just for you. But for myself. I told you before that I was tired of living, that I had intended to ask Mara to end my existence. This way is better.”

Abbey stared at him a moment. He was right. She had never wanted to be a vampire. But she couldn't help thinking he was making a huge sacrifice, giving up his powers, his strength, and an endless future for a few short years with her.

“If the cure works, will you marry me, Abbey?”

“Oh, Nick!” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. “I'll marry you even if it doesn't.”

Rane tossed his cell phone on the table. “Well, shit.”

Savanah looked at her husband, still stunned by Abbey's news. Her daughter was going to marry Nick Desanto and Abbey expected them to be happy about it? “She hardly knows the man.”

“He's not a man,” Rane growled. “He's a vampire that's over two thousand years old.”

“Well, you have to admit, he seems to love Abbey and he's treated her, and us, with respect.”

“Don't tell me you're on her side?” he asked incredulously.

“No, of course not. But she's very much in love with him. I could hear it in her voice. She's happy, Rane. Really happy.”

“She can be happy with someone else.”

Savanah placed her hand on his arm. “If we make this hard for her, or let her know we don't approve, it will only drive her away. You don't want that, do you?”

“Of course not. But . . .”

“There's always a chance she'll change her mind. They haven't set a date yet. And she'll be coming home soon.”

“I should have driven a stake in his heart the first time I saw him.”

“You might want to keep those thoughts to yourself when they come home,” Savanah suggested with a wry grin. “What are you really worried about? You must have known that, growing up in our family, there was always a good possibility she would marry a vampire.”

“What am I afraid of?” Hands balled into fists, Rane paced the living room floor. “I'm afraid that he might turn her against her will. Abbey doesn't want to be a vampire. She never has. He wouldn't be the first of us to turn a woman against her will.” He slammed his fist against the wall. “If he hurts her . . . if he mistreats her . . . I swear I'll destroy him if it's the last thing I ever do!”

Abbey stood in the middle of the bedroom floor, her hands fisted on her hips. “But I want to be there!”

“No. I don't know what effect, if any, it will have on me.”

“Nick . . .”

“Abbey, please don't fight me on this.”

A sigh of resignation slipped past her lips. “All right. But you'll come to me as soon as you can. You promise?”

“Of course.”

“Does Mara know you're doing this?”

“No. And neither should you.” Drawing her into his arms, he hugged her tightly. “I've got to go.”

Abbey clung to him a moment, wishing she could talk him out of taking the cure. What if it didn't work? What if it did? What if it killed him?

“I'll be fine, Abbey. Stop worrying about me.”

“I love you, Nick.”

“I know.” His gaze moved over her, as if to memorize her face, before he left the room.

“The dungeon?” Nick asked, one brow raised in wry amusement. “What about the rats?”

“We have no idea how our serum will affect you,” Pearl explained, ignoring his attempt at humor. “We've never tried it on anyone as ancient as you. It's for your own protection, as well as ours.”

With a shake of his head, Nick stepped into the cell, which held a wooden cot covered by a patchwork quilt, and nothing else. He could have told them that the cell wouldn't hold him if he wanted to get out, but what the hell. Locking him up seemed to make them feel safer.

Pearl closed and locked the door, then pulled a small brown bottle from her skirt pocket and handed it through the bars.

Nick stared at it. “What now?”

“You drink it, of course,” Edna said. “And then . . . who knows?”

“You don't inspire a lot of confidence,” Nick muttered. He uncapped the bottle, grimaced at the liquid's foul odor.

“If it works, you'll wake up mortal in the morning,” Pearl said.

“And if it doesn't?”

“You could wake up dead,” Edna replied matter-of-factly. “As in, really, really dead.”

Pearl sent Edna a quelling glance. “I doubt that will happen. If it doesn't work, you'll be no worse off than you are now.”

Nick regarded the bottle through narrowed eyes. “Like I said, you don't inspire a lot of confidence.”

“Good night,” Pearl said.

“And good luck,” Edna added.

Nick waited until he was alone. Then, taking a deep breath, he downed the contents of the bottle in one long swallow.

As he'd feared, the stuff tasted even worse than it smelled.

The ache in his gut started an hour later. Nothing more than a twinge at first, and then, little by little, the twinge grew stronger, until what began as minor discomfort quickly accelerated to unbearable pain and then to unspeakable agony. His blood burned like molten lava in his veins.

Minutes turned to hours. As the pain grew worse, he writhed helplessly on the floor. Time lost all meaning. He was trapped in the fires of hell, at the mercy of the bottle's vile contents.

He choked back the screams that clawed at his throat.

And prayed for death.

And she came.

Ever so gently, she lifted his head onto her lap. Her hand stroked his brow, cool against his heated skin, soft and oh, so gentle. Her words made no sense, but the sound of her voice soothed him. She massaged his throat and when he opened his mouth, something warm and salty trickled over his tongue.

“Abbey?”

“Sorry, no.”

“Mara.” Her name emerged from his throat in a growl of denial.

“Niccola, what the hell were you thinking?”

“How did you know?”

She continued to stroke his brow. “I'm your sire, you fool. How are you feeling?”

He groaned. “How do you think?”

“I think you look like hell.”

“Yeah? Well, that's how I feel.”

“You did this for Abbey, didn't you?”

He grunted in reply.

“Does she know?”

“Yeah.”

“You really are in love with her, aren't you?”

“I asked her to marry me.” He struggled to sit up. “And yes, she said yes. And yes, I'm going to try this again.”

With a rueful shake of her head, Mara stood and helped him to his feet. “Are you doing this because she wants you to?”

“No.” He leaned against the back wall, his arms wrapped around his stomach.

“You're either in love or out of your mind,” Mara declared. “I'm not sure which.”

 

 

Abbey had been pacing the floor for what seemed like an eternity when Nick materialized in her room.

“Good Lord!” she exclaimed, hurrying to his side. “Are you all right?” Her gaze moved over him. She had often heard the expression “like death warmed over.” Now she knew what it looked like. Grabbing his hand, she tugged him toward the bed. “Sit down before you fall down.”

“I'm all right.”

“Uh-huh. And I'm the Queen of England.”

Muttering an oath, he fell back on the mattress and closed his eyes.

Abbey stared at him. His face was drawn and pale. There were dark shadows under his eyes; lines of pain bracketed his mouth. She wasn't sure, but it seemed as if he was having trouble breathing. “Nick?” She shook his shoulder. “Nick!”

“You don't have to shout.”

She sank down on the bed beside him. “You scared me. I thought . . .”

“Stop worrying. I'm fine.” It wasn't quite the truth. His insides were still on fire, but, thanks to Mara's blood, the pain was no longer intolerable.

“So,” Abbey said, brushing the hair from his brow. “I guess it didn't work.”

“I'll try again in a few days.”

“Please don't.” She took his hand in hers and pressed it to her heart. “I love you just the way you are.” Bending down, she kissed his cheek. “Forget the cure, and let's go back home tomorrow like we planned.”

Home, he thought. If he tried the cure a second time with the same results, would Mara come to his rescue again?

And what would be his fate if she didn't?

 

 

It was near dawn before Abbey fell asleep. Easing out from beside her, Nick went into town. He preyed upon the first person he saw—an old drunk huddled in an alley. The man's clothes reeked of cheap wine and tobacco, his blood was vile, but it restored much of Nick's strength. He didn't bother to wipe his memory from the derelict's mind. Even if the old guy remembered what had happened, no one was likely to believe he'd seen a vampire.

After sealing the wounds in the old man's neck, Nick left the alley. A short time later, he checked into a hotel where he took a long, hot shower before returning to the castle.

He found Edna and Pearl in the great hall bent over a chessboard.

Edna's eyes widened when she looked up and saw him. “Remember what you said! No hard feelings.”

“I want another go at that cure.”

“Are you sure, dear?”

“I wouldn't be here if I wasn't.”

“But . . . I think it's only fair to tell you that it's not likely to work this time either. The next step would be to increase the dose.” Pearl shook her head. “But I'm afraid that might kill you.”

“I agree,” Edna said. “And after seeing the results this time . . . well, I can't imagine a new batch would be any more effective. We can't work magic, you know.”

“I'm willing to take my chances. I'm taking Abbey home tomorrow. When the cure's ready, let me know. Have you got a cell phone?” He had bought one on a whim a few years ago. He rarely used it.

“Of course, dear. Doesn't everyone?”

Nick gave Pearl his number. “All right, don't just sit there like bumps on a log,” he growled. “Go figure out a way to make that cure work, or I'll hand the two of you over to those hunters myself.”

“Very well,” Edna said. “It's your funeral. Come along, Pearl. We've got work to do.”

 

 

Abbey had her bag packed and was ready to go when Nick rose the following evening. She met him in the Great Hall, where he was talking to Logan and Mara.

They all looked her way when she entered the room.

“So,” Mara said, “you're leaving us.”

Abbey nodded. “I'm afraid I'm homesick.”

Mara smiled. “Of course. We'll be returning to California in a day or two. I confess, I miss the creature comforts so sorely lacking here. Logan thinks we should either renovate this old place or sell it.” She glanced around, then sighed. “It's going to cost a fortune to fix it up, but I can't part with it.”

“What about Edna and Pearl?” Nick asked.

“Since it isn't safe for them to return to the States, I've decided to let them stay here to look after things.”

“Thank you for everything,” Abbey said.

Mara nodded. “Give my love to your mom and dad. And tell your mother the books are hidden where no one will ever find them.”

“I will.”

Abbey hugged Mara and Logan, then picked up her suitcase.

“Ready?” Nick asked.

When she nodded, he tucked his suitcase under one arm and wrapped his other arm around her waist. “Here we go.”

The next thing she knew, they were standing in the middle of the living room in the cottage.

Abbey dropped her suitcase on the floor beside Nick's. She clung to him for several moments, until the world stopped spinning. They had left Mara's place at six
P.M.
, Romanian time. Here in California, it was ten hours earlier and the sun was shining brightly.

She was about to ask Nick if he wanted to go riding when he turned sharply toward the door, his eyes showing red, nostrils flaring.

“What is it?” Abbey whispered.

“Hunters. A lot of them.”

“Here?” She glanced nervously around the room.

“No. Up at the house.” He drew in a deep breath. Blood had been spilled. Copious amounts of it.

“My parents!” Abbey exclaimed, the color draining from her face. “I've got to go up there!”

She ran toward the door, skidded to a stop when she almost ran into Nick.

“Not so fast,” he said. “Not until I check it out.”

“Nick, they could be hurt. Or . . .” She blinked back her tears. They couldn't be dead!

“There's nothing you can do up there. You need to stay here until I find out what's going on.”

“I can't just sit here and wait, not knowing.”

“Abbey, listen to me. I don't know what happened up there, but I smell blood, and I'm not sure whose it is. I'm going to take you to my lair in New Jersey. When we get there, I want you to call your uncle Rafe and ask him to come and stay with you. Got it?”

“But . . .”

“Don't argue with me. You can't do any good here.”

He didn't wait for her answer. Wrapping her in his arms, he transported the two of them to his lair in New Jersey. “I'll let you know what's going on as soon as I find out.” He scribbled his address and phone number on a scrap of paper and thrust it into her hand. “Call your uncle. Promise me?”

She nodded. Nick was right. There was nothing she could do at home. “Be careful!”

“Don't worry about me. Make that call. And keep the doors and windows locked.”

 

 

Nick dissolved into mist as he approached the Cordova house. He could hear voices inside—a lot of voices. He hadn't told Abbey, but the blood he'd smelled was mostly vampire blood. And overlying it, the unmistakable smell of death.

Hovering outside a downstairs window, he quickly took in the scene before him. The living room was a shambles. Sofa pillows were scattered on the floor, drawers had been emptied. Pictures hung askew, leading Nick to believe the intruders had been searching for a wall safe. No doubt the rest of the house had also been turned upside down.

Eleven hunters formed a loose circle around Rane and Savanah. A fire burned in the hearth; a poker rested on the coals, its tip glowing bright red. Both vampires were bound by heavy silver chains. Judging from the bloodstains on their tattered clothing, they had been tortured. It was hard to tell how long it had been going on, or how badly they had been hurt, since vampire wounds healed quickly.

“I grow weary of this.” Meloni's voice, thick with anger and impatience. “Where are the books?”

“We've told you a hundred times,” Rane said. “They aren't here and we don't know where they are.”