Night's Touch (30 page)

Roshan sat back, his eyes closed beneath the mask. His skin burned like hellfire where the handcuffs touched his skin. It was a pain he had suffered in the past at the hands of Anton's father. The mask, too, had been lined with a sheet of fine silver, burning his face even as it prevented him from seeing through the material.

He swore softly, his rage growing with each passing mile. No matter what happened this night, whether Cara was hurt or not, Bouchard and the witch would die for what they had done.

Roshan? Rrenna's
voice sounded in his mind.
What should I do
?

Nothing at the moment, love. Keep Di Giorgio with you when he gets home.

You're in pain. I can feel it.

He's handcuffed me with silver to restrain me. I think we're going out to Loken's old lab.

I should be with you.

No.

You'll call me if you need me?

He smiled in spite of the pain in his wrists.
Who else would I call
?

I love you. Be careful.

A
short time later, the car rolled to a stop. The engine stilled. The door beside Roshan opened, admitting a draft of cool air.

"We're here," Anton said. "Get out."

Moving blindly, Roshan did as he was told. He felt Anton's hand close over his arm, guiding him toward the lab. There was the sound of a key turning in the lock. Roshan followed Anton until the threshold's power stopped him.

"Oh, I forgot," Anton said, his voice thick with contempt, "come in."

Roshan crossed the threshold. Feeling like a lamb being led to the slaughter, he followed Anton down two flights of stairs. A door opened and he caught his daughter's scent.

"Cara?"

"Daddy!"

"Shut up, both of you!" Anton said brusquely. He shoved Roshan backward. "Climb up on that table."

Revulsion swept through Roshan as he did as he was told. He remembered all too clearly the last time he had been in this place. He flinched as someone carelessly cut away his shirt, slicing into his flesh as well. The silver blade seared his skin, as did the heavy silver strap they laid across his chest to secure him to the table. Silver manacles were clamped around his ankles; the handcuffs were removed and replaced by silver shackles. A thick silver strap was fastened across his neck so that he couldn't raise his head.

They were taking no chances this time, he thought. He could already feel the heavy silver leeching his strength, weakening his powers, leaving him blind and helpless.

"Get the baby." Serafina's voice, filled with barely suppressed excitement. "It's upstairs, in the lab."

A baby! Roshan shuddered to think what they would do with the child, but it was the fate of his own child that filled him with despair. "Bouchard?"

"He's not here," Serafina said.

"I came without a fight, now let my daughter go."

"All in good time," the witch said. "We are not through with her yet."

"What are you going to do to her?"

"Take a little blood."

Roshan swore a vile oath. "Don't tell me you're pursuing Loken's foolish dream of immortality!"

"No." She laughed maniacally. "Something better than that."

He strained against the bonds that held him, wincing as the silver shackles cut deeper into his flesh. "Damn you!"

He heard the sound of Anton's footsteps coming down the stairs, a baby's sleepy whimper, caught the odor of sulfur as someone lit a match.

Roshan tensed as hands took hold of his arm.

"Keep him steady," Serafina said.

He felt a sharp jab as she plunged a needle into his arm, smelled his own blood as it filled the syringe.

"Now the girl, and then the baby," Serafina said.

Roshan heard Cara gasp as Serafina drew her blood.

The baby made no sound at all. He wondered if it was still alive.

"Take the brat back to the lab," Serafina said.

He listened to the sound of Anton's footsteps walking away, heard the woman muttering to herself as she paced the floor. A short time later, he heard Anton return.

Roshan tugged against his bonds again, but the silver was already doing its work, sapping his physical strength, weakening his preternatural powers, burning his skin everywhere it touched. If only he could see what was happening!

As if in answer to his unspoken wish, Anton removed the hood.

Roshan glanced to his right where Cara was bound to a metal table. Blood dripped from her arm. The scent of it enflamed his preternatural senses even as it stirred his hunger.

He turned his head to the left and Anton and Serafina came into view. For the first time, he saw the stone crypt in the corner.

Was it for his daughter, he wondered bleakly, or for himself?

Vince glanced at his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. Eight-thirty. He swore under his breath, wondering if the damn thing had stopped.

He stared into his empty glass, thinking he hadn't been this nervous about seeing a girl since he was sixteen years old and had a crush on Amy Broderson.

He thought about Cara and realized he didn't have the vaguest idea of what he was going to say when he saw her again. He supposed groveling would be in order. And confession. It was supposed to be good for the soul, though he wasn't sure he possessed one anymore.

So, what should he say to her?
Cara, I'm sorry I left without saying good-bye. I was a fool. I love you. And oh, by the way, your dad was right. I'm a vampire
.

Blowing out a sigh, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Soon after leaving town, he had gone home to visit his family. He hadn't seen his folks in over a year, and he'd wondered if they would notice the change in him. He'd shown up on a Sunday evening, making sure he arrived well after dinner and dessert. Even then, his mother had offered him cake and coffee, which he had politely refused, insisting he'd stopped for dinner on the road.

It had been good to see his folks again, to feel the love of his mom and dad, his sister and his brothers and sisters-in-law, to play with his nieces and nephews, and to catch up on their lives. His sister, Eve, was pregnant with twins. Once he'd gotten caught up on what they'd been doing, they wanted to hear about him, curious to know how he was doing, and if he had met anyone.

He had found himself telling his family about Cara and, with every word, he realized he didn't want to exist without her, that he loved her with every fiber of his being, and that he wanted nothing more than to share the rest of her life, however long or short that might be. It wouldn't be easy. She would age, sicken, and die. But that was the way of the mortal world and he couldn't change it.

His mother had been excited at his news, eager to see her youngest son marry and settle down, eager for more grandchildren. He had teased her, asking if ten grandkids weren't enough, and she had replied that, "you could never have too many grandchildren."

Now, sitting in a darkened nightclub, Vince felt a twinge of regret that he would never have a child of his own, never know what it was like to hold a son or a daughter in his arms. It was something he hadn't considered when he chose the life of a vampire. Of course, fatherhood would also have been out of the question if he had chosen death instead of life when Mara offered him the choice, so maybe it was a moot point and not worth thinking about.

Had Cara missed him as much as he had missed her? Was she angry because he'd been too gutless to tell her good-bye in person? Would she forgive him? Would she even see him?

He shook off his doubts. If she truly loved him, she would at least give him a chance to explain. He held that thought close as he glanced at his watch one more time.

It was eight forty-five.

Cara glanced at her father for reassurance, though she found little to reassure her. The smell of his singed flesh filled the confines of the room. The skin at his wrists was raw and bright red, as was the skin at his neck, ankles, and chest. His face was also badly burned. Though his expression remained impassive, she knew he must be in agony.

She tugged on the leather straps that bound her hands and feet. She had to get free, had to help him. She had always thought her father was indomitable. Since learning he was a vampire, she had assumed he was indestructible. It was frightening to see him subdued and helpless. If he couldn't fight Serafina, what hope did she have of getting away from the woman?