Desire After Dark (Page 40)

She was breathless when they parted.

"You were right," he said, his voice ragged. "This is a good place."

Chapter 23

"Trick or treat!"

Vicki opened the front door, smiling at the trio of children standing on the porch.

Spiderman, Frodo, and Harry Potter looked up at her, all holding pillowcases that were already bulging with goodies.

She dropped a candy bar in each bag, waved to the mothers waiting patiently on the sidewalk, and closed the door.

For the next half hour, there was a steady stream of trick-or-treaters ringing her doorbell, from cute little angels and devils to teenagers wearing hideous masks. She had just picked up her handbag and keys and taken a last look in the mirror to make sure her Tinkerbell wings were straight when the doorbell rang again.

"Oh, I love your costumes," Vicki said, glancing from a very realistic-looking Darth Vader to an equally impressive R2-D2.

"Thank you," said the taller of the two in a high-pitched voice. "I hate to impose, but could we use your restroom? My little boy needs to go."

"Oh, sure, come in." Vicki held the screen door open for Darth Vader and her son.

Darth Vader gave R2-D2 a little push, then followed him inside.

"It’s this way," Vicki said. She started down the hall, then stopped when she heard the front door close. Turning, she saw Darth Vader standing close behind her. There was no sign of R2-D2.

Fear snaked down Vicki’s spine. She opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but no words came out.

And then Darth Vader removed her mask.

And Vicki found herself staring into Dimitri Falco’s cold yellow eyes.

"Trick or treat," he said in that same high-pitched voice. And then he laughed. "And what a sweet treat you will be."

Stunned, Vicki stared at him. Pushing her fear aside, she tried to remember what Duncan had told her about making a vampire depart. But Falco was on her before she could form the words. His hand closed around her throat, squeezing, tighter, tighter, until all she could see were his eyes.

And then nothing at all.

Battista made his way down a street crowded with parents and kids, most of them in costume. Ballerinas, devils, elves, witches, warlocks, and vampires. On this one night, his dark clothing and long black coat fit right in. Knowing that Tom Duncan now considered him fair game, Battista kept his senses alert as he turned down the street toward Victoria ‘s house. He glanced at the night sky, quietly cursing the need that had sent him in search of prey. He was late tonight. She had probably already left for the diner.

Pausing at the end of the walkway leading to her house, he lifted his head and sniffed the wind. "Falco." The man’s foul stench polluted the air.

Hurrying up the stairs, Battista knocked on the door. There was no answer. The door opened at the touch of his hand. Her handbag and keys lay on the floor.

With preternatural speed, he hastened to the diner. Hoping against hope, he glanced in the window, his gaze sweeping the inside. There was no sign of Victoria.

Hurrying through the front door, he cornered Bobbie Sue. "Where is she?"

Her eyes grew wide. "I… I don’t know."

"Did she come to work tonight?"

"N… No."

He swore a vile oath. "He’s got her."

"Who… Who’s got her?"

"Falco."

"Take your hands off her and step away, Battista."

Turning, Antonio came face-to-face with Tom Duncan. "Falco has taken Victoria," he said, unable to hide the desperation in his voice.

"And I’m taking you."

"Did you not hear what I said?" Battista demanded. " Victoria ‘s life is in danger."

"First you," Duncan said resolutely, "and then him."

Battista snorted. "Are you going to stake me here, in front of all these people?"

Duncan glanced around. Though their conversation had been too low to be heard by others, the diner’s customers were all looking in their direction, curious as to what was going on between the two men and the waitress. To onlookers, it no doubt looked like two men arguing over a woman.

"We are wasting time that we cannot afford to waste," Battista said. Dropping Bobbie Sue’s arm, he left the diner.

"Dammit, wait a minute!" Duncan hurried after Battista, but when he reached the sidewalk, there was no sign of the vampire.

Cloaked in the shadows of the night, Battista closed his eyes and sought for the sound of Victoria’s heartbeat amongst the hundreds of others in the town, thanking whatever Fates there were that she had allowed him to take her blood the night before. Doing so had forged a link between them that could not be broken so long as one of them survived.

It took only moments for him to separate hers from all the others. Like a wolf on the scent, he followed the beat of her heart. It led him out of Pear Blossom Creek, across the state highway and the weed-infested field beyond.

Her heartbeat grew louder as he climbed a hill and descended the other side. There, he found a small house built of weathered wood and stone. There were iron bars on the windows, iron-barred security doors at the front and the back. A chain-link fence surrounded the property. A padlock secured the gate. Two large Dobermans paced the length of the fence.

No lights shone in the house.

He cursed softly, wondering how he had missed finding this place before. It provided little consolation to know that Duncan hadn’t found it, either, he thought, uttering a wordless sound of disdain. He was surprised the hunter could find his way home without a map.

Dissolving into mist, Battista floated over the fence, then slipped under the back door.

Once inside the cottage, he assumed his own shape. Standing in the dark, he listened to the sounds of the house, then followed the siren call of Victoria ‘s heartbeat. It led him through a small door in the kitchen and down a flight of stairs that ended in the cellar.

The frantic beat of her heart came to him more loudly now, as did the sound of her breathing, rapid and afraid.

A second door led into a larger room swathed in darkness.

He found Victoria chained to the wall across from the door, her arms drawn over her head, held in place by a pair of heavy silver manacles that gleamed even in the dark. A second set of manacles bound her ankles. For a moment, her appearance startled him, and then he realized she was wearing a Tinkerbell costume and the odd protrusions at her back were wings.

He moved quickly to her, wondering, fleetingly, how Falco had managed to bind her with silver chains, but his relief at seeing her alive and well overcame every other thought.