Night’s Kiss (Children of The Night #1)(64)
Author: Amanda Ashley

"Yes, I’m afraid it does." She held out her hand, then eased back the hammer on the gun. "The vial, please."

Brenna glanced from Myra to Loken, her stomach knotting.

With a shake of his head, Loken took another step backward. "If you want it, come and get it."

Myra laughed. "What do you hope to gain by stalling? A few more minutes of life? You fool! I can take it off your body if I have to."

"All right, all right" Conceding defeat, Loken reached into his coat pocket.

"Slowly!" Myra admonished.

Eyes glittering with hatred, Loken’s hand delved into his pocket.

And then, in a blur of motion almost too quick to follow, he raised both hands. One held the vial, the other held the knife he had used on Brenna. A single drop of blood glistened on the tip of the blade.

With a shout, he flung the knife at Myra. Myra let out a shriek. She reeled back as the blade buried itself to the hilt in her chest. Her arm dropped, her finger convulsively squeezing the trigger.

Brenna screamed as white-hot pain exploded through her side.

Myra hit the wall. She stared at the knife protruding from her heart, her eyes wide with disbelief, and then, as her strength began to wane, she slid slowly to the floor, the pistol still dangling from her hand.

"The elixir… " she said, gasping for breath. "Give it… to… "

Her body went slack, her head lolling forward.

"You were right, Myra," Loken said. "The coven isn’t big enough for both of us." He laughed as he held the vial up to the light. "I’m invincible now!" he crowed. "I’ll be the most powerful warlock the world has ever seen!"

Blowing out a deep breath, Loken put the vial on the table beside the bed.

All he had to do now was coax the location of the vampire’s resting place from the girl, and then he would dispose of her body and Myra ‘s. He’d have to come up with a good story to tell the witches at the coven, he thought, staring at the vial, something to explain Myra ‘s abrupt absence from the city, but he would worry about that later.

He glanced at Brenna. She seemed to be asleep. She was a pretty little thing. Too bad she had to die. With a grimace, he looked at Myra. There was nothing pretty about death, he mused. The sooner he got her out of his bedroom, the better. He couldn’t just drag her through the house, not without getting blood on the carpets. He thought a moment, then left the room, bound for the garage. He had some large plastic sheeting there. He’d roll her into the plastic and put her in the basement while he searched his spell book for an invocation that would make a body disappear without a trace. Where Myra was concerned, he didn’t want any evidence of her death, not even ashes.

Brenna opened her eyes a crack when she heard the door close. Loken was gone, but for how long? She glanced at the dead witch. Myra lay sprawled against the wall like a pile of dirty laundry. Brenna shivered. How long would Loken leave Myra ‘s body lying there? The witch’s evil lingered in the room, a dark miasma that was almost tangible. Brenna imagined Myra ‘s spirit hovering over her in a vain effort to steal the last of her life’s breath, her ghostly fingers clawing at her arms and legs as Myra tried to veil her spirit in flesh once more.

Brenna looked out the window, willing the sun to set, the night to come quickly. She felt herself growing weaker with each breath. And then she looked at her arm. Blood still oozed from the wound. It wasn’t healing. She could feel more blood dripping from the gunshot wound in her side. Roshan had been right. The effects were only temporary.

Please. She sent a silent prayer toward heaven. Please let me see him one more time…

How could she die without hearing his voice, seeing his face? Please, one last kiss to warm me through eternity.

"Roshan, come to me… "

CHAPTER 26

As he had every evening for the past two hundred and eighty-six years, Roshan woke with the setting of the sun. But on this night, he didn’t rise immediately. Instead, he lay still, taking inventory of his injuries. He felt only marginally better than he had the night before. He hoped Brenna would forgive him for rising just long enough to feed. Though he yearned to see her, be with her, he knew that on this night, he needed blood. And rest. In that order. He would make it up to her tomorrow night.

Closing his eyes, he let his preternatural senses search the house. She wasn’t preparing her dinner in the kitchen, she wasn’t curled up in a chair in the living room, reading, nor was she anywhere upstairs. He expanded his senses to search the grounds. She was not walking in the gardens, or sitting on the stone bench. Where was she?

A shiver of alarm slid down his spine. Surely, she hadn’t been foolish enough to leave the house?

Brenna! Where are you? Dammit, woman, answer me!

Something was wrong. He reached out, his mind searching for her. There was a flicker of life at the gates. Morgana. But no sense of Brenna’s presence. He jack-knifed into a sitting position. The gates were open!

Cursing softly, he slid his legs over the edge of the bed, stood, swaying on his feet, wondering if he had the strength to make it up the stairs.

He was panting when he reached the top. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and then, keeping one hand on the wall for support, he made his way down the corridor toward the entry hall, wondering if this was what it felt like to be old.

The front door stood open.

Descending the porch steps, he walked down the driveway to the gates. Morgana was there, pacing back and forth. She looked up at him, meowing loudly, then leaped into his arms.

Startled, Roshan stroked the cat’s fur. "Don’t worry," he said. "I’ll find her."

He carried the cat up to the house and locked her inside, then went to the garage.

He would have preferred traveling through the night with his own preternatural speed, but he was too weak. He needed to save his strength for whatever lay ahead.

He backed out of the garage, down the driveway, and out onto the street. Once again, he sent his senses searching for Brenna. It frightened him that he could not detect her life force.

Certain that Loken was behind her disappearance, he drove toward the warlock’s house. Parking the car a short distance away, he exited the vehicle. Several tall trees and shrubs grew alongside the parkway, shielding him from passersby. Drawing on what power he could muster, he summoned Jean to his side.

A moment later, she was walking toward him, clad in a red T-shirt and a pair of cutoff jeans. Taking her by the hand, he pulled her behind a nearby hedge.

Overcome with worry for Brenna, the hunger raging deep within him, he bent his head to the girl’s throat, his fangs ravaging her flesh. He drank and drank, his eyes closing in near ecstasy as her life’s blood flowed into him, filling him with warmth and heat, easing his pain.