Night’s Master (Children of The Night #3)(31)
Author: Amanda Ashley

“You’re gonna be fine, just fine.”

“Rick won’t be able to say it was just my imagination this time,” she said weakly, and burst into tears.

Words failed me. Sitting on the edge of Susie’s bed, I took her hand in mine and prayed that would be comfort enough.

I stayed with Susie until she fell asleep, and then, feeling as though I’d been run through an emotional wringer, I tiptoed out of her room.

Rafe was waiting for me in the hallway. “How is she?”

“Sleeping.”

He took my hand as we left the hospital. When we reached my car, he didn’t ask if I wanted him to drive me home, he just opened the door for me and then got behind the wheel. Neither of us spoke until we were heading back to my place.

I thought about all the things that I had read about Werewolves. Most of it had been based on speculation, rumor, and myth. But what had happened to Susie was all too real.

“What will become of her now?” I asked. “How can she raise her family, be a wife and a mother, when she’s a…a Werewolf?”

“That’s up to her,” Rafe said.

“Up to her? What does that mean? She didn’t ask for this. And what about the monster who did it to her?”

“She can learn to control what she is, or she can let what she’s become control her. She can accept it, or she can wallow in self-pity. Being a Werewolf isn’t the worst thing in the world. She’ll be the same as she’s always been except for those nights when the moon is full.”

“And then what? She’ll turn furry and run around the countryside killing people?”

“I’ll get in touch with Clive. He can send one of his pack to help her learn to adjust to her new life, teach her how to control her beast.”

“Her beast.” I repeated the words. If this seemed like a nightmare to me, how much worse was it for Susie? I couldn’t help wondering how her husband and children would react when they heard the news. I had only met Rick McGee once, briefly, after church. Susie had never said much about him, making me wonder what kind of man he was, what kind of marriage they had. I just hoped he would be as supportive as possible under the circumstances.

“We all have problems to deal with,” Rafe remarked. “Some people are born with physical deformities, some have mentally handicapped children, some people are married to alcoholics.” He shrugged. “I’ve never known anyone who had a perfectly carefree life.”

“So, do you think of being a Vampire as a problem?”

He shrugged. “In a way. I could have let it ruin my life. I could have turned my back on my humanity and let the lust for blood consume me. Instead, I chose to look at it as a kind of sickness that imposes limits on what I can and can’t do. On the other hand, it’s given me some remarkable powers.”

“So, you’re saying that Susie should just look on this as some kind of monthly inconvenience, like retaining water and cramps?”

Rafe chuckled. “I guess you could put it like that,” he said, and then his expression turned serious once again. “I don’t want to make light of this. It’s going to take some serious readjusting on Susie’s part, and on her family’s, as well. Whether she can handle it or not depends on how strong she is, both mentally and physically. And spiritually, I suppose.”

Rafe’s words troubled me. How strong could Susie be, mentally anyway, if she had already tried to take her own life?

I looked over at Rafe, admiring his profile, the spread of his shoulders, the way his hair framed his face. “Do you like being a Vampire?”

He glanced in my direction. “Most of the time. Why? Are you thinking of becoming one?”

“Of course not! Do you think you’d like being a Werewolf?”

“I don’t know.” He slowed to make the turn onto my street. “I never gave it a lot of thought.”

“Would you be mortal again, if you could?”

“I’m not sure I was ever mortal, at least not in the true sense of the word.”

“Would you like to be?”

“I don’t think so. It’s a moot point, anyway, since there’s no cure for what I am.”

“I don’t guess there’s a cure for being a Werewolf, either.”

“Not that I know of.” Pulling up in front of my house, he killed the engine.

“Do you want to come in?” I asked, smothering a yawn.

“I’d like to, but I think you’d better get some sleep.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

Leaning toward me, he cupped the back of my head in his hand and kissed me, slow, sweet, and deep. “Honey, I’m always right.”

Chapter Fifteen

After leaving Kathy’s house, Rafe made a brief stop at his place, and then returned to Brawley Woods. Following Mara’s standing orders, he went searching for the body of Mark Littlejohn. He found what was left of the man at the bottom of a deep crevasse, the grisly remains covered by rocks and debris.

Rafe had seen death in many forms, but never had he seen a body as badly mutilated as this one. Had Littlejohn been unmarried, Rafe would have left the body where it was, but Littlejohn had a wife and a little girl, not to mention parents, who would miss him. Learning of his death wouldn’t be easy on his family, but never knowing what had happened to him would be even more cruel. This way, they would have closure if nothing more.

He wrapped the man’s remains in the blanket he had brought from home, then carried the body back to his car and placed it in the trunk.

When he reached town, he pulled up in back of the Oak Hollow emergency room and left Littlejohn’s remains where they were sure to be found. He felt bad about leaving the body outside, but he wasn’t a fool. Any Vampire who waltzed into a hospital carrying a dead body was just asking for trouble. And whether Littlejohn’s body was found tonight or tomorrow morning wouldn’t matter. The man was beyond help, both mortal and Supernatural.

It was near 2:00A.M . when Rafe met up with Mara, Clive, Cagin, and his grandparents in one of the vacant rooms in the Hollow Tree Hotel. They didn’t bother to tell the clerk at the desk they were there. The fewer people who knew, the better.

Rafe was the last to arrive. He hugged his grandmother and Mara, shook hands with his grandfather, and acknowledged the presence of the two Were-creatures with a nod of his head. He didn’t like Clive, and he didn’t trust Cagin, but it was time to put his personal feelings aside, at least for the moment.

“You’ve all heard of the recent attacks,” Mara said without preamble. “Clive and I agree that a Werewolf is responsible. However, neither Clive nor Cagin recognized his scent.”

Roshan looked at Clive. “Are we dealing with the possibility of a rogue Werewolf?”