Night’s Promise (Children of The Night #6)(13)
Author: Amanda Ashley

“No.” Edna shook her head. “No, I don’t believe that.”

“Well, the moon is full and he didn’t shift, so let’s go home.”

“Not yet.”

“Why not? Why are you so obsessed with his becoming a werewolf? It’s not like he’d be the first vampire/werewolf in all of recorded history. Remember Susie McGee?”

“Of course.” Edna tapped her forefinger against her lower lip. “I wonder what ever happened to her?”

“She was both.”

“But not at the same time,” Edna said smugly. “She was a werewolf who was turned into a vampire. Derek could be both at the same time. It’s . . . it’s unprecedented!”

“So, what? You want to see him get furry, is that it?”

“Exactly.” Edna smiled. “We need to buy a camera!”

“And what if he rips our throats out while we’re watching?”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic. That isn’t going to happen, and you know it. I just have to know if he’ll go back to being a vampire once he turns into a werewolf. . . .”

“Assuming he becomes a werewolf,” Pearl interjected dryly. “The change might be permanent, like it was with Susie.”

“Well, that’s probably more likely,” Edna admitted. “But, whatever happens, I want to be there to see it.”

They were in a residential area now. Pearl stopped to peek into the window of a large house. Inside, a young man and woman were sitting side by side on a long white sofa. A large calico cat lay curled up next to the woman, purring softly.

“What are you looking at?” Edna asked, coming to stand beside her friend.

“Nothing, dear,” she said, a wistful note in her voice.

Edna tilted her head to the side. “They look cozy, don’t they?”

Pearl nodded. “Do you ever miss being married?”

“Sometimes late at night, I wish I had a man to hold me,” she said, sighing. “It’s been so long, I’ve almost forgotten what it was like being held, being loved.”

“They’re in love,” Pearl remarked. “You can tell by the way they look at each other.”

“Yes.” Edna sighed again. “Have you ever thought that we might be able to . . . Never mind.”

“Edna Mae Turner! Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking? At our age?”

“I might look old,” Edna said with a shrug, “but I don’t feel old anymore. I feel younger, better, than I did at twenty.”

Pearl clucked softly as she started walking again. She had to agree with her friend. She felt terrific. In all her years as a vampire, she had never met one who had been turned in their seventies. Most vampires tended to be turned in their youth and, naturally, turned others of a comparable age. After all, no one wanted to look eternally old no matter how good they might feel once the deed was done.

“We look awfully good for our ages,” Edna opined. “Some nice mortal, elderly men might find us attractive.”

Pearl stopped again, her gaze moving over Edna’s face. They had been turned over a quarter of a century ago. She had been with her friend every day since then, but had never really looked at her until now. Edna looked her age, and yet, in some remarkable fashion, the lines in her face were hardly noticeable. There was a radiance to her skin that belied her years. Her hair was thicker than it had been before she was turned, her brown eyes sparkled with vitality. “You know, dear, you’re really quite lovely.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

Edna regarded her friend for several minutes. “You know, so are you,” she said, smiling. “You look your age, and yet you don’t. Why, I bet we could find a couple of good-looking men in their fifties to keep us company.”

“Do you really think so, dear?”

“Why not?” Linking her arm with Pearl’s, Edna continued down the street. “There are lots of good-looking men in Hollywood. No reason why we can’t get ourselves some fancy new clothes and look for some nice gentlemen friends while we wait for the next full moon, is there?”

Chapter Twelve

Curled up on the sofa, Sheree wiped the tears from her eyes. Sad movies always made her cry. Of course, most people didn’t think it was sad when Dracula was destroyed, but she couldn’t help feeling sorry for the monster.

Who was she kidding? She wasn’t feeling sorry for the vampire. She was feeling sorry for herself. She had finally found a man she wanted and she’d lost him before she had him.

She felt like a fool, crying her eyes out over a man she hardly knew. Maybe she should just go home, visit her parents, and give Ralph and Neil a second look. So, they weren’t tall, dark, handsome, and mysterious. They were settled. Her parents approved of them. Both men came from the same background as she did. She knew what to expect with them—boredom, she thought, sniffling. No matter how she tried to convince herself to give Neil and Ralph a chance, she just couldn’t do it. She wanted an alpha male, like Derek, not some wimp in a white button-down shirt and tie.

Earlier, she had considered going to the club to see if he was there, but her pride held her back. She wasn’t going to chase him, though she couldn’t help wondering what had happened between them the other night. One minute they’d been kissing like a couple of horny teenagers and the next he was driving her back to her car.

Sighing, she turned off the movie, switched off the lights, and went up to bed.

As he had once before, Derek sat in his car outside Sheree’s house. It was a nice place, two stories high, made of red brick with white trim and a bright yellow front door. A white picket fence surrounded the tidy front yard; colorful flowerpots filled with cacti sat on a ledge in front of the windows.

He stared up at her bedroom window. He didn’t have to see her to know that she’d been crying, that she was in bed, asleep. That she was dreaming of him, a strange dream, the jumbled images switching quickly from one scene to another. But, through it all, a tall, dark-haired man shrouded in a long black cape whose face sometimes resembled his own, and at other times that of actors who had portrayed Dracula, played a major part.

He found that disturbing on several levels. Was it merely her reaction to the Den? To the article in the morning paper? Or had she somehow sensed that he was not the man he pretended to be?

Gradually, the images slowed, became less chaotic, until it was just the two of them, alone on a dark moor, making love beneath a midnight moon.