Читать книгу Night's Master - Amanda Ashley - Страница 13

I was unloading a box of new paperback releases on Monday morning when Susie arrived. I was relieved to see that, for once, her boys weren’t trailing at her heels. Not that I have anything against kids, it’s just that her three seemed more like six. Every time they came into the store, I was afraid they were going to break something, tear something, or just drive me crazy with their constant bickering and punching. I didn’t know how she stood it, day after day.

“Hi,” I said. “What brings you here so early?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just taking a walk. It’s supposed to be good exercise, you know, and…did you hear anything out of the ordinary late last night?”

“I don’t think so.” When Raphael was kissing me, the whole world could have blown up and I’d have been none the wiser. “Why?”

“Oh, it’s probably nothing.” She smiled, but it looked forced. “Rick says I’m imagining things again.”

I came out from behind the counter. “Come on, we can sit down and talk over coffee.” I had bought a couple of cute ceramic mugs at the pottery shop. I filled a cup for her and one for myself. “So, what kinds of things are you imagining?” I asked when we were both seated.

“Well, last night I got up a little after midnight to go to the bathroom. Seems like I’m always going these days. Anyway, I heard a wolf howling, and when I looked out the window, I’m sure I saw three wolves attacking a man. Rick said I must have imagined it. He says Oak Hollow is neutral territory, so it couldn’t have been Werewolves, and that wild wolves don’t attack people.”

Susie stared into her coffee cup, her brow furrowed. “I went outside this morning after Rick went to work. There were signs of a struggle and what might have been dried blood on the ground. This has always been such a peaceful place….” She looked up at me, her expression troubled. “Rick doesn’t believe there’s anything to worry about, but…” She placed one hand on her belly. “He says it’s just my hormones acting up, blowing everything out of proportion, but I’m afraid something terrible happened last night, and that it will happen again. That it might happen to us.”

“I’m sure Rick’s right and there’s nothing to worry about,” I said, hoping to calm Susie’s fears, but in the back of my mind, I found myself thinking, what if she was right? What if the Werewolves and the Vampires no longer considered this neutral territory? If they turned this into a war zone, no one would be safe.

Susie stayed another half hour or so and then left to run some errands before she had to pick her kids up from school.

I went back to unloading the box of books—books no one would probably buy—but I couldn’t stop thinking about what Susie had said. I knew there were at least fourteen Vampires in town, maybe more. Had fourteen Werewolves showed up to keep things even? Had they had some kind of scuffle last night? Was it time to pack up and leave town? I shook my head. If this remote little burg wasn’t safe, no place was. As for the conflict between the Vampires and the Werewolves, I knew someone who could tell me what was going on. Unfortunately, I didn’t know how to get in touch with him. And it was just as well. Being able to call him was a temptation I didn’t need.

While I was shelving the books, I remembered a conversation I’d had with Raphael. I had been surprised to learn that he lived in Oak Hollow, and he had replied that someone had to stay and make sure that everyone followed the rules. At the time, it hadn’t occurred to me to ask if that meant there was a full-time Werewolf in residence as well. But now that I thought about it, it seemed like a logical assumption.

To my surprise, just before noon, several moms trooped into the shop, their children in tow. They all nodded in my direction or murmured hello as they headed toward the far corner of the store where I kept the children’s books.

After a few minutes, I went back to see if I could help, and the next thing I knew, I was chatting with the women as if we were all old friends. Two of the mothers asked me to order books for their kids, a third ordered several romantic suspense novels for herself, another asked about a murder mystery for her husband.

Some time later, after the kids had all chosen books, a couple of the moms wandered through the shop, picking up a new book here, a used book there.

It turned out to be quite a profitable day. By the time the women left the store, it was almost two, and my stomach was growling. I debated closing the shop and running out for a sandwich, but since I’d be closing up at six, I snacked on a candy bar instead and promised myself a healthy dinner later.

A few more customers trickled into the shop throughout the afternoon.

At six sharp, I closed the store. Standing on the sidewalk, my keys in hand, I decided dinner at the café sounded a lot better than going home and cooking a solitary meal.

I slipped my keys into my pocket and strolled down the street toward Carrie’s Café, hoping that nothing would happen to change the ambience of this quaint little town. I loved it that the movie theater still played a double feature on Friday and Saturday nights, and that the barber shop still had a red-and-white-striped pole out front, and that the soda shop still served malts in the same shiny stainless steel containers they were made in. I liked it that the stores didn’t all look like cement blocks with windows, and that each one was unique. I liked it that the first few pages of the newspaper reported on what was happening in Oak Hollow—Daisy Parker delivered a healthy, seven-pound baby boy on Sunday; Jeffrey Madden pitched a no-hitter at the high school softball game Saturday night; Emma Watson’s strawberry preserves won first prize at the River’s Edge Country Fair; Ed Stefan and Laura Peterson were engaged.

Crossing the street toward Carrie’s Café, I nodded at an elderly couple I recognized from church, although I didn’t know their names.

Carrie Watts, who owned the café, smiled at me as I walked in the door. She was a tall, middle-aged woman with curly brown hair, gray eyes, and the biggest dimples I had ever seen. I smiled back at her, then found a small table near the window. A waitress brought me a menu, and after a moment, I decided on a small salad, a cheese-burger, curly fries, and a chocolate malt. So much for my decision to have a healthy dinner.

I had only been there a few minutes when Cagin slid into the chair across from mine.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

“A little late to be asking, isn’t it?”

He grinned. “I was afraid if I asked first, you’d tell me to get lost.”

“You’d have been right.”

“Hey, I’m sorry if I came on a little too strong the other day.”

“You lied to me.”

His brows shot up. “When?”

“I asked you if you were a Werewolf and you said no.”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t split hairs with me. You’re a Were-tiger, aren’t you?”

“But not a Werewolf,” he said with an easy grin. “How’d you find out, anyway?”

I didn’t tell him that I had sensed he wasn’t human. In the first place, I still wasn’t sure how I knew; in the second place, something told me I’d be better off if no one else knew about it.

While I was trying to decide how best to answer, he muttered, “Cordova told you, didn’t he?”

“Maybe.”

“What are you doing hanging around with a dead man?”

A dead man? Raphael Cordova was the most vibrantly alive man I had ever met. And since he had never died, “dead man” was hardly an accurate description. I didn’t see any need to mention that, either, because if there was one thing I was certain of, it was that I couldn’t trust the man sitting across from me.

“Hi, Cagin,” the waitress said, returning to my table. “Can I get you anything?”

“Hey, Pam. How about a steak sandwich, rare, and a cup of black coffee?”

“You’ve got it, you handsome devil.”

Cagin licked his lips as he watched Pam walk away. “Cute kid.”

“Uh-huh.” I had a mental image of Pam as Little Red Riding Hood, and even though Cagin wasn’t a Werewolf, I had a mental image of him lying in wait for her, only this time there would be no heroic woodsman to save her from the big bad wolf, or big bad tiger, as the case may be.

“Kathy?”

Startled from my reverie, I realized he had asked me a question. “What?”

“I asked if you were busy Friday night. I thought maybe we could try again.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on, give a guy a break.”

“You aren’t a ‘guy.’”

“You’re not holding what I am against me, are you?”

“Not exactly, it’s just that I’m still recovering from a bad breakup. I’m really not ready to start seeing anyone again on a regular basis.”

“Except for Cordova.”

I stared at him, searching for a reply, relieved when the waitress brought my salad and our drinks. The fact that Cagin knew I had gone out with Raphael bothered me, although I wasn’t sure why. I mean, I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret or anything. Lots of people had seen us together. I guess someone could have mentioned it to Cagin.

I waited until Pam moved away from the table before saying, “What I do, and who I see, are none of your business.”

With a shrug, he added two packets of sugar to his coffee and took a drink.

Pam returned with the rest of our order a few minutes later.

Cagin picked up his sandwich and took a bite. Red juice dripped down the corners of his mouth. It looked very much like blood. I knew Raphael drank blood, but he didn’t eat his prey.

We said little during the rest of the meal. Cagin ate quickly, then leaned back in his chair, lazily studying me with his amber eyes. As the seconds went by, it made me increasingly uncomfortable. Raphael had gazed at me just as intently from time to time, but it had never made me feel as if I were a piece of meat.

I folded my napkin and laid it beside my plate, placed my fork on top of it, and pushed away from the table. “I’m going home.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” I reached into my purse and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “That should cover my dinner.”

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I think I’m leaving. Good night.”

“Sit down,” he said curtly. “You’re not going anywhere.”

I was about to tell him to go to hell when a voice spoke from behind me.

“Are you ready to go home, Kathy?”

Relief poured through me when I looked up and saw Raphael. “Yes, I am.”

Cagin’s eyes narrowed to ominous yellow slits. “What the hell are you doing here, Cordova?”

“Rescuing my fair lady from the dragon,” Raphael replied. He offered me his hand. “Shall we go?”

Cagin sprang to his feet, his eyes blazing with anger.

I clung to Raphael’s hand, my heart pounding. Surely they wouldn’t fight here, in the restaurant. A quick look around confirmed that everyone in the café was staring avidly in our direction, no doubt waiting to see who would throw the first blow.

“This isn’t the time or the place,” Raphael said quietly. “Sit down and cool off.”

“This isn’t over.” Cagin spat the words.

“Just tell me where and when,” Raphael said. Still holding my hand tightly in his, he walked me out of the restaurant. His car was parked in a red zone at the curb. He opened the door for me, and then closed it with a little more force than necessary.

Still feeling shaky, I watched him walk around the front of the car to the driver’s side. Opening the door, he slid behind the wheel.

As Raphael pulled away from the curb, I glanced out the side window to see Cagin standing on the sidewalk.

Raphael drove in silence for several minutes. Tension radiated off of him like heat from a blast furnace. I couldn’t tell if his anger was directed toward Cagin or toward me, or if it was even anger I was sensing.

My apprehension kicked up a notch when he pulled up in front of a large two-story house located at the end of a long dirt road lined with cypress trees. The house was made of faded red brick and had a tile roof. Four steps led to a covered veranda that spanned the front of the house. I only saw one window. It was on the first floor, and barred.

I cleared a throat gone suddenly dry. “Where are we?”

“My place.” He cut the engine and got out of the car.

His place. Oh, Lordy. Sitting in the restaurant with Cagin suddenly seemed a lot safer than accompanying a Vampire into his lair.

I was trying to think of a way to convince Raphael to take me home when he opened the car door and reached for my hand. The next thing I knew, he was leading me up the porch stairs. The front door, made of what looked like solid steel, opened seemingly of its own accord. Interior lights came on as I crossed the threshold ahead of Raphael.

The sound of the door closing behind me sent a shiver down my spine.

“Make yourself at home,” he invited.

The living room, sparsely furnished, was decorated in earth tones. The main focus of the room was an enormous fireplace that took up most of one wall. I stared at it, thinking it could easily hold an elephant or two. A deep brown leather sofa was situated in front of the biggest television screen I had ever seen. A pair of matching leather chairs faced the sofa. The carpet beneath my feet was a dazzling white. A large painting hung over the fireplace. It depicted a black knight astride an equally black horse. A large green dragon loomed in the distance. A collection of dragons made of onyx, jade, pewter, and carved wood were scattered on the mantel amid several black candles.

“Do you mind if I look around?” I asked.

“Help yourself.”

An arched doorway to my left opened onto the kitchen. I peered through the doorway, my gaze sweeping the room, noting that the kitchen was bare except for a small black refrigerator and a microwave oven. The countertop was black granite; the floor was white tile. There were no windows in the room, which I thought was odd, especially for a kitchen, and no back door. I wondered if Rafe had plastered over the windows to block the sun.

A short hallway opened off the kitchen. My feet made no sound on the thick carpet. The first door off the hall was a guest bathroom with a commode, sink, and a small shower. There were no windows in this room, and no mirrors. A small bedroom adjoined the bathroom. The walls were a pale moss green, the carpet white, the furnishings no more than a twin bed made of black wrought iron and an antique chest of drawers made of dark oak. Again, there were no mirrors in evidence, and no windows.

I tried the door at the end of the hallway, but it was locked. It was Rafe’s room. I knew it as surely as I knew the sun would rise in the morning.

Backtracking, I returned to the living room, my feet sinking into the carpet’s deep pile as I made my way to the sofa. I had never known anyone who had white carpeting before. My first thought was that bloodstains would be really hard to get out, but then I realized that he probably didn’t bring his dinner home with him.

Raphael sat beside me. He made a gesture with his hand, and a fire sprang to life in the hearth.

“You should be a magician,” I muttered, remembering how he had opened the door and turned on the lights, all with a wave of his hand.

“The Great Cordova,” he remarked with a grin. “I like the sound of that.” And then his expression turned serious. “What were you doing with Cagin?”

“I wasn’t ‘doing’ anything with him. I was having dinner when he invited himself to join me. How did you know I was there, anyway?”

“As I said before, I could find you in the dark, ten feet down.”

I told myself I should be annoyed that he had been following me, or at least looking for me, but I couldn’t be angry because it proved that he had been thinking about me, maybe missing me, and that pleased me to no end.

“Why does my being with Cagin make you so angry?”

“I don’t like him. I don’t trust him. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Like what?” A glass of blood in a crystal goblet? I banished the image from my mind.

“A glass of wine, a soft drink, a cup of coffee or tea?”

I blinked at him, surprised that he kept such a variety of beverages on hand.

Apparently reading my mind again, he said, “I bought them the night after we met.”

“So, you were that sure of me, were you?”

“Not sure,” he replied. “Hopeful.”

“Hopeful that you’d get me here and have your wicked way with me?” I asked, only half kidding.

He laughed, the way an indulgent parent might laugh at a precocious child. It reminded me that he was old enough to be my grandfather. Lord, in his eyes, I probably was little more than an infant!

“What did Cagin want?”

“What?” The sudden change of topic gave me pause. One minute we were talking about intimate things and the next he was asking about a Were-creature. Was that why he had brought me here, to see if I had any inside information on the Weres? I lifted my chin defiantly. “He asked me out on another date.”

Rafe leaned forward, his hands clenched. “You didn’t accept?”

I had his full attention now. “A girl has to date someone,” I said flippantly.

In a move faster than my eyes could follow, he was towering over me. “We talked about this before.”

I stared up at him. The man could be scary as hell when he wanted to.

“I want your promise,” he said. “Now, tonight, that you won’t see him again.”

“I can’t help it if he shows up where I am. I mean, what am I supposed to do if he comes into my store? Run away?”

“That’s a good start.”

“Like I could outrun a Were-tiger,” I muttered drily.

Raphael gazed down at me, his expression softening. “Forgive me,” he said, resuming his seat. “It’s just that I’m worried about you.”

“Worried? About me? Why?”

He hesitated, as though debating whether to tell me the hard truth or sugarcoat it with a lie. The truth won out. “You’re important to me,” he said slowly, “and Cagin knows it. And until I know what side he’s on, I’d rather you stayed away from him.”

I stared at Raphael, a sudden coldness sweeping through me. He didn’t have to spell it out for me. Cagin and Raphael were enemies, that much was obvious. No doubt I would make an excellent hostage for the Werewolves. Even more frightening was the thought that, even though Raphael seemed fond of me, we hadn’t known each other very long. There was no bond between us, no reason to think he would spill any secrets or turn traitor if my life was threatened.

Leaving Oak Hollow was starting to sound better and better.

Raphael shook his head. “It’s too late for you to leave.”

“Stop that!”

He lifted one brow. “Stop what?”

“Reading my mind. It’s very annoying.”

He laughed softly. “I’m sure it is.”

“How do you do it, anyway? Are you psychic on top of everything else?”

“In a way, although I have to admit, most people aren’t as easy to read as you are.”

“And what makes me so easy to read?” I asked irritably.

He dragged his hand over his jaw, his expression thoughtful. “I’m not sure, but I’ve got a theory.”

“Would you like to share it with me?”

“You won’t like it.”

I was sure of that.

“Do you believe in soul mates?” he asked. “One woman made for one man, that sort of thing?”

Feeling skeptical, I asked, “Do you believe in that sort of thing?”

He didn’t move, but he suddenly seemed closer. “I never used to, until I met you.”

A romantic Vampire. Just what I needed. “And what makes me so different from anyone else?”

“Come on, Kathy, I know you feel it, too, that connection between us. It was there the first night I walked into your store.”

I wanted to contradict him, but I couldn’t. I remembered all too clearly the night I had been in the back room at the bookstore. I had known the minute Raphael had entered the building. I’d had no explanation for it at the time, and while I wasn’t sure I believed that we had been made for each other, we did seem to have some kind of extraordinary awareness of one another.

Logic made me shake my head in denial. He was sixty-two years older than I was, and a Vampire to boot. Unless fate was playing a really bad joke, there was no way on Earth that Raphael and I could be soul mates, or any other kind of mates, for that matter. And yet, even now, the attraction between us crackled like a live wire.

“We’re supposed to be friends,” I said, my voice little more than a husky whisper. “Just friends. Remember?”

He nodded slowly, his gaze locked on mine. Dropping to his knees in front of me, he took one of my hands in his.

“I remember,” he said, his voice as rough around the edges as mine had been. “But I don’t think it’s possible.”

The flames in the hearth seemed to burn brighter, hotter. It felt like the room was closing in on me as I tried to draw my gaze away from Raphael’s and failed. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Whatever it is that you’re doing.”

“Honey, I’m not doing anything.”

“I don’t believe you.” It had to be some kind of Vampire magic. I mean, it just had to be. How could I feel this way about a Vampire, even if he was the best looking guy I had ever seen? I shook my head. “This…whatever it is I’m feeling, I don’t believe it’s real. It can’t be real.”

“How can I convince you?”

“I don’t know.” I pulled my hand from his and made a shooing motion. “For starters, you can give me some space.”

“Whatever you want.” Rising, he backed up several paces, putting some distance between us.

It didn’t help. My skin felt too tight; my blood felt like it was on fire. It was hard to think, hard to remember to breathe.

“I need to go to the restroom,” I said, and then wondered if Vampires had the same needs as humans. After all, they didn’t eat….

The look in his eyes told me he knew this for the ploy it was.

Rising, I forced myself to walk sedately out of the room. I stared at the closed door at the end of the hall. Why was it locked? What was he hiding in there? The image of a coffin quickly sprang to mind, something burnished and bronze with white satin lining. Shaking off the morbid mental imagery, I went into the bathroom, closed the door, and turned the lock.

Standing in front of the sink, I soaked a washcloth in cold water and pressed it against my burning cheeks, hoping it would cool me off, although I doubted even a dip in the Arctic Ocean could put out the fire Raphael had ignited. What was I going to do about him?

Sitting on the edge of the oval-shaped tub, I glanced at my surroundings. There were no windows in this room, either, and no mirrors. I noted absently that he had good taste, and I wondered if he had decorated the house himself or had it done by a professional decorator. The sink top was black marble veined with gold; the basin was white, the fixtures antique brass. The deep red towels hanging from the towel bar made a bold statement against the white walls. The stall shower was easily large enough for two. I quickly shook off the all-too-erotic image of the two of us in that shower, our bodies pressed together in a soapy, steamy embrace.

I ran a hand through my hair, then glanced at my watch. I couldn’t stay in here forever. Sooner or later, I would have to go out and face him.

I jumped when someone knocked on the door. It could only be Raphael.

“You okay in there?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“You planning to come out anytime soon?” There was no mistaking the amusement in his voice.

Muttering under my breath, I unlocked the door and came face-to-face with the man who had troubled my thoughts and haunted my dreams since the moment he walked into my store.

“How long are you going to fight this attraction between us?” he asked.

“Until I get over it,” I retorted.

“Take as long as you need,” he said, a glint of humor lighting his dark eyes. “I’ve got time.”

Indeed, I thought, he had all the time in the world.