Читать книгу Enchant the Night - Amanda Ashley - Страница 12

Chapter 4

Quill strolled through the park’s winding paths long after Callie had gone home, his thoughts unsettled. Not all blood tasted the same. Most was warm and bland. Some people’s blood was more satisfying than others’. Some was sweet, some bitter. And then there was Callie’s blood—hot and rich and oddly familiar. Though he couldn’t say why. Perhaps he had fed on one of her kinfolk. There was usually a strong similarity in taste among close relatives.

He was still puzzling over it when he realized he was being followed. Coming to an abrupt halt, he whirled around to confront his stalker but saw no one. And still the feeling persisted. Lifting his head, he opened his preternatural senses, searching the night for the source of his discontent.

He was about to continue on his way when a slight movement caught his eye. As he turned toward it, three men materialized from beneath a cloak of invisibility and rushed toward him brandishing wooden stakes and wicked-looking blades.

Before he could vanish, the Knights were on him. He let out a roar of pain and anger as a sharp stake drove deep into his chest, barely missing his heart. His attacker withdrew it and struck again—and again missed the mark. And all the while, the other two were slicing and stabbing.

The scent of blood—his and theirs—filled the night air.

Quill managed to break the neck of the man with the stake, but the other two were unrelenting. His injuries usually healed immediately but wounds inflicted by pure silver took longer to stop bleeding and longer to heal, and left nasty scars.

One of his attackers let out a holler, and two more Knights emerged from another cloak and joined the fray.

Weakened by the loss of so much blood and in agony from the cuts inflicted by their blades, Quill felt his strength fading. It took all his remaining energy to break the neck of one of the men holding him down.

“His head!” cried one of the Knights. “We have to take his head!”

Quill bucked violently as one of them produced a wicked-looking cleaver. The Knight was about to deliver the killing blow when a deep voice shouted, “Here now! What the hell’s going on?”

The Knights attacking Quill ducked under their invisibility cloaks and were lost from sight.

The jogger stared wide-eyed at the place where the three men had been. Stared at the bodies sprawled on the ground near Quill, then turned on his heel and bolted toward one of the park exits.

Needing blood and needing it quick, Quill tried to go after him, but the pain was too severe. Dragging himself into the shadows, he closed his eyes, and found his link to Callie.

Come to the park. I need you.

* * *

On the brink of sleep, Callie jackknifed into a sitting position when she heard Quill’s voice in her mind.

Come to the park. I need you.

Rising, she pulled a pair of jeans and a bulky sweater over her PJs, grabbed her keys, and ran barefooted out of the house to the garage. It was late, the sky dark and cloudy, the streets deserted. She drove like one possessed, ignoring traffic signals and stop signs, tires screeching as she pulled into the parking lot.

Not bothering to shut off the engine, she ran across the grass. She didn’t stop to wonder how she knew where to go as she reached one of the winding paths.

She found Quill lying on the grass in a pool of dark red blood. His shirt and pants were in shreds. Blood leaked from numerous wounds on his arms, shoulders, chest, and legs. He was so pale, so still, she was sure he was dead.

As were the two men lying nearby, their heads at odd angles.

“Blood, Callie,” Quill gasped, his voice little more than a whisper. “I need your blood.”

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, she knelt beside him, pushed the sleeve of her sweater up to her elbow, and offered him her arm.

She flinched when his fangs pierced her skin. He seemed to drink forever, but, in reality she knew it was only a minute or so. He still looked like death warmed over when he finished, even though his skin had regained a little color and his wounds had stopped bleeding.

Releasing her arm, he said, “Help me up.”

It was no easy task. He was a big man, but eventually she got him to his feet. He leaned heavily on her as they made their way toward her car.

When she opened the door for him, he practically fell into the passenger seat.

After sliding behind the wheel, she stared at him a moment. She couldn’t deny it any longer. Vivian had been right. Quill was a vampire. Was that why he had such power over her? And why he was still alive when any other man would have bled to death from the numerous injuries he had sustained? Had he killed those two men in the park while defending himself? The answer seemed obvious.

So many questions, she thought, as she turned the car around and headed toward home. If he survived, would he give her the answers?

* * *

Callie had no idea how she got him into the house and down the hall into the guest room. With a great deal of effort, she managed to strip off the bedspread before he fell back on the mattress like a dead man, leaving her to wonder how she would explain his body in her house if he really should die. She had no idea where he lived, didn’t know anything about him except his name, didn’t know if Quill was his given name or his surname.

She considered trying to undress him and decided against it. If he died, she really didn’t want to explain why he was in her house in his underwear, covered in dried blood from head to foot.

Maybe he was dead. He didn’t seem to be breathing. Moving cautiously, she pressed her fingertips to the pulse in his throat, let out a squeal when his hand closed on hers in an iron grip.

He looked up at her through narrowed eyes shot with red. Recognition flickered in their depths, and he released her hand. His eyelids fluttered closed.

She darted away from the edge of the bed, turned and left the room. If he lived, she would deal with him in the morning.

And if he died . . . ? She didn’t even want to think about that.

In her bedroom, she pulled off her jeans and sweater and crawled under the covers, only to lie there, staring up at the ceiling while a multitude of questions chased themselves around and around like hamsters on a wheel.

Callie was on the brink of sleep when she remembered her grandmother’s words from the night before. Be careful, Callie. You’re on dangerous ground.

Had Ava been warning her against Quill himself, or the danger that surrounded him?

With a shake of her head, she flopped onto her stomach and closed her eyes. There was no way in the world Ava could have known Callie would ever meet someone like Quill.

No way at all.

* * *

Callie’s eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep when she woke in the morning. Her first thought was for the stranger in the guest room. Tiptoeing down the hall, she opened the door a crack and peeked inside. From what she could see, he hadn’t moved a muscle since last night.

Heart pounding with trepidation, she crept into the room. She started to reach out to touch him when she remembered how he had reacted the night before. Taking a deep breath, she placed her fingertips on the pulse in his neck.

He didn’t grab her this time. Instead, he turned his head to look up at her, his eyes dark with pain.

“You killed those two men, didn’t you?”

He nodded.

“Did you know them?”

“No.” But he had known who they were.

Callie worried her lower lip. Why had those men attacked him? And what had they used to inflict so much damage? She couldn’t shake the feeling that any other man would have died from his injuries. “Can I get you anything?” she asked.

His gaze slammed into hers.

Callie swallowed hard, afraid she knew exactly what he wanted.

He smiled faintly as he reached for her arm.

She turned away as he bit into her wrist. It had hurt last night. But today the feeling was oddly sensual when it should have been painful and repellant. He drank from her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And she let him.

After taking only a few swallows, he closed his eyes and released her arm.

Callie stared down at him a moment, then hurried out of the room. After quietly closing the door behind her, she returned to her own room. Feeling a sudden need to get out of the house, she changed out of her nightgown and into a pair of jeans and a sweater, grabbed her wallet and her keys and left the house.

After getting into her car, she drove aimlessly up one street and down the other. Seeing a market ahead, she stopped and bought a quart of milk, a loaf of bread, and a bunch of bananas. It felt odd to be doing something so normal.

When she pulled out of the parking lot twenty minutes later, the realization of what she was doing sizzled through her like a bolt of lightning.

She was hiding a vampire in her house.

And he was feeding on her.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Callie spent several hours going over the photographs she had taken at the Nelson wedding before putting together a set of digital proofs. She felt a wave of pride when she finished. It had been a long shoot. She had photographed the bride while she got ready, the bride and her bridesmaids, the groom and his ushers. The wedding itself, of course. Then the family at the park. And, lastly, the reception. Counting the engagement photos and the ones taken at the reception, she had taken close to three hundred pictures.

After uploading the proofs to a password-protected website, she emailed the password to the bride.

Rising, she stretched her back and shoulders, and went through the clutter on her desk, tossing old store receipts and out-of-date coupons. She made sure her cameras were in working order before putting them away, then wandered around the room. She was stalling, she thought, reluctant to enter the guest room again, even as she wondered how her guest was doing.

Her guest. Hah. Some guest. The man was a vampire.

A vampire! How was that even possible in this day and age? Or in any age? Should she call someone? Ghostbusters? An exorcist? The police? Who would believe her? Still, if they could see him lying there, unmoving and covered in blood, how could there be any doubt about what he was?

Gathering her courage, she tiptoed down the hall and peered into the room. She watched him for a few moments, then quietly closed the door.

In the kitchen, she made a turkey sandwich and carried it into the living room, then turned on the TV. She was flipping through the channels when one of the stations broke in with the news that two dead bodies had been found in Hunter Park, accompanied by a warning to avoid the area until further notice.

It was the top story on the news that night, as well.

And none of it seemed real.

* * *

The next two days didn’t seem real, either. The vampire remained on his back in bed, unmoving. It was totally bizarre, knowing he was in her guest room. She wasn’t afraid of him, exactly. After all, he had never hurt her and he didn’t seem particularly menacing while he was just lying there like a . . . a dead man. She couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. What would happen if and when he woke up was something she didn’t even want to think about.

There was a strange aura hovering over her house. She noticed that the birds who usually visited the feeder in the backyard stayed away. Her neighbor’s Siamese cat stopped using her flowerbed as his outhouse. Except for the mailman, everyone who passed by walked on the other side of the street. It was almost as if her house was invisible. Sometimes she felt like Sleeping Beauty, living in limbo while she waited for the prince to free her.

And late each night, her guest drank a little of her blood.

* * *

Thursday morning, Callie woke early. She dressed quickly, wolfed down her breakfast, and left the house, certain that if she didn’t get out and see other people, she would lose her mind. She drove to the mall, thinking there was no other place where she would be surrounded by so many people. After leaving her car in the parking garage, she took the escalator up to the food court, where she ordered a hazelnut latte, then found a vacant table and sat down. It felt good to be in the midst of so many normal people doing ordinary things when her life was anything but normal.

What would happen if she told Vivian that she’d been right, that the man who had bitten her really was a vampire? Would her friend laugh again and tell Callie she was crazy? Insist she call the police? Or demand to see him herself? None of those options sounded appealing.

What if he got better and refused to leave? Who did you call to evict a vampire?

After finishing her latte, Callie strolled through the mall. She paused at a bookstore, then went inside, searching the shelves for books on vampires. Other than what she had seen in movies, she had little knowledge of the creatures. She found a remarkable number of books in the Mythology and Folklore department. Taking one from the shelf, she carried it to a chair in the corner and began to read.

According to the book, vampires were sexually appealing. Callie frowned. She couldn’t argue with that. Scary as he might be, Quill was sexy as hell. They had very sharp fangs. They slept by day. Coffins seemed to be the preferred resting place. Some believed they had to sleep on their native soil.

Callie grunted softly as she remembered the vampire in Dracula shipping containers of his native earth to England when he left Transylvania.

It was believed the reason they couldn’t be seen in mirrors was because they had no soul. They were said to be repelled by holy objects and garlic. They were hard to kill, with a stake through the heart or beheading being the preferred methods of destruction. Fire was also effective. They were virtually immortal. The Undead were also a popular character in horror movies, although they were frequently cast as romantic figures and occasionally appeared in comedies.

Callie snorted as she returned the book to the shelf. She didn’t see anything remotely funny about being a vampire.

Or associating with one.

Leaving the bookstore, she returned to the food court for lunch. Later, she had her nails done, then went shopping at her favorite boutique, where she bought a blue sweater and a pair of overpriced jeans before finally, reluctantly, returning home.

“Please,” she prayed as she pulled into her driveway and killed the VW’s engine. “Please let him be gone.”

But when she peeked into the guest room, he was still there.

* * *

Quill sat up when Callie opened the door. He sensed her distress at seeing him. No doubt she had hoped that he’d died in her absence or at least left the house. But, at the moment, this was the safest place for him. He had warded her home against any and all intruders. His wards, plus the inherent power of the threshold, would repel any unwanted visitors. Although he wasn’t sure if it would repel the Knights of the Dark Wood.

She stared at him from the doorway, her expression wary.

The rapid beat of her heart, the scent of her blood, called to him. He didn’t want to hurt her or frighten her. She had saved his life and for that he would be forever in her debt. He was a little surprised she hadn’t called the police, although he was grateful for her restraint. It would not have ended well for the officers.

Lifting one hand, he beckoned her.

Powerless to resist, she walked slowly toward him, her whole body trembling.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Callie,” he said quietly. “Please don’t be afraid of me.”

She recoiled when he reached for her arm.

“I’m sorry, but I need your blood.”

She nodded, resigned, as he took hold of her arm and bent his head to the vein in her wrist.

As usual, he took only a little. Releasing her arm, he looked up at her. “You have questions?”

She nodded again.

“Ask them.”

“What . . . what are you? Who were those men? Why did they attack you?”

“You know what I am.”

“That’s impossible.”

A faint smile quirked his lips. “How can it be, when I’m here?”

“Maybe I’m dreaming.”

He shook his head. “I come from a long line of beings. . . .”

“Beings?” Maybe he wasn’t a vampire, after all. “What does that mean? Like aliens from another planet?” Even that would be preferable to what he was, she thought.

“We are a type of vampire, but we are different from most.” He patted the bed beside him. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Instead of doing as he suggested, she pulled a small chair from the desk in the corner and perched on the edge. He didn’t miss the fact that she sat far enough away that he couldn’t reach her.

“As I was saying, we are different from other vampires in that we are born this way and they are turned by others of their kind. We both must have blood to survive, but my kind can also consume human food if we wish. We both spend most of our waking hours in the dark. And although my kind can function during the day, we prefer the night.”

“So that’s why those men tried to kill you? Because you’re a vampire?”

He nodded. “They are descendants of an ancient league of mystical knights who have dedicated their lives to destroying my kind.”

“Just your kind?” she asked, frowning. “What about the other ones?”

“There are those who hunt them, as well.”

“Are any of the other kind here?”

“Yes, a few. Most of them tend to stay in the mountains of Transylvania.”

Well, that was a relief. “Are there very many of them?”

“Enough.”

She looked thoughtful a moment. “Are there many like you?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Callie blinked at him as she tried to absorb everything he had told her.

After a moment, he said, “There is another major difference between the two types of vampires. Those who are made are inclined to kill their prey. Mine are not.” Although it did happen from time to time, but he saw no need to tell her that. Nor did he mention that he had intended to kill her to silence her. His reluctance had something to do with the familiarity of her blood, though he didn’t yet understand its significance.

Callie clasped her hands in her lap. She found it somewhat reassuring that he wasn’t a murderer, but couldn’t help asking, “If you don’t kill people, then I don’t understand why those knights wanted to kill you.”

His gaze moved over her, lingering on the pulse throbbing in the hollow of her throat, the swell of her breasts. “Because, unlike other vampires, we can breed with mortal females. Our offspring are always male. The Knights perceive our ability to reproduce as a threat to the future of humanity.”

Vampires fathering babies. Who’d have thought? A rush of heat flooded Callie’s cheeks, followed by a sharp stab of alarm. Good heavens, was that why he was here? Was he looking for a woman to have his child?

And then she frowned. “Wait a minute. If your kind comes from mating with a human female, doesn’t that make you half-human?”

“Only for a short time.”

“What does that mean?”

“We are human for the first few years of our lives. Gradually, as we approach puberty, usually around the age of thirteen, our innate vampire nature takes over. Our necessity for food lessens and our need for blood grows stronger. By the time we reach our late teens, the change is complete. When we reach thirty, we stop aging physically.”

She mulled that over before asking, “How old are you?”

“Thirty.”

She lifted one brow. “How long have you been thirty?”

“A little over six hundred years.”

Six hundred years. It was beyond her comprehension. Her grandmother had been over a hundred when she’d passed away, but that seemed young compared to Quill. Head cocked to the side, Callie looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. He was a tall, handsome, virile male who exuded sensuality and strength, something the female within her found incredibly attractive. How many women had he loved in the six centuries of his existence? How many children had he fathered?

Quill laughed softly as he read Callie’s mind. He had survived a very long time, made love to countless women, but he had never met one he wanted to spend a lifetime with. Until now. Looking at Callie, he found himself wondering for the first time what it would be like to settle down in one place, with one woman.