Night's Kiss (Children of The Night 1)

Brenna frowned. She had searched the house from top to bottom trying to find where he slept. How had she missed that door?

Memorizing the location, she ran her fingertips through the water, erasing the image. She poured the water down the sink then went into the hallway. She walked the length of the corridor but there was no sign of a door.

Standing at the end of the entryway, she gathered her powers around her.

"A hidden door is here today, bring me the Sight, show me the way."

There was a ripple in the air, blue motes gathered around her, then outlined a small narrow door located on the left side of the hallway. She stooped in front of the portal. There was no latch. Dropping to her knees, she ran her hands over the door, murmured, "Ah-hah!" when the door opened inward, revealing a long staircase that led down, down, into darkness. At her touch, the blue motes faded and then disappeared.

Returning to the kitchen, she found a candle, then made her way back to the hidden doorway. A quick incantation lit the candle.

She hesitated a moment, then, one hand braced against the wall and the other holding the candle out in front of her, she crawled through the doorway, then walked down the stairs.

She paused at the bottom. At first, she thought she was in the basement, but the basement was much larger and filled with old furniture and boxes. She glanced around, seeing nothing until she used the Sight again. And then she saw it, the faint outline of another door. This one was average size. Once again, there was no discernable latch; once again, she ran her hands over the front and sides but this door refused to budge. She tried several incantations, but to no avail. The door refused to open.

With a sigh of discouragement, she turned and went up the stairs. What would she have done if the door had opened? Did she really want to see Roshan lying there, unmoving? Had she been able to get close to him, she would have been unable to resist touching him. Would his skin have felt cold, lifeless? Would he have known she was there?

When she reached the head of the stairs, Morgana was sitting there, waiting for her. The cat regarded her through narrowed yellow eyes, her expression clearly stating that breakfast was long overdue.

After closing the door, Brenna bent down to scratch Morgana's ears, then went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for herself and the cat.

Deep in his lair, awareness stirred through the sleeping vampire, roused by the uncanny feeling that someone had been watching him. Yet he sensed no threat to his existence, no immediate danger. And then Brenna's scent was carried to him on a fleeting breath of air. She had been in the outer chamber of his lair. He had only a moment to ponder such a remarkable occurrence before the Dark Sleep dragged him down into oblivion once again.

Anthony Loken stood in the doorway of his laboratory, his brow furrowed as he regarded the body on the table. Such a foolish boy, to believe that anyone could produce a cure for the Dark Trick.

With a shake of his head, Loken removed the tubes from the limp, pale arms, then, careful to make sure the stake remained firmly buried in the boy's chest, he lifted the body into his arms and carried the bloodless corpse up the stairs. Opening the front door, he glanced right and left to make sure there was no one in sight and then tossed the vampire's body out into the yard. There was a feint sizzle as the sun's light fell on preternatural flesh and then, in the blink of an eye, the body of Jimmy Dugan went up in flames.

Loken stared at the patch of barren ground where the boy's body had been. Nothing remained to show that Jimmy Dugan had ever existed. Efficient, Loken mused. Most efficient.

Closing the door, Loken returned to his lab. In all his years of searching, Dugan was the first genuine vampire he had found. A good sign, he thought At last, fortune had smiled on him.

He opened the small refrigerator where he had stored the vampire's blood and withdrew one of the vials. Now that he had what he needed, perhaps he would finally be able to discover what it was about the blood of the undead that allowed vampires to heal almost immediately from any wound, to change their shape, to travel great distances in a blur of movement. But it was the vampire's ability to survive for centuries that Loken craved. Why should he be subject to the few years of a mere mortal life span? He was a man of intelligence and power, a warlock without equal, yet he was subject to the ravages of age, disease, and death. True, some wizards lived to a vast old age, but he did not intend to grow old and weak. His lifelong goal had been to find away to enjoy a vampire's power without a vampire's cravings or limitations. And now, at last, that goal was within his grasp!

He pulled the microscope from the shelf and placed it on his desk. After pulling on a pair of gloves, he prepared several slides with the blood of the vampire.

He placed the first one under the microscope, and then, quivering with excitement, he bent his head over the instrument and stared into the eyepiece. For several moments, he forgot to breathe but simply stared at what he saw. He had spent years studying hematology, yet nothing in his experience enabled him to interpret what he now saw, a constantly shifting mass of red blood cells so dark as to be almost black, cells that appeared to devour one another until only a few remained, and these, to his complete astonishment, quickly began to multiply, and then the whole sequence started again.

Shaking his head, he removed the first slide and replaced it with a second, and then a third.

What did it mean? If he was to inject himself with the vampire's blood, would it endow him with the vampire's power? Or would the vampire's blood consume his own until nothing remained?

A guinea pig, that was what he needed.

He quickly put everything away, wiped a bit of dried blood off the examining table, removed his gloves, and turned off the lights. A guinea pig shouldn't be too hard to find. One of the gullible pseudo-vamps from the Nocturne. A bum off the street. A runaway teen. One of the unemployed young men who gathered near the bus stop in the south end of the city looking for work. He had only to take his pick.

Whistling softly, he left the lab, making sure to lock the door behind him.

Roshan found Brenna in the kitchen fixing dinner and talking to the cat. He stood there a moment, admiring the softly rounded shape of the woman, the silky sheen of her hair, the way her jeans molded to her slim shape, the sound of her voice.

She blushed when she glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing in the doorway.

"Don't let me interrupt your conversation," he said.

"Morgana looked quite interested in what you were saying."

"How long have you been standing there?" Brenna asked, her blush deepening to a most becoming shade of pink.