Night's Touch (Children of The Night 2)

Looking back, he wondered if he would have chosen death if she had told him just what being a vampire entailed. Not that it was all that bad. True, he could no longer eat brunch with his folks on Sundays, but his senses were so acute he could hear the flutter of a moth’s wings. He couldn’t go surfing early in the morning anymore, but he could bench-press a bus. And even though he couldn’t go outside during the day, he’d been surprised to discover that he wasn’t compelled to sleep when the sun was up. He wasn’t sure why. He had even doubted that he was a true vampire until he foolishly went outside one morning. That was a mistake he hadn’t made again. The sun had burned him like acid. He was weak during the day, and so he usually rested until early afternoon and did the brunt of his work after dark. Even drinking blood wasn’t as bad as he had expected it would be. Bad? Hah! It was like the nectar of the gods.

And there was no denying the thrill of the hunt. At first, he had been shocked and shamed by the kick he got out of it, but that hadn’t lasted long. There was nothing else like it, finding prey, smelling their fear, knowing that you held their life in your hands, that you could take only what you needed to survive or you could drain them to the point of death. He had done that only once, but he had never forgotten the ecstasy of drinking a human life, of absorbing the man’s essence, listening to the beat of his prey’s heart grow weaker as his own grew stronger. As exhilarating as it had been, he had never done it again, afraid that if he did, he would turn into the kind of ravening monster that vampires were reputed to be. It was hard enough to hang on to what remained of his humanity.

The only real downside to being a vampire had been moving away from his family. They had always been a close-knit bunch and he missed rough housing with his brothers and babysitting his nieces and nephews, but moving had seemed the easiest solution. He couldn’t tell his kin what he had become and couldn’t keep thinking up new excuses for why he didn’t show up for brunch or why he couldn’t eat dinner, or go to the park with his sister’s kids, or watch his nephew play Little League anymore. It had just been easier to sell his business, move away, and start a new life. He’d hated to leave Georgia, but he’d had to move far enough away that his parents couldn’t just hop in the car and drive over for a visit. It hadn’t been easy leaving his friends behind, either, or starting a new life, especially a life with a lifestyle he didn’t know anything about.

The other drawback to being Undead was finding things to do to pass the time late at night. He couldn’t work all the time, and once the movies, the bowling alley, and the bars closed, there wasn’t a whole heck of a lot to do except visit The Nocturne.

He parked the Mustang in the garage and lowered the iron security door. Cat was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. With a gravelly meow, the cat followed him upstairs. At one time, the room had been a large office, but Vince had converted it into a combination living room–bedroom. He no longer needed a kitchen, or much of anything else. He had furnished the place with a black leather sofa and chair, a coffee table, a couple of end tables, a home theater system with surround sound, and a stereo. He’d had the windows plastered over so he didn’t have to worry about the sun finding him. As long as he avoided its light, he was safe inside. On really sunny days, he closed the security door and just left the side entrance open. Satellite TV and a couple hundred DVDs provided entertainment in the wee hours of the morning.

He turned on the TV, and even though the volume was turned low, he could hear it perfectly.

Dropping down on the sofa, he stared at the screen; his thoughts turned inward as he idly scratched Cat’s ears. He had been an easygoing guy not too long ago. He’d had friends, played softball on the local team once a week, gone dirt biking with his buddies, had his share of women. He grinned inwardly. Maybe more than his share. Of course, all that had changed when he did.

He had left all his old friends behind because it was easier to move than try to explain the unexplainable. He didn’t really trust himself with women, though they seemed to gravitate toward him more than ever. Since becoming a vampire, he could have scored every night, but he had no interest in meaningless sex. Of course, it made satisfying his other hunger easier. Talk about a quickie! He smiled at the women who came on to him, mesmerized them, took what he needed to satisfy his hellish thirst, and sent them on their way, none the wiser.

But Cara was different. He didn’t want to drink from her…well, he did, but that wasn’t all he wanted. There was something about her that called to him. For all that she had money and lived with parents who seemed to love her, he sensed she was just as lonely as he was.

And she lived with vampires.

He mulled that over for a time, wondering if the vampires were her parents, and if so, how such a thing could be possible. He’d been told that the Undead couldn’t create life, but if they weren’t her parents, who were they?

Cara. She occupied his thoughts until the rising of the sun made his mind and body sluggish and he sought his bed for a few hours’ sleep.

He would see her later, after the sun went down.

Smiling, he closed his eyes and took his rest.

Cara woke the next morning with a smile on her face and a fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach. Tonight, she would see Vince. She giggled at the thought. Was this what it was like to be in love? She bounded out of bed and then, arms outstretched, she twirled around and around, then fell back on the bed again. She was going to see Vince in…she glanced at the clock and groaned. It was only ten-thirty! Eleven hours until she would see him. If she knew where he worked, she could stop in and surprise him, she thought, and then sighed. He might not like that. Some men didn’t like to be bothered at work, so it was probably just as well that she didn’t know where his shop was.

She took a quick shower, dressed, and went downstairs to fix breakfast. As usual, the house was quiet. The words “quiet as a tomb” whispered through the back of her mind. Frowning, she wondered where that thought had come from.

She read the paper while she ate a leisurely breakfast, then lingered over a cup of coffee. After putting her dishes in the dishwasher, she went upstairs to brush her teeth and put on her makeup.

Di Giorgio was waiting for her when she went out to the garage. He nodded at her, then got into his car and followed her to the library.

She had often wondered what her parents paid him to be her bodyguard. He rarely got a day off. It had to be the most boring job in the world, following her around, sitting in the library when she was at work, sitting outside her house on her days off. She doubted he had much of a social life. He certainly wasn’t married. After all, what woman would be content with a husband that was hardly ever home? She suddenly felt ashamed of herself. Di Giorgio had been her bodyguard since she was twelve years old and she didn’t know a thing about him except that he had come to the United States from Sicily when he was in his mid-twenties. She had always thought of him as a necessary evil, like going to the dentist.