Night's Touch (Children of The Night 2)

She wandered from room to room before entering Anthony’s laboratory. Save for a new state-of-the art computer and printer that Anton had bought to replace his father’s old ones, the lab was just as Anthony had left it. Serafina ran her hands over the glass jars and test tubes, the beakers and flasks and funnels, and as she did so, she imagined she was touching him. She paused in front of a shelf that held several books on witchcraft, anatomy, and hematology. A small refrigerator, a microscope and an incubator shared space on a counter that stretched across half of one wall. A large gray metal file cabinet stood on one side of the door. A circle of power had been drawn on the floor in the center of the room. A gray metal table stood in the middle of the circle. A splotch of blood, now a dark, ugly brown, stained the floor.

She moved around the room, walking where he had walked, touching what he had touched. She didn’t know what had happened the night her beloved Anthony died, but from reading his notes, she was certain that Roshan DeLongpre and his witch wife had been involved.

The story of Anthony’s death had made all the papers. Speculation ran wild as to the cause of his demise and what had happened in the house the night he died. Myra’s body had been found cocooned in plastic. There had been blood on the sheets on the bed, but it hadn’t been Anthony’s blood and it hadn’t been Myra’s. The newspapers had had a field day. The headlines screamed, “Witches Run Amok in City.”

She had crossed the yellow police tape under cover of darkness, gathered up all of Anthony’s journals, personal effects, and clothing, and taken them home. After the funeral, she had placed an enchantment on one of the gravediggers, directing him to return that night, dig up Anthony’s coffin, and transport it to Anthony’s lab where a stone crypt waited. When it was done, she had erased the memory from the man’s mind and sent him on his way.

Nights when she was lonely for her beloved, she came here to the lab to talk to him. If only he had discovered the secret of immortality, he would be with her now.

She made her way down a flight of stairs and unlocked the door to a large, windowless room that had once been used for storage. Anthony’s tomb rested inside. Sometimes she opened the coffin and looked at him, and when she did, she saw him as he had been in life.

“Where are you now?” she murmured “Is your soul still in Summerland?”

She wondered if he was resting peacefully, recovering from the trials of his most recent life, or if he was reflecting on all the lives he had lived in the past. Perhaps he had rested long enough and he was already planning his next incarnation.

Hopefully he had not already been reincarnated. If so, her spell would most certainly fail.

The thought brought tears to her eyes. Sitting on the floor, she laid her head on his tomb and wept.

Chapter 7

Vince moved silently through the dark city streets. Who would have thought that being immortal would be boring? He had always been a night person, but this was ridiculous. He hadn’t expected to miss ordinary things like eating a hamburger or just walking down a sunny street. Not that he had taken that many walks when he had the chance, but he sure as hell missed it now that it wasn’t an option.

His thoughts turned to Cara, as they so often did of late. She had brought a little color into his world, made him yearn for a normal life. He wondered where she was, what she was doing.

Almost without conscious thought, he found himself standing on the balcony outside her room. His senses told him the vampires who lived here weren’t home, and he wondered again how a mortal happened to be living with the Undead. Was she their daughter? Had they been turned after she was born?

One of the French doors leading into her bedroom was partially open. Prevented by some vampire mumbo jumbo from entering without an invitation, he peered into her room. She was in bed, lying on her side facing his way, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. Her hair fell over her shoulder like a river of molten gold.

She made a small, sleepy sound and rolled onto her back, and he knew she was awake.

Cara bolted upright, her gaze darting around the room. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Vince.”

“Vince! What are you doing out there?”

“I came to apologize for hurting your feelings the other night.”

She folded her arms across her breasts. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?”

“No. I think you’d better go.”

“Is that what you want?”

“No.” The word was little more than a whisper. She peered at him through the darkness. What was there about him that attracted her so? She hardly knew him, yet he had been constantly in her thoughts since the moment they met. “My father will have a heart attack if he comes in and finds you out there.”

“I doubt it,” he said dryly. “Besides, he’s not home.”

“How do you know?” She glanced at the clock beside her bed. It was three AM. Where would her father be at such an hour?

She thought Vince shrugged, though she couldn’t be sure. It was silly to sit here in the dark, she thought, and turned on the light on the bedside table. “You might as well come in.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He pushed the door open all the way and stepped inside.

Cara looked up at him, her eyes widening. “You’re bleeding!”

“What?”

“There,” she said, pointing, “on your lower lip.”

He wiped it away, thinking he would have to be more careful when he fed in the future. “I guess it’s too late to go for a walk.”

She laughed softly. “Just a little. Besides, I’m not dressed for a midnight stroll.”

“Can I see you tomorrow night?”

“I’d like that.”

He liked it that she didn’t play hard to get, and that she didn’t hold a grudge for the shoddy way he had treated her at the club. “What time should I pick you up?”

“Nine, at the library.”

“What are you, a bookworm?”

“No, I’m a librarian.”

“Really? I don’t think I’ve ever met a librarian before.”

“I love books. It’s the perfect place to work.”

“So, what does a librarian do?”

“Since our library is small, I do a little bit of everything.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I read book reviews and publishers’ announcements and catalogues to keep informed on current literature. I buy books from publishers and distributors. I keep an eye on Sarah Beth, who’s my assistant, and make sure she keeps our database up to date. I’m in charge of the story hour, and sometimes I invite authors to come and speak. When there’s nothing else to do, I help put books away.”