Night's Touch (Children of The Night 2)

Disappointed, she asked Frank to take her back to her parents’ house. After walking her to the door and seeing her safely inside, he told her he was going to his place for a quick shower and a change of clothes.

“Don’t be running off without me,” he warned. “Your folks will have my hide if anything happens to you.”

“Don’t worry,” Cara said, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Anton woke with a start. Disoriented for a moment, he glanced at his surroundings, relieved to find that he was at home. Apparently, he had fallen asleep on the sofa.

Sitting up, he ran a hand through his hair. He’d had the most horrible nightmare. He shuddered at the memory. His father had been terrorizing the city and his mother’s burned body had been at his father’s side. It had been like every horrible zombie movie he had ever seen. The two of them had had him backed into a corner, their skeletal hands reaching for his throat, when he woke up.

Rising, he went into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. Leaving the bathroom, he paused outside his mother’s bedroom. She had never let him into her room, insisting she liked her privacy. Well, she wasn’t there to stop him now. It took only a moment to force the lock.

Stepping inside, he hit the light switch, then glanced around, wondering what she’d had to hide. He saw nothing out of the ordinary: a double bed with a flowered comforter, a pair of nightstands, a lamp with a fancy shade, a six-drawer dresser littered with yellowed newspaper clippings. He wondered how many times she had read the story about his father’s death.

Moving farther into the room, he went to her closet and opened the door. Her dresses took up one side; the other was filled with men’s clothing—all new, with the price tags still in place.

Going into his mother’s bathroom, he opened the medicine cabinet, where he found an assortment of men’s toiletries.

Regret burned deep in his soul. His mother had been certain her incantation would work. And it would have, he thought, his anger rising, except for DeLongpre’s daughter. But for her, his father and mother might be here with him now.

Anton clenched his hands at his sides as he remembered how it had been, growing up without a father, listening to other guys talk about playing football with their dads and going camping and hunting and fishing. Their fathers had taught them how to drive and mow the yard and bait a hook. Their dads were there to cheer them on at Little League games. Other boys had fathers they could talk to about things that a guy couldn’t discuss with his mother.

Anton sighed. He had never had a father, and now his mother was gone, too, and it was all that tramp Cara DeLongpre’s fault.

Going back into his mother’s bedroom, he stood there a moment and then, not certain why, he went to his mother’s dresser and opened the drawers one by one. The right side was filled with his mother’s under-things. The left side held neatly folded T-shirts, shorts, and handkerchiefs intended for his father. It occurred to Anton that it all belonged to him now: the house, the cars, and the contents of the house. He picked up one of the T-shirts, then rummaged through the others, noting that there were a variety of colors—red, navy, green, and black. Under the last shirt he found a wand wrapped in a sheet of tissue paper.

It wasn’t his mother’s, and it wasn’t his.

Curious, Anton picked it up and felt a faint vibration of latent power flow from the wood up his arm. He ran his fingertips over the satin finish, knowing it must have belonged to his father.

Taking the wand with him, he left his mother’s room. Now that Cara’s parents knew who he was, it was unlikely that he would ever be able to get close to her again.

Frowning thoughtfully, Anton ran his thumb over the wand. If he could find a way to control the creature, he might be able to avenge his mother’s death before sending the creature back where it belonged.

Going down to the basement, he began rummaging through his mother’s spell books, searching for an incantation that would enable him to control the creature inhabiting his father’s body.

Vince woke late in the afternoon to find Cat sitting on his chest. “What do you want?” he muttered irritably. “Go on, get out of here.”

Cat yawned, displaying sharp white teeth, then, tail sticking straight up in the air, he padded to the edge of the mattress where he sat down and began washing his face.

With a shake of his head, Vince sat up. He had kept watch outside the DeLongpre’s house last night until the rising of the sun had forced him to seek shelter.

As always, his first waking thought was for Cara. Drawing on his preternatural power, he concentrated on her and after a moment, as if there was a tangible link between them, he knew she was at home and that she was thinking of him.

Vince smiled, pleased that he had apparently mastered a new vampire skill. If it wasn’t just a fluke, it meant that he would always be able to find her. Thinking of what Brenna had said to him the night before, he decided maybe that wasn’t such a good thing after all. If he was going to sever his ties with Cara, it would be better if the break was clean and permanent.

Damn! How was he going to tell her the truth after all this time? Would she hate him for waiting so long, or simply for being what he was? And yet, why should she hate him? She loved her parents. He tried to tell himself there was no difference, but, of course, there was.

For a man who had resigned himself to spending the rest of his existence alone, he had fallen hard and fast. Damn and double damn. He never should have come back here. Nothing had changed. He couldn’t just walk out on her without a word this time, not when he had promised her that he would see her today, even though that would probably be easier on both of them. He would see her tonight, he thought, and then he would never see her again. He shook his head, thinking he had promised himself the same thing only a short time ago.

He swore softly, remembering how Cara had looked with that baby in her arms, the light in her eyes when she had talked about having a big family. Leaving her again would be like ripping the heart from his chest, but he loved her too much to ask her to give up a normal life and the family she longed for and deserved.

Cara stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing her hair. She had spent the day cleaning house, not that there was much to clean. Her parents were very tidy people. Still, dusting, vacuuming, mopping the floors, and washing her few dishes had kept her busy. Changing the sheets on her bed had made her think of Vince. It seemed like years since they had last made love. She had clutched her pillow to her chest, closed her eyes, and imagined that he was there with her, that his hands were caressing her, that his mouth was hungrily kissing her, that he was lowering her to the mattress, his body covering hers…