Night's Pleasure (Children of The Night 4)

She dropped her purse and her shopping bags on the sofa, called, “Dad? Hey, Dad, I’m home,” on her way into the kitchen to get a bottle of water.

“The better to cool off with, my dear,” she murmured, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to cool off. What she wanted was to be in Rane’s arms again, to revel in his kisses, to hear his voice whispering in her ear, though she couldn’t now recall what he had said. But it didn’t matter. He wanted her. There was no doubt about that. And she wanted him.

Returning to the living room, she paused in the doorway. The lights were off, but the satellite screen was on, so where was her father? It wasn’t like him to go to bed without turning off the screen. Saving energy had always been one of his quirks.

She glanced around, a sudden feeling of unease skating down her spine. Murmuring, “I don’t like this,” she switched on the lights.

Something was different…. She moved through the room. The books on the bookshelf had been moved, the drawers in the small desk that had been her mother’s were open. The trio of candles on the coffee table had been knocked over. Her father’s favorite coffee cup lay on the floor surrounded by a dark stain.

She stood in the middle of the room. Should she leave? What if the intruder was still on the premises? Goose bumps prickled along her skin. “Dad?”

When there was still no answer, she picked up one of the heavy candlesticks. She couldn’t leave. Her dad might still be in the house, hurt, unable to answer.

Tension coiled deep within her as she walked down the hall to her father’s bedroom. The door was open. The lights were off. In the light from the hallway, she could see that his bed was empty.

Chilled, she stepped into the room. “Dad?”

Looking closer, she saw his wheelchair lying on its side by the bathroom door. Fear’s icy hand clamped Savanah’s insides. Where was her father? Why didn’t he answer? Her fingertips tightened on the candlestick as she hurried around the foot of the bed, her eyes focused on the bathroom door.

She looked down when her foot hit something soft, felt her heart go cold when she saw her father sprawled face down on the floor.

“Dad!” Tossing the candlestick on the bed, she switched on the bedside lamp. “Dad?”

Kneeling, she turned him over, gasped in horror at what she saw. His face was as pale as paper, his lips were blue, his eyes sunken. Had he had a heart attack? She placed her hand on his heart. Was he breathing? She couldn’t feel a heartbeat.

She had to call 9-1-1, had to get help. He couldn’t be dead. She was reaching for the phone when his fingers curled around her arm.

“Sa…vanah…”

“I’m here, Dad. Hang on.”

“Listen…things you need to know…”

“Later, Dad, I need to call…”

“Listen! Things about me…your mother…”

Savanah stared down at her father as he struggled for breath. What was he trying to say? Whatever it was, it would have to wait. He needed help and he needed it now. “You can tell me later.”

“No time.” His hand tightened on her arm in a viselike grip. “My desk…envelope…” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Envelope…behind…bottom drawer…for you.”

“Yes, whatever…” It wasn’t important, not now, when he was growing paler, weaker, by the moment. A prayer rose in her mind. Only one word, Please, please, please repeated over and over again. She grabbed his cell phone from the bedside table. “I need to call…”

“Too late…” His fingers dug into her flesh. “Be…careful.”

“Dad, please, just hang on…. I can’t lose you, too.”

“Love…you…” He looked up at her, a faint smile on his lips, and then, with a sigh, his hand fell away from her arm, the light went out of his eyes, and he was gone.

“Dad? Dad! No, please, no.” Gathering him into her arms, she rocked back and forth, her tears dripping onto his face.

Guilt speared her heart. She had hardly spent any time with him in the last few weeks, what with spending her days at work and her nights with Rane.

If only she had come home earlier, or called to see how he was. Time lost all meaning as she sat there cradling her father’s body.

She held him until her legs cramped. Rising, she went into the bathroom and washed her hands and face. Returning to the bedroom, she pulled a blanket from the bed and covered him, only then noticing that someone had gone through his dresser and the drawer on his nightstand.

Someone had broken into the house. Who? And why? Had her father surprised the culprit in the act? Choking back her tears, she went into the living room and called the police. While waiting for their arrival, she went through the rest of the house. Every drawer had been ransacked, every bookshelf had been searched, but as far as she could tell, nothing had been taken. What had the robber hoped to find? There was no sign of forced entry, no broken windows. Had her father been acquainted with the robber? Knowing someone had gone through her personal belongings left her feeling violated.

The police arrived a short time later. Savanah answered their questions, a growing sense of numbness enveloping her as a crime team arrived to dust for fingerprints. A policewoman escorted her out onto the front porch and informed her that she would have to stay outside until the police finished their investigation.

Savanah glanced toward the front door. Her father was still in there; she needed to be with him. “How long will that take?”

“We could be finished here in a few hours, or a few days. I really couldn’t say. Do you have somewhere you can go? Is there anyone you can call?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t leave town,” the policewoman said. “And I’ll need a number where we can reach you.”

Savanah gave the woman her cell phone number.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the policewoman said before going back into the house.

Savanah stood there a moment, and then she dialed Rane’s number.

He answered on the first ring, almost as if he had been waiting for her call, and promised he would be right over. He arrived less than two minutes later. In a distant part of her mind, Savanah wondered how he had gotten clear across town so fast.

Rane caught the mingled odors of blood and death the minute he approached the house, and beneath it, the scent of Vampire. He drew in a deep breath. The Vampire’s scent was unfamiliar, but one he wouldn’t forget.