Kay remembered asking her mother once if it bothered her that she looked older than her husband. Dorothy had shrugged, then said, “Of course it bothers me, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.”
The bitter edge in her mother’s voice had squelched any further questions on Kay’s part. At the time, Kay recalled wondering if one of the reasons her mother never left the compound was that people who saw the three of them together would likely assume that Kay and her father were siblings and that Dorothy was their mother, or perhaps assume that Kay’s father was her husband.
Rising, Kay went into the bathroom and closed the door. Slipping out of her nightgown, she turned on the taps in the shower and stepped into the stall, her thoughts still on her mother. Maybe Gideon could change Dorothy into a vampire, she thought, pulling the door closed behind her. Not exactly the best solution in the world, but it would keep her mother from growing any older.
Kay shook her head, horrified by the turn of her thoughts. Her gentle, soft-spoken mother, a vampire? She almost laughed out loud as she tried to visualize her mom with red eyes and fangs, stalking the night for prey. And then she did laugh. What on earth was she thinking? No doubt about it, hanging around with Gideon had definitely warped her mind. It was a moot point, anyway. Neither her mother nor her father would ever consider or consent to such a thing.
When she was clean from head to foot, Kay stepped out of the shower, dried off, and shrugged into the plush white robe the hotel had provided. A glance at her cell phone showed it was only eleven-thirty in the morning. What was she supposed to do all day while Gideon slept?
A rumble in her stomach made the decision for her. “Breakfast first.” Calling room service, she ordered French toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, orange juice, coffee, and the morning paper.
With that done, she settled back on the sofa and turned on the TV. Switching through the channels, she was appalled by her choices—insipid game shows, silly soap operas, movies that were older than she was, and news, news, news, none of it good. Jobs were at an all-time low. The Dow was down five hundred points. The deficit was up another billion or trillion—who could keep track? The price of gas and groceries was rising every day. And Israel was at war again.
She had just settled on an old Clint Eastwood movie when her breakfast arrived. She thanked the young man who delivered it and signed Gideon’s name to the bill. Resuming her seat on the sofa, she ate slowly to prolong the meal.
When she was finished, she set the tray aside, then sat there, impatiently tapping her foot. Did she dare go downstairs and browse the hotel gift shops? It would only take a few minutes. She could buy a candy bar and a book and come right back. But even as she considered it, she heard Gideon’s voice in the back of her mind. I don’t want you to leave the room. Not for anything. Understand?
He was right, of course. Even though Kay was fairly certain Verah wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity, discretion was, after all, the better part of valor. Besides, there was always a chance, however slim, that she was wrong. For all she knew, the witch could be prowling around the lobby right now. Having been the witch’s captive once, Kay wasn’t willing to take the chance.
Bored, she forced herself to watch the movie until the end of the credits. When it was over, she called the front desk and asked if someone could please send up an assortment of snacks and a couple of the latest paperback novels.
She spent the rest of the afternoon indulging her love for chocolate, her nose buried in the latest New York Times bestseller.
She ordered lunch when she finished the first book.
She was halfway through the second novel when she dozed off.
Gideon came fully, instantly, awake with the setting of the sun. A quick check of his preternatural senses told him Kay was asleep in the other room. The lingering scents of bread, bacon, eggs, roast beef, French fries, orange juice, and coffee hung in the air. And chocolate, he noted with a grin. Lots of chocolate.
Rising, he took a quick shower, then pulled on a pair of well-worn blue jeans and a black T-shirt. Barefooted, he padded into the other room where he roused his sleeping beauty with a kiss.
“I was dreaming of you,” Kay murmured. Twining her arms around his neck, she pulled him down on the sofa.
“Were you?” He stretched out beside her, one arm drawing her close. “What were you dreaming about?”
“We were making love on a deserted beach at midnight. It was so quiet and peaceful, with the man in the moon smiling down on us, and the sound of the waves lapping against the shore. It was like there was nothing and no one else in the whole world, just you and me on a white sandy beach that stretched away into infinity.”
He chuckled softly. “No beaches around here, I’m afraid. But if you really want to make love in the sand …”
She cupped his cheek in her hand. “You don’t have to whisk us away to the ocean. The sofa works just fine for me.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Slipping his hand under her robe, he started at her ankle and caressed his way up her calf to her thigh. Her skin was warm with life, silky smooth beneath his fingertips.
“Oh, my.” She breathed the word on a shuddering sigh as his hand moved higher.
“Something wrong?” he asked with a wicked grin.
“Yes.” She gasped as his hand made lazy circles over her bare belly. “I’ll give you an hour to stop that.”
“Only an hour?” he asked, his voice growing husky.
“Maybe two or … oh!” she exclaimed as his hand slid seductively upward to cover her breast. “Better make it three.”
* * *
Chapter 17
Holding Rama in her arms, Verah gazed, unblinking, into the ebony bowl on the table. The surface of the water, as smooth and black as midnight, should have revealed the wolf girl’s whereabouts. Instead, there was only confusion, the marker shifting from one place to another.
Turning away from the bowl, Verah stroked her familiar’s head.
“She knows we’re after her,” Verah mumured. “She’s on the run, heading west.”
Rama answered with a throaty “Meow.”
Verah smiled. “Be patient, my sweet. She’ll have to stop sooner or later. And then we’ll have her. With luck, we’ll have them both.”
Still carrying the cat, Verah climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Before Gideon, she had covered every window in the house, every mirror, every reflective surface, to ensure that she couldn’t see her reflection. She had refused to leave her house or to see anyone. But that had quickly grown old so that, whenever she left the house, she had invoked a spell that gave her the illusion of youth and beauty. But the illusion only worked on her outward appearance. Her body had still ached with the weight of her years, her steps remained unsteady, her voice creaky with age.