As Twilight Falls

Picking her way across the rough ground, she peeked inside the dilapidated buildings, surprised to find furniture inside the hotel, or what was left of it. Animals had obviously taken refuge inside. The sofa pillows had been shredded, the insides used for nests. A faded picture of a naked woman hung over the bar in the saloon.

She tried to imagine what it must have been like to live there in the 1800s. No movies. No satellite radio. No electricity. No sports cars. Doing laundry by hand. Cooking on a woodstove.

“Definitely not for me,” she decided.

Leaving the town behind, she walked toward the mountains. She hadn’t been here before, but as long as she was, she might as well see if she couldn’t find a way out.

She followed several trails. All were dead ends. She tried climbing a winding path that led toward the summit, but it grew increasingly narrow until it disappeared. Pausing to catch her breath, she stared upward. She had been foolish to think she could climb to the top before dusk. And even if she managed to reach the summit before sundown, what then? It would be dark soon and as badly as she wanted to leave this place, she wasn’t foolish enough to wander around out here after dark. There could be wild animals. Snakes. And who knew what else?

With a sigh of resignation, she turned back, a sudden unease urging her to hurry. She began to run, unmindful of the brush that snagged her clothing and scratched her skin.

She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze darting right and left, her panic growing. Was that a vampire, or a shadow? The cry of a night bird, or the wail of some earthbound spirit?

She sobbed with relief when she reached the safety of the car. She locked the doors, turned the key in the ignition, hit the lights.

And screamed.

Saintcrow loosed a pithy oath as he changed from a mass of swirling gray mist to his own form, opened the passenger door, and slid into the seat.

Kadie stared at him, her face pale, her eyes wide. “I thought you were a ghost.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

She pressed a hand to her heart. “Gee, I’m out here in the middle of nowhere, in the dark, alone,” she remarked sarcastically. “Why would I be frightened?”

“What the hell are you doing out here, alone, anyway?”

“Just sightseeing.”

“Not much to see,” he mused, glancing around. “A few dilapidated old buildings and a couple of empty corrals.”

“There aren’t a lot of entertainment choices here. You can only watch so many movies, or read so many books, you know.” She glanced out the side window, thinking that she had a lot more sympathy for animals forced to live out their lives in zoos. No matter how big or beautiful a cage might be, it was still a cage.

“Is that how you think of this place? As a cage?”

“You might not keep us behind bars,” Kadie said bitterly, “but we’re still just animals for you and the other vampires to prey on.” She slid a glance at his face, recoiled at the fury smoldering in his eyes.

Folding his arms across his chest, he said, “Drive.”

She kept her gaze on the road, afraid to look at him again. The words, Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, kept running through her mind. Making Saintcrow angry was just stupid. Her life, and the lives of the men and women in town, depended on his goodwill. Things in town could get a lot worse if he decided to stop providing them with food and drink. He didn’t have to heat their homes, buy them new clothes, or supply them with new books and movies to help pass the time.

He didn’t have to let them live.

All he had to do was withdraw his protection and they would be at the mercy of the other vampires.

She pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition, then sat there, her eyes closed, her hands gripping the wheel, as she waited for him to say something.

Minutes passed.

When she opened her eyes, he was gone.

With a sigh, she went into the house and locked the door. Then, feeling uneasy, she turned on all the lights in the living room. A quick glance showed he was nowhere in sight. Where had he gone? Why had he been so angry?

“Just like a man,” Kadie grumbled. “Can’t handle the truth.” Sitting on the sofa, she kicked off her shoes, then leaned back. Did he truly not understand how she and the others felt about being trapped in this place? Was she supposed to be grateful that he allowed her to live? Maybe he’d understand better if he’d ever been locked up.

A shimmer in the air, and he was beside her. “You think I don’t know what it’s like?” He stretched his legs out in front of him. “I’ve been locked up, Kadie, in a hole so deep and dark that no light penetrated. I was captured for a time during the Crusades. My only food was moldy bread and warm water, and I was glad to get it.”

“I’m sorry, but a prison is still a prison.”

He nodded. “Perhaps. But I would have given a year of my life for one day in a house like this, and another year for a hot bath and a decent meal. You think you and the others are being mistreated because I keep you here?” Standing, he removed his shirt, then turned his back to her.

Kadie gasped. From his shoulders to his waist, every inch of his skin was covered with a web of scars. Some were so faint as to be almost invisible. She had never noticed them before, but then, they always made love at night, often in the dark. The only one she’d been aware of was the long, ridged scar that ran from his shoulder to his waist.

He turned to look at her, his expression implacable. “I told you before. I need the women here. It isn’t safe for us to hunt outside right now.” He slid his arms into the sleeves of his shirt.

“You go outside.”

He shrugged. “I’m older, stronger. Smarter.”

“You care about the other vampires, don’t you?”

He lifted one brow.

“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t worry about them.”

He moved to the hearth, stood there, one arm braced on the mantel, staring at the coals. A fire sprang to life.

“You worry about them. I know you do. Why won’t you admit it?”

Keeping his back to her, he said, very quietly, “I’ve spent nine hundred years trying not to care. On the outside, vampires are very territorial. We rarely share space. What we have here is unusual for our kind, and it only works because they don’t have to hunt for prey. There’s no competition, no worry about where to hide the bodies. As for humans . . . They live such a short time. If you stay with them, eventually you have to bury them.” He shook his head. “Imagine how many women I could have watched wither and die if I’d allowed myself to fall in love.”