Night's Promise (Children of The Night 6)

“True.” Pearl sighed. “I’d be a hundred and six and you’d be . . .”

“Never mind! Age is a number, and mine is unlisted.”

Pearl shook her head. “You always were secretive about your age. I never understood why. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Maybe not, but saying it out loud . . .” Edna shook her head. “It just sounds so old. If I don’t say it, then I can pretend I’m still young.”

“Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing you can’t see your face in a mirror!”

Edna glared at her, then burst out laughing.

After a moment, Pearl laughed, too. She and Edna Mae Turner had shared a room in the maternity ward in a Texas hospital decades ago. They had hit it off instantly and had been the best of friends, both as mortals and vampires, ever since.

“So,” Edna said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “What do you want to do?”

“Let’s go find Mara’s son.”

“Are you out of your hundred-and-six-year-old mind? If Mara finds out we’re looking for him, you’ll never see a hundred and seven!”

“Oh, pshaw. I’m sure she’s over it by now, dear.”

“We helped Dr. Ramsden kidnap her son,” Edna said dryly. “Mothers don’t get over things like that.”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious to see if the boy went fanged or furry?”

Edna frowned, then exclaimed, “Oh! His father’s latent werewolf gene!”

“Exactly. Derek carries it, too.”

“I wonder if he shifts during the full moon?” Edna wondered aloud.

“Even if he does, I shouldn’t think it would be a big deal. I mean, vampires can already shape-shift,” Pearl said, and then frowned. “Vamp or wolf, how will we ever find him? We don’t know where he lives. Or if he’s even in the country. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Damn, it was such a good idea, too!”

“I know how to find him,” Edna said, warming to the idea.

“You do?”

“I drank from him, don’t you remember?”

“That was years ago, dear, when he was a baby.” Pearl shifted in her chair, then crossed her ankles. “Why, he must be twenty-five or twenty-six by now. Do you think the bond is still effective?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, you’ve never used it. I don’t know how long such a bond lasts when it’s just one-sided. I know it’s different if there’s a blood exchange.”

“It could be a moot point,” Edna mused. “For all we know, the boy could be dead.”

Pearl shook her head. “Always looking at the negative.”

“I’m just being practical,” Edna retorted. “Do you think Mara knows about the werewolf gene?”

“I doubt it, unless the boy’s shifted.” Pearl slapped her hand on her knee. “Come on, it will be an adventure. I’m tired of sitting around doing nothing. Even if we never find him, at least it’ll give us something to do. A purpose! A quest! Are you with me?”

“Of course I am,” Edna retorted with a smug smile. “You won’t find him without me.” She paused a moment before saying, “We never did avenge Travis’s death.”

Pearl nodded. Lou McDonald had destroyed Travis years ago. Pearl had fully intended to avenge her grandson’s death, but, what with one thing or another, it had never happened. But it wasn’t too late, she thought, grinning. Thanks to Rafe Cordova, if there was one thing she had plenty of, it was time.

Chapter Seven

As was her wont, Sheree slept late. On waking, she spent half an hour meditating, took a quick shower, and then went downstairs for breakfast.

She had often thought of hiring a housekeeper, or maybe a chef. Or maybe both. But cooking and cleaning the house gave her something to do, and though her mother would never understand, Sheree found a certain satisfaction in knowing how to cook and keep house. Of course, once she got married, she would never have to lift a hand again, especially if she married a man of her mother’s choosing.

Sheree pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she waited for her toast to pop up. She kept hoping her mother would stop her eternal matchmaking. In a letter received only a few days ago, her mother had touted her two latest choices: Ralph Upton, only son of a prominent surgeon and a successful lawyer who was on the fast track to becoming a millionaire in his own right, and Neil Somerset of the New York Somersets, who had recently invented a new and improved weapons system that was going to make his company richer than it was already.

She shuddered. All the money in the world wouldn’t get her into bed with Neil, or Ralph, either.

After buttering her toast, Sheree poured herself a glass of orange juice and sat at the table. She had met Ralph Upton at a benefit last year. Nothing her mother said would persuade her to consider him for a husband. As for Neil Somerset, he was a playboy, just like his father.

In the living room, Sheree practiced her tai chi, her thoughts wandering to Derek. How did he spend his days? Was he thinking of her? Would he be at the club tonight? He hadn’t said anything about meeting again.

Nevertheless, later that day she haunted the shops on Rodeo Drive looking for just the right outfit. She found it at her third stop: a pair of slinky red leather pants; a low-cut, see-through white sweater paired with a white tank top; and a pair of red, high-heeled sandals. She nodded as she looked at herself in the mirror. If this didn’t make Derek sit up and take notice, nothing would.

Sheree glanced at the club’s entrance, then at her watch. It was after eleven. Time to call it a night. She felt suddenly foolish for sitting there waiting for Derek. Surely, if he had any interest in seeing her again, he would have been there by now. There was no denying she had been attracted to him. Had she read more into their meeting than was there?

Just as she was about to leave two elderly women entered the club, a sort of female Mutt and Jeff, Sheree thought, grinning. One was tall with white hair, the other shorter with bright red hair. She had never seen two people who looked more out of place. They both wore long black skirts and brightly colored blouses. They had to be in their seventies, Sheree mused. What on earth were they doing in a place like this? Arm in arm, they circled the edge of the dance floor until they found an empty table.

Slipping off the bar stool, Sheree settled her handbag over her shoulder, then headed for the door.