Midnight Rose (33 page)

After a mediocre dinner with John Smith, followed by a so-so movie, Kate felt disillusioned, wondering if Gideon had ruined her for the male gender in its entirety. She tried again a few nights later, inviting John down to her apartment for dinner. He picked at the lasagna she’d made—he didn’t like spicy food. She labored through a stilted conversation over the table with him; he chose his topics the way he picked through his food.

“I live by a tried-and-true rule,” he declared. “I never discuss sex, politics, or religion.” Finally she’d had enough. No longer curious as to why he was thirty-five and never married, she sent John Smith packing with a half-hearted claim of a headache.

Heartache would’ve been more truthful.

Two weeks later she met Paul Montclair. He taught French at a local high school. He was nice-looking and athletic, and he made her laugh. Not one bit frustrating or infuriating, as Gideon had been. Paul didn’t rile her or tease her; he didn’t leave her wondering if lightning bolts had struck her dumb when he smiled at her. But he was a good kisser, and Kate would have been satisfied to leave it at that, but Paul was as passionate as he was appealing.

“I’m not ready,” she told him on their third date, drawing back on his sofa after he’d slid a gentle, searching hand under her sweater.

He blew out a breath and sat back. “I understand. And I don’t want you to think I’m pushing. But Kate, it’s been a month, and I’m not going anywhere. I like you, and you can trust me.” “I know.” She stared at his hands. He had nice hands. Large and sensitive. Nice lips, too. No fangs.

He slid closer to her again, playing with her hair. “Do you think you’ll be ready in, say, a week?” She tilted his head to accommodate him when he nuzzled her neck. “It’s possible,” she said. And lo and behold, felt the tiniest sting of desire.

Then, of course, she pictured Gideon’s white flash of a smile, remembered the touch of his fingers, his lips, the slow, rhythmic thrust of his body as she wrapped her arms around his neck and abandoned herself to ecstasy…and an overwhelming wave of need crashed over her that had nothing to do with Paul Montclair’s careful caresses.

That night, as Paul walked her to her apartment door, she shook her head and said, “I don’t think this is going to work.”

He frowned, studied her face, his brown eyes kind and discerning. “When you say you’re not ready, you mean for anything. Ever.” A statement, not a question. God bless the man. She wouldn’t have to explain.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a sigh. “You’re a wonderful person.” And he was. Wonderful enough to accept her rejection and disappear.

“It’s leaning.” Kate squinted at the oversized Christmas tree as Mike hunched beneath it and secured the trunk into the stand.

He made a sound of frustration. “Left or right?”

“Left. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Too far. Now right.” She stepped back, eyed it, and gave a satisfied nod.

“Perfect.”

He crawled out from under the tree, hair tousled, pine needles sticking to his sweater. “Is Her Highness pleased?”

“Her Highness is more than pleased.” She smiled and leaned to smooth his hair. “For your trouble, Knave, how about some homemade eggnog?”

While Nat King Cole crooned on the stereo, they sipped their eggnog, strung the lights and broke out the new boxes of ornaments she’d bought for her first live Christmas tree.

Kate looked around the apartment with pride. Everything in her life was fresh and new. Herself included.

She’d gained a healthy five pounds, had a new hairstyle that curled around her shoulders, and generally felt better about life these days. Christmas was her favorite holiday, and she refused to be depressed until after the New Year, when she’d face another twelve months without Gideon by her side. She could only handle the idea of life without him in six-month increments, so she’d just have to make it to June.

Briefly she wondered about him and Jude, how they would celebrate, if they did at all. Did vampires have Christmas trees?

The huge, empty dining room at Sister Oaks would be a perfect place for a magnificent tree. She could imagine the golden, shimmering glow of it, smell its piney scent, feel the prickle of its needles beneath her hand.

The now-familiar sadness crept into her thoughts and she headed into the kitchen for a fresh glass of eggnog, heavier on the “nog” this time.

When she returned with another cup for Mike, he was putting on his coat in the hallway, and Kate tried not to feel disappointed.

“I’ve got to be up bright and early in the morning,” he told her. “The holidays may be upon us, but crime never rests. Thugs everywhere still need their legal representation.” Leaning to kiss her cheek, he added, “Keep Ferdinand away from the ornaments. He ogles them and licks his chops. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Closing the door behind him, Kate sighed and wandered back to stare at the gently glowing tree, while the puppy bounced between her ankles, chasing indiscernible phantoms. A nagging urge crept into her mind. Call.

She wouldn’t have dreamt of it before now. But months after fleeing Sister Oaks, she could conceivably be ready to talk to a member of that household. And her curiosity raged. Were they well? Did Jude still have to be home-schooled, or was there some magical way to avoid the sunlight that granted him a semblance of normalcy? Had he scared off the rest of the staff at Sister Oaks with his new set of fangs?

How was vampire life in general?

Call.

In the kitchen, she set the glasses in the dishwasher and glanced at the clock. Nine-fifteen. Gideon would be home from teaching night classes by now, if he weren’t away at a convention. Could she bear the warm, gentle sound of his voice?

She could at least talk to Martha, if the older woman hadn’t left Sister Oaks for the night. Yes. Martha was a safe bet. Kate could ask her about Gideon and Jude without actually talking to them. Martha wouldn’t even have to tell them Kate had called.

With trembling fingers, she flipped through her address book, located the number, and dialed it into the cordless phone. It rang, and Kate held her breath, shaking with the intensity of her anticipation.

A low male voice answered, one she didn’t recognize. She hesitated. “Hello, this is Kate O’Brien. With whom am I speaking?”

“It’s Jude.” Silence dropped over the line, telling Kate that he was as surprised to hear her voice, as she was to hear his.

She was the first to recover. “Jude. Heavens, it doesn’t sound like you. How are you?”

“I’m fine. God, Kate—I can’t believe you called. I didn’t think we’d ever hear from you again.” He sounded…sweet. Familiar. Releasing a shaky breath, she cradled the phone closer to her cheek. “I know it’s been a long time…” “We looked for you in Richmond information, but you’re not listed anywhere. Where are you?”

“I’m still in Richmond.” She closed her eyes. They’d looked for her. They still cared. “I’m unlisted for now, but I’ll leave my phone number and address before we hang up. And I’ll give you my e-mail address. You still have e-mail, don’t you?” “Yeah.” He hesitated, and she pictured him standing in the living room, tall and dark and lanky. Lashes too long. Face too exquisite. Unearthly and inhuman. But when he spoke again, he sounded vulnerable and real. “Look, there’s something you should know. We were trying to find you because Dad’s really, really sick.” Her heart jolted. “What do you mean?” “After you left, everything changed. I mean it was changing before you left, but I think you being gone made him crazy.”

Oh, God. Oh, God. Don’t do this.“It was for the best, Jude. I don’t fit in your lives. I couldn’t… You have to understand. I’m just a regular person who can’t grasp the life that you and your dad lead. I couldn’t be a part of it.” “I understand. So does Dad. But it all happened at once, you know? And things just sort of fell apart.

You left, and then I did some things to hurt him. I got into trouble. And he…oh, Kate, he’s so sick.” A lump of tears settled in her throat. “How? How is he sick?” Jude was quiet, as though formulating the right way to explain. “Did he ever show you the vial of blood an old priest gave him about thirty years ago?” “No.”

“It’s a relic. Saint’s blood. Just a tiny glass tube. It came with an old book that talks about how people who are cursed, like me and my dad, can be saved. Made human again.” “He never told me about it.” Still, a vague recollection of cryptic words, ancient prose, danced through her memory. Gideon had told her nothing, but the dreams she’d had lately…they were somehow connected. Of course. Her heart and soul were so deeply entangled with Gideon’s, so irretrievably bound to him, every agony he felt was a mark on her being.

She drew a deep breath to banish the wild disbelief curdling her emotions. “He never said there was anything he could do to…change himself.”

“That’s because the book says if he drinks that vial of saint’s blood, he’ll probably die.” His voice trembled. “I guess he thought it was worth the risk. After you left, he locked himself up and wouldn’t talk to anyone. He quit teaching. His…” The words caught in his throat. “His roses died.” “Oh, Jude.” Despite her resolve, tears welled in her eyes, grief clenching her heart so tightly she could hardly breathe. “He drank the vial?”

“Some of it. To test it. Not just for him, but for me. Hold on.” The phone rattled and she heard the soft rustle of a tissue. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. “He only drank some of it because he wanted me to have some, for when I choose to save myself. That’s what he told me. But the book said that anyone who’s taken a life and then drinks from the vial will die and never find God. And I think Dad must have killed a lot of people in the years before I was born. He’s really going downhill fast.” Kate clutched her heart, half-expected to feel broken shards beneath her palm. The murderous creature Jude referred to wasn’t the Gideon she’d fallen in love with. And now that same love surged within her, potent and formidable, raising chill bumps on her skin and bringing her back to life.

Then Jude’s words sank in. He’s really going downhill fast…

“Jude, is he dying?” Disbelief and anguish twisted Kate’s stomach so violently, her knees gave out and she dropped to the kitchen floor.

“The doctor says his body’s reacting like it’s been poisoned, but every day passes and Dad hangs on. I don’t think he wants to die, but he’s so tired of being ill. Last week he asked to be moved back here to the house. None of the medical staff knows he’s a nightwalker. Who’d believe such a story?” “I did, Jude. I believed.”

“And it scared you away. But Kate, you can come back now. He’s… I guess maybe he’s human again, since he’s so sick.” He dragged in a shuddering breath. “I think he finally got what he wanted. Please. Please come back, Kate. Come home.” Come home.

She swallowed, forced herself to think. She had to go. “I’m getting in my car and I’ll be there in a few hours.”

“Good, Kate. Thank you so much. I’ll be awake. I’ll look for you.” Setting the phone on its stand, Kate scrambled to her bedroom and tossed clothes in a duffel bag, grabbed her toiletries from the bathroom vanity, and threw on her coat.

Ferdinand sat in the hall and watched, his soft brown eyes following her every frantic move as she raced out to pack her car.

She slammed the trunk, then dashed to the kitchen, poured some puppy food in a baggie, and grabbed the dog on her way out the door.

The night was still and cold. A strange wind sifted through the trees, the promise of snow heavy in the air.

Setting the dog on the passenger floorboard, she started the car and headed down the street, past warm windows glowing with Christmas lights, past the sparkling skyline, and onto a dark, empty highway that led to the man she loved.

By the time Kate turned onto the gravel road leading to Sister Oaks, she felt utterly singular, as though no living being existed in the far-flung countryside except her—and Ferdinand, of course, curled up on the floorboard asleep.

Every house and business she passed was dark, and she hadn’t seen another car in two solid hours. Of course it was the middle of the night, but the stillness of the rolling landscape somehow didn’t feel right.

Outside the fogged car windows, the wind moaned a barely audible dirge. Drifting snowflakes danced in her headlights and brushed against the windshield. Even Johnny Mathis’ rousing holiday carols on her stereo did little to ease the dread lodged in her soul.

Urgency seized her and she pressed the gas pedal carelessly close to the floorboard, mindless of the icy patches glistening on the road. The tires bumped over the ruts beneath her; Ferdinand raised his head and gave her a questioning look. Up ahead, lights glimmered. The house.

She drove through the hammock of skeletal trees and slowed to stare at the mansion looming before her.

Terror had driven her away before. Now the mansion beckoned, benign and humbled, banishing the memories of fear and confusion from her mind.

Kate parked behind Martha’s white sedan. Her hands trembled when she retrieved Ferdinand from the floorboard, and she clutched his little body to her for warmth and comfort as she climbed from the car.

Wind swayed the bare, gnarled branches of the trees while she rang the doorbell and waited, her breath puffing out clouds into the night. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since the evening she stood in this exact spot and stared at those huge, daunting doors, waiting for them to open and wondering what fate held for her inside. She could never have guessed what a tangled web her reality would become when Gideon’s truth spun its threads around her.

God, it was cold. Much colder than Richmond. She shivered, tried to fit Ferdinand inside her coat, but the twenty-pound beagle was getting too big to be carried around like a baby.

She only had to wait a moment before the knob turned and Jude stood in the doorway, tall and handsome, a man.

“Jude.” She gave a disbelieving laugh and after a hesitation, reached up to hug him. “My Lord. I wouldn’t have recognized you.” It was a lie; he looked so much like Gideon her knees quaked. His dark hair was longer, brushed carelessly back from his face. He looked at her with his father’s gaze, and for a shuddering instant, Kate wondered if Jude’s eyes would hold the same glimpse of hell as Gideon’s had when he transformed into…whatever it was. A vampire. Once again, the idea seemed too ridiculous to be entertained. The teenager before her seemed utterly human. Diffident. Traumatized by the changes in his world.

A smile shattered the solemn lines of his angular face as he stepped back and warm air rushed to greet her. “Come in. I see you brought a friend.”

“This is Ferdinand.” Stepping inside, she held the dog out to him, and Jude hesitated, eyeing the passive puppy.

“Animals usually act all crazy and ferocious around me.”

Kate turned the puppy and looked at his placid face. “Are you crazy and ferocious, Ferdinand?” She laughed at the wet drag of the puppy’s tongue on her chin. “He says no way.” Holding out his hands, Jude drew the beagle against his chest. Ferdinand slurped his face and snuggled against him, still sleepy from the long drive.

The teenager stood in quiet pleasure for a moment, stroking the puppy’s silky ears. Then he glanced at her, and tears sparkled in his dark eyes. “Kate, I think this might be all my fault. Oh, no, Jude.” She caught his hand, found his fingers icy. “This isn’t your fault.” “But you don’t know. Right after you left, I did something…I…” He couldn’t finish, and she tugged his hand, drew him closer. He towered over her, but she sensed the child inside the man’s body, and reached up to wrap an arm around his neck.

“It’s okay, Jude.”

His shoulders shook with silent weeping, his face buried in the curve of her neck. It took a while, but finally he spoke in a choked, hoarse voice. “One night, I went looking for that girl, Melissa. We…she and I…I didn’t know so much about the blood cravings and how out of control they could get. I didn’t hurt her, but I could have. I scared her really badly, but she was drunk, so she didn’t know if what she saw was real or not. I guess she never told the cops or her parents. But she could have. The authorities could have come out here. We could have been discovered. When Dad found out, he just broke. That’s when he drank the vial.” Kate hugged him in silence, weathered the storm of ignoble tears that shook him, until his shoulders stopped trembling. Then she drew back to look at him and said, “You know what tells me you’re your father’s child, Jude?” “What?”