Dark Obsession (8 page)

Suddenly Megan’s laugh turned into a scream as the man’s kiss deepened. Erin felt a sharp, piercing pain at the side of her neck, and then a wave of darkness began to roll over her. As the lifeblood flowed from her body into his, she experienced a pleasure so intense that she was lifted up and sent soaring.

And then the darkness engulfed her. A blackness so complete Erin knew she could never fight her way out of it overwhelmed her. Dimly she heard another voice calling to her, but she couldn’t be sure if it was outside her window or inside her head. It was a male voice that sounded strangely enough like Detective Slade’s. Almost instantly, the image in the mirror
shattered, but not before Erin saw her sister’s discarded body fall to the ground.

Then Erin’s own knees buckled, and the floor rushed up to meet her.

CHAPTER FIVE

E
rin opened her eyes and gazed around. Sunlight streamed through the window and slanted across her face. Automatically she threw up a hand to protect herself from the glare. It took her a moment to orient her senses, then she realized she was lying on the floor in her sister’s bedroom.

Had she fainted? She frowned, lifting a weak hand to her forehead as she struggled to remember what had happened. She’d been going through Megan’s belongings last night and then—

Dear God, she thought, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. She’d read Megan’s script, she remembered—a story about a vampire. She must have fallen asleep and had a nightmare. That was the only possible explanation for the vision she’d seen in the mirror and for the feelings she’d experienced that had not been her own, but Megan’s.

The man’s image in the mirror came back to her, and without thinking Erin touched the side of her neck, remembering the terror, the intense pleasure.

“Vampires don’t have reflections,” she murmured. It
had
to have been her imagination. “You don’t exist,” she said more forcefully. “I made you up.”

But Megan was dead. Megan was dead because the
blood had been drained from her body by a…a what? A psycho? Or a vampire? Did Erin really believe that? Did she dare?

She squinted again in the sunlight. Megan’s bedroom window faced west. It had to be late afternoon, which meant that Erin had slept for more than fifteen hours straight. It was frightening to think of losing so much time. Of being unconscious during the night. Of losing control.

And becoming vulnerable to the monsters that came out while she slept.

She’d even dreamed she heard Detective Slade calling to her. Strange that she should cast him in the role of protector. Even though he was a policeman, when she’d first seen him, Erin remembered thinking how very much he looked like something spawned by her nightmares. A demon lover…

Erin fought for balance as she struggled to her feet, then stood for a moment clutching a post on the canopied bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She was still wearing Megan’s dress, and her stomach rolled sickeningly.

What’s happening to me? she thought desperately. God in heaven, why had she come back here? She should have stayed away. She should never have challenged the monsters, because at that moment, Erin had the terrifying feeling that they were winning. That they were luring her slowly but surely into the darkness.

Just as they had lured Megan.

Trying to fight back her panic, Erin tore off the black dress and tossed it onto the floor of the closet. She grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweater from her suitcase, and headed for the bathroom. For a long time, she stood under the steaming water, trying to make sense of everything that had happened since she’d returned to New York after being away for so long.

New York…the very name conjured up images of darkness and demons. Of monsters waiting all these years for her to come back.

Shivering, Erin turned off the shower and toweled herself dry. “I’ve got to get out of here,” she muttered, trying to avoid her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Fresh air. That was what she needed. Fresh air, sunshine and miles between herself and this apartment. When she had dressed, Erin grabbed her purse and coat, and hurried out into the late-afternoon sunlight.

* * *

Surrounded by vacant warehouses and aging brick buildings converted into vintage clothing shops and alternative music stores, the Alucard Theater was located at the end of an obscure little street in the Village.

Erin stood on the sidewalk, gazing up at the dark facade of the theater. A handbill posted on the locked
front door announced the premiere of Roman Gerard’s play,
Dark Obsession,
two nights away. It would have been Megan’s opening night, Erin thought.

A movement on a tiny balcony overlooking the front of the theater caught her eye and she looked up. She grew uneasy, imagining that someone was standing there watching her. Racine’s words about the director came back to haunt her.

“Roman Gerard is practically a recluse,” the redhead had told her when Erin had questioned her about the director. “Rumor has it he was in some sort of accident that left him horribly disfigured. No one ever sees him now. He stays in the balcony and issues the stage directions from the shadows.”

Images from
Phantom of the Opera
leapt to Erin’s mind. She had visions of some poor, hideously deformed creature watching her from above. She’d read enough from Megan’s script to know that the brooding protagonist of
Dark Obsession
was a vampire, but unlike the demon lover in Erin’s book, a monster who embodied evil, Gerard’s vampire was a tortured creature who sought justice in an unjust world. A lonely soul who yearned for the love of a woman who could understand him. Who would embrace the darkness with him. Who would walk through eternity at his side.

Erin’s vampire was destroyed in the end.

Gerard’s vampire triumphed over those who sought to destroy him.

Erin’s gaze lifted again, drawn by another movement on the balcony. The wind stirred a set of wind chimes, and a hanging basket swung to and fro. There’s your phantom, she scolded herself. Some detective you’d make.

Still, she couldn’t shake the disquieting notion that she was being watched. As the shadows on the street grew even longer, Erin tried to shove away the darkness of her thoughts and concentrate on finding a way into the theater. More than anything, she wanted to talk to Roman Gerard, to find out why he had cast her sister in a play about vampires.

Following the side street that ran parallel to the theater, Erin located the stage door. As she reached for the knob, the wind in the street picked up, rustling leaves in the alley and stirring trash in the gutter. The hair at the back of her neck prickled as her hand slowly turned the knob. The door opened and a man stood staring at her from the darkness within.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he growled.

Erin jumped back and would have stumbled over the concrete step at the stage door if a scarred hand hadn’t reached out from the darkness and snagged her wrist. Her throat closed over a scream as she watched Detective Slade step out of the theater into the fading light.

He was wearing his long black coat and the dark
glasses, and for a moment, Erin thought he looked no more substantial than one of the shadows moving in the breeze. But the hand on her wrist, warm, flowing with life, was real enough. Erin’s own blood began to pound in her ears.

“What are you doing here?” he repeated.

“I wanted to talk to Roman Gerard.”

“About what?”

“About Megan, of course.” He was being purposely dense, she thought, just to goad her.

“I thought I told you to leave the investigation to me.”

“And I thought I told you that I don’t intend to rest until my sister’s murderer is caught.”

“If you had any sense at all,” he said, “you’d be on the first plane out of here.”

There was something shocking about his voice. Something raw and elemental about the way he was staring at her. The pulse in Erin’s throat began to throb. “Why?” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Do I threaten you that much?”

“You have no idea,” he said, his voice rough, angry. He tugged on her wrist, and Erin stumbled toward him. To catch herself, or perhaps to insure some distance between them, Erin put up a hand to his chest. No illusion, this. Beneath her hand was a solid wall, warm and beating with life.

“What are
you
doing here?” she asked.

“Doing my job, believe it or not.” His taut voice challenged her to deny it.

They were standing impossibly close, his mouth only a few inches from hers, and something in his expression altered. The challenge melted. The grim line of his mouth softened almost imperceptibly, and his hand moved back to her arm. But not to imprison her this time. To touch her. To hold her. His head moved slightly toward hers.

He was going to kiss her, Erin realized, her heart beating like a drum. He was going to kiss her and she was going to let him. Emotion, stark and wild, swamped her. Not anger any longer. Not fear this time, but desire, basic and primal.

Suddenly she wanted more than anything to see his eyes, to eliminate the barrier that hid his gaze from her. That shielded his stare. That masked whatever emotion he might have been feeling at that moment.

As though sensing her intentions, he moved away from her sharply, as if she had burned him. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice flat and cold.

In a flash, just like that, the moment became only a memory. Or an illusion, Erin thought, surprised at the regret she felt. “I haven’t talked to Gerard,” she protested.

“There’s no one here,” he said. “You’re wasting your time.” Then he strode past her toward the street.

Erin hurried to follow him out of the alley. She
caught up with him at the street. “Have you talked to Gerard?” she persisted.

His gaze scanned the darkening sky, but he said nothing.

“Look, you might as well answer my questions,” she said angrily. “I’m not going away until you do.”

He started walking down the street toward his car.

“I’m sure you’ve made the connection in all this,” she called after him. “I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you what it is.”

He kept walking.

“It’s vampires,” she said. A man passing by on the street gazed at her in shock. Then he hurried his steps.

But Slade’s stride never slowed. He said over his shoulder, “Sounds like you’re starting to believe your own stories.”

Exasperated, Erin started up the street after him. “Surely you have to realize it’s more than a coincidence that I write books about vampires, my sister was cast in a play about one, and then she turns up dead, all the blood…” Erin trailed off, unable to finish. Every time she thought about what had happened to Megan, the world around her began spinning madly out of control. When she thought about what she was saying, what she was actually thinking…

Slade stopped and turned so swiftly Erin had to dig her heels into the pavement to keep from plowing into him. His scarred hands reached out and grabbed her
shoulders. “Just what the hell are you trying to say, Erin? That you believe in vampires? That you think one killed your sister? Where is she then? Why isn’t she one?” he taunted.

Erin swallowed hard. “I’m not saying I actually believe in vampires. I’m saying someone who thinks he’s a vampire might have killed Megan. Someone who read my books or saw her in Gerard’s play. Someone with a twisted mind who can’t distinguish fantasy from reality.”

“There’s only one problem with that theory. Gerard’s play hasn’t opened yet.”

“I know, but there have been plenty of rehearsals, and there are dozens of people connected with the play, including Gerard. That’s exactly why I wanted to talk to him.”

“And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t,” he warned grimly. He ran a hand through his short, dark hair, as if suddenly weary of the conversation. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll drive you home.”

Erin shivered inside her coat. Twilight had fallen in earnest while they stood talking. She didn’t relish walking home in the dark, but neither could she accept Slade’s offer, obviously made out of some misplaced sense of obligation. “Thanks, but I don’t like to be indebted,” she said tersely. “To anyone.”

He turned his head toward her. “What do you think I’d demand in restitution? Your soul?” For a long moment, they stared at each other in silence. Then he
opened the door of his car, and without another word, Erin slid inside.

His car was a little like riding in a bullet, she decided. Low and lean and fast as lightning. The close confines made her even more aware of the man sitting beside her. She sneaked a glance at his rigid profile. He turned his head slowly, and she found herself captured by his shielded gaze.

“So tell me how you came to be a horror writer.”

Erin raised a brow at his tone. “You mean, how does someone like me dream up stories about vampires? Not to mention werewolves and ghosts and other things that go bump in the night?”

“Something like that.”

“My therapist suggested I try it. For my own good, of course.”

One brow tilted above his glasses. “What kind of therapy made you become a horror writer?” The trace of irony in his tone made Erin smile.

“I guess it does sound a little strange. I’ve always been plagued by nightmares, ever since Megan and I were kids. My mother used to leave us alone at night a lot. Sometimes she wouldn’t come back for several days. She would warn us before she left that there were monsters living in the basement, waiting to grab us if we left the apartment.

“Over the years, those nightmares sometimes became real to me. I couldn’t always tell when I was dreaming or…hallucinating.” Erin’s fingers twisted
together in her lap, and she stared down at them, remembering. “Dr. Lancaster thought it might help if I wrote down the dreams when I had them. She thought it would help keep them in the realm of fantasy for me. And that’s how my writing career got started.”

“You actually dream the things you write about?” He didn’t sound pleased. “Your mother did that to you?”

“I don’t suppose she would have won any parent-of-the-year awards,” Erin tried to quip, but her light tone fell flat. The truth was, she’d never been able to find any lightness in her past at all. Only darkness and shadows and endless, endless fear. “One night when I was eight and Megan was four, Mother left the apartment and she never came back.”