William swallowed, seeing only the past. “He couldn’t stand what was happening to him. So he began to . . . seek out the counsel of others. Doctors.” He paused, and then he said, “Witches. Seers.”
“What did he find out?” she whispered.
“He found out that he could live forever.” William remembered his father’s wicked glee. “He found out that he could transform himself into a new being. An immortal.”
“Your father became a vampire?” Her shock was clear.
William shook his head. “No. You see, he wasn’t sure the ritual would work. He wanted someone else to go through the change first, just in case something happened. Just in case his famed seer was wrong.”
“Dear God,” she whispered. “He made you do it, didn’t he?”
He nodded, his jaw clenched. The scar on his cheek was a vivid white. “He imprisoned Henry. He never cared for him. He thought Henry was weak. Henry hated our father. He couldn’t stomach his evil. He wouldn’t march with Guy in battle, and Guy viewed his actions as a betrayal. He told me that the punishment for betrayal was death.
“He tortured Henry. Kept him captive for days without my knowledge. Then, when he was barely alive, Guy brought him to me. I was training with my men, and Guy dragged Henry’s battered body into the courtyard. Henry was hardly recognizable. He told me that Henry was dying. That if I wanted to save him, I would seek out a dark creature. A vampire. And I would take his power.”
She stroked his cheek gently. “Oh, William. I’m so sorry.”
His eyes flashed at her. “I don’t need your pity, Savannah.”
She flinched and dropped her hand.
His jaw clenched. He knew he’d hurt her. But he wasn’t used to someone caring about him; he wasn’t used to someone trying to comfort him.
He took her hand in his, a silent apology. After a moment, he kept talking, needing to tell the story, the whole story. To finally tell the dark story to someone. No, needing to tell
her
. “I followed the seer’s instructions, and I found the vampire. It was a man.” He shook his head, remembering his first sight of the vampire. “He looked barely eighteen. I thought he was just a lad. I remember that he had blond hair and light blue eyes.” Sad eyes. Eyes that had seen too much of the world. Eyes that had seen too much death. “I told him about Henry, I told him that he had to transform me.”
“And he agreed.”
William nodded. “He looked into my mind and gave me the gift.”
She licked her lips. “And then you returned home.”
“I returned to hell,” he corrected softly. “I returned to find my father’s butchered body. Geoffrey had killed him. Gutted him. And left his body waiting for me.”
She closed her eyes. “What about Henry?”
“You read the diary. Don’t you know?”
“No.” Her shoulders lifted and fell. The sheet dipped slightly. “The entries ended with your father’s death. On the eve of the New Year. Henry noted that you went to seek out the vampire, but he never said what happened when you returned.” Her lashes lifted, and she met his gaze. “When I read the diary, I suspected that you’d gotten the gift. I just . . . knew.” She swallowed. “I got my friend Mary to research you. Mary’s a whiz with computers. She found a reference to a man named William Dark in 1101. And then again in 1290. And in 1670 . . . All of the descriptions of William were the same.”
She lifted her hand and touched his scar. “This scar. It was mentioned every time. So I knew, I
knew
that you’d become . . .”
“A vampire,” he finished softly.
She nodded. “But I didn’t know what had happened to your family. To Geoffrey, to Henry—”
“Geoffrey found out about my father’s plans, and he went in search of the vampire on his own.”
“Was he trying to save Henry?”
“I don’t know,” William said. And he didn’t. He didn’t know if Geoffrey’s original motivation had been Henry or if he’d just wanted the power of an immortal. “Geoffrey was always hard, cruel. He thought nothing of slicing off the hand of a peasant who touched him. And my father encouraged such acts.”
“Why did he kill his own father?” Savannah shook her head. “Why would he do that?”
“Because Guy de Montfort wasn’t his father. Geoffrey was my half-brother, Savannah. We had the same mother, but our fathers were different.”
“Who was his father?”
He rose from the bed and began to stalk around the room, barely aware of his nudity. “Guy’s brother. A year after I was born, my mother became pregnant with his child. Guy killed his brother as soon as he found out. My mother died of a fever shortly after the baby was born.” William had always secretly thought her death was an act of kindness from God. She had been spared from facing Guy’s deadly wrath.
“So your father took Geoffrey in and raised him?”
“At that time, a man couldn’t have too many sons. All leaders needed men to follow them, sons to lead their armies. He told the world that Geoffrey was his, and he used him, just as he used Henry and me.” He stopped, gripping the bedpost. “I don’t know why Geoffrey finally killed him. Maybe it was because of what Guy did to Henry. Geoffrey always seemed to . . . care for Henry. At least in his own, sick, twisted way. I think my father’s attack just drove him over the edge.”
“And he sought out the vampire.” He could almost see the wheels turning in her mind as she explored possibilities. “And you returned home.” She paused a beat, and then she said, “And you found Henry.”
“Henry knew what I’d become. I saw it in his eyes.” He could still remember the fear he’d seen in his brother’s gaze. “He was barely hanging on. He’d been attacked again, and left to die. He was choking on his blood.” He clenched his teeth, wanting to finish the dark tale and be done with the past.
Savannah stared at him, an uncanny knowledge in her emerald gaze. “You tried to change him anyway, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “He was my brother,” he said simply, knowing she, of all people, would understand. “He’d known that I’d gone for the dark gift. I tried to convert him, to give him my blood. And, I think, I think it had begun to work—”
“What happened?”
“We were attacked. Word of my father’s death had reached his enemies. They stormed our holding, killing everyone in their path. Knights, servants. It made no difference. They showed my people the same cruelty that my father had so often shown them.” The screams echoed in his mind. He could hear the sound of shattering wood. See the swords swinging toward him. “Soldiers found Henry and me. They attacked us. I fought them, killed them. But when I turned back to Henry—”
Sorrow flashed across her expressive face. “He was dead.”
He nodded and swallowed against the painful memory. Pain that was trying to choke him. “One of the swords hit him in the chest. There was blood everywhere.” He’d pulled the sword from Henry’s chest and stood, numb, staring down at the still form of his brother. “I waited too long to transform him. He died, because of me.”
She jumped from the bed, dropping the sheet and running to his side. “Don’t say that, William! It’s not true. You did everything that you could to save Henry.”
“If I’d only gotten back to him sooner, if I’d only transformed him sooner—” The past had haunted him for so long. If only things had been different . . .
She grabbed his arms, forcing him to turn and face her. “Listen to me! It wasn’t your fault. You did everything in your power to help Henry. You can’t keep blaming yourself for his death! You can’t!” She paused then softly said, “Henry wouldn’t blame you.”
Wouldn’t he? “Geoffrey blames me.”
“What?”
He opened his mouth to reply, then frowned, feeling the slight change in the atmosphere. A chill of warning skated down his spine. Dawn was coming.
He pulled away from her, ignoring her questioning stare and padded to the bookcase.
“William?” Savannah stared blankly after him. “What are you doing?” Surely he wasn’t just going to drop a bombshell like that on her and walk away!
He pulled a black box from the top shelf. He opened the lid and removed a silver key, a key exactly like the one he’d used to unlock all of the metal doors in the tunnels.
He walked back to her. “I want you to keep this,” he said. “It will allow you to come and go as you please from the tunnels.”
She took the key from him. It felt cold, heavy, in her hand. “But what about Geoffrey—”
He touched her cheek gently. “That’s another story. One that will have to be saved for another time. Dawn is coming.” He pointed to the key. “I want you to feel free to explore the house during the day. No room is blocked to you. I only ask that you stay inside.” His eyes were deep, swirling pools. “It’s safer inside.”
She was touched by his concern. “I won’t leave,” she promised, curling her fingers around the key.
“You’ll be safe during the day,” he told her. “Geoffrey will have to rest then. He won’t be able to touch you.”
“What about my dreams?” She asked softly, with a shiver of remembered apprehension. “It was during the day when he entered my dreams before.”
He touched her cheek. A light, fleeting touch. “I’ll guard you. Now that you’ve had the second bite, I can link with you. I’ll make certain he doesn’t slip into your mind.”
Relief swept through her.
William’s head lifted, his eyes narrowing. “The sun is rising.” His voice was clipped. “You must go.”
“No, I want to stay with you.” And she did. She didn’t want to return to an empty room. She wanted to stay with William.
A muscle flexed along the plane of his jaw.
She touched his shoulder. “What is it?”
He didn’t look at her. “When the dawn comes, the change will come.”
“The change?”
His fingers clenched. “My body will shut down. I won’t breathe. My heart won’t beat.” He finally glanced at her tense features. “It will be as if I’m dead.”
“I know what happens when you sleep, William,” she told him gently. “I know you have to conserve your strength during the daylight hours.” She’d read about the vampire’s need for complete stillness. The sun was fierce, draining to a creature of the night. During the day, all vampires shut down their physical bodies. Their minds remained strong, tangled in the dream world, but their bodies were forced to lay motionless.
“Then you know why you must leave.”
Savannah shook her head. “No, I don’t. I want to stay with you.” She knew she was being stubborn, but she didn’t really care. She wanted to prove to him that she wasn’t afraid. She could handle him, all of him.
His lips pressed against hers. Hard. Fast. “Then stay.” His fingers curled around hers. “Stay with me through the dawn.”
She smiled at him. And, just for an instant, his lips curved in response.
They lay back in the bed, curled in one another’s arms.
It felt good being there with him. Right.
“Sleep, Savannah.” William’s voice was soft. His arms were strong around her.
Savannah closed her eyes, feeling safe, completely protected. She slipped into the haunting mists of sleep with a gentle sigh. Moments later, when the sun rose, she was already in the land of dreams and didn’t feel the sudden tense coldness of William’s body against hers.
At first, her dreams were happy. She was with William. They were dancing under a star-filled night sky. She was so happy. But then he pulled back, and his body seemed to waver before her eyes. She reached for him, but he vanished.
There were woods around her. Twisted trees. She ran, searching for William.
But it wasn’t William that she found. In the shadowy world of her dreams, she saw her friend Mary. Her long black hair billowed in the breeze as she stood looking down into a flowing river.
A smile curved Savannah’s lips as she ran to greet her.
Mary stepped forward, into the river. A flash of lightning lit the night sky. The water churned, and Mary stumbled, falling to her knees.
Savannah realized the water was black. As black as the night itself.
The hungry waves seemed to surround Mary, pulling her deeper and deeper into its cold embrace.
Savannah ran as fast as she could, desperate to get to Mary. Her bare feet pounded on the dank earth. Her heat pounded in her chest.
She was close. So close. Just a few more feet—
Mary turned, her pale face a mask of fear.
Her arms reached out to Savannah.
And Savannah heard the echo of a scream.
Chapter Ten
My brother has a taste for death.
—Entry from the diary of Henry de Montfort,
December 11, 1068
THE SUN HAD not yet risen in Seattle. Night’s darkness still clung to the empty city streets. The shadows of the night cloaked him as he watched her.
He could see her so clearly through the thin glass of the window. Her black hair was pulled back into a careless ponytail. Her face, tense with concentration, peered at the computer screen. Her thin shoulders were hunched over, her fingers typing frantically on the keyboard.
He touched the pane of glass, feeling its cool surface against his hand. He was so close to her.
He inhaled deeply, scenting the night air. He could smell sweat, blood, and the faint odor of burning leaves and garbage. But he could detect no trace of her. Not yet.
She was rubbing her forehead, obviously tired. She’d been at that computer of hers for over four hours. He knew because he’d been watching her all night. Watching. And waiting.
Over the years he’d learned the value of patience. He could wait endlessly for his prey. She’d been easy to track. Almost too easy. Would she be easy to kill? Would she scream? Would she fight him?
He’d always enjoyed a good fight. He hoped that she wouldn’t let him down.
She stood up and turned off her machine. He saw her walk to the closet and grab a black leather jacket. He smiled, his teeth glinting in the faint street light. She was coming to him.
He moved away from the window and back into the shadows.
The front door opened with a soft squeak. He heard the jingle of her keys as she carefully locked up the house. She appeared to be such a cautious little thing, locking her doors like a good little girl. As if that would save her.