Secrets of the Night Special Edition, page 73
Weary of pretense, he eased out of her embrace.” I can't make love. I fear I've lost my powers.”
"Another lie! It's because of that ugly mortal. No matter what you say, you want only her.” She brushed her hand across her eyes and sniffed.” You have no use for me anymore.”
"Not true,” he protested, proud of his acting ability, almost as good as Rosalinda's.” I simply haven't fed as I used to. Many things have kept me far too busy. Not everyone gorges on mortals as you do,” he said, no longer able to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
"It's the only way to keep your powers. Do you want to be weak like a mortal? Wouldn't you rather have the strength of twenty men?”
"If it's strong men you want, you should have stayed with Octavius,” he replied, well aware that he, Galan, could best any vampire in physical prowess.
"But Octavius isn't nearly as exciting as you.” Her blood red lips twisted into a pout.” I'm getting so tired of this century, and I can't stand it when you go near another woman.” She cradled his face in her hands.” Darling, let's go back to the eighteenth century. Remember how much fun we had then? And oh! do you remember that French chateau where Morcar killed all the mortals?” She giggled.” Then none of their stupid kind would live there because they thought the place was haunted. Let's go back there,” she said with a coaxing smile.” Morcar's been eluding Moloch, in case you haven't heard and--"
"Of course I've heard. Rosalinda, I do manage to keep abreast of the news.”
"Well, maybe we can persuade Morcar to give a ball and invite all our nightstalker friends.” Her face darkened.” Not only friends, but enemies, too. I didn't see Lilith when I accompanied Octavius to that party in Paris. I've got a few matters to settle with her.”
Galan knew he must handle Rosalinda with care. But when would he see Stevie again? When, when?” Sounds like a fascinating idea . . . France, I mean.” He thought for a moment.” Clothes,” he mused aloud.” We must dress appropriately.”
She clapped her hands.” Oh, there are scads of armoires in the chateau, full of gowns, coats, and breeches. Shoes, too. Plenty of clothes for both of us.”
* * *
Rambouillet, France 1777
A vampire string quartet occupied the dais of the magnificent salle de bal at the chateau, where glittering crystal chandeliers glowing with spermaceti candles illuminated the rose marble floor and pale green damask draperies. The strains of the stately minuet competed with voices and raucous laughter. Must be at least two-hundred party-goers here, Galan estimated with a glance around the room. Everyone was dressed in splendid colorful silks, satins, and laces. Scents of musk and patchouli hung over the room like a fog over London.
Attired in a peacock blue velvet coat and cream-colored breeches, a yellow silk embroidered waistcoat and diamond-buckled shoes with two-inch square heels, Galan clasped Rosalinda's hand as they moved to the measured beat of the dance. A powdered wig with tight curls and a black velvet ribbon completed the look of the archetypal aristocrat, the very image he desired.
He held Rosalinda at arm's length, grateful the wide pannier of her pink satin gown prevented proximity as they stepped to the dance's stately tempo. Her heavily-rouged cheeks, ruby red lips and a heart-shaped black patch by her mouth gave her the appearance of a courtesan. And that's pretty close to the truth, Galan thought, slanting a look her way.
Diamonds as brilliant as the crystal chandeliers sparkled from her neck, ears, and wrists. Her coiffed and powdered hair extended more than two feet above her head, a porcelain sailing ship anchoring the crest.
What a contrast to Stevie and her simple, unaffected look. Playing his part to the hilt, Galan tried to discard his depressing memories, concentrating instead on pleasing the painted bitch.
Rosalinda was all smiles and coy glances, like a virgin on her first date. A spurt of alarm skimmed over him as he saw her gaze light on Lilith across the room, her mouth tightening. Why couldn't those two sluts resolve their differences as Octavious and Morcar had? Knowing Rosalinda's moods, he feared trouble loomed ahead. Grave trouble.
In the course of the dance, they separated, Galan taking Lilith's hand.
"Galan!” the crafty vampiress exclaimed, “this is the first chance I've had to talk to you all evening. I swear you've been ignoring me.” She preened, raising the hem of her gold silk gown and wide pannier to reveal long, shapely legs up to her thighs.” See what you're missing?”
"Ignoring you? Certainly not.” Galan caught Rosalinda's malicious look as she paired with another dancer, and a jolt of alarm raced through him again.” I could never disregard such a lovely lady.”
"You are such a gallant,” Lilith gushed, dropping the hem of her gown. She turned away, throwing him a teasing glance over her shoulder.
Continually changing partners, Galan kept Rosalinda within his peripheral vision, watchful of her venomous expression. By God, she looked like a witch. Best for him to stay away from Lilith. No use tempting fate.
At the end of the dance he headed away from the rest of the crowd. Heels clicking, he strode along the marble floor, his frock coat swinging behind as he kept to the edge of the room, careful to avoid several groups of vampires forming a quadrille. Perhaps if left alone, he could think his thoughts of Stevie without fear of interruption, and remember all the things that made her so precious to him.
Rosalinda waylaid him before he reached his destination. Damn her! Did she have to hang on to him every minute? She grabbed his arm as he passed a nude statue of a Greek slavewoman, set on a mahogany stand beside a marble pilaster. With a neutral expression fixed on his face, he suppressed his murderous rage and managed a faint smile.
Rosalinda fluttered her ivory fan, jewels flashing on every finger.” What did she say to you?” she snarled.
He looked at her in bland innocence.” Who?”
"You know who--Lilith!”
"Oh, she merely said it's been a long time since she's seen me,” he improvised.” The last time we met, I believe, was in Venice in 1457 at the doge's palace.” He bent his arm and adjusted the froth of lace at his wrist.
"I'll kill her!”
"Why this antagonism against Lilith? What has she ever done to you?”
She snapped her fan shut and rapped it against his arm.” The wench is a man stealer. She'd better stay away from you, if she knows what's good for her. You're mine, you know.”
"Have I ever said otherwise?” By St. Aidan, how much longer could he keep this up?
"What does anyone see in that old hag?” She smiled slyly, tugging at her bodice, revealing nipples painted as red as her lips.” Now tell me something--does she have my beauty, my charms?”
He shook his head.” Rosalinda, you're in a class by yourself.”
"Then remember that,” she said with a second tap of her fan. One more sly glance and she slithered away, her silk gown rustling along the marble floor, the scent of musk lingering in the air.
Minutes later, while Rosalinda joined in a country dance with Morcar, Galan leaned against the marble pilaster, one leg crossed in front of the other. Rosalinda and Morcar, now there's a good pair. He raised his gold-framed quizzing glass to study Rosalinda, alert to every nuance in her expression.
A strong fragrance of patchouli drew his attention, Lilith at his side.
"Galan, darling!” She linked her arm through his, smiling with bold confidence. Wary of Rosalinda, he tried to ease out of her grip, but she held fast, like an eagle clutching its prey.
She threw him a provocative glance from under her long lashes, pressing closer against him.” Let's sneak away to my room, where we can be by ourselves. No other man here or anywhere can compare to you. Just the thought of you makes me hot all over,” she said with a mocking laugh.” I want you to make love to me. Now!” she hissed.
"I fear I can't,” he said in a kind voice while Rosalinda threw dagger looks at them from across the room.” You're a lovely, desirable lady, but my heart belongs to Rosalinda. Surely another nightstalker here would appreciate your charms . . . Morcar, for instance.”
"Morcar!” she said with a dismissive wave of her fan.” I'm tired of him.”
"Well, I--"He paused as he noted Rosalinda's approach, her steps quick and purposeful as she elbowed her way through the dancers. Her eyes blazed hatred, her mouth a firm slit of furious determination.
"You bitch!” Rosalinda slapped Lilith hard across the cheek, the blow echoing like a thunderclap in the room. Bloody saliva dripped onto her breasts and trailed down her gown, her fingernails curved like claws.” You stay away from my man!”
"Your man!” Lilith looked her up and down, lips curled with contempt.” What a laugh!"
Silence enclosed the ballroom. The musicians stopped playing and left the dais. All the nightstalkers gathered around the two vampiresses, like spectators at a boxing match. Lilith sneered.” What does he see in you? An ugly has-been who can't keep any man. They all leave you sooner or later, don't they?”
"Why, you--"Rosalinda aimed another slap, but Lilith blocked it with a quick movement. Talk and laughter issued from the other vampires as they formed a circle around the two antagonists and made bets.
Arms folded across his chest, Galan watched the contretemps in fascination. Really, he should stop them, but he wondered how far they'd go.
"You ugly toad!” Lilith grabbed Rosalinda's coiffure and sent the ship toppling to the floor, where it shattered into a hundred pieces. Shards flew in all directions, and pins scattered to the floor, sounding like shot bullets in the charged atmosphere. Puffs of flour clouded the air, as thick as battlesmoke.
Galan jerked each vampiress by the arm, his arms straining to hold them apart.” Ladies, please, this is most unseemly. You're spoiling the party.”
Exchanging glares, they thrashed in his arms, but he held them tight. The scents of musk and patchouli clashed in front of him, making his eyes water.
"No more!” Galan didn't give a damn if they wanted to kill each other, but he wished they'd take their disagreement elsewhere.
Hands curled into fists, the two women glowered at each other, hissing and spitting, hurling insults, like rounds from a cannon.
"Slut!”
"Painted whore!”
"Strumpet!”
"Harlot!”
Galan gave Rosalinda an appealing glance.” Please.” After several long moments, she visibly relaxed. Uneasily, Galan released her, inch by cautious inch.
Rosalinda stalked away, but not before she hurled one last vicious look at Lilith.” I'll get you later, you hussy!”
"I'll see you in hell first,” Lilith screeched.
The others drew back, muttering among themselves. Deprived of amusement, they dispersed as the first hint of daylight seeped through the heavy damask draperies. . . .
Hours later, after a long, deep sleep, Galan emerged from his coffin to find Octavius in his room, perched on the edge of the canopied bed. Galan set the coffin lid down and eyed his friend with a questioning look.
Octavius sprang from the bed, excitement tingling his face.” Have you heard the news?”
"What news?” Galan asked as he smoothed the wrinkles from his coat.” I've been asleep until now.”
"Lilith killed Rosalinda. The usual way . . . drove a stake through her heart.”
With studied control, Galan sank onto the bed, striving to conceal his elation. One thought and one woman dominated his mind.
Stevie!
* * *
Another meeting brought the vampire delegates to Schloss Omerau. They're all here, Moloch mused. All except Rosalinda. Damn Lilith to hell!
Moloch rose from the long table and looked out over the noisy assembly. A ferocious wind blasting through the open windows lifted strands of gray hair from his shoulders and whipped the folds of his black robe. He clasped his long, skeletal fingers in front of him as his eyes assessed the group.
"Enough talk!”
Quiet descended over the group, every eye focused on the master.
"You've all heard the news by now. Rosalinda is dead.” A fierce scowl twisted his face.” Lilith killed her, but we shall deal with the traitorous bitch some other time. Never doubt she will pay for her wicked deed. Our main concern now is Galan and that mortal woman.”
A mass of voices hissed in unison.” Kill her! Kill the mortal!”
"Tear her from limb to limb!" a vampire screeched.” Torture her until she screams for mercy, then let her die.”
Helmut worked his way through the crowd.” But sir, what about Galan? He deserves punishment for consorting with a mortal.” His gaze covered the congress of delegates, as if seeking confirmation.” We all know the only reason he stayed with Rosalinda was to protect his lover. He should be made to pay for his transgressions.”
"We shall see,” Moloch replied to murmurs of agreement.” I still have hopes for Galan. After this mortal woman is destroyed, perhaps he will see the light.” He raised his arms in a dramatic gesture.” Let this be a lesson to all the undead, and to all the humans who would dare entrap them. Get rid of the mortal female!”
Screams echoed from wall to wall, bouncing off the ceiling.” Yes, kill her! Suck all the blood from her useless body until she's only a shell.” Voices rose, swelling to a roar. Fists thrust high in the air as angry emotions crackled within the castle walls.
After the voices died down, Helmut spoke again. A look of cruelty hardened his face, his eyes blazing with sadistic excitement.” Sir, I would have the honor of killing the mortal woman. It would give me great pleasure to end her life.”
Another vampire raised his hand.” No, I want to kill her!”
Shrieks and screeches reverberated throughout the hall.” Let me do it!”
"I'll kill the bitch!”
"This is what I live for. I'll suck her dry!”
A low rumbling hung over the hall, and Moloch clapped his hands for attention.” Quiet!” His dark gaze covered the quarreling delegates. He leaned forward and spoke in clear tones.” Let me tell you how I plan to kill the mortal wench.”
Chapter Eleven
I must see Stevie again. Back in Miami, Galan stepped from his coffin as twilight cloaked the city, and the first evening shadows darkened his bedroom. Fully awake, he left his room and headed downstairs, past the living room and Florida room, then outside.
A quarter moon floated in the night sky, west of the Pleaides. The dark night enveloped him, a part of him, as he would always be part of the night.
Love and despair clashed inside him, a painful amalgam that weakened him at a time when he needed all his powers. His anguish became palpable, pulsing, pulsing, pulsing, like a million beating hearts. He stared up at the deep lavender sky, where Jupiter joined Venus in their nightly sojourn across the heavens, as he wanted to join Stevie, for all time. A poignant ache tightened his throat, encapsulating the sadness of his whole benighted life.
Memories of Stevie raged through his mind, every smile, every facial expression, that made her so dear to him, the only woman he could love. He remembered the long flow of her golden hair. How he wanted to touch each lock, to let each silky strand slide through his fingers like sand. Visions of her lovely body taunted him to madness--her breasts, her hips, her slender waist, her long, slim legs with their shapely calves and ankles--every inch of her that he yearned to touch, caress, to drive them both insane with joy. His recollections deepened his desolation, like a thousand remembered kisses from a long-departed loved one.
As if she were with him now, he heard her easy laugh, saw those blue eyes flash with pleasure or defiance, depending on her mood. She had so many moods, each catalogued in his brain, and as precious as rare gems. Rubies, emeralds, sapphires.
But what if he told her what he truly was? A vampire. Would she believe him? He laughed without humor. If he revealed his true essence, she'd run from him as he would flee from a crucifix or holy water.
If only he could find out more about the elixir that would make him mortal again . . . Far better had he never heard of this potion, than to have this continual heartbreaking disappointment. But he'd never give up searching for it, even if he had to cover every corner of the earth.
By St. Aidan, if he were with Stevie now, he'd hold her close and beg her to tell him what painful affliction she suffered from. And if he could--oh, God! if only he could--he'd make her well again.
He glanced at his Rolex, counting the minutes until she arrived home from work. He'd call her then and make arrangements to see her. How could he bear the wait?
No, he didn't dare! He'd only endanger her if he went near her. Why hadn't he thought this out? Ah, but he knew why. As usual with Stevie, he let his heart rule his head. Rosalinda no longer posed a threat, but only look at the army of slaves and revenants Moloch had to command. How could he forget?
Galan gritted his teeth. May Moloch rot in hell.
* * *
Deep in sleep, Stevie was having a wonderful dream. Each sensory image flashed through her brain, as though she lived through this experience. She and Galan were dancing in the most gorgeous hotel ballroom she'd ever imagined. Potted palms lined the walls, and crystal chandeliers twinkled overhead, the entire scene a rich fantasy of the senses.
"It's been a long time since I danced like this,” she said, peering up at him.
"A slow dance?” His voice penetrated her very essence, a song in her veins.
"Not since the high school prom. But with you, I could make a habit of it.”
He kissed the top of her head.” And I could make a habit of you, for always. You're a drug inside me,” he said, “stronger than cocaine, more potent than laudanum.”
"So you're hooked on me?” she asked with a smile.
"For life.”
She sighed against his hard shoulder.” Um, the feeling is mutual.”
Round tables accommodating hundreds of patrons occupied the space beyond the dance floor. Vaguely aware of her surroundings, Stevie glanced at the starched linen tablecloths, the crystal and china.
