Evernight Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2012 Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

ISBN:

978-1-927368-52-7

Cover Artist: LF Designs

Editor: Caitlin Ray

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or
reproduced electronically or in print without written permission,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are
fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

This one's for Bill because vampires and other creatures of the
supernatural realms were our fairy tales and realities, because rock
and roll music was and is a soundtrack for our lives and because we're
the two who dare to speak of things to save our souls.

LOVE SHADOWS

Love Covenant, 4

Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

Copyright © 2012

Chapter One

Every time I’m about to set foot on a stage, I get the willies, a

rush of nerves that just about does me in—makes me dizzy, scared,
and sick but once I am beneath the lights, facing the audience,
something shifts inside and I become the singer. I’m a total
performer, I’m not bashful and I’m damn good.

Once I married my sexy as hell vampire Will Brennan, I sang

for him but I got gun shy about performing in public. I had to adjust
to my new eternal life before I felt like I could strut my stuff on stage.
As a vamp, I hadn’t set foot on stage or sung in public until the night
we found Seamus, Will’s long lost brother. Oh, I’d done a song or
two at some of the Beale Street clubs but that didn’t count because I
wasn’t headlining—it was open mic, anyone could get up to sing.
After that reunion, though, Will’s brother let me sing at his club.
Walking out to face the live audience at Brennan’s Irish Stage in
Branson as a headline performer took some sass. Once I did it,
though, I loved it and so Seamus said I could perform anytime that I
wanted.

Will’s not a performer, not like Seamus or me but sometimes I

sang with them both at Brennan’s Irish Stage. To fit the theme of the
place we did little Irish songs, nothing complicated, tunes familiar to
them since childhood. If I can twist his arm, Will sometimes sings
with me but it’s not really his kind of thing. He’d rather sit back in
the audience or backstage to watch me. I don’t mind—truth is I like
it. What I feel for Will is the most intense, incredible love, a powerful
rush and I’m greedy enough to admit that I won’t ever get enough.

Just over a year after I’d made the transition from red-blooded

all American Texas gal Cara to an undead, immortal, nocturnal
vampire we headed over to Branson to spend a few days with Seamus.
In those few months from spring to fall, I’d got to know Seamus
pretty well and I loved to watch the brothers interact. They’re two of
kind, both stubborn as a pair of mules, and they connect on a deep
level. Having his brother again makes a world of difference to my
Will, a good one.

“So, should I put your name up on the marquee this time?”

Seamus asked after we rolled into Branson, a small town but big
tourists draw in south Missouri. “Or have you just come to visit?”

“I’ll sing,” I said, bold and brash as Texans always are. “Do

you want me to sing just Irish ballads or can I work in a few other
songs?”

He grinned as he poured us each a glass of John Jameson’s

fine whiskey. “Sing what you want, Cara. You might do The
Stuttering Lovers though to open. The audience loved that last time
you were here.”

“Slainte,” Will said as he raised his glass in a toast. “Sing that

song about the rose, mo anam cara. I like that one.”

“Do you?” I all but blushed at his praise. He meant Bette

Midler’s song, The Rose, a lovely and haunting song. I’d sung it to
him more than once so it had personal meaning between us.

“You know I do, woman,” Will said. “And wear your new

dress, the fancy one.”

Fancy was an understatement; the gown he’d bought me was

an Oscar de la Renta number that wouldn’t have been out of place if
I’d ever made it to the Grammy Awards. Imagine black crinkle
chiffon with a scoop bodice and a tiered skirt that had a slit to the
knee. Sleeveless, backless, and complete with a little chiffon train
that followed me like a shadow, this dress was by far the most elegant
one I ever counted in my wardrobe. For a blue jeans gal from Rusk,
Texas, wearing that gown would be tall cotton for me and I didn’t
even want to know how much it cost, at least five grand. Until he
made me a vampire (by my own choice) I loved colors: reds, blues,
greens, whites, purple, mauves and a whole rainbow, but Will liked
black. He dressed in black long before Johnny Cash made a statement
by doing it and he thought black suited me too. Most of the time
anymore, I think so too.

In the gown, I look like midnight personified but in a good

way.

So Seamus slapped my name—Cara Riley Brennan—up on

his marquee in his little old theater in downtown Branson, the old part
of town, far away from the busy, hectic tourist highway locals called
“The Strip”. Enough visitors found their way to Brennan’s Irish
Stage to make him a nice profit and he drew a certain segment of the
tourists who liked Irish music, folk songs, or just something off the
beaten path. Although summer is the busiest season in Branson, fall
remains pretty happening and then they have another mini-rush for
the holiday season.

That October night I stepped out, after Seamus’ introduction

made me sound like a combination of Janis Joplin, Peggy Lee, and
Carrie Underwood, in my Oscar de la Renta, ready to make the
audience mine. We had a full house, every seat taken and when the
house lights dimmed, the expectant hush almost made me bashful. I
glanced over to stage left where Will sat on a chair, smoking a
cigarillo and violating local fire codes. He grinned and then I began
to sing.

I started out with the tune Seamus suggested, The Stuttering

Lovers and when I finished, the audience went crazy with applause. I
gave them that sea shanty number, Drunken Sailor too before I got
more serious and shifted to a poignant Irish folk song, Ballinderry.
Then, holding the audience almost in thrall (which Will says vampires
can do if we want), I gave the sound board guy the signal to start the
music for The Rose.

Halfway through the song, my heart filled with love for Will, I

felt a sharp gaze penetrate my space. Someone watched me, intent
and in a way that I didn’t much like. I felt the way a deer in the
thicket must feel come gun season in Texas, stalked and hunted.
What bothered me even more was I thought it could be a vampire.
I’m still so new I can’t always recognize other vamps but Will can.
He’s pointed them out to me but I don’t always have the knack yet but
this felt different.

After the set, I bowed to the audience, loving their applause,

but also searching the rows of seats to see if I could spot who watched
me. No one stood out but when the curtains closed and the house
lights came back up, I peered out and Will asked me,

“Cara, what are you doing?”

I don’t usually lie to Will but I didn’t want to upset him when

I didn’t really know anything so I fudged, just a little. “I thought I
saw someone from back home and I wanted to see if it was or not.”

He shook his head, smiled in a way that made my bones go

soft. “Be quick, then. It’s intermission, then Seamus does his set and
we’re all done for the night.”

I nodded, staring at the audience and then felt that gaze again.

I narrowed my eyes the same way I do if I’m looking down the iron
sights of a .22 single shot rifle and found him.

Whoever he might be, he was as blonde as Will is dark. He

stood out among the tourists in their nylon Nike jackets, their Silver
Dollar City t-shirts, and sweaters the way that a lion stands out in a
herd of antelope. He stood tall, probably as tall as my Will, and
broader, stocky yet muscular. His blond hair, almost platinum light,
hung to his shoulders in a style that wasn’t current, not even hippie
style. This looked like something you’d see on Robin Hood or King
Henry VIII or something like that, like a page out of history. He
stared at the very spot where I stood behind the curtain as if he knew I
was there.

His chiseled features had a hard look to them, strength and

ruthlessness combined that meant he probably wasn’t someone to
mess around with. He didn’t smile but his eyes reflected light back
and they were a pale, pale gray. All of his garments were the dusky
shade of pearls, just as luminescent, even his silk shirt and dress
slacks. As I watched him, he nodded in acknowledgement and then
he moved out of the aisle, exiting into the lobby. His attention
unnerved me but when he paused, turned to look back, I felt his mind
touch mine and it reminded me of touching a rattlesnake, cool, dry,
and dangerous.

He intruded into my consciousness and I shuddered. His

presence echoed with a rawness that bordered on cruel, tempered with
desire. Unless I was wrong, he wanted me and I had no idea why. I
didn’t like it at all. After all that mess with Sallie Hawkins, the way
she intruded into our minds so much she made us sick and set out to
destroy us, I couldn’t help but feel skittish I handled that, though, by
killing the bitch.

I might have mentioned him to Will but Mr. Blonde didn’t

come back from intermission and so by the time Seamus took the
stage for the final set, I shoved him out of my mind. Seamus sang

several songs, some of those sad, haunting yet beautiful Irish ones that
linger in the heart and mind. Then, as he did every time we were in
town, he beckoned to Will to join him to close with Maidrin Ruadh,
the song about the little red fox.

It’s not a song I can sing, although some of the verses are sung

in English, because the refrain and the rest are in Irish. My Texas
tongue doesn’t want to wrap around some of the sounds although I
understand the more basic phrases. Since Will slips back into it, his
native tongue from his long ago boyhood, I’ve learned a bit but I can’t
speak it except to sometimes give him an endearment.

Watching the brothers sing this one always brought tears close

to my eyes. In their matching faces, I glimpsed the bond between
them, one strong after centuries. Finding his brother changed Will in
a good way. When I met him, he exuded such an aura of danger, of
wickedness that some probably scared some people but loving me
leached away anything negative. But until we found Seamus, Will
lacked that final piece. I know it sounds odd for a vamp—one made
into one by choice and free will—but loving the two of us, in such
different ways, gave back Will a little of his lost humanity. In the
centuries he walked alone, he lived in darkness, not just the cover of
night but in a bleak blackness in his soul because he figured he was
damned.

Because the human world thinks all vampires are bad, he

thought redemption was out of his reach, that he personified fiendish
evil just by what he was.

Loving me brought light into his heart and soul again, that’s

why he felt that we could wed in his Holy Catholic Church, which we
did. But if I gave him the candle and the flame, Seamus added more
spark to keep it burning.

They finished the song and for the final curtain call, Will

beckoned me out on stage. I stood there between the brothers, all of
us wearing black and took our bows. All the applause, the cheers, the
few whistles and whoops, all delighted me. I ate it up like a kid on a
candy binge, laughing with pure happiness. Seamus grinned at the
crowd and so did Will but as soon as that curtain closed, Will pulled
me into his arms.

“Enough of that,” he said, “I want this, leannán.”
What he desired, I needed even more. As he pressed his

mouth over mine, my body slackened as he poured passion into me,

lips warmer than usual from singing and the stage lights. I liked that
novelty as that mouth touched mine, match to the tinder and lit me.
His ardor flowed from his mouth into my body, as intoxicating and
sweet as the finest wine. I felt the power of it heat my blood and as
that warm glow spread, my limbs yielded. All my inner spots
responded to that wild intoxication. I could feel my nipples harden
until they ached to be touched, hurt with need. Within, I moistened
and grew soft, waiting for Will to fill my emptiness. He kissed me
until I forgot time and place, failed to remember that I stood on stage
surrounded by my brother-in-law and God knows how many stage
hands. A few fans always made it back beyond the curtains to gawk
too but they faded into insignificance. His mouth renewed his claim
on my heart and soul, promised that we would always be as one, body
and spirit. If Will didn’t have more control than me, we would have
done the deed right there on the worn floorboards of that old theater
and I wouldn’t have minded.

“Good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well used,”

Will whispered against my ear, quoting Shakespeare as he so often
did.

“That wasn’t wine,” I mouthed back at him.
He laughed. “Aye but it made me near drunk, my senses

reeling in every direction, mo anam cara.”

Behind us, Seamus chuckled. “You make me want to weep,

the pair of you, always ready to love each other. It’s hard on us
lonely old bachelors especially when I’m near starved. Do you want
to go eat or do you just want to go home and to bed?”

I had an answer for that, a quote I stole from Will—and

Shakespeare. “If food be the music of love, play on!”

Both Brennans shot me the same look, amusement tempered

with hunger. Their faces matched anyway but when they held the
same expression, they could have passed for twins.

“We’ll have enough time to play later,” Will said, “but for

now I’m hungry too. Let’s go find a good steak somewhere.”

In a passable Aussie accent, Seamus said, “C’mon on then,

mate, I’ll take you to the Outback, my treat. We’ll have to hurry
though—they close at eleven.”

At the very thought, my stomach rumbled beneath the de la

Renta. “Let’s go, then. Do we have time for me to change?”

“You look fine, Cara,” Will said.

“You do,” Seamus agreed. So we went.
The Outback in Branson isn’t the chain you find everywhere;

it’s a unique restaurant, a steak and oyster bar tucked away below the
Strip in such a quiet little hollow that you almost forget you’re just a
few feet away from all the traffic and noise. Built in the style of an
Australian station house with wide, deep verandas, they served up
tender steaks, great seafood in the land locked middle of the country.
Seamus brought us here a few days after the brothers reunited and I’d
been hooked ever since.

So after our early performance—the show began at 7 and

ended at nine—we climbed into Will’s classic black 1959 Cadillac
and headed for the Outback. We got to the restaurant and since it was
fall, not the height of the summer tourist season, we got a table for
three with speed. We strolled past the display cases where you could
choose your own steak or lobster or other entrée, through the crowded
dining room where more than a few diners stared at us with curious
interest. It’s not often three vampires—although no one could have
guessed that we were—dined out in public. With this charisma that
we seem to exude like a mist in the air, we turn heads. Even just Will
and I do, but with two brothers, both good looking and sexy as a man
can be show up with a woman in formal dress, it turns heads.

As we passed locals in their casual clothes and visitors in their

brand new Branson t-shirts and Ozark mountain cowboy boots, I
wanted to giggle. Branson is the among the few places I know on
earth where I could go out to dinner wearing Oscar de la Renta and
dine next to people in their Wranglers and Levi jeans. It might
happen in Vegas or Nashville but most of the time, fancy folks go to
one feed trough and the ordinary ones head to another.

We ordered oysters on the half shell as an appetizer, Oysters

Kilpatrick to be exact, done Aussie style with bacon and mozzarella.
Before I met Will, I wouldn’t touch an oyster but he’d broadened my
dining horizons with everything else. It still surprised me that
vampires can and do eat but I’m glad. Best of all, I eat whatever I
want and I don’t gain weight. Just another undead perk that I’m
rather fond of, if I say it myself.

After the oysters, the guys ordered up the biggest strip steaks

served and I picked the beef kabobs. We ate out on the open air
deck—I call it a porch but if they prefer to say it’s a deck, I’ll concede
that—in the familiar night. Being mid-October I loved the slight chill

to the air and the distant tang of wood smoke on the wind. I knew
that the rugged hills that surrounded Branson must flame with color
and I wished that I could catch just a glimpse of the autumn glory.

As we enjoyed our meal, we talked but a steady stream of

visitors to the table made it hard to have a deep or even coherent
conversation. Just about everyone in town, especially the other
performers and theater people knew Seamus and since we’d been
coming to Branson, many knew who we were too. I finished my
second kabob and watched Seamus deflect the lunch invitations, the
offers to join this one or that at Rotary Club, with skill. He managed
to turn them down but in such a smooth fashion that they didn’t
realize he couldn’t meet them by day if he wanted it.

This notoriety chafed Will although he didn’t tell his brother,

who thrived on it, that. I knew, though before he ever voiced it to me,
that he hated all the attention and spotlight more than cats hate water.
For centuries, he’d moved through the night, solitary and aloof.
Although he’d been around a few famous names like Al Capone and
visited about everywhere in the United States, Will kept apart. Even
in Memphis and Tunica, many people knew him as a character that
frequented Beale Street, one among many. Since I’d become his
constant companion and bride, they knew me too but I’d bet my last
half dollar that no more than a handful knew our names. Even fewer
had any idea where we lived. Will savored that privacy and so did I.

Seamus, though, loved the fame. Watching him as he shook

hands and greeted people, you could see it gave him a buzz. He liked
being someone, even if it was nothing more than a theater owner and
sometime singer in a cheesy resort town like Branson. After knowing
that he grew up both poor and hard in 18

th

century Ireland, trailed his

beloved older brother to England where he was first told Will was
dead, then made into a creature of the night, spent many harsh years at
sea, always with someone else as master, I understood, at least a little,
why Seamus craved the attention. All singers have a little measure of
it and Seamus had a large helping. While I was satisfied with a single
meal once in awhile, he hungered for a nightly buffet.

Will caught my eye and although his expression, mild and

polite never shifted, I knew he wanted to leave. I knew, too, his
concerns about such open popularity.

“He’ll have us all known for what we are,” Will told me more

than once and again the night before we made this trip. “I know the

lad doesn’t mean to do that or even think of it but sooner or later,
someone will wonder just why Seamus Brennan doesn’t ever come
out by day. Or one of them will trail him home and find out. Now
that we’re getting known too, it increases that risk, Cara. Not a one of
us is ever seen out doing the ordinary type things both locals and
tourists do. We don’t do things like shop at the outlet malls or go to
the big amusement park, Silver Dollar City and White Water. If you
get someone of a curious nature, our secrets could be revealed.”

“That would suck,” I said, agreeing with him. Even my

family had no idea what I’d become or what their son-in-law was. I’d
rather they didn’t know and if it ever needed to be brought to their
attention, I’d prefer to be the one to break the news. “So what should
we do about it? Do we stop going to Branson?”

Sitting out beneath the stars in our moon room, Will shook his

head. He’d fired a fresh cigarillo and reached for my hand. “No, I
don’t want that either, mo anam cara. I love my brother and I enjoy
the time spent with him. I know you like singing at his theater and
I’ve come to not mind when he drags me out on stage to sing a song
or two. It’s just a thing that we need to think about, now and again.
I’ve always moved about, you know that well, and the time may come
he’ll need to think about moving elsewhere.”

I remembered our conversation as Seamus beamed at yet

another local and sighed. I reached beneath the table to lay my hand
against Will’s thigh. I ached to return to Seamus’ earthen house, a
Berm home built into the side of a hill, and retire to our guest room to
finish what Will began on stage.

He grinned at my touch and I felt so happy. If the possibility

of being found out as vampires was all we had to worry about, that
wasn’t so bad. We had faced much worse with Sallie.

When we left the restaurant, I’d almost forgotten Mr. Blonde,

the strange man whose stares made my skin crawl worse than the
sight of a rattlesnake sunning on a rock in the piney woods.

I thought that was just a flash in the pan, a one-time thing that

wouldn’t happen again.

I figured I would never see him again and that was that.
Damn, I wish I had been right.

Chapter Two

My Granny Riley’s big old comfortable home back in Rusk,

Texas, in the Piney Woods, had a full basement, an old fashioned one
never finished. I never liked that narrow stair that led down to the dirt
floor, the shelves where she kept her homemade apple butter, chow-
chow, and crabapple jelly, and the monster furnace, a huge hulking
thing from the late 1940’s that scared the hell out of me. I hated to be
sent down there to fetch up a jar or two but when she asked, I sucked
up my fear and did it. I never did like the smell of old dirt that filled
my nose down there, though, and I understood why she called it a
cellar. When Seamus first took us home, I feared it might stink of the
earth but it didn’t.

I liked Seamus’ home built into the side of a rugged hill. The

entrance poked out from beneath a shelf of natural rock like
something from The Hobbit or that kid show, Teletubbies. Once
inside, there were no windows or other doors but the floor plan
offered spacious living and for a vampire, I couldn’t imagine a more
perfect home. It fit the natural surroundings like it belonged here and
I thought, though I hadn’t ever told Will, should we ever abandon our
castle like house near Memphis, I would love something like this.

We came into the large living room, passing the kitchen to the

right and the utility room to the left. After the evening of song, dining
out, and public time, all I wanted to do was kick off my high-heeled
shoes and shuck that fancy designer dress. Most of all, I wanted to
take down my hair. To look elegant, I’d piled my hair on top of my
head in an elaborate coiffure of stacked curls that looked glamorous
but made me feel top-heavy. After hours, I knew it must be about to
come down on its own and I felt tendrils spring free in several spots.
I shed the shoes but when I started for our bedroom, heels in hand,
Will caught my arm.

“What are you doing now, woman?”

I narrowed my eyes in a high voltage glare. “I want to change out of
the dress and take down my hair. It’s driving me out of my ever
loving mind.”

His eyes sparkled as he gave me a sinful smile that made my

body want to yield to temptation. “It’s early, yet, so come have a
drink with Seamus. I had a mind to take down your hair myself.”

Desire prickled along my spine like heat lighting touching

summer clouds with just a little electricity. I could wait for that and I
had to admit it wasn’t very nice to abandon Seamus this early so that
we could go and enjoy the pleasures of the flesh while he drank alone.

“All right,” I sighed. “So let’s drink.”
Seamus poured us each a glass of John Jameson’s Irish

whiskey, his favorite drink of choice. Although Will favored it as
well, he drank it more often when stressed or upset but he didn’t
complain and neither did I. Until I tasted Jameson’s, I preferred
Kentucky bourbon but the Irish whiskey, made from barley not corn,
tasted smooth as silk on my tongue. Just as we sat down though,
Seamus’ cell phone played the refrain from Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye.
He glanced at the screen and made a face.

“Ah, I must take this—‘tis business,” he said and answered,

rising so that he could walk into the kitchen. He returned in a
moment, drained his glass and said, “I’ve got to go out. That was
Nora and she wants me to come hear a singer at a bar in Springfield,
one she thinks might be a good guest to have around Christmas time.”

Nora worked for Seamus at the theater, manager and

something more. Both Will and I knew that Seamus often enjoyed a
little recreational sex with Nora but there didn’t seem to be a chance
for anything more between them. Nora had to be at least forty-five
and although she looked great for her age, she had three kids at home,
three very big reasons why Seamus couldn’t pursue any kind of real
relationship with her even if he wished.

Seamus gathered up his keys and turned to Will.
“I don’t suppose that you want to go with me.”
Will sighed and I could see that he felt torn between going

with his brother and staying with me. Seamus saw it too and grinned,
a rueful smile.

“Ah, never mind, then. Stay here with Cara and enjoy each

other. I’ll be back before dawn.”

“You better be,” Will growled using that huskier voice he used

to express strong emotions, sometime anger, and often concern.

“Aye, I will,” Seamus said. “Never fear and if I should decide

to sleep the day

somewhere else, I’ll call Cara since you never answer your

phone. Thalla a chluiche le do deideagan, mo dearthair.”

Will laughed aloud, that ringing sound that reminded me of

bells pealing and answered Seamus back in Irish. Laughing, his
brother exited and I turned to my husband,

“So what did he say?”
“He told me to go play with my toys and I intend to do as he

asked, mo anam cara.”

Amused, I finished off my drink and settled in Will’s lap. His

arm wrapped around me, secure and strong as I said, “Am I a toy
then?”

His eyes brightened as he replied, “No, bean mo chroi, you’re

everything I ever dreamed of having, now and for all the centuries.”

Then he kissed me, his mouth silencing anything else I might

have said and I let his lips awaken my passion. Will’s lips blistered
mine with an incredible heat, a burning sensation that tickled and
tingled. Desire brought fever, a contagious virus that infected me
until I moved against him, heedless of the expensive gown. His
kisses strengthened even as they weakened me until I became clay to
his potter’s hands, pliable to mold whichever way he would. He
moved his mouth from mine to trail down my neck, the tiny points of
his fangs scratching my skin just enough to intrigue. He never broke
the skin or tasted me as he moved lower still, down my throat to that
deep cleft between my breasts. At the same time, with his graceful
hands that stroked and touched, he slid the gown off my shoulders so
that he could kiss me first between my breasts, then shift upward to
kiss each shoulder with slow, tantalizing kisses that made my desire
flame into a fire that just one thing could quench.

“Let me confess that we two must be twain, although our

undivided loves are one.” Will whispered, his voice softer than the
velvet of night, richer than the darkest chocolate, and heated with the
blaze of the sun at noon.

“Yes,” I answered him, noting the Shakespeare as I burned for

him. The silk of the gown against my skin became torment and I
wanted the cloth barrier gone so I could feel him against me.

He knew what I desired and he put me on my feet so that we

stood, face to face. Will reached behind, caressing me even as he
undid the zipper and let the dress, with his help, fall to the floor into a
dark puddle. I wore no bra with it and he reached to remove the scrap
of panties that I wore, sliding them away. Somehow he’d undressed
too, his pale body glistening in the lamp light, beautiful as the full

moon to me, as lovely as the stars. My hands found his body and
explored it, moving over that now familiar territory with right and
need.

“You are so beautiful, mo anam cara,” he breathed in a low

voice. Then Will touched my hair, found the pins and combs that
held the curls in place. He pulled them, one by one, with his fingers.
As my hair tumbled free, wanton over my shoulders, he buried his
face in it for a few seconds and then he shifted to my bare breasts,
free now from all restraint. His burning lips kissed me there and then
he suckled one hard, rose pink nipple, then the other until my legs
trembled.

I couldn’t stand much longer as desire made me weak so I

clung to him, my nails raking across his skin to gain a hold so I
wouldn’t sink to the floor, as shapeless as a shadow. I used my
fingertips to make his nipples grow taut and then I put my lips to one
of them, sucking and licking. I could feel the tremors of his response
and I worked at it harder, shifting from one to the other. I let my
hands roam over his body, running down his sides to his thighs and
then to touch with just one hand, his proud and erect cock.

Will groaned, making an animal sound of pleasure that

bordered on pain. If he needed release as much as I did, he ached
with need. I heard my own whimpers but far distant, my focus on the
amazing delights playing across my body and he dropped to his knees
so he could kiss me in that most intimate spot. His mouth felt cool
now against the volcanic heat of my vagina and when his tongue
darted within my folds, I made noise without words.

My hand caught his cock and caressed his, squeezing it tight

in my fist until he backed me up against an oversized, overstuffed
armchair and pinned me there. With my legs spread wide for entry,
he landed and entered me, his hard fullness cramming into that space
until it could hold nothing more. I savored that tightness, that
immense totality.

Then he moved, shifted to that in addition to that unity, the

ultimate pleasure expanded until it consumed me, filled me, and took
me to bliss. I soared with it, rode it as he worked me like a threaded
needle stitching cloth, and bucked against him until he caught the
wave of delight.

We rode it together, clamoring for more with words and with

nothing but inarticulate sound. When we came, that force of it rocked

us like an explosion, shattering everything but that intimate moment.
I felt like we died and then were reborn, weak and loose-limbed, sated
and infused with joy.

“’I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say ‘I love

you’”. Will spoke the words of another Will into my ear, and I
answered him back.

“I love you too, honey.”
“Aye, I know,” he said with the smug satisfaction of a man

who’s just been turned every which way but loose with good loving.
“Let’s put on some clothes and see if my brother still has some wine.”

Seamus did; he had a bottle of Moscato tucked away in the

refrigerator and so we helped ourselves to it. The light, crisp yet
sweet wine could be dessert alone and it was a favorite. What we
drank was a far higher quality than what we called ‘Muscat’ back
home in Texas although I think they were made from the same grape
variety. I poured the wine into a pair of goblets and then, since it was
not quite two in the morning, we carried our drink outside.

The autumn night surrounded us with beauty and if it was a

little cool, neither of us minded much. By nature, vamps run at a
cooler temperature than humans. A slight wind kissed my cheek and
lifted a strand of hair from it. Will tucked the hair back and caressed
the scar there, souvenir of my victory over Sallie Hawkins, the
English bitch who made both Brennan brothers into vampires. I
would wear it for the rest of my existence because another vampire
made it; if made by human hands, it would have healed. The marred
skin on the side of Will’s throat wouldn’t heal either—also courtesy
of Sallie who did her level best to kill him. She would have, too, if I
hadn’t been there.

“Let’s go up there,” Will said and pointed at the rocky

outcropping above Seamus’ front door. “But watch for snakes.”

I shuddered. I grew up around too many snakes—everything

from black snakes to copperheads, rattlesnakes, and water
moccasins—to like the reptiles. “Shouldn’t it be too cold for
snakes?”

He snorted. “Don’t ask me—there are no snakes in Ireland but

I’ve been told they like the rocky ledges and places such as this. I’d
rather we not get bitten.”

“Would we die?” I didn’t see how we could—most of the time

vampires heal faster than a human being but if it was possible, I
wanted to know.

“I doubt it, Cara, but it would likely make us sick. Come on,

give me your hand.”

Will stood on top of the rocks, there with a single bound and

so I took his hand. He pulled me as I jumped, joining him there.
Such a leap would have been a far stretch if not impossible for the old
Cara, the real gal, but now, it was simple. I sat down on the rock,
which was still a little warm from the previous day’s sunshine and
settled next to Will.

“Sláinte!” Will said as we touched our glasses together. “Isn’t

the view lovely?”

It was—from where we sat we could see above the treetops

lower on the mountain to the valley and fields below. Since it was
fall, many of the leaves were gone, fallen to the ground in a riot of
color and that opened up the scenic wonder of the Ozarks. Above us,
the stars glistened in the night sky. Since I’d been here in the flesh, I
knew how beautiful this area could be by daylight but Will wouldn’t.
This spectacular night vision, however, rivaled anything I’d ever seen
and I’d rather be here with him than anywhere else.

“It’s awesome.”
We sat, shoulder to shoulder, and drank the delightful wine.

As its mellow glow spread through our veins, we sat in harmony, one
with each other and in sync with the world around us. We talked a
little and laughed a lot. I could have stayed there forever but within a
few hours, I could see the subtle shift in the horizon that meant dawn
came our way. It wasn’t here yet but it would come. To the east the
blackness wasn’t as full or deep. I glanced at Will and saw he knew it
too. After more than two centuries as a vampire, I figured he felt it
intuitively.

“Morning will break soon,” he said, evoking that beautiful

Irish air I so loved, a song that sometimes was called Blackbird, “but
Seamus isn’t home yet.”

He sounded worried.
“He’ll get here,” I said, hoping that I wasn’t wrong. “We can

watch for him a little longer, can’t we?”

“Aye, we have awhile yet,” Will said. He fumbled in his

pocket for a cigarillo and lit it. His fragrant smoke wafted easy on the

breeze as he put an arm around my shoulders and held me close. His,
the gesture said, and I was.

We waited as the black shifted to a softer gray but when that

diluted to the milk light before dawn, Will sighed. “Damn my
brother. If he doesn’t come now, he’ll have to find a place to hole up
for the day and leave me to worry about his arse.”

I laughed although his concern touched me and it wasn’t

amusing. I laughed because I caught the sweep of headlights
approaching over the twisting gravel road that led to the house.
Seamus Brennan, like his older brother, was a risk taker.

“He’s coming,” I said to my beloved husband, “See.”
His taut shoulders relaxed so much I swear I saw the ripple.
“It’s about time.”
Seamus, when he wheeled up in his four wheel drive truck,

proved to be drunker than a skunk. He parked with great precision
and stepped out to announce, in ringing tones and more brogue than
usual, “Nollaig shona duit!”

“He’s had too much to drink,” Will, who drinks every night

but seldom gets intoxicated, said with disgust when his brother
wished us a ‘merry Christmas’. “Come on, leannán.”

We clasped hands, my left to his right, and jumped from the

stone outcropping in tandem to land at Seamus’ feet as he dug in first
one pocket and then the other for keys.

He startled when we dropped from the sky and staggered.
“Jesus!” he gasped,
“Mary and Joseph,” Will added to his brother’s exclamation in

a dry tone, finishing the Irish expression. “It’s almost three months to
Christmas but not long until daylight. You cut it close, don’t you
think?”

As he spoke, the first light of dawn touched the eastern

horizon and I think we all saw it. Seamus nodded. “I might have at
that, but I’m here now and no need to worry.”

Will’s blue eyes darkened to something close to navy. That

meant one of two things—either he was very emotional or really mad.
This time, I figured he was angry.

“I can’t help but be concerned, amadan.”
Seamus managed to get his key in the lock but he turned back

to Will. “I managed for more than two hundred years without you

looking after me, Will. I’m a grown man and I can take care of
myself.”

This close to morning, any vampire’s nerves are on edge so I

stepped between them before things could get ugly. “Don’t fight.”

Matching blue eyes glared at me, tinder just waiting for a

spark to flare into open battle and then they both relaxed. Will put his
arm around me and kissed my scarred cheek.

“We’re not fighting, Cara, at least not yet. Seamus, I don’t

doubt at all you’re a man but I love you, brother, and I can’t help but
worry.”

Will’s apology choked me up as his brother pushed open the

door.

“I should have called to say I’d be late, Will, and I’m sorry

too. I wake up every night happy because you’re still in this world
and I understand.”

I saw those first rays of sunlight touch the outside world so I

kicked the storm door closed with one foot. A wave of malaise
washed over me and I felt so tired that I knew I had to lie down soon
or I’d feel even worse. “It’s morning and I don’t feel very well now.
Let’s go to bed before we’re all half sick.”

Will nodded, face paler than ever as we moved into the living

room. “Aye, I’m tired too. Seamus, oiche mhaith duit.”

“Good sleep to you both,” Seamus said as he headed off to his

bedroom. “Get plenty of rest—we sing again tonight!”

As I crawled into bed beside Will, already dead to the world,

his senses shut down until nightfall, I thought of our time spent in the
night, beneath the stars and with the wind blowing gentle over us. I
knew then what song I’d sing that night, a sweet ballad called either
October Wind or Castle of Dromore depending on who sang it.

I sang through lyrics in my mind and then I remembered

something disturbed me during the show. I’d almost forgotten and
then it came to me, the blonde who stared at me, that one that might
be a vampire too.

But I pushed the idea away. It was a fluke, a flash in the pan.
I’d never seen him again
****
That dress he bought for her cost a king’s ransom, a fortune,

or it would have been in his own time but he didn’t care. His Cara
looked so lovely in that black dress with all those ruffles and frills the

shade of midnight that he would have paid twice that. Now that he
had deep pockets, money mattered little enough. He’d managed to
acquire enough to be comfortable, to buy what he wanted or needed.
Until she came into his life, he had little enough to spend it on
anyway.

Will knew she never realized how sensual she was when she

sang, that she lit from within like a candle on the altar in church.
Even before she became a vampire too, Cara had a charisma but that
natural gift had grown. On stage, she drew eyes to her and her music
touched all their hearts. It impacted him each time he heard her sing,
whether it was in bed with just the two of them or before an audience.

He played with a notion to buy her a club on Beale Street

where she could perform but decided against it. It would make her—
and him as well—far too visual and noticeable. Such attention might
attract the curious who might learn more than anyone needed to know
about them.

As it stood now, one day they’d have to relocate anyway.

That was the way of it, the life—or existence—he lived. They would
leave Memphis behind and go to somewhere new, Las Vegas maybe
or Hollywood or any town large enough to support their habit, with
night life enough to keep things entertaining.

Branson, although it had a certain charm, made him nervous.

Although most of the people came and went in a constant flux, behind
the tourist attractions, this was a small town. And in such towns,
people talked and gossip flew like feathers from a plucked chicken.
Seamus knew everyone and they knew him. If one person ever asked
questions, they might connect certain facts and that might be bad for
them all.

He gave it enough thought that he’d about decided his brother

should come to Memphis, have his theater there. Memphis was much
larger; it would give them more breathing room and cover.

For now, though, he’d let his woman his brother sing. They

enjoyed it so and he liked to watch but he had a prickling in his bones
that something was about to shift. He couldn’t name it or know what
it meant but after two hundred and thirty years, he trusted his
instincts. Whatever it might be couldn’t be as terrible as Sallie
Hawkins. He didn’t know so he said nothing to Cara or to Seamus.

But Will would bide his time and wait.

Chapter Three

Back when I was a little girl in Rusk, I pretended to be a

singer. My friends would come over and we’d fire up my mama’s
stereo so I could sing. I sang any and everything, using a wooden
spoon for a microphone. Wardrobe was always an issue so I’d snitch
clothes from my mama’s closet. I used to sneak out this black dressy
slip she had to wear under her few formals but I graduated to just
borrowing the dresses instead. One of them dated back to her high
school prom years and it just wasn’t elegant enough for me. By the
time I turned twelve, I’d managed to beg, borrow, or steal every
woman in the family’s evening garments for my ‘concerts’ but none
of those ever compared to the things Will bought for me.

That second night at Brennan’s Irish Stage, I didn’t want to

wear the de la Renta again, pretty as it was. Besides, it looked more
than little crumpled from Seamus’ floor. Seamus asked Nora, his
manager, to send it out to be dry-cleaned for me. I could have walked
out to do my numbers in blue jeans and a satin blouse but since I’d
been doing a formal look, I wore another of my evening dresses.

That little black dress cost a fraction of the Oscar de la Renta

but it was Ralph Lauren, heady stuff for a gal who grew up thinking
that Liz Claiborne and Worthington were hot fashion names. I liked
the way that it bared my left shoulder and that the straight skirt
stopped a good four inches above my knees. The single satin ruffle
ran down the right side of the gown and it looked good. I left my hair
down, though, and used mousse to make it thick. So it hung, in a wild
tangle of curls and volume around my face.

“What do you think?” I asked Will as I finished getting ready

in one of the dinky dressing rooms at the theater.

He quirked one eyebrow with an evil grin. “You look like

you belong in my bed, not on stage, but you’re lovely.”

I shook my head. “So do you like the hair?”
“You look like a wild woman,” he said, voice as husky and

velvety as whiskey. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like it—I do as long
as it’s just for me.”

I put my hands on my hips. “You know it is, Will Brennan!”
He put his hands around my waist. “Aye, I do, woman. I just

hope every man in the audience realizes it too.”

That stray mention of the audience made me remember Mr.

Blonde and his intense gaze that made my skin itch. It scared me,
although I wasn’t about to admit that. I’d killed a five hundred year
old vampire bitch without remorse so some stranger shouldn’t make
me afraid. I slapped on more make-up than usual, a woman’s trick to
gain bravado. It creates a mask to hide behind and just in case that
sorry son of a bitch turned up again, I wanted to hide. You never let
anyone or anything ever know they scare you. That gives them power
over you, maybe even control. So, I made like that old Hank Williams
song—I combed my hair, used paint and powder.

That inspired me to open with Setting The Woods On Fire so

when Seamus introduced me for the last set tonight, I walked out
pumped and ready to rockabilly. I took Hank’s song and lost most of
the country twang. I turned that classic inside out and owned it, made
it mine in a way that impressed even me. I belted it out as more of a
smoky ballad, a little poignant and a lot sexy. Even though they came
to hear mostly Irish songs, the crowd went wild when I finished,
clapping and shrieking. They whistled through their fingers and a few
tossed things on the stage, a single red long-stemmed rose, some
dollar bills, and one bracelet.

When they settled down to murmurs, I grinned and said,

“Okay, folks, now I’m a Texas gal and I just gave you music the way
we do it back home in the Lone Star state. But my brother-in-law
here, like my husband, is an Irishman so I’ll take you back to the old
country with this song, much older than me.”

If I’d been honest, the ballad was older than even my Granny

Ryan by centuries but it was a cute song, a little bit suggestive, and
fun so I segued into The Keach in the Creel. As I poured my heart
and my own powerful attraction for Will into the words, I felt a rush
of power go through me that felt electric,

“‘And how I would I get to your chamber, love, and how

would I get to your bed?’

“’My father he locks the door at night and the keys lie under

his head,’” I sang. On the refrain, a nonsense one, I could hear Will
and Seamus chime in even though they didn’t venture out on stage.
After that and another round of enthusiastic applause, I slowed things
down with the song I decided last night I’d sing, The Castle of
Dromore. I reached for my Gibson guitar to play this tune myself. As
I let my voice carry the haunting melody, Will did something he’d

never done before during my set—he came onto the stage to join me,
blending his tenor with my alto.

At the sound of our voices, the crowd hushed as if enchanted

and we sang until I wanted to weep with emotion. I’d planned to
finish with The Stuttering Lovers again or maybe Ballinderry but Will
mouthed a title at me and I nodded. I began the soft, sweet
Connemara Cradle Song with its’ verses about angels coming to
watch over us, reminiscent of Down In The Valley with hear the blow,
love part of the two songs. Granny sang both to me but I knew that
Will’s mother sang the cradle song to all her lads. Will and I began to
sing, our voices blending in harmony and Seamus, with his bodhran in
hand joined us. The steady beat of the Celtic drum, once used for war
as well as music, meshed with my guitar chords into a lovely song
that I thought the audience would remember for a long time.

So would I.
When we finished the song, I think all three of us had tears in

our eyes and silence echoed in the theater for a long moment. I tensed
for a moment, wondering if they didn’t like it after all and scanned the
crowd. I saw tears on many faces, looks of rapt wonder, the shimmer
of memory and open emotion. What I did not see was Mr. Blonde
and that was, I thought, a very good thing.

As if on cue, the crowd unleashed their praise in a wild

outburst and we stood, we three Brennans, heads bowed, accepting it
as our due. They begged for an encore but both Will and Seamus
shook their heads ‘no’. I understood—if we sang anything else, it
would shatter this mood and I couldn’t bear to do that.

The curtains swished shut as tonight’s show closed. Will

swept me into his arms and spun me around the stage with carefree
abandon. No one had swung me this way since I was about six and it
felt wonderful. Seamus laughed and clapped his brother on the back.

“You put me to shame, the pair of you. Will, you should quit

driving a truck and come sing for me, full-time.”

Will grinned but said, “No, that’s not happening, brother.

Cara’s the singer, not me. Life—or this eternal version of it—is
enough for me. ‘All the world’s a stage and all the men and women
merely players. They have their exits and their entrances and one
man in his time plays many parts.’

“You’d be grand at it, brother,” Seamus said, always the

showman. “But no matter, just leave me Cara and she’ll bring down

the house every night. Woman, it’s a wonder that you’re not a
singing legend.”

I lapped up his flattery the way a cat will drink milk, with

hungry greed. Once I wanted that life but all that shifted one early
morning before dawn when I met Will. His first kiss changed
everything for me and reset my priorities. Now I felt happier than I
ever had before and although I loved to sing, doing it once in awhile
here was more than enough.

“Thanks,” I said and meant it. “I grew up to be something

else, though.”

“What’s that?” Seamus asked as if he really didn’t know the

answer.

I leaned closer to Will and said, “Your brother’s wife.”
My darling looked into my face, those brilliant blue eyes

shining and whispered,

“Ta ghra agam duit, mo anam cara.”
I gave the words back to him, from my heart. “And I love you

too.”

Seamus laughed but I heard the loneliness in it. I often saw

him watch us and I knew what he felt—he ached to have what we did
but there was no guarantee he ever would. Nora, his sometime lover,
theater manager, and friend joined us on stage, as if on cue.

“That was awesome!” she gushed and kissed Seamus’ cheek,

polite but without passion. Whatever they were to each other, it
sprang from a mutual agreement but love wasn’t part of the bargain.
I’d bank my life on that. “You need to sign them on for a long gig.”

“Aye, I just told them that,” my brother-in-law said with a

rueful smile, “They’re not interested in fame, though and more’s the
pity.”

Nora stared at us as if she couldn’t grasp us at all and she

couldn’t. “If I could sing like that, I’d be on stage every night of the
year.”

What could I say to that? Tell her that I’m a vampire and that

in time that would mess up any singing career I launched? That
wouldn’t go over well at all, I thought, so I smiled, hoping that would
be answer enough. I guess it was because she turned to Seamus and
babbled something about going out for a late dinner. I didn’t catch all
of it because Will distracted me, his slow kiss lighting a fire that I

found hard to control there in front of most of his brother’s
employees.

I surfaced to hear Seamus say, “Come with us, won’t you

two?”

I had to ask, “Where?”
Both Seamus and Nora laughed. “We’re going to Waxy

O’Shea’s Irish Pub at Branson Landing.”

Will spoke up before I could answer, “Aye, we’ll go, Seamus,

if that’s what you want. We came here to spend time with you, after
all.”

He had a gift, my beloved, to say much more than the words

alone expressed. He’d accepted the invitation and yet he’d also
managed to demonstrate that we would rather have gone with just his
brother. He liked Nora—so did I—but we couldn’t speak with open
honesty when she was there. Will sent a message, loud and clear, to
Seamus that he would go but only out of regard for his brother.

“Good,” Seamus said. I might have thought he didn’t get the

message but I saw the second when the Brennan brother’s eyes met
and knew he did. “Let’s go, then. We’ll meet you there.”

On the way to the car, parked behind the theater down a

narrow, dark alley that dated from another era, Will paused and put
one hand over his belly. He winced, a brief expression that came and
went but I knew what it meant. If I hadn’t been so caught up in the
excitement of singing, enchanted by the magic that we made, I would
have noticed the gnawing little pangs in my own tummy. So I said,
“Will?”

“I’m in need of a donor, mo chroi,” he said, “I thought you

might be, too.”

“I am but where can we find a couple of people before we

meet your brother at the pub?”

He grinned, a wolfish smile that split the darkness with the

whiteness of his teeth, fangs showing in his hungry need. “Leave that
to me. I think we can find a pair easy enough.”

Like almost everywhere else we’ve ever visited, Will seemed

to know his way around Branson and he drove just a few short blocks
to a city park along the shores of Lake Taneycomo. We weren’t very
far from Branson Landing, either, because I could see the lights from
the shops and the outdoor promenade from where we parked. Down
by the water, it felt a lot cooler than it had outside Seamus’ theater

and in my dress, which covered just one shoulder, I shivered a little.
Will put an arm around me and I huddled close to him. We walked
along the shore until we saw a couple who walked two small Westies.
As the little white dogs frolicked and frisked their way along, Will
hailed the couple. Although it doesn’t matter what gender we take the
blood we need from, he maneuvered the woman a few steps away.

I took that chance to move closer to the man and then, with

speed and more finesse than I had at first, I sank my fangs into the
side of his throat. I startled him because he jumped just a little but
then he sighed, sounding happy. If the donor feels anything close to
what we experience when taking blood, he felt good. There’s a rush,
somewhat erotic we feel and a distinct pleasure as that warm blood
feeds us. I finished in a very short time, so did Will, and we went on
our way. That couple probably wouldn’t even remember the
experience; most didn’t because Will mesmerized them with his stare
and he’d taught me how to do that too.

“Is that better?” Will asked, as we strolled back to the car and

I nodded. “Good, then let’s go meet my brother.”

Since it was a Saturday night, Waxy O’Shea’s bustled with a

crowd but we pushed out way through and found that Seamus had
gained a table for four in one corner. Both he and Nora were drinking
Guinness. They had a platter of assorted appetizers too so we joined
them, sliding into chairs without knocking into anyone.

“I thought you changed your mind,” Seamus said with a smile.
“We had a stop to make on the way,” Will said, “We both had

to take care of a little something.”

“Ah, yes, I did that last night,” Seamus said with a wink. Nora

just looked confused. “Dig in.”

There were Scotch eggs, stuffed mushrooms, artichoke dip,

and more so we tasted a little, then ordered. Everyone but Nora chose
bangers and mash, but she went with a Cobb Salad. Although we
tried to make small talk, live music drowned us out and it wasn’t as
good as what we’d just performed. We stayed almost until they
closed the place at midnight and although Seamus walked Nora to her
car, he didn’t leave with her. We waited and when he returned, he
said, “She had to go home—her babysitter has to be home by one at
the latest.”

“It’s still early so what now, mo dearthair?” Will asked,

lighting a cigarillo.

Seamus shrugged his shoulders. “There’s not much to do now.

Almost everywhere closes early here.”

“That’s why I’ll visit but I wouldn’t live here,” Will said.

“Can I find a liquor store open then? We’ll buy some drink and take it
to your place.”

And we did, but even that didn’t take long at all.
Bored and restless, Will paced Seamus’ long living room like

a caged tiger. He turned down his brother’s offer to watch movies—
except for a rare film; he didn’t much enjoy watching anything like
that. All that built up energy would channel into me later when we
made love and, judging by his mood, I knew it would be amazing. But
for now, Will needed an outlet.

“We could go for a ride,” I suggested, thinking of how much

fun it would be to roar around the hairpin curves in these Ozark hills
in Will’s big black vintage Caddy. He loved speed and I got a rush
from it too.

He lit up like a lamp turned on at dusk. “We could. Let’s go.

Seamus, do you want to come with us?”

His brother uncurled from a comfortable spot on the leather

sofa. “I’ll come as long as you don’t think that the Guinness at the
pub and the two glasses of John Jameson you’ve drunk since we’ve
been home will affect your driving.”

With a grin that could have lit up the Memphis skyline in a

blackout, Will said, “Of course it hasn’t. You know better than that,
man.”

Seamus grinned back. “I do and I don’t. Ah, well, since I’m

immortal or near enough it doesn’t matter, I’ll take the chance. Let’s
go!”

Like three crazy teenagers, we crowded into the big front seat,

me in the middle. With The Eagles blasting from the CD player, Will
hit the gas as soon as he reached the paved road and once we turned
onto Highway 76, he sped up until we flew through the night like a
black ghost. That car skimmed over the road like a speed boat over
the lake and I giggled with the sheer pleasure of it. We rocketed out
toward Silver Dollar City, that frontier style theme park I visited in
my original life, and on toward Branson West. At Seamus’ urging,
Will slowed as he rolled into that wide spot on the map and then we
changed direction to roar over Tablerock Dam. Trees sped past the
windows and we met almost no traffic at the middle of the night hour

when few but the undead roam, especially in the heart of the Bible
Belt. We traveled back roads and the highway until I felt like Daisy
Duke riding with her wild cousins in that old TV favorite, The Dukes
of Hazzard. Will and Seamus, though, were much better looking than
either Bo or Luke Duke ever dreamed they could be.

Around four in the morning, that same magical time when I

first encountered Will, we rolled into Branson proper so he could fill
up the car with gas. By then, we were all starving and so Seamus
directed us to the local IHOP, open twenty-four hours a day. The lot
loomed almost empty under the amber lights and when we entered,
we had the place all to ourselves. A worn and weary hostess who
served as our waitress as well brought us coffee and menus. Although
we could have had breakfast, we ordered from the main menu, thick
T-bone steaks for Will and his brother and a ham steak dinner, with
fried apples for me.

Either we were very hungry or the food was just good but we

cleaned our plates, scraped them down to the china and drank enough
coffee for ten firemen. About the time we were almost finished, two
Taney County deputies came in and nodded our way. I didn’t think
there was anyone else in the place or that there had been any other
customers the whole time we ate, but then I saw him.

He emerged from a booth on the far side, away from us, taller

than I recalled but just as blonde. He still wore the same light colored
clothing. I watched him, knowing in a sick little spot inside my
stomach that he was aware of me, that he had been the entire time.
He moved, not with that sensual animal grace like a prowling leopard
that Will possessed but with a stiffer step that looked almost military
in precision. It reminded me of those old news reels of Nazi soldiers
marching in World War II and what little I’d heard quoted from
Grandpa Riley’s stories about Nazis sent a cold icicle down my back.
I glanced at Will and Seamus but they didn’t notice anything, too
deep in a conversation in Irish. They laughed a lot so they either
shared old memories or told jokes but neither saw him, Mr. Blonde, or
realized my distress.

As I watched him pay his check, he turned toward me and

stretched out his hand, open with the palm up. Then he flexed his
fingers until it resembled a claw and turned that over, upright toward
me with a mocking grin. Before I could look away or even react, I
felt those fingers over my face, tightening until I could not breathe. I

panicked and gasped for air but my lungs refused to work and my
vision narrowed to a single bright strip. A cloud of blackness covered
me and through it, I struggled to reach Will, to let him know I was in
trouble. My hand caught a coffee cup and I shoved it, as hard as I
could toward the edge of the table. I heard it hit the floor with a crash
and then the darkness swallowed me, everything gone but the sound
of his voice, not Will’s but the blonde’s:

“When I want, you will be mine.”

Chapter Four

I almost drowned once, in a motel swimming pool in

Oklahoma. That family vacation, one of the very few we managed to
take once I was a teenager, took us to the edge of Tulsa, to a smaller
town called Claremore. Will Rogers, that famous humorist and movie
cowboy, called it home. The present Will Rogers Memorial museum
was housed in what he’d meant to have as a home one day if he’d
lived long enough. What sweetened the pot for my family was the JM
Davis Gun Museum, also in Claremore. We spent the day there,
poring and drooling over more glass cases of guns that I’ve seen
before or since. That evening, I went out to swim and I enjoyed it
until I swam across the deep end, which unlike a lot of motel pools
was actually deep. I came up, thinking I’d reached the other end and
grabbed for the edge but it wasn’t there. That caught me by surprise
and I floundered, sinking to the bottom of that ten feet deep water. It
took effort to calm down enough to push up so that I’d float which I
did but there were a few minutes when I thought I would drown. All
that water surrounded me, it seemed dark and I couldn’t see much.
When I made it to the surface and to the edge, I lay there and gasped,
shaking about what almost happened.

I floated in that same darkness, scared and uncertain until I

heard Will call my name. His voice sharpened with concern until you
could have used the edge to shave. That inspired me to try to rise, to
come out of the shadows and when I opened my eyes, Will carried
me. I blinked, half blinded by the halogen lights in the parking lot
and realized he was about to lay me across the back seat of the
Cadillac.

“Will?” I gasped, uncertain in that moment just what

happened to me.

I felt his arms sag with relief and I thought for a second he

might drop me. Then he cuddled me even closer and kissed my lips,
light and sweet. “Cara, conas ata tu? An bhfuil pian ort?”

I scared him so much he’d gone back to Irish but I knew

enough to understand that the first part asked me how I was so I said,
“I’m okay. You can put me down.”

My fingers stroked his face and he turned to that his lips

pressed against my hand, frantic. Then he set me on my feet, gentle

as if I might be as fragile as an egg and held me, very snug and tight.
I clung to his security, safe for the moment.

“You scared the shite out of him,” Seamus said from behind

Will. “And the amadans in there wanted to call an ambulance for you.
I talked them out of that but are you all right, Cara?”

I nodded with my face against Will and then realized that

neither of them could probably see the motion. I stepped back just a
little. “I think so.”

“Mo anam cara, what happened? You fainted at the table.”
Keeping it short and simple, I said, “I couldn’t breathe.”
He held me at arm’s length so that he could look into my face.

He stared at me, stern as a judge on juvenile court day but behind that,
I read the worry that still lurked in his eyes. “Aye, I know that but
why? Didn’t you feel well?”

I shook my head. “I felt great.”
“Then what in hell happened?”
So I told him, both about what Mr. Blonde did at the

restaurant and about the first time I noticed him at the theater. He
listened and when I finished, he gave my shoulders a little shake.

“Mo chroi, why didn’t you tell me the night you saw him?”
“I don’t know,” I said, feeling miserable and tired. Maybe I

wasn’t really okay yet. “It didn’t seem important and I wasn’t even
really sure he was a vampire. You know I’m not so hot at telling who
is, who isn’t yet.”

If Will hadn’t been still holding me, I would have fallen down

because I still felt that shaky. He started to ask me more questions but
Seamus interrupted him.

“Hey, Will?” he said, “I hate to bother you, brother, but the

sun’s about to rise so it’s no wonder she looks like death warmed
over. I’m starting to feel that way myself.”

“Is it that late?” Will sounded surprised. “Let’s go home then

and we’ll talk more about this tonight.”

He tucked me into that back seat with all the care of a mother

putting a baby to bed and I think he would have fussed over me if
Seamus hadn’t urged him to go now. When I looked through the back
glass, I understood why—I could see the first glow edge of the rising
sun in the east. I couldn’t look away, not when it was my first
glimpse of dawn in more than a year even though it hurt to see it.
Little golden fingers of sunlight touched the clouds until they became

pink against that rich blue color that only an autumn sky can manage.
Will drove like that proverbial bat out of hell as Seamus griped.

“Slow down, damn it, Will, or you’ll get stopped for speeding

and then where will we all be?”

Smoke curled from a new cigarillo in Will’s fingers but he

didn’t reduce speed at all. “I need to get Cara home.”

“We all need to get out of the sun before it hurts us,” Seamus

said. “Ta me tinn.”

Will growled. “I don’t feel good at all either, lad, but going

slow won’t help that.”

He took the next corner on two wheels which, for the first time

since I became a vamp,

made me feel like I might puke or something. I moaned a

little and a hand over my stomach to quiet it.

“Cara, what’s wrong now?” Will cried as he sped up even

faster.

“I just don’t feel very well but I think it’s the sun.” I saw

golden sunlight touching the tops of the trees now so I knew we didn’t
have very long.

He parked in front of Seamus’ door and we all three rushed

inside. I felt a little better the moment that we were inside, away from
the sun. If I looked even half as bad as Will and his brother, then for
once we looked just like what we are—the living dead. They looked
so pale that color wasn’t even a factor in their faces, lips ghost white.
Both had the haggard look of a bad hangover and when Will rubbed
his temples, I knew he must have a headache. One throbbed within
my own skull and if we didn’t get our rest soon, we’d all be in sorry
shape.

“Let’s go rest,” I said, “I love you both and thank you.”
Seamus, as wan and awful as he appeared, kissed me on the

cheek. “I love you, too, sister dear, for your own dear sake as well as
for my brother’s. Oiche mhaith.”

“Oiche mhaith,” I returned and with Will’s arm draped over

my shoulders, we went into the guest bedroom and collapsed, taking
time only to change out of our clothing.

Too worn out and with not enough time to make love, Will

cuddled me into his arms. We slept—or died—or whatever it is we
do that way and when I came around that night, I felt restored. Since
I roused first and Will still reposed, I got to appreciate his perfection.

With eyes closed, his face reminded me of an angel or something
from one of Michelangelo’s statues. His features were just that
perfect, his nose well-shaped and the right size to fit his face. His
solid neck attached to his torso just where it should and his broad
shoulders exuded beautiful brawn. I lowered my eyes to appreciate
his wide chest, his muscles defined without being grotesque and soft
with just enough fine hair to be interesting. His pale nipples rested on
that dark mat and his body sloped downward to a firm, flat belly and
then the cleft between his legs where his manhood reigned supreme. I
loved his cock, skilled and shaped well, but I also admired his sturdy,
strong legs that tapered down to two of the most beautiful feet I’d
ever seen on a man. Will’s feet are long and narrow, large but with a
graceful shape. His big hands are the same. Unable to resist touching
him, I trailed my fingers over his ribs and down his body.

Will opened his eyes, bluer than the October sky I’d glimpsed

at dawn, deeper than any lake or ocean could ever be. As he became
aware of my scrutiny and my touch, they lit up from within, like
windows on a dark night and he stroked the curve of my cheek.

“You look much improved, mo anam cara,” he whispered in a

voice smoother than the finest Irish whiskey, “Do you feel all right?”

“I do but there’s something I need to make me better,” I told

him.

He cocked an eyebrow at me, “What is it?”
“This,” I said and kissed him. From the moment that our lips

fused, energy erupted between us, powerful and potent. That force
filled the air between us with such living strength that I could almost
taste it on my tongue. I craved that might and wanted it to master me,
ached for Will to claim me with rough hands and no restraint. I
yearned for the same wildness that he exhibited driving far above the
speed limit over the curving roads, flirting with danger and thumbing
his nose at death. With the same zeal that I once had for drag racing
on Friday nights down the back roads of Cherokee County in Texas, I
coveted that old screw mortality feeling that made me higher than any
booze or drug. I needed Will to turn me every which way but loose,
pound me with his body so that I could forget the intrusion of that
blonde vampire into my consciousness. I wanted to erase that feeling
of violation, and then replace it with Will’s lasting love, unbreakable
and stronger than death or Mr. Blonde.

Will had other ideas. I fancied brutal lovemaking, strong

enough to wipe out anything else but he sought to give me tenderness.
He cherished me, his mouth as soft upon mine as a sigh, sweeter than
a spoon of homemade vanilla ice cream, and gentler than the brush of
a butterfly’s wing. That mellow caress tamed my wild fire into a
sweet simmer that flowed through my veins, heating me even as it
leached away the memory of that blonde. As my body gentled down,
harkening to Will’s hands, I let go of my anger and released my fear.

His placid passion sent it away, washed it from me like a

sensual baptism. Instead of physical combat he immersed me in love,
emotion so strong that it evoked delightful tremors throughout my
body. That kiss led to more kisses, each one as fragile as a feather as
he trailed down my throat, to my breasts, my bellybutton and beyond.
Each of my five senses, the ones I learned to name back in Miss
Gabriel’s kindergarten classroom, reeled with intoxication.

I saw Will bathed in such beauty because I loved him so. As

he caressed me, I let my tongue slide over his naked flesh. I tasted the
salt of his sweat, the flavor of his body and gloried in such intimacy.
My ears rejoiced to hear his whispered endearments, mostly in Irish,
the foreign phrases ringing like songs into my soul. His musk, a rich
aroma of manhood and pure Will, permeated my nose until all the
world smelled of him and his touch on my skin evoked ripples of
pleasure, spasms of delight wherever it fell.

His tender devotion distracted me from giving back and I let

him tempt me into such a selfish contentment that I lay beneath him,
beside him, as docile as a just born kitten. His roaming hands made
me shiver with his light caress and my anticipation for the cataclysmic
end grew until I didn’t think I could wait.

With a slow hand, the easiest touch he’d ever used to love me,

Will brought me to a fever pitch of desire. He fired my want until I
thought I would die if he didn’t meet that need, fill my emptiness with
his body. He maneuvered me onto my back and then he speared me,
pierced me to the very heart of my being with his hard penis. Will
plunged into me with the strength, the rough need that I so craved and
after such tenderness, it sent shock waves of pure physical joy
through me. I bucked beneath him, my body his to control, not mine,
and when I came in a rush of tears, laughter, and a scream of animal
delight, Will went with me.

Afterward, it took a few minutes to recover both breath and

speech. He spoke first as I curled against his chest, sated and
somnolent.

“’Doubt that the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move

his aides, doubt truth to be a liar but never doubt I love,’”

“I know you do, honey,” I responded, “and I love you, Will

Brennan more than the stars or sun or fire.”

“Gra go deo,”
My feeble Irish knowledge knew that meant love forever so I

answered him back, country music style, “’Forever and ever amen.’”

We lay, silent but with our hearts speaking volumes that we

didn’t need voice to say or ears to hear. When we heard Seamus out
in the living room, I knew we’d have to get up soon and so I made the
first movement. On Sundays, Brennan’s Irish Stage remained closed
so I pulled on a pair of well-worn blue jeans and a long-sleeved
blouse while Will dressed. Together, hand in hand, heart to heart, we
emerged to sit down in the living room where Seamus waited, glass of
whiskey in hand.

I knew we’d have to talk about what happened at IHOP and

that both men would want to know every gnarly detail I could
remember but I didn’t expect them to jump right into it. Since I still
floated on a happy cloud of post-coital joy, I had to shift my thinking
to keep up.

“So, Seamus, you live here so I suppose you know who most

of the local vampires are,” Will said, pouring himself a glass of
Jameson’s to match his brother’s.

“I do,” Seamus said, “So, Cara, tell me what he looked like,

your blonde vampire.”

“He’s tall,” I began, “and blonde. He looks rugged and rough,

like he’s been a soldier or something. And he dresses in light colors,
pearl and soft gray.”

“I don’t know anyone local that fits that description,” Seamus

said. “More vampires than you might think pass through. They come
and go just like the tourists. Most don’t linger long because as you’ve
noticed, Will, there’s not a lot to do when the bars close here. A place
with active night life isn’t fun for most vampires.”

“So you think he’s just a visitor?” I asked.
“Most likely he is,” Seamus said. “Tell us again what he did

that made you faint.”

I scooted closer to Will on the leather sofa, seeking the

security of his body, so close that I could smell the pleasant aroma of
the whiskey. “He looked at me and I felt like he knew I was there all
the time. I didn’t like it any more than I did at the theater. Then he
made a claw with his hand and stretched it in my direction. It felt like
he put it over my face and I couldn’t breathe.”

Remembering made me shudder and Will handed me his

glass. I downed the last finger of Jameson’s that remained without
blinking.

“And you heard him in your mind?” Seamus asked, prodding

for that last detail.

I swallowed around the fiery trail the whiskey left down my

throat. “Yeah, like a brain message and he said ‘when I want, you’ll
be mine’.”

Will reached for the glass, empty now and cradled it between

his hands.

“Was it as bad as with Sallie?”
That made me think and I shook my head. “No, it felt ugly

but not like she did.”

Their blue eyes met and held. I know that vampires have the

knack to communicate without words because Will and I do it often.
Sallie, in her hell bitch way, did too. But the way Seamus and Will
could exchange volumes without opening their mouths dated back to
their earlier bond as brothers too. I watched their expressions and
exhaled. They’d decided it was just random, nothing to worry about.

“Mo anam cara, I think it’s just someone tormenting you for

fun,” Will said. “It’s not that different from a drunk hounding you in
a bar. Remember when we were looking for Seamus and I told you
that some vampires go bad?”

I did and nodded. “Yeah.”
“This sounds like an old vampire, probably as old as I am or

more that’s gone rogue. He’s mean and likes to play with innocents.
The elder vampires can smell your newness and I think that’s what
happened.”

Seamus added his two bits. “I agree, Cara and I don’t think

you have anything to worry about.”

Relief made me want to giggle like a little girl at her first

slumber party. “Good. So are we going to go eat or what?”

Will rose, refilled his glass and drained it. “We can if you

want leannán and then I think we’ll go home.”

Seamus knocked back his own liquor. “You don’t have to go,

Will, just because of this. Stay and I won’t ask either one of you to
sing again. There’s just two weeks left before I shut down until
December. Won’t you stay a little longer?”

As much as I’d come to care about Seamus, if I’d been

wearing ruby slippers I would have clicked the heels together so I
could return home. I loved singing at Brennan’s Irish Stage but after
last night, I just wanted our own house. A wave of homesickness
washed over me, poignant and strong. Will watched me and I knew
he picked up on how I felt.

“Mo dearthair, I’d like to stay but I think it’s best if I take

Cara home for now,” Will said. “If this vampire is still here, he might
look for her again. If she’s gone, he’ll forget her. Come stay with us
when you close the theater, Seamus, and we’ll take you to Beale
Street.”

Seamus sighed, a very Irish sound that managed to combine

the wail of a Bean Sidhe with the sound of the rising wind before a
storm. “I’ll miss you both but aye, it’s probably for the best if you go.
And I’ll come, the day before Samhain Eve if you’ll promise we’ll go
gaming too.”

“We will,” Will said, “and you can stay as long as you like.”
“If you’re bent on leaving, then let’s go eat. I’ll take you to

the Outback again before you go.”

I enjoyed the food but a somber mood haunted our table.

After so long apart, both thinking the other to be dead and buried
centuries ago, Will and Seamus never liked saying good-bye. In the
parking lot, we headed to Will’s Caddy for the trip home to Memphis
but not before the two brothers hugged with such affection that it
always made me shed a few tears. Seamus grabbed me and embraced
me, too, and whispered in my ear,

“Take care of yourself, sweet Cara, and mind Will for me.”
“I will,” I promised.
Will claimed the last word, one of his quotations from the

Bard, directed to his brother,

“Good night, good night, parting is such sweet sorrow that I

shall say good night till it be morrow.” Will intoned, and then added,
in Irish, “Slán agat.”

“Slán leat” Seamus returned and then in English, probably for

my sake, “and the blessing of God and Mary on you both.”

A cold, heavy rain began to fall as we pulled out, the

headlights of the big old car cutting through the gloom as we headed
home to Memphis, to our castle, and our undead life.

Will never looked back, another Irish quirk or so he says, but

I thought about Seamus standing alone, watching the bullet taillights
vanish into the night.

I scooted across the seat so that my thigh touched Will’s,

picked through his CD’s until I found Tommy Makem, and we rode
those dark highways listening to the soothing sound of Irish music,
my crisis averted and over.

Or so I thought.
****
Is folamh fuar e teach gan bean. Leaving his brother behind

in his own place, even with a full life, still rankled. Will Brennan
missed Seamus and beyond that each farewell reminded him all too
much of those in the long ago days when the lad, five years younger,
chased after him and wanted to go along. He hated leaving him then
and he regretted it now even thought it was silly. Seamus had a
theater, friends, and a fine house. That should be enough but Will
discerned his brother was also lonely.

The old proverb his father often quoted, ‘tis a cold house

without a woman’ returned to haunt him. He recalled much too well
his own loneliness before Cara came into his life, the empty hours, the
vacant nights, the blank years, one so much like the other they could
not be told apart. They’d talked of it enough that he knew well
Seamus endured the same grinding isolation. He filled some of that,
he knew too, but his brother ached for a woman to share his hearth
and home.

What Seamus did not yet understand that love carried its own

risk, an edge like a knife that could cut into the heart and wound the
soul. When Cara slumped over, unconscious in that restaurant, he
thought he would die with fear. One moment, she sat with them,
laughing, talking, eating and the next she crumpled like a dead
woman into the floor. When she woke, whole, the hurt healed but it
left, like the injury Sallie inflicted on his throat, scars behind.

As he drove, putting miles between his brother and himself, he

tasted sadness even as he anticipated sleeping in his own bed, beneath

his roof. Cara nestled beside him, close and so dear to him that if he
could, he would never let her out of his sight or touch again. That
vampire that chose her to torment, to play an evil mind game, should
be far away and forget about her.

Halfway home he realized what made Seamus so melancholy.

Having a brother, family, again let him feel human. What they both
forgot when they were alone was that being human didn’t always
equal happiness. Although Will knew a contented joy now unlike
anything he had when he lived, he wanted it for his brother too.

More than that, though, he wanted his mo anam cara safe,

untouched by anything that meant her ill, living or dead.

Chapter Five

As a kid, Halloween ranked up there as one of my favorite

little holidays. The big ones were Christmas and the Fourth of July
but Halloween had its own place carved out at the end of October.
Dressing up in some costume that Mama made for me in grade school
delighted me. The one I remember most was that little French girl
from the storybooks, Madeline. I think I had a store bought costume
no more than once, preferring to be creative and make my own with a
little adult help. I loved going from house to house, the familiar
homes made all magic in the dark, and fooling them that I was a
stranger. We came home with pillow cases of candy and any tricks
we played were minor, fun not destructive.

Now that I counted among the living dead, Halloween wasn’t

so fun any longer. It’s not that the day is evil or anything—it’s not.
Will calls it Samhain Eve in ancient Irish tradition and his grasp of it
is better than most Americans. For the early Celtics, Samhain
represented the first day of a new year and on the eve of that, they
believed that the barrier between the spirit world and the physical one
stood open so that the dead could roam.

What I didn’t like about it is that with everybody, adults down

to tiny tots in strollers, are made up like some kind of ghost, ghoul,
goblin, or vampire, it’s hard to tell who really is paranormal and who
is not. Will says I’ll become better at telling real from the faux. He
can tell them apart but then he’s had a lot more experience with such
things. Halloween grew up into some kind of huge party while I went
from being a kid to an adult and it’s wild.

On cue, Seamus rolled into town and down our drive in the

last hours of October 30. We’d spent the weeks since we came back
from Branson keeping closer to home than usual. I couldn’t help it
but when we were out and I saw anyone tall with long blonde hair, I
freaked out for a few seconds. So far not anyone I saw had been the
blonde vampire but Will picked up on my anxiety and without ever
saying a thing, just made things easy for me by hanging around the
house. We went to Beale Street several times and searched out
donors when we needed them but I enjoyed the quiet home life with
my darling. Those autumn nights in our moon room or out on the
wide front porch if it wasn’t too cold were wonderful.

I imagined a Halloween night when we sat in our moon room,

drinking sweet red Moscato wine with Seamus or in the parlor before
the fire. I planned a traditional Irish Halloween meal with the potato
cakes the Irish call ‘boxty’, colcannon which is a cabbage, potato and
onion dish, barm brack or fruit filled bread and of course soul cakes.
Despite the name, soul cakes are really like sugar cookies with spice
and raisins but Will loved them. I looked forward to staying in, far
away from the crowds and the craziness. But then, as he’d promised,
Seamus came to visit two weeks after we got home from Branson. It
wasn’t his first trip but we always took him out to show him the sights
and sounds of Memphis so I filed away my plans for an Irish
Halloween until next year. Seamus’ presence changed everything. It
always did, no matter how many times he came to stay with us.That
first night, we headed down to Beale Street so we could treat Seamus
to a burger at Dyer’s Hamburgers and then crawl the famous street
listening to the blues. Like just about every other vampire I’d seen or
met so far, my brother-in-law loved Beale Street. Hell, even that
wicked and evil bitch Sallie Hawkins did. So within the hour he
arrived, after the reunion, we were on the way into Memphis.

More people were out than usual and we had to park a couple

of blocks away, and then walk. As we strolled toward Beale Street, a
lot of heads turned to stare. Will and I alone always manage to attract
some attention. Part of that is just because vampires have a charisma
that people sense and part of it is that Will is just so damn good
looking that women can’t help but look. Add another man who looks
enough like him to be his damn twin—and after centuries of being
undead their five year age difference doesn’t matter—and we draw
even more notice.

Will says if I paid more attention myself, I’d see that I get

more than my fair share of observation and that men stare after me
like hungry hounds outside a butcher shop window. I guess it could
be true—it’s just not something that I think about much. Maybe I’d
see it more if I didn’t have a mate at my side but when I’m with Will,
the world is big enough without searching the boundaries.

At Dyer’s, customers crowded almost every table but we

managed to find one and squeeze into it. The Triple Triples tasted as
good as always and we talked over the noise. Seamus updated us on
the Branson scene and I felt flattered when he shared that quite a few
customers asked when I might return.

“You should come in December, Cara,” he said as he

munched a hand cut fry. “I’ve got a headliner, the one I went to see
in Springfield when you were visiting. She sings quite well but her
thing is vintage 1950’s songs like Jingle Bell Rock and Rocking
Around The Christmas Tree. Audiences eat that up but you could do
some traditional Irish songs like

The Wexford Carol and Curoo, Curoo, the Carol of the Birds.

Or even Christmas In Killarney.

Or you’ve got the fine voice for the old songs like What Child

Is This, Sing We Now of Christmas, or God Rest Ye Merry
Gentlemen.”

His invitation tempted. “I don’t know, Seamus, maybe.”
I could see myself up on his stage wearing a red gown this

time, festive for the season but I’d have to think about it and see what
Will thought. I couldn’t tell now—he wore his bland public face, an
inscrutable one. I doubted he would mind if I wanted to do it and
whether we celebrated our Christmas at home, down in Rusk or in
Branson, I knew we’d spend it with Seamus.

“Think about it but don’t take too long to decide,” Seamus

said. “Will, if you’d sing with her, a duet would be grand.”

Will laughed. his mask slipping enough that I could see how

much he enjoyed being with his brother again. “Aye, it might. Let’s
get Halloween out of the way before we talk Christmas. Did you
want to go to BB King’s too or what?”

“Anywhere we can hear some blues,” Seamus said, “and get a

drink.”

“Then let’s go,” Will said, “Cara wants a Walk Me Down.”
I did so I smiled and we headed back outside where the night

shifted from being just cool to downright cold. I hadn’t worn a jacket
or sweater but now I shivered just a little so when we started down
Beale Street, Will wrapped an arm around me to keep me warm.
Contrary to popular belief, even though we are cold blooded
compared to your basic human, vamps can and do feel chilled.

“Thanks,” I mumbled. Although Will lacked the kind of body

heat humans radiate like a wood stove, his touch always warms me
with a sensual fire. Halfway there, I stiffened because I caught a
glimpse of someone tall and blonde ahead of us. What I could see of
the man’s stride had that marching gait that the vampire who toyed
with me in Branson displayed. I didn’t want to ruin the evening when

I couldn’t tell for sure so I tried to keep my eye on this one until I
could tell for sure but as we moved through the crowds, I lost sight of
him.

I felt much better after a couple of Walk Me Downs, that

potent favorite of mine that combined multiple kinds of booze into a
drink that could knock most people on their rear. We settled in at BB
King’s and I sat within Will’s embrace. I would have forgotten all
about the man on the street, the blonde, except I saw him again across
the crowded venue. He paused, looked right at me, and I trembled
because it was the vamp I’d dubbed Mr. Blonde for want of a better
name.

“Are you still cold, Cara?” Will asked, his voice gentle.
“No,” I said, ready to point out the vampire and then he

blended into the crowd to vanish out of sight. I felt the tension that
stiffened Will and I decided not to trouble my husband, to let him
enjoy his brother’s visit. Seeing Mr. Blonde again had to be a fluke, a
onetime thing that wouldn’t happen again so it couldn’t be the same
vampire. After all I ran across him in Branson and this was Memphis
so what were the odds? I figured I was just being a little paranoid so I
tried to let go of the idea. “I mean, yes, I’m cold.”

Will laughed, his real laugh, a wonderful musical sound that

rang with a cheerful, ringing sound. “Mo anam cara, I think you’ve
had too many Walk-Me-Downs. We’ll go home in just a minute
anyway. It has to be getting late.”

Seamus nodded. “It is, Will, and I’m getting tired myself.

Let’s go before we cut it too close like that morning in Branson.”

So we went home before the first fingers of dawn touched the

sky and settled Seamus into his favorite guest room, one with an
antique bed. Although it wasn’t as large as ours, it had one of those
tall headboards made of solid oak and he fancied it. Then we retired
to our room and in our own bed, Will reached out for me.

“Are you still cold, Cara?” he asked, his breath soft against my

face. I could smell the alcohol from the drinks and the smoke of his
many cigarillos. “Let me warm you up.”

I answered him with my lips, latching onto his mouth with the

finesse of clasping a delicate filigree chain yet with the strength of a
snapping turtle. I stroked his lips with mine, claiming my right and he
responded with power. He kissed me back until my head whirled and
I appreciated the heavy bed beneath and above me, a stable place in a

spinning world. Bold as the highwayman he’d once been, he ran his
hands over my body, awakening each nerve, notifying every cell of
his need. My want answered it and we came together, touching,
stroking, biting, and even licking with the force of the mighty
Mississippi River that flowed not so far away.

His body moved over me like a raging floodtide, sweeping

away my worries and leaving nothing but this sensual moment
between us. I felt my nipples harden even as my hand, stroking his
cock, which strengthened in my grasp until it had the solid feel of
stone. Within, my body prepared for him by easing the passageway
with wetness and as he fondled me from throat to my cleft, my body
refused to wait. I pushed upward until my body bumped against his
and strained with the overwhelming need for release. As our skins
touched, our bodies savored the feel of one to another, Will’s patience
eroded. He drove into me with such speed and total impact that I
crashed, my body dropping back against the mattress, helpless against
his invasion.

As the essence of his loving poured into me, I drowned in it,

delighted in the immersion and opened to him, all defenses down. At
that second of total connection, I cried out, my voice a wordless
shriek to express my overwhelming pleasure. Will silenced me with
his mouth, his tongue entering my mouth to move in the same rapid in
and out sequence as his penis. When I came, it happened with
shuddering and with such total awareness that nothing outside this
room that bed mattered. I clung to him so that I wouldn’t fall into
oblivion and he filled me even as he held me tight.

Love flared between us, the emotion as potent and strong as

the musk that filled the room around us from our physical pleasure.
We were one, body and soul, in those moments and together in a way
that I’d never been with anyone else and would not ever be. Such
intimacy must be rare, I thought, as I lay wrapped in his flesh, his
smell on my skin and I treasured it.

To the east, morning must be breaking. I could feel it now, a

sense of danger, a feeling that my consciousness must soon fade to
black and he knew it too. I fumbled to throw a cover over us both and
as I began to sink into that darkness, Will whispered,

“Are you warm now, mo anam cara?”

“Oh, yeah,” I whispered back, my lips making tiny baby kisses

against the base of his throat. I knew he liked it and his smile lit,
tender, as we went to sleep together.

When I roused, come nightfall, the bed stretched large and

empty around me. Will hadn’t been gone long and I could guess that
wherever he was, he would be with Seamus. I knew he wouldn’t
leave without me so I took my time. I enjoyed a long, leisurely bath
complete with scented oil that left me feeling almost boneless. Since
this was Halloween, I figured we’d be staying home the way I’d
planned. But when I drifted downstairs, wearing nothing but a
brocade dressing gown Will bought me last winter, barefooted, I
found the brothers dressed to go out. Their dark heads leaned together
as they sat talking in the flickering light of the fire I’d asked Malachi,
Will’s faithful human servant, to light in the parlor but when I
entered, without a sound, Will glanced up with a smile.

“There you are, Cara.” He stretched out his hand to me and I

crossed to him, my hand straying across his broad shoulders when I
leaned down for a kiss. He tasted of wine, not the Moscato that we
both preferred but another vintage, tarter and less sweet. “I was about
to come up to find you.”

“I took a bath,” I said, figuring he could guess that from what I

wore and the scent of lavender that wafted around me in a cloud.
“Are you hungry?”

“Aye, we’re starving,” Will commented as he ran one hand

beneath the brocade to touch my flesh. The chill of his fingers raised
goose bumps on skin still heated from my bath. “I thought you’d
come downstairs, dressed, mo chroi.”

“I thought we might stay in tonight because it’s Halloween,” I

said. If he continued to caress me like that, we would be back up the
stairs and into bed. “I had Malachi get the stuff I’d need to make the
barm brack, colcannon, soul cakes and the rest just in case you’d want
the traditional dinner.”

Will grinned at me, his lips curved upward with mischief. He

knew very well what I’d planned. “That sounds good but we’ll have
that tomorrow night, if you don’t mind. I told Seamus we’d go down
to Tunica if he’d like. I’m feeling lucky.”

“Are you?” If he was, then we’d go whether I liked it or not.

He sometimes got hunches, a little taste of the fey that his mother had
or so he said. When Will thought fortune would smile on him, it

usually did. As much money as he made from truck driving, which he
did when he wanted, he could make far more in a single good night at
the casinos.

“I am. I thought we’d start at Bally’s, eat at The Barn, and

then go over to Fitz’s.”

I glanced up at Seamus who nodded. “It’s fine with me, Cara,

but if you’d rather stay home, I don’t mind that either. I thought I’d
teach you how to carve a real jack-o-lantern out of a turnip if you
have any.”

I laughed. “I’d love that and I do have a few turnips in the

kitchen but Will wants to go gaming so we’ll go. You can carve me
up a turnip tomorrow.”

Will withdrew his hand and looked at me, serious now.
“Cara, if you don’t want to go, it’s fine.”
Now that he’d invoked the glittering casinos of the Mississippi

Delta, I wanted to go too. I could just about taste my favorite steak
and grilled shrimp at The Barn. I loved, though, if I said ‘no’, we’d
stay home to suit me.

“You convinced me. Let me go change clothes. Do you want

me fancy or normal?”

If I chose, it’d be blue jeans and a sweater but sometimes my

beloved liked me in elegant evening clothing. If he did, I’d doll up to
the max, even cram my big old Texas toes into heels.

Will cocked his head and looked me over like I was a Barbie

Doll to dress.

“Wear one of the short black dresses,” he said, after a few

moments. “Wear your hair up, though.”

Glad he hadn’t wanted me to wear the de la Renta again, I

smiled. “Why?”

“I have a fancy to take it down again,” Will said with that

wicked glimmer in his eyes that I loved so much. “Will you?”

I nodded. “Give me a half hour and I’ll be ready to go.”
Thirty minutes later, dressed in a short black (of course) jersey

sheath dress that draped in a way I thought looked Greek, feet in the
tallest high heels I owned, and my hair brushed up into a confection
of curls on top of my head, I came down the stairs with slow steps.
They both waited for me in the entry hall, Will and his brother, but
Seamus flattered me with a wolf whistle.

“You look lovely,” my brother-in-law said as I came off that

last stair.

“She does,” Will said as if I wasn’t even present. His eyes,

though, told me how I looked, beautiful in his sight. He took my hand
and kissed it, his lips ticklish against my skin. “Will you be warm
enough, mo anam cara?”

“I’ll have to be,” I said, “I don’t think my blue jean jacket

goes with this.”

Although I have a closet filled with fine clothing and a dresser

well stocked with blue jeans, another with simple T-shirts, I lacked
formal outerwear. I had a couple of coats, several sweaters, a hooded
sweatshirt, and a long denim duster but I just didn’t own the kind of
garment that would look right with such haute couture. Until I met
Will and he started showering his bride—me—with the kind of
expensive clothes most Texas girls just dream about unless they
marry oil money or become a professional, I wore basic everyday
clothing. My handful of fancier evening dresses came from the sales
rack at Dillard’s or Sears and Roebuck, nice but not really expensive
stores.

“It’s very cold out tonight,” Seamus said, “There’s a wind that

cuts to the bone.”

I would have thought he teased me but I could hear it,

moaning beneath the eaves of the porch and blowing the dry leaves
onto the porch with a crisp whisper.

“You’d better wear something to stay warm,” Will told me.

His expression combined sweet innocence with guilt and so,
forewarned, I wasn’t too surprised when he pulled a long, white box
out from beneath the hall table. “See if this might work, Cara.”

I opened it, figuring it was some kind of evening wrap, maybe

a shawl but when I realized what lay inside, I drew a hard breath,
surprised, pleased, and even awed.

A luxuriant black fox stole filled the box, soft and beautiful. It

looked like a spill of midnight shadows contained. I touched it,
marveling at the feel of it and then I looked up at Will, blinking back
happy tears. His grin told me he liked my reaction very much.

“Do you like it then, mo anam cara?”
Tenderness surged through me, combing with a rush of love

for my Will that threatened to drown me. If I let it, it would
overwhelm me so much that I would be an emotional mess for the rest

of the night so as I often do I hid my emotions behind my smart
mouth.

“Is the Alamo in Texas?” I countered. “You know I love it.

Will, it must have cost a fortune, as much as the de la Renta dress or
more.”

“Oh, it was more,” he said, with a cocky smile, “but you’re

well worth it, woman. I have ‘a heart to love and in that heart,
courage to make love known’. I just want you to know how very
much I love you.”

“I know that,” I said, choking on the tears I hadn’t avoided

after all. “You don’t have to be a sugar daddy to convince me.”

He laughed, Seamus too but in those moments, all my

attention focused on Will and Will alone. “The lady doth protest too
much, methinks.”

I sang him back a line from an old song, Silver Threads And

Golden Needles that Linda Ronstadt and a lot of others did, “All I
want’s the love you promised beneath the haloed moon.”

He kissed me, then, his mouth sweet-tasting from the wine

he’d drunk and whispered in my ear, “You have that, always, mo
anam cara, that and more with all my heart.”

A line from Gone With The Wind, my favorite book growing

up popped into my head so I said it, wondering if he would know the
reference, “You’ve always had my heart, you know, you cut your teeth
on it.”

Will laughed, a merry sound and kissed me again. “All right,

then Scarlett O’Hara, let’s go before my brother starves to death and
all the Halloween ghosts show up on my doorstep.”

“You knew it!” I exclaimed. “So you’ve read the book?”
“Aye and seen the movie,” he said as he placed my new fox

fur around my shoulders. “I may not see many movies, Cara, but the
ones I see are always among the best.”

“So are you,” I murmured but I didn’t think he heard me.
Later, after all that happened, I realized that he did.

Chapter Six

Traffic snarled as soon as we rolled into Memphis proper with

crowds out in full force for the holiday. As we waited at numerous
lights I tried to count how many kids in costume I saw in vehicles
around us but I couldn’t keep up because there were just too many.
That brought back memories of my childhood Halloweens back in
Rusk, far simpler and quieter than this.

I liked trick or treating at the neighboring houses up and down

our street. I even enjoyed the “harvest parties” that they held at the
Baptist church where they bobbed for apples and costumes couldn’t
be anything scary which meant no monsters and no vampires. By the
time I was a teenager, though I didn’t go out begging for candy or to
tame parties. When I was sixteen, some of my friends and I snuck
into Cedar Hill Cemetery to walk through after dark in answer to a
dare, to prove that we weren’t afraid of ghosts.

We didn’t see anything strange as we walked through the

rows of graves, old and new but I remember that the night felt
somehow charged with power to me. That was my first inkling that
Halloween, although not the devil’s birthday some church tracts
claimed, had more substance than just fun. I realized that night that
this celebration had deep roots into ancient times and as we wandered
in the dark, a cool breeze blowing my hair back from my face, I
decided that maybe the dead or undead did walk among us that night.

Although I always believed in some measure of supernatural

creatures, it wasn’t until I became one I learned most are real. Will
taught me about shifters—humans possessing the ability to transform
into animals or other creatures. He’d told me about other things too,
bean sidhes, werewolves, creatures I’d never heard about. Some call
them monsters but I prefer to just think of them as things of the night.

Now I was one of the latter but as we walked out of our home,

I felt that same sort of prickling magic in the wind. An ethereal
feeling floated through the air with presence and a sense of power. I
sensed it and with some latent pagan gene hidden deep I almost feared
it. I thought of that Shakespeare verse that Will quoted when he first
realized that Sallie Hawkins trailed after him, the evil English woman
that made both him and Seamus into vampires, by the pricking of my
thumbs, something wicked this way comes. I trembled, both
remembering and from the strange foreboding I felt.

I pulled my new fox wrap tighter around me, glad of the

warmth and even happier that Will’s love surrounded me with such
strength. I slid just a little closer to Will and he patted my leg.

At Bally’s, the casino that resembled some turn of the century

farmhouse, we parked and entered. Most of the time, I appreciate the
faux cuteness but that night, instead of reminding me of home sweet
home, I found myself thinking about spook houses. I never did like
them, those Halloween attractions heavy on gore and guaranteed to
scare the britches off anyone. I couldn’t say why Bally’s made me
think of that except it was Halloween after all. Well, that it did have a
Gothic look that could be unsettling.

In The Barn, Will and his brother ordered the famous T-bones

that are just shy of being a full two pounds each and I asked for Surf
and Turf, a sirloin steak paired with grilled shrimp that are delicious.
As we waited for our food, we shared an appetizer and talked. At a
back corner table, I relaxed, comfortable with the company. I liked
the pseudo country look too, a mixture of hanging green plants, rustic
wood, and even a wagon wheel. I draped my fox over the back of my
chair so that I wouldn’t drip part of my dinner on it.

Will grasped my hand across the table and held it, listening to

Seamus talk Branson theater gossip. Unlike Will, who even now
lived within a small circle and remained outside the loop, Seamus
knew everyone. He didn’t just live in Branson - he was part of it all
in a way that Will never would be even if he moved there and stayed
twenty years. Until I came into Will’s life, Malachi ranked as the one
person he had any familiarity with. Out on the road, he might talk
and joke with other truckers. Down on Beale Street, he might
exchange a few words here or there. But he’d been a loner,
wandering on the edge of society. Some of that self-imposed
isolation stemmed from his feelings that as a vampire he had become
evil and unworthy, more from a fear of detection.

With me, from that first night, Will let down his barriers but

until then, he spent lonely centuries apart from anyone he could call
family. After we were together and married, he let my family inside
his circle too. Even now, he kept his near and dear close, everyone
else at arm’s length. I could understand that; it provided him with
safety for many years. Now that Seamus and he found one another,
he had that relationship too and I could tell, with joy, how that gave
him positive energy.

Seamus probably had been just as alone when he went home

and there he kept apart but out in his world, he hobnobbed with a lot
of people, a social butterfly. Right now, I listened as he waxed fine
and long how his humble theater compared with some of the big ones.

“I like my place,” he told Will, “it’s small and off the Strip

which can be both good and bad. I get enough crowds though to
make some money but the big entertainers hardly recognize that
Brennan’s Irish Stage even exists.”

“Does that matter to you?”
Seamus shook his head. “No, it really doesn’t. I like what I

have and it’ll be easy enough to turn over someday when I decide it’s
time to go. You should see some of the other theaters, though.
They’re like palaces.”

Will snorted but he smiled too. “I saw the one where we found

you. ‘Twas fancy enough.”

“Some are grander than that. Shoji Tobuchi’s theater has

restrooms fit for a sultan, Will, with imported marble, gold fixtures,
chandeliers and more.”

“Who’s he when he’s at home?” Will asked, unimpressed.
I jumped into the conversation. “He’s a Japanese violinist and

he’s damn good.”

“So he’s a fiddler, then?”
“Aye,” Seamus said, dropping into his brother’s habit. “But

he would never play at a ceildh back home. He has fresh orchids
every day in the ladies’ room, Will, and uses real violets to scent the
place pretty. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. And the men’s
room is just as fine.”

“I imagine that the smells are the same, no matter how fancy

the surroundings,” Will commented in a dry voice that made me laugh
aloud. He was right, a rose by any other name smells as sweet and an
outhouse, no matter how fancy, is just an outhouse. “What other
wonders do they have in Branson town?”

Seamus missed the slight sarcasm in his brother’s voice. “Oh,

there’s plenty to see and do. If I had my days, I’d see more of it.
There’s a place called Shepherd of the Hills where long ago someone
came from the city and liked it so much he wrote a book about what
happened. They have a play and a farm with log cabins. I haven’t
been to any of it but last year at Christmas time, I went up in their

tower and it was amazing. There are two levels and you can see for
miles. You two should come in December and see it.”

“We might,” Will said, “And here’s our food.”
My steak tasted tender, melted across my tongue the way good

beef should and the grilled shrimp were delicious. I enjoyed the fried
okra, one of my two side dishes as much as anything but I couldn’t
get Will to eat it. Like true Irishman, both he and his brother chose
potatoes for both sides. When we finished dinner, I felt almost too
full to move but Will wrapped me in my new fox fur and we headed
out in the casino.

I’d almost forgotten that it was Halloween in the comfortable

restaurant but out there, I couldn’t forget. Half the gamblers wore
costumes or were done up in elaborate make-up. We moved through
the crowds as they parted as if Will carried Moses’ staff in hand and I
noticed clowns, old fashioned gangsters in pin striped suits and
fedoras, Roaring Twenties flappers, cowboys, law enforcement
officers, witches, and more. Maybe it’s just because I am one but the
would-be vampires just looked cheesy as hell and awful. Midway
across the gambling floor, Will and Seamus flanked me, drawing
nearer as if to ward off evil. I frowned at that, wary without warning
of some unknown, unseen threat.

“Stay close, Cara,” Will said as he linked his arm through

mine. With a toss of his head, he indicated Seamus should move in
close on the other side.

“What’s wrong?”
“There are a lot of shifters here tonight,” he said, sounding

grim. “I don’t begrudge them the chance to come out among the
public on the one night that they can pass but this many could mean
trouble. There’s too many for it to be just chance. If anything
happens, if just one of them should shift without warning, it’ll be
chaos or a fight. Either one will be bad.”

I tried to see if I could tell the difference between a shifter,

any stray vampires, and humans. I identified a few vamps, two of
which gave me a slight wave of acknowledgement to show they made
me for what I was too. I couldn’t pick a single shapeshifter out of the
people, though, so I asked Will, “How can you tell?”

Seamus, now holding my other arm so that the three of us

appeared to be on the verge of dancing down the Yellow Brick Road
in Oz at any moment, answered me, “I can smell them.”

“Aye, I do too.” Will said. “Don’t you get the reek of them in

your nose, mo chroi?”

At first I didn’t and then it hit me. A stench that reminded me

of going to the zoo filled my nose with animal musk. The rank odor
made me want to sick up the dinner I’d just eaten but I managed to
keep it down. That smell mingled with the other smells usual to the
casino, the after shave and perfumes, the scent of soap, tobacco, beer
and alcohol, food from the various dining establishments. Once I
caught it, I had a hard time understanding why I didn’t smell it in the
first place.

“You’re too new at this life,” Will said, answering my

question before I even asked it. He had a knack for that. Sometimes
it could be annoying as fire ants biting your toes but just now, I liked
it. “I doubt you ever smelled it before, not when you knew what it
was.”

That made sense but I had another question. “What are they?

Are they wolves or bears or dogs or what?”

My overall knowledge of shape shifting creatures was limited

and it showed.

Will chuckled but without much mirth, “There are all kinds

here tonight, all of those and more. I smell cats, house and wild,
swine, snake shifters, some birds, and I think even a lion or leopard or
two. I told you they are many and I don’t know why.”

I didn’t know what to say as I tried to imagine some of the

people I saw gambling, play the slot machines or at the table as
snakes or pigs or cats or crows. I stretched my imagination to do it
and I really didn’t like the images that I conjured up. My ability to
read Will’s mind grew almost daily and I knew that although he
didn’t know the answer, he had some ideas. “Why do you think
they’re here?”

He sighed, “It may just be an outing for Halloween time or it

could be some kind of fight brewing. I’m no expert on shifters,
leannán but I’ve heard that some kinds hate the others and vice versa.
If they have rivalries like humans, they could start a fight and I’d
rather not be here if one breaks out. We can handle ourselves but it
could get nasty.”

“I agree, Will,” Seamus added from the other side of me. “We

had our meal so let’s go over to Fitz’s.”

That worked for me, too, so we pressed onward. Just as we

almost reached the exit, a man leaned forward so that he blocked our
way. I saw the spots that were covering his face and the whiskers, cat
not man style, which extended from near his mouth. He growled, low
and fierce in his throat at us and although it startled me, I reacted. For
the first time in a public place since I became a creature of the night, a
vampire, I bared my fangs at him and snarled. At the sound, I felt
both brothers stiffen, muscles taut. Seamus opened his own mouth
wide and hissed, an evil eerie sound and Will, fangs showing, stared
at the shifting leopard with menace.

“Get out of the way,” he said in a cold, dead voice that

wouldn’t accept any opposition.

“And if I don’t, vampire?” the creature asked. I noticed that

his hands were becoming claws and that his fingernails no longer
resembled human ones.

“Then I’ll break your back and drink your blood,” Will said,

“Do you want to try?”

With a faint whine that reminded me of a lost kitty out in the

night, it turned away and we went outside into the cold, crisp night
air. I released the breath I’d been holding and Will stopped in his
long stride.

“Are you all right?”
I nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine, just a little shook up. I’ve never

experienced anything like that.”

“Do you want to go on to Fitz’s?” Will asked. I knew if I said

no, he would take me straight home but I’m tougher than that. If I can
kill a 500 year old bitch vampire that threatened my Will, I could
finish up a night of gaming.

“Sure, honey. Let’s go.”
In the car, as I scooted closer to him, he fired up a cigarillo

and turned his head to scrutinize me. Those deep blue eyes touched
my soul every time he looked at me and I guess I satisfied him that I
meant it. We left Bally’s and headed for Fitzgerald’s. That mock
Irish castle and all appeared less foreboding than the gothic
farmhouse but crowds filled all the gaming rooms too. As we walked
through, I touched Will’s arm, a silent question and he turned to me.

“There’s a few, here and there, but nothing like Bally’s.

Seamus, what do you want to play?”

“Twenty-one,” his brother said, his face lighting up like the

Fourth of July night sky. “Are you game for it too?”

“I am. Cara, darlin’, will you join us?”
“Sure.” For now, my inner creepy crawlies were gone but I

didn’t want to stray far from Will’s strong arms and his brother’s
fierce air of protection.

I didn’t play, just watched because I’ve never been very

lucky at gambling. Will always gives me plenty of money to play but
I seldom win. So I stood at the side of the table, between them.
Will’s face grew sober with intent; he could play hard but he almost
always won. After thirty minutes or so, I needed to make a pit stop so
I touched his sleeve and whispered in his ear. He nodded.

“Mind yourself, mo anam cara.”
“I will, honey and I won’t be gone long.”
His eyes never left the table or the dealer but he said, “If you

are, I’ll come find you.

Bi' curamach, leannán.”
That Irish phrase came close enough to English that I

understand and I nodded, with a smile. “I promise I’ll be careful,
Will.”

He paused long enough to kiss me and returned to the game as

I walked away. I worked my way toward the restrooms, moving
through the crowds. Although they yielded for me, it just wasn’t the
same way that people stepped aside to let Will pass. I must still be
too new, I thought, and lack just enough power but I guessed it might
happen in time.

Although a festive feeling filled the casino and overall the

crowds who pressed in three deep around the slots appeared to be
happy, I felt a frisson shiver down my spine as soon as I couldn’t see
Will any more. That creeping unease that trailed me earlier came
back full force, following like a bird dog on point. I picked up my
pace, hurried to the restroom to comb my hair and other girl things.
On the way back, I walked past a seasonal display where one of the
biggest jack-o-lanterns I’d ever seen glared at me with a scary face,
narrow eyes, and a cruel mouth filled with fangs unlike any I’d ever
seen. A candle burned within but as I passed, it flickered and then
went out. I smelled the lingering scent of fire, of half-cooked
pumpkin but I shivered. If I remembered right, Granny told me that if

a candle flame faded out on Halloween, it meant a spirit, usually a
negative one, hovered near.

Anxiety made me so tense that I felt like I couldn’t breathe so

I bolted for an exit. Outside, the cool October air surrounded me and
I inhaled several deep breaths. I looked upward to a full bellied
harvest moon, almost as orange as the pumpkin inside and thousands
of stars sparkling in the clear sky. I admired the night beauty but a
cloud came from nowhere to drift over the face of the moon, leaving
me in shadow as it passed. I shivered, pulling my fox fur tighter
against me, as an irrational fear popped up inside.

From the parking lot I heard voices as gamblers came and

went, distant and not quite distinct. Someone laughed and what
should have echoed as a merry sound of mirth sounded instead
fiendish, more of a cackle than a chuckle. A dark dread filled me and
so, scared out of my wits, I hurried back toward the entrance, toward
light, safety, and to Will.

Just as I almost gained the door, a woman exited in a black cat

costume, velvet ears attached to her curly hair, fake whiskers pasted
around her bright red mouth, and her body encased in a dark costume
complete with tail. I paused and she scampered across my path.

“Meow!” she chirped, laughing but I stood still, terror rising

faster than fresh kneaded yeast rolls. I learned that a black cat
crossing your path meant bad luck before I ever went to school.
Although she wasn’t real, she wasn’t a cat or even a shape shifter, I
thought this boded ill.

Terror swirled in me like a forming tornado and I panicked. I

ran into Fitz’s and when my high heels hindered me, I kicked them
off so that they flew in two directions. One hit a man intent on
playing a Red Hot Ruby slot machine and he shouted something after
me, but I couldn’t hear him over the din or the beat of my heart. I ran
for Will the way that a little kid scared of the dark runs to his parents’
bed and this time, people stepped out of the way. I wasn’t sure if it
was because I tapped into some inner power or just because I
approached like a bulldozer on a work site but they moved.

When I got close enough that I could see Will, spy his dark

head taller than most of the rest, I slowed my pace to catch my breath.
I tried to control my wild anxiety but it wouldn’t heed me, instead it
struggled the way a dog will fight against the leash. In my mind, I
screamed his name and he received it. I saw him stiffen and turn in

my direction, his eyes narrowed with concern. He said something to
his brother who paused to look my way too. Seamus’ expression
altered from curiosity to dread.

I sprinted and as the carpet space closed between us, a tall

white shape stepped into my path. I collided with it and realized it
was a person. He grasped my scarred left wrist so tight it hurt and I
looked up, hot words bubbling into my mouth until I saw his face.
That vampire who almost smothered me in Branson, the one I’d
called ‘Mr. Blonde’ looked down at me from his full height, his
mouth a tight line and his eyes harder than concrete. His harsh gaze
bored into my mind with the force of an electric drill and I cringed as
pain began to spread through my head. I called out Will’s name and
the vampire put his free hand over my mouth. When he removed it a
second later, I didn’t have the sass left to try again.

He bent over my hand, still caught fast in his grasp, and with a

smile that never touched his eyes, he kissed it. His lips seared my
skin and burned as if he held a match there. Fiery pain shot from his
touch into my hand, up my arm, and through my body. I whimpered
aloud because it hurt like hell.

“Enchante, ma Cherie,” he intoned.
If I remembered my high school French, he flattered, not

threatened but the sound of his voice reverberated through me like
nails scratching a chalk board. It invaded and insulted my senses, the
opposite of the way that Will’s voice poured over me like honey on
the night that we met. As attracted as I had been to Will, this creature
scared me even more. He stared at me as if he could hypnotize me,
sway me with his eyes but a familiar voice cut through the tension
like a well-honed Bowie knife.

“Hands off her, you bastard,” Will snarled with serious

menace in his voice. He loomed behind me and I stepped back,
coveting the safety of his arms. Will reached forward and removed
my wrist from his grasp. Freed, I turned into his embrace and
cowered, face hidden in his shoulder. He protected me with one arm
across my back. “Go gcreime cúnna ifrinn do bhall fearga.”

“I meant no harm,” that cultured, well-modulated voice said

with the echo of a French accent. “But know that when I want her—
and I will—she’ll be mine. Au’revoir, mes amis.”

I felt a shudder pass through Will and then his voice, tender in

my ear, “Mo anam cara, did he hurt you?”

I lifted my head from the security of his shoulder. “It hurt like

hell when he kissed my hand and it still does. It burns like fire.”

When I glanced down at my hand, the red skin radiated heat

like a bad case of sunburn and where his lips touched, my flesh
puffed, swollen and sore. Except for the lack of fang marks, it
reminded me a lot of the one snakebite I’d seen up close and personal.
That field trip out to the piney woods ended with speed when Cole
Yates stuck his hand into a hollow log and pulled it out with a
rattlesnake attached.

“I’ll kill him,” Will said, voice as cold as a January snow.
“Na dean sin,” Seamus said as he joined us, his voice thicker

than usual with horror. “You can’t, Will. Don’t you know who that
is?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Will said, his fury controlled with
effort.

“Mo dearthair, you must,” Seamus cried, “That was Henri,

Henri Villiers de Aix en Provence. Jesus, man, he’s been a vampire
since the time of the Crusades and he’s powerful. Don’t tell me
you’ve never heard of him?”

“I’ve not.” His voice chopped off the words like an ax cutting

kindling.

“Henri is evil,” Seamus told his brother. “He’s bad news. In

vampire circles, he’s infamous because he’s so wicked. He’s a
warrior, too, has been in almost every war since the 12

th

century. He

desires women and once he has them under his power, he uses them
as long as they amuse him.”

“What does he do after that?” I asked, afraid of the answer but

needing to know just the same.

“He kills them,” Seamus said, his tone as hushed as church

during communion. “It’s a sport to him, seduction and then death. It
takes a cruel heart to do such but he owns the cruelest I’ve known.”

Will said something that I couldn’t quite get. Something felt

very wrong as the world slanted and tilted around me like a carnival
funhouse, the kind with those uneven floors and funny mirrors. His
voice filtered down to me through layers, muffled and distorted. I just
couldn’t understand his words but I watched his lips and read them. I
tried to answer as he asked over and over if I felt all right and
summoned up just enough strength to whisper,

“Will, I don’t feel good at all.”

He heard me and he never hesitated at all. Through a haze, I

felt him pick me up into his arms and carry me out like a child. I
thought I sensed the night wind brush my face with a coolness I
craved.

By then, my body burned with whatever fire Henri triggered

with that kiss. Heat flamed through me in an inferno of pain. My
skin burned and it seemed so fragile, so sensitive to the terrible fire
that consumed me. Blisters erupted on my skin, painful, and then
some burst. Everything hurt inside, my head throbbed with the mother
of all headaches, pain radiated outward from my stomach like the
spokes of a wheel into my limbs. Beneath that scorching agony, a
weird numbness slithered over me, following the heat with a paralysis
that stilled my voice. I couldn’t move and as shadows, dark and
horrible, crept across my consciousness the way that the clouds
covered the face of the moon earlier, I couldn’t think any more.

The very last thing that registered, that remained after

everything else faded to black was the sound of Will’s voice calling
my name, using the endearments he kept for me, and then nothing.

****
He’d felt it, that strange witch sense his mother dubbed fey,

that some called second sight all evening but he shut it out. He
ignored it so that they could game and play. Now as he cradled Cara
in his arms, hot as a burning she-devil straight from the pits of hell
itself, he wished he heeded his own foreboding. They should have
gone straight home from Bally’s, he thought, with desperate
hindsight, and then this would not have happened.

Will blamed himself for it. Cara wanted to stay home for

Samhain Eve, he recalled, and have an old-fashioned feast like they
had back home, a long time ago. He liked the idea especially since
he’d felt lucky. So when Seamus, his beloved younger brother,
wanted to go gaming he indulged him and now his wife suffered.

Whatever ailed her looked serious indeed, dangerous if not life

threatening. She twitched in his arms as if demons poked her with hot
sticks or sliced her with evil knives. Each moan cut his heart like
broken glass and he hurried, unable to help her until he reached home.

If Malachi could call that doctor, Lafe Bishop, that helped him

heal after Sallie Hawkins did her best to kill him, then Cara might
have a chance. If he didn’t hurry, though, he feared for her.

Her pale skin turned red and he saw the ugly blisters that rose

as if she’d been scalded. He talked to her but she did not respond and
he feared that she could not hear him, that her inner self retreated far
into a place where he could not reach her.

“Seamus, dearthair, will you drive?” he asked when they

reached his Cadillac. He could not, would never be able to
concentrate on the task and he wanted to hold her in his arms.

“Aye, Will, I’ll do whatever I can to help. How is she?”
He glanced down at his beloved, his soul mate and he felt tears

so thick in his throat that he forced the words through them with
effort. “She’s not good at all, Seamus. Hurry, for the love of Jesus
and all the saints, man, hurry.”

A professional racer could not have driven back to Memphis

and on to home any faster than Seamus or with any less skill.
Impressed despite his worry, Will feared it wouldn’t be quick enough.

“I love you,” he whispered to her, sitting in the back seat with

Cara in his arms. He said in Irish and in English, over and over again,
like a prayer. He hoped the sense of it reached it and that she would
hang onto his love, like an anchor in a wild, wind tossed sea so that
she could live.

Chapter Seven

On the hottest days of the summer, we used to sneak out of

Rusk and head for Toledo Bend Lake down near Many, Louisiana.
We’d go swimming there in some of the deepest holes and one of my
favorite things to do was to go down as far as I could and hold my
breath. I would hunker down there as long as I could to scare the snot
out of my friends or cousins or whoever went along for the ride.
When I needed to breathe, I would shoot up out of the dark water into
the bright sunlight with a whoop and a holler. The brilliant daylight
always blinded me for a few seconds and I had to get my bearings.
Then I’d laugh like a crazy girl until one day I really had them all
worried and when I saw that my favorite cousin, Mary, bawled worse
than a baby calf, I realized it wasn’t that funny. So I quit doing that
trick.

I surfaced out of murky darkness that same way and realized

that someone had tucked me into our huge antique bed. My eyes
stared upward at the wooden canopy that covered it and I blinked,
trying to remember just why I was in bed and how long I could have
been there. I felt so tired that I just wanted to go back to sleep or rest
some more. Lethargy and weakness made it hard to move until I
shifted my gaze and realized that Will knelt beside the bed, his head
pillowed on his arms. I couldn’t see any more than his black curls.
With effort, I focused on him and realized that he muttered in Irish,
his voice too muffled for me to even attempt to translate. He sounded
upset, almost like he wept, and I stretched my fingers over, which was
hard, to stroke his hair.

“Honey, what’s the matter?” I whispered my voice fainter than

the print on a sun faded newspaper.

Will reared up, eyes wild and so red that I thought he had a

bad case of pinkeye.

“Cara?” he said in a voice that croaked worse than the tree

frogs back home. “Buíochas le Dia. Conas ata tu?”

“I don’t know,” I said, honest and confused. At that moment,

I didn’t really feel terrible or anything, just weak and tired. “I think
I’m all right.”

“Jesus, Mary, and her husband Joseph,” he said, more in

prayer than exclamation. “You look a wee bit better, mo chroi but

you’ve been so sick, I thought I’d lose my mind. Do you remember
what happened at all?”

First, I had no clue and then a few dim memories came back to

me. “I think I remember Halloween, at Bally’s, then at Fitz’s.”

“Aye,” Will answered me. “That’s right. Do you recall Henri,

that blonde vampire, that bastard, the one you saw first in Branson?”

I shuddered, cold as if I sat outside naked in the middle of a

blizzard. The sound of his voice echoed in my ears and I remembered
how he kissed my hand until it burned. “Yeah, I do.”

“He hurt you for sport.” Will’s tone sharpened like a knife

blade against a whetstone. “We’ve been with you day and night since,
mo anam cara, either me or Seamus or Malachi. Dr. Bishop has been
here three times and he’ll be back tonight.”

I thought until then that it must be the day after Halloween but

from what he said, somehow I didn’t think so. “What’s today?”

Will stroked back my hair from my face, his hands very

gentle. “Ah, leannán, it’s the third of November. This is the third
night after the one we brought you home, burning like a coal from the
very pits of hell. Your skin turned bright red and blistered. You felt
so hot that I was afraid you’d burn up and die. I’ve been so worried
that I’ve driven poor Seamus to drink and he’s been so afraid for you
too that I thought he might well become a drunkard. Even after you
cooled down and your skin faded back to normal, you didn’t rouse.
Even the doctor wasn’t sure when or if you would, or if you’d be
damaged.”

“How?” He made me sound like a wrecked car or a broken

vase.

Will pulled himself up from where he knelt beside the bed and

sat on the edge of the mattress with such easy motions that I knew he
didn’t want to disturb me. He took my left hand in his, kissed it with
tenderness. “He feared that so much heat could have damaged your
brain.”

I shuddered, recalling an awful family story handed down

about a child left without hearing after a bad fever, a cousin of
Mama’s. “I guess it could have but it didn’t.”

“Aye,” he said with a sigh, “I know that now, Cara, but when I

didn’t, wondering and worrying made me crazy. How do you feel,
mo anam cara?”

“I’m worn out,” I admitted, “and I feel really weak. But I’m

thirsty, Will, and a little bit hungry.”

He smiled for the first time since I opened my eyes. “That’s a

good sign. You haven’t had anything to eat or drink since Samhain
Eve. What would you like and I’ll go bring it up for you?”

I thought about it, wondering what I might feel up to putting

down my throat and what might not settle well. When I was little, if I
got sick, Mama always made me hot tea and that was what I wanted
now. “I’d like tea, hot tea. But I want to go downstairs to have it.
You don’t have to tote it up here to me.”

His blue eyes, soft as a misty April morning sky at dawn,

shifted to stern. “Aye, I do. You’re not leaving this bed until Dr.
Bishop says that you can. If he says it’s fine, then later I’ll carry you
downstairs but for now, I’ll bring you whatever you want.”

As he spoke, the bedroom door cracked open a few inches and

Seamus peeked into the room. “I thought I heard your voice. How is
she?”

“She’s much better, thanks be to God,” Will told his brother.

“Come on in and sit with her while I go make tea.”

Seamus approached the bed with the slow steps of a man on

his way to the gallows. When he got close enough, I caught the reek
of John Jameson whiskey around him in such a powerful fog I could
almost taste it. “Cara, it’s good to see you awake again.”

“Thanks,” I said, “I’m sorry that I caused such a fuss.”
Will bent over me, swift as a swooping bird to catch a worm

and kissed me, his lips no more than a faint, soft whisper across my
mouth. Weak as I felt, as tired as I was, I ached for more and I lifted
one hand to cup his cheek so that he remained close to me. Our eyes
met and locked in place so that he could read my desire. He gave his
head a slight shake and leaned nearer to say, “Later, mo chroi, when
you’re stronger.”

Seamus cleared his throat, a reminder that we were not alone.

“Will, I’ll go make the tea if you want to see if Cara wants to prop up
a bit or put on a few more clothes. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Do
you want anything else at all?”

“Whiskey,” Will said, without hesitation. “Bring the bottle up

for me if you would.”

“Aye, I can do that.”
“And don’t drink it all on the way.”

Seamus grinned, “I won’t, brother.”
He trailed out of the door, leaving us alone again.
Until he mentioned clothing, I failed to realize that beneath the

blankets, I wore nothing at all. Now that I knew, my skin tingled,
sensitive to the texture of the weave against my bareness. I wiggled,
wanting to sit up and also because I wanted to put something on
before Will’s brother returned with tea.

“Cara, what do you need?”
“I’d like to sit up and put on a nightgown or something.”
“Be still,” Will said, his voice a caress. “Let me help you.”
He reached around me and took me into his arms with the

same loving tenderness he’d used earlier. Without any effort, he
lifted me upward and at the same time pulled pillows so that they
supported me. He settled me against them with the skill of a veteran
nurse, a surprising talent and then with great care, he released me. He
scrutinized my face as if I might pass out and asked, “Are you all
right so far?”

Truth was that I felt more than a little woozy but things settled

down as I remained stationary so I nodded. “I am.”

“Where’s your dressing gown?”
I pointed to the armoire where it hung and he fetched it for

him. I slid back the covers and peeked at my skin. When I recalled
how it looked the last time I’d been aware of it, I thought it might still
be an angry cherry color but all I saw was my smooth, creamy colored
flesh. I ran my own fingertips over it, amazed that it wasn’t red any
longer.

“Here, Cara,” Will said, back with the brocade gown. I lifted

up my arms like a little child and he slid the thing over my head. I ran
my arms into the sleeves and together we managed to pull it where it
belonged. He smoothed down the skirt and then tucked me back
beneath the covers. “Is that better?”

“Yeah, thanks.” I felt much more like myself supported

against a bank of thick feather pillows, covered with my gold brocade
dressing gown, with tea on the way and my beloved Will at my side.
“Come sit with me.”

He didn’t dither—he sat down on the bed facing me and took

my hands in his. I appreciated his firm grip. Those hands would
protect me, I thought, with a dreamy sense of appreciation just as
much as they caressed and loved me. That connection, skin to skin,

his flesh to mine restored strength to me more than anything else. I
felt the taut tension in him ease as we held hands, his fear ebbing back
from a raging flood to a more manageable level. He’d really worried.
I could see that without trying - he looked haggard and as weary as I
felt.

“Haven’t you rested?”
He twisted his lips and made a face. “I did when I had to,

leannán, but I didn’t rest well. I wouldn’t have eaten either except
Malachi and Seamus all but forced food down my throat. I stayed up
half that first day with you until I felt so terrible myself that I had to
go sleep or I’d been no use to you at all. What’s the last thing you
remember?”

I had to think about that before I could answer. “I think telling

you I didn’t feel very well and then falling into your arms.”

Will nodded, his eyes intent on me. “I thought it was just a

faint like in Branson which would have been bad enough until I felt
the fire raging through your body and saw the blisters.”

“What exactly happened to me?”
He exhaled through his nose with force. “Dr. Bishop tells it

better than I can and he’ll be here soon. I think I hear Seamus with
the tea. Do you want sugar and cream or just sugar?”

“Sugar,” I said with emphasis, “I want lots of sugar.”
“You’ll have it, then,” Will said, “and anything else you

want.”

Seamus brought a tray with a steaming teapot, sugar, cream,

cups, and the bottle of Irish whiskey. I wrapped my hands around the
cup, letting the heat seep into my body. Despite the covers and the
robe I wore, I shivered. I sipped the tea, enjoying its warmth and
letting it infuse me with energy. I noticed that Will poured his cup
half full of Jameson’s before adding tea. Both brothers drew chairs
up beside the bed while we shared our impromptu tea party.

“Thank you,” I told Seamus who waved one hand to dismiss

my gratitude.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just glad to see you back with us again.

I’ve seen Will worried before but not like he was over you. I feared
for him almost as much as I did for you.”

“He’s exaggerating,” Will said but I knew better than that.

“Dun do bheal!”

“I won’t hush and I’m telling the truth, deirfiur dear.”

“I believe you,” I said. He called me ‘sister’, the first time

and I felt warmth within that had nothing to do with the tea. “But I’m
better now so you can both quit worrying.”

They exchanged a glance that chilled me, a serious look that

told me there was much more at stake here. Will told me that Mr.
Blonde hurt me for sport but their silent exchange warned me that
whatever was going on, it wasn’t over yet.

“What are you not telling me?” I demanded, fighting off a

childish urge to weep. “Will? What is it?”

He downed what remained in his cup and held it out so that

Seamus could pour a generous finger of whiskey into it. He drank
that and sighed aloud. “Cara, bean mo chroi, I’ll tell you tomorrow
night when you’ve had more time to recover and when we’ve all had
more rest.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “Tell me now!”
He shook his head. “It’ll do you no good to know so don’t ask

me again. You’re safe for now and I plan to keep you that way.
Don’t get upset. Dr. Bishop’s on his way and I told him how very
well you were doing.”

Tears burned in my eyes but I didn’t realize that they trickled

down my face until I tasted salt. “Will, you’re scaring me. If you
won’t tell me, just answer this question—is it something bad?”

His hesitation told me more than I wanted to know but he

reached out, wiped the tears from my face and handed me a
handkerchief, a real cloth one. “I don’t know yet, love. Don’t cry,
Cara.”

Will caressed my cheek and I calmed. “I’ll try not to but I’m

still so tired.”

“I know, mo anam cara, I know you are. I think I hear the

doctor’s car coming down the drive. Seamus will stay with you while
I go let him in, all right?”

I nodded. “Okay.”
Then I closed my eyes for a few seconds, blinked back the

tears and swallowed the sob that wanted to roar out of my mouth.
“Pour me a little more tea, please.”

“Sure,” Seamus said. “Don’t mind Will. He always did get

mean when he got scared.”

That amused me and I laughed, just a little, knowing how true

it was. “I know. Maybe you’ll answer a question for me.”

“I will if I can.”
“What’s the blonde vampire’s name? Will said it but I don’t

remember it now.”

“It’s Henri,” Seamus said, lip curled with distaste as if he

spoke Satan’s pet name aloud. “Henri Villiers de Aix en Provence.”

As soon as he pronounced the name with a fair French

accent, I remembered that night when he said it at Fitz’s. Everything
he said then poured back into my brain and I gasped.

“What’s wrong?” Seamus asked, jumping to his feet.
“I just remembered when you told Will who he was. He’s an

old vampire, right?”

“Aye, he is, one of the oldest I’ve encountered and one of the

worst,” Seamus said, garrulous as a market wife now. “He became
one of us during the Third Crusade, the one with King Richard the
Lion Hearted. That was around 1190, making him around eight
hundred years old or better.”

I shivered, cold again and he noticed. “Jesus, Cara, I

shouldn’t have told you that. Will’d knock me senseless if I upset
you. I think they’re coming up the stairs now.”

I drank my tea in one fast gulp and did my best to compose

my face into a bland expression. Thirty seconds later, the bedroom
door opened and Dr. Bishop, followed by Will who studied my
expression and then glowered at Seamus as if he knew something had
been said that bothered me.

Dr. Bishop approached the bed, grinning. “So you’re awake

and cognizant. That’s good, very good, Cara. I wasn’t sure for
awhile how you might do. I’m very glad to see you on the way to
recovery. Tell me how you feel.”

“I feel mostly good,” I said, without lying. “But I also am very

weak and tired. I’m hungry, too, but I’m almost afraid to eat.”

“Why is that?” he asked as he checked my vital signs—or as

much as can be checked on a vampire.

“I don’t want to puke,” I said, blunt and honest.
“Do you feel sick?”
I considered it and shook my head, “No, I don’t.”
“No trouble with the tea?”
“None.”
“Then you should be able to eat just fine although I’d start

light, some broth or soup, maybe some Jell-O. Then you can graduate

up to pudding, ice cream, mashed potatoes. In a day or two, you’ll be
eating normally again.”

“Okay,” I said and then asked the hard question, the one that

niggled ever since I woke up. “What about blood?”
I hadn’t had a donor yet that night at Fitz’s and since this was the
third night since then, I should be long overdue for blood. Neither
Will nor Seamus said anything about it and I saw no cuts on either to
indicate they might have fed me. I waited, wondering what Dr.
Bishop might say but I didn’t expect all three of them to burst into
laughter. I glared at them while I waited for answer.

“Well?” I said, impatient after a few moments.
“You had blood, leannán,” Will said, from beside the doctor.

“Twice.”

That made no sense to me so I looked at Dr. Bishop for an

answer.

He smiled. “You did have blood, Cara, from several

transfusions. I hooked up an IV and brought several units of blood. I
think you had about six pints total, which is about half of the blood
capacity of the human body. It made a difference, though, and helped
you more than anything else we could do.”

“Did he drain me?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” Dr. Bishop said with such fake cheer that I

smelled a rat—a big fat one.

“Would someone just tell me what exactly was wrong with

me?” I asked, cranky now as a toddler without a nap and too much
television. “I know I was sick but what caused it?”

Dr. Bishop settled down on the bed, facing me in the same

spot Will held earlier while my husband sank to his knees near the
head of the bed so he could hold my left hand. Seamus remained in a
chair near the bedside but his attention focused on me. We all looked
at the doctor who cleared his throat, “I don’t know for certain, but I
can tell you what I think happened. Your symptoms and reaction fit
my diagnosis but we’ll probably never know for sure. As you know,
vampire health hasn’t been studied or documented enough to have
much knowledge for me to draw upon.”

“And?”
“When Henri Villiers kissed your hand, he infected you with a

very potent virus, one unlike anything I’ve ever come across before.
It combined the heat of a dragon, a creature that many believed were

real in Henri’s time, the Middle Ages, with the venom of a dangerous
reptile. The dragon’s breath or fire almost cooked you, from inside
out and the venom made you critically ill the same way that a
rattlesnake, adder or some of the European vipers can. If you were
human, you would have been in ICU and would probably still be there
if you were not dead.”

Will’s fingers tightened around mine as the doctor spoke about

my near death in calm, easy tones. If not for his touch, I might have
given in to the hysterical panic that threatened to erupt over me like a
Texas thunderstorm. “Why didn’t I die then?”

Lafe Bishop met my eyes, candid and open. “I really don’t

know. One thing in your favor is the vampire’s ability to self-heal.
That made a drastic difference. When he got you home, Will plunged
you straight into a cold bath which brought down the temperature and
in effect, doused some of the fiery effects. If he hadn’t done that, I’m
not sure what the outcome might have been because as you probably
know, burning a vampire to ash is one method of execution.”

I nodded, unable to speak around a huge chunk of ice caught

in my throat, ice formed from fear and delayed reaction. I glanced up
at Will and saw his blue eyes flooding with tears.

“Thank you,” I whispered and he squeezed my hand.
“I only thought of it because you did it for me when I had that

fever,” he said. “If it wasn’t for that, I’d never done it and you might
be gone.”

He bent to kiss me, swift and yet with more force than he’d

shown yet since I woke up.

“Yes, well, it’s good that you did, no matter what the idea

came from,” Dr. Bishop said. “Then we had to deal with the venom.
If a snake had bitten you, it would have been easier because there
would be anti-venom, at least if we knew what kind of snake. But
this wasn’t that so there was really nothing we could do but keep you
as comfortable as possible and hope that your body, your natural and
vampirical immunity could fight off the effects. We gave you blood
because you needed it and because it diluted the poison that was there.
And I think Will’s love and concern helped, as well.”

“So will I get over this?”
Dr. Bishop smiled. “It seems that you already are, Cara. Your

vitals are strong, all very good. You need a few more days of rest and
recuperation. I think then you’ll be just fine.”

“Can I get out of bed?” I asked.
“I’d wait until tomorrow night but sure, I don’t see why not.

Your husband already indicated he’d carry you anywhere you wanted
to go for a day or two. Just resume your normal diet and activities a
little bit at a time, don’t push and overdo it.”

He patted my hand and started to get up but I reached out to

touch his hand.

“Wait. Do you have any idea why this Henri would do this to

me?”

Dr. Bishop’s expression sobered. “I can’t really say but if half

of what the rumors say about him are true, then he would do it just
because he can, to prove his power. If what I can guess from what
Will and Seamus told me, I’d say he did it to show you what he is
capable of if thwarted.”

That last bit didn’t compute for me but I knew he wasn’t going

to explain. Until I got stronger I didn’t think Will would either but I’d
try to find out.

“Thank you, Dr. Bishop,” I said.
“You’re welcome, Cara, and I’m glad to see your recovery

begin. Seamus can seek me out and call me if you need anything or
have more questions.”

We sat there, the two of us, until the echo of his footsteps

faded into silence and the front door closed behind him. Then Will
rose from his knees to take me into his arms and hold me very close,
whispering love words into my ear while I wept against him, tears of
joy that I still lived.

“How silver sweet sound lover’s tongues by night like softest

music to attending ears,” Will quoted, “Woman, hearing your voice
pleases me more than I know how to say and I’m happy that you’re
recovering.”

I was, too.
Behind that bliss, though, lurked a dark fear that whatever

Henri set in motion was far from over.

Chapter Eight

I love roses, from the tiny little climbing roses that grew all

over my grandparents’ old woven wire fence and sent their perfume
into the summer air to mix with the smell of honeysuckle to the
classic roses up at Tyler, Texas. Tyler is the rose capital of Texas, if
not the whole world. Farmers grow more roses around there than any
place else and Tyler boasts the biggest, best municipal rose garden
anywhere. They have an annual festival of roses, too, and to hear the
way they tell it in Tyler, it’s a bigger rose event than even that little
tiny parade they hold out in Pasadena California every New Year’s
Day.

Will can be romantic when the mood strikes but he’s more

likely to give me sunshine, even if it’s fake, diamonds, or a luxurious
black fox fur than flowers. After Dr. Bishop left that night that I
came out of whatever unconscious state I’d been in since Henri
poisoned me, I didn’t want roses or chocolates or anything but my
Will. I cried on his shoulder and he held me close. I felt safe in his
arms, inhaling his man scent that combined his fragrant cigarillos, his
own musk, a bit of Irish whiskey and soap into heaven.

Earlier, I’d begged to know what Will and his brother hid, but

right then I had enough to deal with and I could wait. Learning the
details of just what that evil egg sucking dog of a vampire Henri did
to me upset me and scared me more than I wanted even Will to know.
I knew, deep within, that there must be more and if it sounded even
half as dire as what I knew now, I wanted to put it off until I could at
least get out of bed on my own power.

After I vented a lot of my fear and relief in tears, Will dried

my face and settled me back into bed with another cup of tea. By
then my stomach yowled with hunger and he sat facing me as he
asked, “What would you like to eat?”

If Malachi had been awake, I could have thought of something

he could cook and it would taste fine. I wasn’t too sure that Will or
his brother could do much more than brew tea or slap a sandwich
together. “What time is it?”

“It’s just after midnight,” Will said, “Why, Cinderella?”

“Because I want a Triple Triple,” I said and the moment I

named my favorite burger from Dyer’s I did. I craved that beef and
all the fixings so much I could almost taste it on my tongue.

“The doctor suggested you start light, with soup or broth,”

Will said, shooting me a fixed stare that might have intimidated
anyone else. “I don’t know if you’re up to eating that now.”

I fluttered my eyelashes in my very best Scarlett O’Hara

impression ever. “I am. Please, Will.”

He wavered and then caved. “All right, mo anam cara, all

right. I’ll go to Dyer’s and bring back what you want if you promise
that it won’t make you sick.”

I couldn’t promise but I did anyway.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, you don’t ask much,” he griped but

that teasing sparkle returned to his eyes. “Do you want me to bring
you a Walk Me Down too?”

“Right now, no,” I said with a smile. “Just my hamburger will

be fine.”

“I’ll go and get back with it. Seamus can keep you company

while I’m gone.”

As if on cue, his brother strolled into the room carrying a huge

bouquet of black roses with just a few scarlet blooms tucked among
them. “Where are you going?”

“She wants a Triple Triple from Dyer’s,” Will said, with the

first flicker of his grin since I opened my eyes. “So like an amadan
I’m off to fetch it for her. Do you want one, too?”

“Sure, I’d love one. Would you bring me some of their fries

too?”

Will rolled his eyes to the heavens in mock outrage. “Aye, I’ll

bring you chili and onion rings too if you like. Just make a list.”

I laughed. “All I want is the burger.”
He kissed me full on the mouth, fueling another hunger.

“Then you’ll have it, darling. Seamus, keep an eye on her, will you?
She’s feeling better already and that’s making her sassy.”

“Is that why you sent her roses?”
Will stilled, a dangerous calm like one before a storm broke.

“I didn’t send her flowers. Where did you get those?”

Seamus blanched. “They were on the hall table downstairs.

They’re from a florist in Memphis so I thought you must have had
them sent.”

“I didn’t. Is there a card?”
During their exchange, that awful sense of foreboding returned

and I knew before either of them read the name on that card what it
would say.

“Aye, I’ll check it,” Seamus said. He plucked the card out of

the tiny envelope and immediately his expression soured, so I knew
the sender wouldn’t be anyone Will would like. “It says ‘Henri’.”

Will exploded into a flood of Irish so fast, so furious in tone

that I couldn’t follow a word of it but I guessed it must be curses. In
their native tongue, profanity as we know it just doesn’t exist; but as a
race, the Irish are quite fond of curses, most of them very creative. He
plucked the bouquet from his brother’s hands and destroyed it, tearing
it apart and pulling petals from every rose until they covered the
bedroom floor. The thorns tore his hands until they bled in multiple
places. Seamus, as quiet as Will was vocal, began picking up the
damage without a word. The unmistakable scent of roses permeated
the room until I could smell nothing else. Until then, I loved that
pleasant fragrance, but now it choked me and I thought I might never
like it again.

“Will, honey, come here,” I begged, uncertain that I could toss

back the covers and get out of bed without collapsing into the floor.
“Please.”

He stood like a statue for a moment and then he nodded. He

came to me, hands curled at his sides. I put out my hand to him and
he unfolded one injured palm toward me.

“That must hurt like the dickens,” I said.
He shook his head. “It will heal soon enough, Cara. It’s

nothing.”

“I know but I don’t like you hurt. Let me kiss it.”
His stern expression softened just a little. “Tempt not a

desperate man, mo anam cara.”

“Meaning what?”
I watched his shoulders relax and a smile play over his lips

like chords. “It means that your lips on my flesh might give me a
taste for more and you’re not up for that at the moment.”

Much as I hated to admit it, Will was right. I yearned to make

love with him but my body needed more down time before I could. “I
might be by tomorrow night.”

His smile expanded into a grin. “That would be good, Cara.

I’ll go get your food now if you still want it.”

“I do.”
He moved in close for a kiss, a sweet meeting of his lips over

mine that awakened desire and roused it like a sleeping beauty.
Although his mouth touched mine with nothing more than tenderness,
I could taste his own need, a hunger deeper than any for food or drink.
Even more than that, he ached to bond with me, body against body
and soul to soul. After I scared him with my sudden, awful illness,
Will wanted reassurance that nothing between us shifted. It hadn’t, if
anything our fusion might be stronger still but like him, I craved
confirmation. I reached up to touch his face, fingers trembling and he
caught my hand, kissed it.

“I’m going before you have me in that bed with you, woman,”

he told me, his voice husky. He turned to his brother, “Stay with her
and protect her.”

“I will. And bring me food, too.”
Will nodded. “Aye, I’ll not forget. And make sure those

posies are gone before I return or I might lose my temper again.”

When he left, I heard that old Caddy roar down the drive like

the devil chased him. Will liked speed and he had no fear when it
came to flirting with death. I listened to the growling purr of the
engine and the whine of the tires when he reached the paved road. As
best I could tell, he hadn’t slowed down at all and I figured he would
speed all the way into Memphis.

Seamus walked to the window and watched. He came back,

shaking his head.

“He drives like a maniac,” he said, with a small laugh. “He

rode horses like that too, back in the olden days. It’s all to vent his
feelings, though, and I understand that.”

“The roses made him mad,” I said.
“Aye and frightened him, too. I don’t how he managed not to

ever hear of Henri before but he’s seeing now that what I told him is
true. He’s an evil bastard, Cara, sadistic and he thrives on
destruction.”

“Seamus, when you talk like that, it scares me.”
He turned back from the window. “Ah, Cara, I don’t want to

upset you but as soon as you’re stronger, we’ll have to talk, the three
of us, about Henri. I shouldn’t be saying any of this now—I promised

Will that I wouldn’t and he’ll be angry with me if he knows. Let me
get this mess cleaned up and then if you need anything, I’ll get it for
you.”

By then I felt just tired enough that I watched him sweep, then

vacuum up the remaining rose petals without talking. The room still
reeked of roses and when he came back from dumping all the
sweepings, I had him open a window. Although the air that floated in
felt cool, I loved it. It diluted the floral fragrance that reminded me of
a funeral parlor and invigorated me. It also made me sleepy but when
my eyes became heavy and I shut them, somnolent and comfortable.

“You’re not fainting, are you?” Seamus asked and I returned

to full awareness.

“No, I’m fine.”
“I’ll shut the window before you take a chill,” he said. “Would

you like anything?”

I shook him head. “Just talk to me, Seamus. Did anyone tell

my parents I was sick?”

“Jesus, no,” he said with horror. “Will was so afraid they’d

call and he had no idea what he would tell them if they did. I think he
sent them an e-mail that said you were out on the road, up into
Canada or something so they wouldn’t wonder when you didn’t call.”

Relief flooded me. They didn’t even know what I was and the

prospect of explaining that not only was I a vampire but that Will and
his brother were too wasn’t one I relished. My folks accepted Will as
my husband and he’d let them into his heart as family. The one thing
he wouldn’t share was that we were vampires, mostly because he
didn’t want to burden my parents. And because I stood firm against
it—I didn’t think they’d understand or take the news well. If on top
of that I had to explain that some other vampire had me in his sights,
I’d babble worse than a teenager coming home past curfew. The look
on my Mama and Daddy’s face if they understood who I really was
would probably kill me dead faster than a stake through the heart.

“That’s good,” I told my brother-in-law. “I’m sorry that all

this mess happened while you were to visit. I don’t imagine it’s much
fun to sit around a sickbed.”

Seamus sat down on the bed, not as close as Will would, but

so that he could face me.

“Cara, it’s what families do and you’re my family now. I’d be

here for my brother’s sake even if I didn’t love you like you were my

own sister. If this happened, I’d have come from Branson to be here.
I can stay as long as I’m needed.”

His words touched me. “Thank you, Seamus. I’d be happy if

I’m all better and everything’s back to what we call normal so I can
sing at your theater before Christmas.”

“I’d like that,” he grinned, “I thought maybe you’d forgotten

that I invited you.”

I smiled back. “No, I remember that. I thought I might wear a

red dress to be festive.”

“It would suit you,” he said as he lifted his head to listen.

“Will’s almost back and it’s about time. I’m hungry.”

So was I and when Will unwrapped that thick, delicious triple

cheeseburger, I inhaled with anticipation. That first bite filled my
mouth with heaven, the full taste of the meat and I sighed with
pleasure.

“It’s good,” I said, as I swallowed. The familiar taste wasn’t

just one of my favorite hamburgers anywhere but also something Will
and I shared almost from the first so that ranked it as special. That
warm sandwich filled me up and I swear I could almost feel myself
grow stronger from the food.

“Aye, it is,” Will answered as I noticed that both he and

Seamus had two, plus hand cut fries. “Go easy, leannán, and eat
slowly.”

I did but still couldn’t quite finish it. I felt sated, full in a

comfortable way.

“Are you all right?” Will asked.
“I’m so tired,” I said, “Is it time to go to bed?”
“It’s less than an hour till dawn,” Will said, “That’s close

enough for me. I’m weary myself.”

Seamus rose. “I think I’ll go play on your computer for a little

while before I go down for the day. Oiche maith.”

Alone with just Will, I stretched out my arms to him, “Come

to bed with me, Will.”

“I’d like to do just that,” he said. “Do you want your

nightgown on or just the robe?”

“Neither,” I told him, “I want nothing against my skin but

yours.”

His eyes radiated blue fire at that and he smiled. “Then let’s

get that dressing gown off, mo anam cara.”

Will managed to remove it without disturbing me and when I

wanted to use the restroom, he carried me there and back. I savored
the comforting haven of his arms around me and he tucked me into
bed like a tiny child. As I snuggled down into the warmth beneath he
covers, he slid in beside me and pulled me into his embrace. I
cuddled against his chest, my head on his shoulder. He stroked my
hair with one hand with such gentle caresses that I knew I’d drift into
sleep very soon.

“I love you, Cara,” he whispered, his voice soft against my

hair.

“I know,” I muttered back, “I love you, too.”
“I’d sing to you but I can’t think of the right song,” Will said,

“so I’ll quote you Romeo instead, aye?”

“Yeah,” I said, fading fast.
“But soft what light through yonder window breaks,” he began

and continued through Romeo’s observation of Juliet. He lost me
somewhere midway, somewhere around my lady, my love but the
timbre of his voice followed me and I relaxed, safe and well in his
arms.

I didn’t stir again until evening drew near and I woke with my

internal clock right on time. Over the months I’ve been a vamp, I
adjusted to it. As I came out of what we call sleep but is really an
unconscious state, almost like death, I found myself in Will’s arms.
He held me tight, the way that a sleeping kid will hold a teddy bear or
favorite doll and I liked that very much. I put him through hell
without meaning to do it and although vampires don’t age, when I
first opened my eyes to find Will waiting at my bedside, he looked
ravaged and the way he would if we did. Now, he appeared just the
same, the tension lines smoothed from his face and gone.

He wasn’t yet aware so I stroked his face, marveling at the

beauty of it. He’s a handsome man, my Will, in a rugged manly way
but he’s also lovely to me. His black Irish hair curls about his face
and contrasts with his pale white skin. I used one fingertip to outline
his lips and he stirred, not yet awake but coming back from the day.
Then I let my fingers comb through his hair, gentle and yet the very
touch of his locks against my hand fired me.

Ever since Lafe Bishop told me how close to death—to an

eternal end to existence—I came, I craved sex with a ravenous
appetite. Last night, even though Will felt that singing, soaring

electricity between us, he wouldn’t give in because I remained so
fragile. During the long day, I’d healed more and I felt almost normal
again. To kindle his desire, I touched my own lips to his throat,
kissing with a light caress and letting my teeth, my fangs rake over
the skin. Before he came awake, I felt him harden against me, his
cock ready for what I needed most of all.

“No sooner met than they looked, no sooner looked but they

loved, no sooner loved but they sighed but they asked one another the
reason, no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy,” Will
whispered, his eyes drawing mine as if through magic. “Do you need
to seek a remedy for what ails you, mo anam cara?”

“I do,” I told him, one hand straying down to touch him

between the legs.

“Do you feel up to this?” he asked and meant it. If I said ‘no’,

he would stop. “If it’s too soon, leannán, we can stop.”

“Don’t you dare even think about it.”
He laughed with that sound that reminded me of chimes,

musical and sweet. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

“Then love me tender,” I whispered, quoting Elvis.
With the infinite patience of the stars, Will Brennan put his

mouth over mine, as rich and sweet as the somnolent scent of
honeysuckle on a summer night. His lips stroked mine with such
slow heat that I burned, not the savage flame that hurt so much on
Halloween but a gentle fever that moved through my blood like
intoxication. That mouth cherished me as if my lips held the riches of
all ages, a king’s treasure. Will’s kisses teased over me like a
whisper, reminding me of a light wind that might fondle a cheek or
toss a lock of hair. He handled me as if I might be as fragile as an
exquisite antique of extreme value. He touched me with care as if I
might break if he didn’t.

As his hands moved over my body like heat lightning on a

humid night, elusive, my skin became so sensitive that each stroke
sent a thousand nerve cells tingling. When his mouth left my lips,
they mourned his leaving but I had no time to think because his lips
tickled down my throat, nipping and licking where my veins ran. He
followed the largest, using his tongue to trace its course until he
reached my breasts. Will used his thumb to rub against each nipple,
one at a time, in a circular fashion that brought the buds to bloom. He
cupped my tits in his hands as if he held eggs, delicate and easy to

break, and the weight of his hands against my flesh tortured me but in
such an exquisite way that I wanted more. Then he ran his hands
down my sides, palms against my body, in a slow rhythm that filled
me with a music that rang in my head.

When I raised my hand to touch him, he stayed it.
“Let me,” he said, his voice just a faint rustle audible in the

roaring I heard in my ears. “Let me do it all, mo anam cara.”

I yielded, slave to his master, and allowed to do what he

wanted. My body became his to command, his to take and he did
with such deliberate measure that I thought I might languish there,
imprisoned forever. When he entered me, his rod stiff and hard, he
burrowed into my warmth, my wet cave that waited for him without
force or hammering. Instead of conquering with might, Will poured
into me like a tide sweeping over a beach, natural and powerful. I felt
the impact of his arrival and knew the sweet, sweet release as he
covered me. He filled me to capacity and then he bucked, no longer
able to control his own need, yet even then with a gentle
consideration.

I rose to meet him halfway, drawing him deeper into myself so

that when the moment we sought came, we rode it like a Fourth of
July rocket into the stratosphere of our souls and let it explode over us
with brilliant joy. The release brought me to such a brink of physical
pleasure that I cried out, unable to contain it and Will stopped my
noise with his mouth, with a kiss that gave me the remaining
roughness I craved. He kissed me hard, his mouth all but raping mine
as I gloried in the sensation, coming again in a breaking tide that
consumed us both.

After, we basked together, sated and lethargic. I had no desire

to move, curled into the circle of Will’s arm, my head against his
chest. In that position, I felt whole and invincible.

“Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I never

saw true beauty until this night,” Will crooned to me, his voice as low
and tender as his earlier kiss.

I answered that lyrical poetry with more Elvis and I sang it,

low and true, just for him.

“Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go.”
He lifted himself up on one elbow, gazed at me with an

expression of love and said,

“I won’t mo anam cara, not ever, not in this world or the next,

no matter what it takes.”

He meant to put my fears about Henri to rest but when he

talked about this world or the next, I felt that trepidation creep back
into my heart but I said nothing. Instead, I let him carry me
downstairs and savored the experience; safe for this moment even if I
wasn’t sure how long that sense of security might last.

****
Every time he looked at her, his Cara, he knew a relief so

profound that it almost drowned him in its depth. When he thought
about how swift everything changed, how Cara could be safe and
whole one moment then in the next, her existence threatened, he
shuddered. If he lost her, he would lose all and even his soul, if he
still had one. For centuries, he thought he did not but with Cara came
the almost sure knowledge that maybe he did, after all. That went
against the grain of most legends and church teachings but if he could
still feel God, then maybe he still owned a soul. Vampire, undead
creature that he was, wicked in life as a highwayman, he had cried out
to God when his Cara lay so sick. He prayed, in Latin, the old prayers
he learned as a boy, back in Ireland. Maybe, as he’d thought more
than once since he loved again and was loved, there might be a scrap
or two of God’s mercy left for such as he.

If there was, truly, then maybe he could keep her safe now.

As he watched her recover, grow stronger and return to herself Will
wished he could lock her away for her own good in a tower or castle
keep far away in some remote place that this Henri could never find.
If he thought it would help, he would hunt for him until he found him,
and then destroy him.

He never heard of this vampire, this Henri Villiers de Aix en

Provence, until his brother named him. He’d kept apart from almost
everyone for most of his afterlife. Now that Cara healed, he must talk
with Seamus and learn all he could because it would be wise to know
all he could about his enemy.

For now, though, this night he would cherish his bride, his

beautiful Cara. He would, as he promised when he wed her, love and
honor her. With her in his arms, secure, Will thought that there
should be no other existence than this, one without danger.

But he remembered all too well what his father said about

wishes—a man could wish in one hand and shite in the other to see
which got full first—the shite would always win.

He would rather it be the wishes but somehow he didn’t think

it would turn out that way.

Chapter Nine

Something about flannel, the softness, maybe or the texture,

just feels comfortable and somehow safe. Every winter nightgown
and pair of pajamas I had growing up was made from flannel. Baby
blankets were the same material. I wanted comfort so instead of
putting on one of my satin or silk nighties, I asked Will to help me
pull the long flannel granny style nightgown Mama gave me last
Christmas. Till then, I’d never worn the thing but right now, being
more vulnerable than usual, wearing it sounded soothing so I did.

Although Will offered to build a fire in the parlor, I wanted to

spend the night in our moon room, among the plants and beneath the
stars so he carried me there. After he placed me on a chaise lounge
there, I reclined and gazed upward at the night sky. Will settled down
in a chair, his long legs crossed and smoked a cigarillo, watching me
with an expression that reminded me of a happy hound dog with a
bone.

“You’re feeling much better,” he observed, with a quiet little

smile.

I nodded. “I’m almost back to being my ornery self.”
He chuckled. “That’s good. Do you want some wine?”
“I do if it’s Moscato.”
“Aye, it is,” Will said,” It’s the white, not red, though.”
“It’ll do for now.” He brought me the chilled goblet and I

sipped the sweet wine, allowing it to delight my tongue before it
flowed through my veins. “I might need a donor soon, though.”

I had that nagging little pain in the center of my belly, the way

the need always began. For now, it wasn’t very noticeable, just a
twinge but if I didn’t get the blood in a timely manner, the ache would
ramp up into a bellyache that really hurt. I had no idea how I’d find a
donor when I doubted Will would let me leave the house. So far, I
wasn’t worried about it.

“I thought that you might,” Will replied, “and you’ll get what

you need. Just be patient, my Cara.”

Patience never has been one of the virtues I do well but I just

shook my head and sipped more wine. As I started on my second
glass, I realized that Seamus wasn’t around.

“Where’s your brother?”

“He’s gone on a wee errand for us, leannán, but he should be

back soon.”

Suspicion curled up from my brain like Will’s tobacco smoke

as I wondered if it had something to do with this Henri. “What
errand?”

“Don’t sound so skeptical,” Will said in a voice that almost

purred. “He’s gone to get something for us to eat and to bring you
back a donor. I think that’s better than parading you down on Beale
Street in that nightgown.”

An image of how I’d look made me giggle. “Okay, I see your

point. I thought maybe we would have to talk about Henri and I’m
not looking forward to that.”

He crushed out his smoke with the heel of one boot and then

picked up the butt to toss into his outdoor ashtray. “We do, mo anam
cara, but first you’ll have your donor and then we’ll eat. I don’t want
to hear about him either but I think that we’ll have to do it.”

I agreed with him but I wished I could just pull the blankets of

life over my head and hide. Since I couldn’t, I asked the question I’d
wanted to bring up since I woke up the night before, “Why do you
think he hurt me like that, Will? Why would he do that and then send
me roses? I don’t understand it.”

He exhaled a long sigh and shifted from his chair to kneel by

the chaise lounge. He grasped my right hand in both of his. “Woman,
it seems that he wants you and I think he did what he did to you to
show his power. If he’s as old as Seamus claims, then he’ll be much
stronger than any of us. It’s a warning, too, what he’s capable of
doing should you want to refuse his attentions.”

“Of course I want to refuse his damn attentions!” I cried. “You

know I don’t want him or any part of him.”

“Aye, I do,” Will said, cradling my hand against his cheek.

“But Henri doesn’t nor does he care what you want. Seamus will tell
us what he can. I never heard of the bastard but my brother knows
something about him. He’s got friends too, in many places that may
know even more. Don’t fret about it, though, Cara. I’ll keep you safe
if I can, but this Henri is wicked. Remember Seamus told us both
Henri seduces women for fun. When he’s had it, he kills them for
more sport.”

I knew Will would protect me but that ‘if’ bothered me a lot.

Sallie Hawkins taught me what an evil tempered vampire could be

capable of doing and although I defeated her, killed her dead with just
dumb luck, a healthy heap of Texas sass and a whole lot of love. I
didn’t say anything, just reached for his hand and held it, tight until
Seamus came back.

When he poked his head into our moon room, he had bags

stacked with Styrofoam containers, take-out from a chain buffet.
“There’s steak, chicken, pork chops, fish, and a lot more”, he
announced. “Do you two want to come eat first or what?”

I put my hand over my stomach and rubbed. My tummy pains

grew and I knew what I needed first. “Did you bring a donor?”

Seamus grinned, “I did, indeed. Should I bring him out here?”
“Aye,” Will said.
Seamus ushered in a young man with shaggy brown hair,

soulful dark brown eyes, who happened to be very drunk. Unlike
Malachi who brought us homeless folks when Sallie Hawkins had us
under siege, my brother-in-law just brought someone too under the
influence of alcohol to notice the vampires. I slid off the chaise
lounge and approached him. Swift and sure, I took what I needed,
savoring the warm rush and that slight little sensual frisson. Like
magic, my tummy tamed and Will smiled,

“Better?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go eat, mo anam cara.”
We nibbled and noshed, the food tasting very good to me. I

realized I’d been very hungry but I ate slowly. When we finished, I
noticed Seamus’ absence.

“He took the donor back to town,” Will explained, “but he’ll

be back if you want to go back to your moon room or into the parlor.”

“If we’re going to have a summit meeting when Seamus gets

back, I’d like to get dressed.”

You never face the enemy without being ready. There’s a

reason why Native Americans put on war paint before battle—it’s a
physical expression of the mental preparation. So I wanted to put on
some clothes and I did. Even though he fussed, I walked upstairs with
Will at my side, stepped into a clean pair of blue jeans and an old t-
shirt. By the time I returned, Will dogging every step, barefoot as the
day I got born, Seamus was back so I curled up into one corner of the
long sofa in the parlor. Will sat at the other end, facing me, and

Seamus leaned against the mantelpiece, looking like he’d rather pace
the room instead, with a glass of whiskey in one hand.

“Did you drop Cara’s donor off?” Will asked, extending his

long legs out before him.

“Aye, I did and left him with a bottle of your best Irish

whiskey,” Seamus said with a quick grin that faded fast. “That went
well enough.”

I caught the hint but so did Will. “And what didn’t?”
“There was another bouquet of roses, white this time with a

single black rose, on the front porch when I came back,” Seamus said.
“I didn’t bother bringing them in but there was a card, just like
before.”

“Henri!” Will spit the name like he’d bit down on something

bitter.

“Yes, dearthair, it is. He won’t give up, either, and he’ll harry

Cara worse than hounds after a fox. Henri Villiers de Aix en
Provence is bad to the bone.”

“You’ve said that before and I believe you but how do you

know about him?”

Seamus rolled his eyes to the high ceilings of the old house.

“Until you didn’t know him, I would have thought every vampire
knew of him. He owns a nasty reputation and it’s true, as much as I
can tell. I first heard of him some years ago, when I was still a new
vampire myself. You know I went to sea, for a time, don’t you?”

“Aye, you’ve told me that.”
“It was a hard life, harder still because I always had the night

watch and had to find me a place to hole up days where no one would
find me,” Seamus said, “But sailors talk and they shared tales galore
about this wicked man, Henri Villiers. When they said rumor called
him a vampire, they had my attention. They spoke of him in France
as a wicked, cruel nobleman and that too many women died in his
area. I just listened and said little but I remembered his name.”

“If you just heard of him then,” I said, “then maybe he’s not as

old as we think and then he won’t be as powerful.”

Seamus shook his head. “No, Cara, dear, I wish ‘twas that

easy but it’s not. When I heard of him again during Napoleon’s wars,
I found out much more about him. He’s a soldier, a warrior, through
and through. I hadn’t met him yet, then –,”

Will stiffened and turned away from me to his brother. “Jesus,

you know him? You haven’t told me that yet.”

Seamus drained the rest of his whiskey in one gulp and

shuddered. “There’s plenty I haven’t gotten to just yet, Will, but I’m
trying, man, if you’ll bear with me. I don’t know him, not in a
familiar sense but I did meet him and we were in the same place for a
small time. It was during the first Napoleonic war, the one that they
called Coalition when the British were under Wellington. I left the
sea for land and got caught in some of that war. Henri fought as an
officer for France but he earned a reputation for being brutal with his
own men and savage with any civilians who got in his way.”

Like his brother, his accent increased with emotion but I

interrupted him to ask,

“Were you a soldier?”
“No, not me,” Seamus said, “I was more of a French spy, to

tell the truth, you know, anything against the English crown and all.
But that didn’t last long and I took ship for the Americas to escape
that life. But I saw Henri many times and he’s cruel indeed. And if
sailors talk, then so do soldiers around the watch fires at night and
they wagged their tongues about Henri. Most of the men hated him—
thinking if he’s immortal, he’s evil. ‘Tis not always so as the three of
us know but in Henri’s case, it’s the truth. That’s where I learned
that he’s supposed to have been a knight in one of the Crusades to
free the Holy Land from the infidels, the one with Richard the Lion
Hearted of England and Henry II from France leading the charge.
King Richard, he carried a dragon standard. Do you know history
well, either of you?”

“I know Texas history,” I said, with a little laugh. School kids

back home know their state’s history even if they don’t learn anything
else. “I studied a little European history in high school and college but
I don’t remember much about the Crusades.”

Will sighed. “I know the history I’ve lived and Irish stories,

little more. Tell us what we need to know, mo buachaill.”

Seamus grinned. “I don’t suppose much of the historical

details matter but if the tales are true, Henri was a devoted knight, a
devout Christian who set out to free Jerusalem. Somehow, though,
during the siege at Acre, Henri fell victim to a vampire. Once he
realized what happened, his beliefs all bit the dust and he turned
ruthless, a brutal man with no boundaries left he wouldn’t cross. As if

it could change that he now was one of us, he took out his revenge on
anyone. Before, they said he was a courtier, fond of the ladies and
treated them all like fine flowers. After, he used women like whores,
taking a special thrill if they were high born. Since then, I’ve heard
rumors of him pop up again and again. As far as I know, he’s been
involved in just about ever war since and usually guilty of extreme
cruelty.”

“Do you know what wars, Seamus?”
“I doubt I can name them all,” he replied. “I’ve heard he sailed

as a British naval officer in the War of 1812, and then came to
America. There are stories about him taking part in killing Native
Americans whenever he could and I know for fact, from a vampire I
once called friend and trusted, Henri was with Santa Ana at Goliad.
That one you know, don’t you, Cara?”

I swallowed hard, mouth as dry as cotton polls ripe for picking

in the early fall. “I do. They even killed the wounded, ones that
couldn’t walk and if it wasn’t for the Angel of Goliad, they would
have killed all the Texans.”

“Aye, well, Henri gloried in the deaths, same as he did

wherever he went. He marched with General Sherman to the sea in
the Civil War, burning, looting and killing along the way. Name the
war and he’s been there, doing his worst and liking it all. I can’t
name them all but it’d include the Spanish-American War, the First
World War, World War II, Korea, Vietnam and even Iraq. He’s a
hardened warrior, Will, with all those centuries of fighting. In World
War II, he was a Nazi and, if you read your history, famous killing
Jewish people in those camps.”

“Mother of God,” Will said. “And what does he do when

there’s no war to fight or he’s not part of one?”

Seamus, face grim as if he wore a black hood and carried a

long scythe, gave an answer that neither Will nor I would like. “Then
he most often is a police officer. And my guess is that he may be one
here in Memphis or even be a government agent of some kind.”

None of us said anything for a few moments, processing what

we heard and trying to understand what it meant. Then Will asked a
question, his voice so casual that anyone who didn’t know him might
have thought it didn’t matter, but I knew that it must be very
important.

“Would he have been in Boston around the time that the Irish

started coming over in the Famine?”

Seamus turned about at that. “I’ve heard it said he was. Why,

Will?”

“I was,” my darling husband said, anguish shadowing his face.

“I was there and I heard of someone like this Henri. If you were here,
in America, then you know how our people were treated, worse than
animals. The more that came, the harder it was for them. I watched
them, knowing that I could have been among them as an old, old man
if I wasn’t what I am. I listened to their stories how they watched
their loved ones die, one by one, with the praties melting into black
mush, some with their lips smeared green with the grass they ate too
late. So many came that the Yankees didn’t want their kind and there
was no place for them all to go but into Shantytowns, horrible places.
I could do nothing to help any of them.”

Will seldom spoke of his past, the long years when he spent a

solitary life. I thought it might be because it bothered me, all the
centuries before I even existed but now I realized that might not be
the sole reason. The few things he’d told me were all good things, but
this sounded like living hell. I watched as tears tracked down his
cheeks and although I wanted to comfort him, I sat still, just listening.

“I know all that, well, mo dearthair,” Seamus answered in a

broken voice. “’Twas the same way in New York, near the Five
Points. That’s where I lived at that time. But what has that to do with
Henri?”

“I need a drink, first,” Will said. He rose and poured one, a

glass more than half full with Jameson’s. He downed it, shuddered as
the potent alcohol impacted his body, then he stood beside his brother.
“I never connected it until you said something about the police. I
recall this policeman, a wicked horrible man, who walked a night
beat. Most just called him “the Frog” because he was French but they
hated him. He would club a man to death for nothing but a chance
word or the wrong expression on his face. The Frog used women,
raped them and killed them after. He ruined good girls, virgins fresh
from home who would have made fine wives, good mothers. He’s
why I left Boston behind.”

“What happened, Will?” My voice came out in a croak.
He stared into the flames and I knew he saw not the fire but

the past. “There was talk, a lot of it, about people being found dead in

the back alleys, drained of their lifeblood. Most were women but not
all. It wasn’t long until someone whispered the word ‘vampire’ and
then the fear grew. Since then, like now, I lived by night, I feared
someone might point a finger at me so I slipped away, left Boston
behind and headed to another city.”

“Do you think this Frog was Henri?” Seamus asked.
“Aye,” Will said in a harsh tone. “He wore his blonde hair

long, just like this amadan does and now that I think back, it is the
same man. I didn’t notice before—it’s been a long time.”

“So you do know of him, then,” Seamus said. “And so you

know what we’re up against.”

“I do.”
“What do you plan to do, then, Will?”
He turned around to look at me, eyes darkened to near black

with emotion, rage and fear mingling with love. “I’ll kill him if I
can.”

“And if you can’t, what then, brother?”
“Then we all die together, I suppose.” He said that terrible

sentence in such an ordinary voice that my blood chilled below
freezing and I shivered. “I don’t mean for that to happen but I don’t
know if we can defeat him, not even together.”

“Will, don’t even say that,” Seamus cried.
“Dá mbeifeá chomh láidir le crann darach, gheobhadh an bás

an ceann is fearr ort.” Will spoke the words like poetry or a prayer
but I had no idea what that meant or what Seamus said back to him,
“An té nach mbíonn láidir ní folláir dó bheith glic. Ni ceart go cur le
cheile. ”

At his brother’s passionate outburst in Irish, Will’s hard face

softened, crumbled like a cookie dipped into milk and he nodded.
“Aye, lad, there’s that. If you’re with me, if you have my back there
might yet be a chance.”

He bent to kiss me, his mouth furious and needy over mine.

After, my swollen lips ached but I wanted more but he shook his
head. “Give me a few minutes, Cara. I’ll go smoke and then I’ll be
back, calmer and we can talk.”

I nodded and he smiled, a half-smile that hurt me to see, an

expression so pained and sick that I wanted to cry. “I’ll be back
before you can miss me, mo anam cara.”

The sound of his boots echoed as he walked outside, each

footfall ringing hard against the floor. When the front door slammed
behind him with enough force to rattle the walls, I looked up at
Seamus, tears in my eyes.

“I don’t know enough Irish to understand. What did he say?”
Seamus wiped a tear from his cheek. “Will said that even the

strongest oak tree can be broken by death. It’s an old saying but I told
him that the man who can’t be strong must be cunning instead. Our
strength, the three of us, is in unity.”

“Will it be enough?” I whispered.
He sat down near my feet with a sigh. “That I don’t know,

dear sister, and nothing but time will tell.”

He meant to comfort me, I know, but with a growing sense

that time might be running out, I began crying, this time hard without
restraint and when Will came back, he pulled me into his arms
without a word and held me till dawn.

Chapter Ten

When I was about six or seven, Granny Riley told me that she

thought dawn to be the prettiest time of day and when I admitted I’d
never seen the sun come up in the morning, she seemed so sad that I
wanted to experience it. She made me feel like I missed something
beautiful and so I spent one whole summer struggling to wake in time
to watch the dawn. I would get up before anyone else woke and creep
over to the window.

I curled up inside those big window frames in our old house to

wait and watch. When I did it, watched the sun rise I sat awestruck,
almost unable to describe the wonder before my eyes. Even as a
grown up, I sometimes delighted in the dawn, although by then if I
saw sunrise, it usually happened because I’d been up all night singing
or just helling around. Dawn never lost that magic for me and I
appreciated the loveliness of it right up until I became a vampire to be
with Will forever.

Now that I couldn’t enjoy that experience again, there were

times I longed for it. Our recent close call with daybreak in Branson,
with Seamus, though taught me it wouldn’t be worth the risk. I
missed dawn more than ever that morning after we talked about Henri
and I realized what a terrible creature he’d been and still was.

I can’t begin to explain what upset me the most, the worry that

Will, who I thought could do almost anything, might fail in defeating
Henri; that even the three of us together could not win, or Will’s sad
memories. I think really the combination together equaled too much
for me to bear, especially just getting over my illness. I’m seldom
that vulnerable but when I am, I’m fragile as antique glass.

When he came back, the scent of tobacco clinging to his

clothing like beggar’s lice, and saw me crying, Will opened his arms
wide and I entered them. He didn’t ask what might be wrong or why
I wept, just held me close. His earlier emotional storm had passed
and his calm leeched into me until I cuddled, secure as anyone can
ever be.

“Its morning,” Seamus announced, after he pulled the thick,

heavy drape aside to peer outside. “It’s time to go to bed and none too
soon for me.”

“But soft what light through yonder window breaks,” Will

quoted from “Romeo and Juliet”, the first he’d spoken in a very long
time. “It is the east and Juliet is the sun.”

His voice, though soft, sounded normal again and so I said,

“Then let’s go rest, Romeo.”

Will nodded, “I had it in mind to do more than rest but we’ve

cut it too close. I’ll wait until tonight, leannán.”

With me still in his arms, he headed upstairs and although

earlier I insisted on walking, I didn’t protest. Fatigue crept over me
like a fog and by the time we undressed to slip between the sheets, I
let it pull me down into the darkness of our days.

Vamps never dream and yet when I roused at nightfall, images

haunted me from the past. Will’s anguished stories of the Irish who
came over when the potato crop failed remained, sad and yet so real
because he experienced their pain firsthand. Seamus’ talk of his past
also brought history alive in a way that the pages of a textbook never
did for me. I also realized for the first time that, barring any
unfortunate events, I am immortal and that I’ll see the centuries pass
too. I’ll watch history being made and look back over many years.
On one hand that thought disturbed me, but then I decided as long as I
have Will at my side, in my heart, and in my bed, I could deal with it.

I watched him, not yet awake and noted that the harsh lines in

his face the night before faded over the daylight hours. He looks
thirty years old, young for it much of the time, but I always tell
myself to remember to add more than two hundred years to that. In
the evening dusk, though, no man, living or undead, could be more
handsome than my Will. I wanted him but I didn’t wish to disturb
him so I slipped, easy as a bass gliding through deep waters, from the
bed. I brushed my hair and let it fall free the way he likes it best. I lit
a few candles on the dresser, scented ones, and then applied perfume,
the mysterious and seductive scent of Shalimar that I’ve always loved.

When he stirred, he reached for me and when his hands failed

to connect, he sat up, anxious for a few seconds until he saw me,
naked at the vanity, running a brush through my hair until it crackled
with static electricity.

“Woman, come here,” he said to me and I did as he asked, like

a June bug pulled to the lure of the porch light on a Texas night.
Before I reached the huge antique bed we shared, he threw all the
covers to the floor and when I stood there, he moved with the stealth,

the speed of a striking rattlesnake to snare me. He laid me across the
bed and then, with the appetite of a wild beast, one long denied
feeding, he put his mouth over mine.

Last time, he cherished me, treated me as if I were as delicate

as porcelain, as flimsy as gauze, and as easy to destroy as a butterfly’s
wings. Although, beneath his rising need, I sensed the gentle
tenderness he carried for me in his heart; I knew his hunger in my
own. He craved carnal knowledge of my body and needed it to both
fuel him as well as strengthen him.

Will fed on my lips as if they were part of a banquet I offered,

nibbling and caressing, one mouth to another. His tongue parted my
lips to enter my mouth, lascivious and greedy. He grasped my
shoulders as he French kissed me until I couldn’t even draw a breath
and just when I swear I thought I might pass out from lack of oxygen,
Will moved those roaming lips to the hollow of my throat, that soft
spot and kissed me there. His mouth, moments ago so rough, shifted
to tenderness and the light caress from his lips fired me into flame.

As he held me in place, hands still firm on my shoulders, I

reached up to rake my nails across his back with force. I loved the
feel of his satin like skin beneath my sharp fingernails, loved even
more the small sounds he made when I did it. Inspired, I shifted my
hands until I cupped his firm buttocks and squeezed. At the same
time, he moved his head lower so that he could caress my nipples
with his tongue, the flick of it so sensual that I felt each one tighten
more with each stroke. They hardened just as he put his mouth
around one and suckled. That slight pull combined with the extreme
sensation overloaded my nervous system with pleasure, deep and
sweet. That delight drew me into the center of his desire and mine.

Will’s hands slid lower from my shoulders so that now his

fingers toyed with my breasts and his mouth explored down my belly.
He kissed my naval and I writhed with the intense feeling that evoked.
I leaned forward and nibbled at his chest, inches above his nipple until
I drew the tiniest bit of blood. I licked him there, liking the taste and
tapping into that rush of pure sexual gratification that came with
feeding. Combined with the physical consciousness of sexual power
and the rising tide that would soon swamp me with the overwhelming
delights of the flesh, I burned with it.

Now I became as greedy as Will, my hunger to melt into him,

to become one, became so strong that I thought I might die from need.

He ramped things up to another level when his mouth lowered to my
crotch. His lips kissed the inside of my thighs, sucking with enough
force that I knew he would mark me with love tattoos. I caressed
him, my hands searching, yearning, and doing their best to give him
the same kind of sweet pleasures he offered.

When his tongue plunged into my waiting cleft, I arched my

back and shrieked with the total joy and intense pleasure of it. Will
lifted himself up and stilled my mouth with his own, tasting of me and
my twat. That brought my need to such a fever pitch that my body
trembled, quivered with want and I managed to say, voice choking,
“Now, Will, please, now!”

He laugh, that merry sound I adored, and then he surged into

me, his rigid cock stiffer than stone. My flesh yielded to him then
surrounded him, the walls of my vagina stroking him as I pushed
upward so that he could go deeper. When he filled me to capacity, he
began to rock me, gentle as a cradle, and I whimpered, begging for
that final moment of ultimate pleasure.

I gazed at his face, his expression rapt with his own delight,

that searing, sweet pleasure of the flesh and then, too overcome by
sensation, I shut my eyes. As if that were a cue, he changed motions
and rammed into me, in and out with the rhythm of a Singer sewing
machine.

My body convulsed with his love, delightful explosions

delivered pleasure to every sensitive spot, each nerve ending. I felt
his release begin and we soared together, straining, pushing, searching
until he took me to that peak. Together, we collided with the stars,
with time, with beauty, and wrapped it all in love. Our bodies roared
with the ultimate orgasm and then, we crashed back to earth with slow
measure, orgasms still shattering me until we lie there, tangled into
one, still connected, and fed at last.

After that triumph, I could have lain there all night, satisfied

and as content as a cat with a belly full of cream but Will, after a cozy
interlude where we said nothing, just stroked each other with lazy
hands, sighed. I knew then we had to get up but I had no idea what
we might do.

He showered and I curled up beneath the comforter he tossed

over me. When Will returned, smelling clean and dressed, I exited
my cocoon. I longed for a bath, a deep warm soak with scented bath
salts and when I told him, he smiled.

“Take your bath, mo anam cara, we’re in no hurry. I thought

we might go to Beale Street and eat at BB King’s later if you feel well
enough and maybe go dancing after that. We might as well go about
our usual business. There’s no telling where or when the Frog might
show up.”

As soon as he suggested it, I liked the idea. Even though I’d

thought maybe we’d stay home and hide from Henri, I wanted to get
out, see the lights and sounds of Beale Street anyway. Hiding hadn’t
worked with Sallie Hawkins so I decided, what the hell, let’s do it.

“I’m fine, Will,” I told him, “and I’d love to go to BB King’s.

I’d like dancing with you even more.”

His grin illuminated his face and for now, despite all the

emotional turmoil from last night, despite what threat we faced from
Henri, his happiness flared between us, bright and beautiful.

“Good. Then take your bath and come downstairs when

you’re ready. I’ll find Seamus and we’ll be waiting.”

An hour later, I descended the grand front staircase like

Scarlett O’Hara at Twelve Oaks at the Wilkes’ barbecue. After my
soak, I decided to dress up in something more than my jeans so I dug
through my closet until I found one of my favorite cocktail dresses,
fancy enough to perform in if I wanted but not as elegant as the de la
Renta number. I put on the classic black sheath dress, sheer hose, and
just enough make-up to be interesting. Then I stuck my feet into high
heeled pumps and went down to Will, my new black fox tossed over
my shoulders.

His eyes delivered the approval and appreciation I wanted so

we headed off to Memphis and down to Beale Street, the two of us in
Will’s 1959 Caddy, Seamus driving his own vehicle. Crowds filled
BB King’s but we managed to gain a table and order. I craved
comfort food and home style things so we shared a basket of catfish
bites before our meal arrived. I dived into my chicken fried chicken
and savored the taste. Will and Seamus ordered the chicken and ribs
combo, featuring a half chicken and ribs on the side. We ate and I
could see how much they enjoyed the food. Since this marked the
first time we’d been out since I got so ill, we all seemed excited to be
out in public again.

At the same time, a little wariness kept me alert. Every little

bit I’d make a gander around the room, searching for that long blonde
hair, that chiseled face but I didn’t see anyone who even resembled

Henri. I relaxed and after our delicious dinner, we listened to some
blues. I let the music pour over me, rich and thick, and satisfying as it
seeped into my soul.

At Club 152, we headed for the second floor, my personal

favorite of the three floors that each offered dancing. I liked the
ambiance and the silver ball that spun over the dance floor, retro and
yet awesome. Seamus headed upstairs to the third floor but Will and I
danced, to a few fast tunes but most of them slow. I loved the
graceful way he moved with me in his arms and if I knew the songs, I
sometimes sang along. Everything seemed perfect until I caught a
glimpse of blonde hair, shoulder length, across the dance floor. I
froze in mid-step and Will stumbled over my feet that failed to move.

“What’s wrong, Cara?” he asked, his happy face fading to one

of anxiety. I think he first thought maybe I didn’t feel well, that I’d
done a bit too much.

“I think ‘The Frog’ is here,” I said, using the nickname he’d

mentioned from old Boston.

His arms tightened around me like a vise. “Where is he?”
Mama always told me it’s not polite to point so I indicated the

direction with a toss of my head. “He’s over there, not far from the
bar.”

“The devil has the power to assume a pleasing shape,” Will

said, his tone dry as an August drought. “Keep dancing for now,
leannán.”

“And then what?”
“I imagine he’ll come over to you,” Will told me as if that

were just the most plausible thing in the world. “He wants you so
he’s going to have to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk to him!” I exclaimed. He had kissed my

hand and nearly killed me, so chatting him up didn’t seem like the
best idea to me. “He might hurt me again.”

Will put his hand beneath my chin so that I had to look up into

his eyes, “I don’t plan to stand here and let that happen. If you don’t
play nice though, Cara, he may hurt you worse or me or Seamus.”

When the song ended, half the dancers cleared the floor and

Henri moved through the empty spaces. He didn’t walk—he
sauntered like a man enjoying a public park and he headed straight for
me. Panic tightened my chest and I forgot to breathe until Will put
one hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t be afraid but if you are, don’t let him see your fear.”
His advice rang a memory bell deep within my brain. As a

kid, a mean dog lived on the next block, a pit bull that tormented
everyone who passed his yard. The owners wouldn’t keep him on a
chain so when I walked past, he charged at me, barking and snarling.
That scared me out of my cute little Mary Jane shoes until my daddy
told me not to show my fear, to meet danger head on and head high.

“Stand up to him, face him with head held high, Cara,” he

said, “and he won’t hurt you.”

I wasn’t too sure that would work with this Henri but I drew a

deep breath and tried to arrange my face into a pleasant, polite mask.

“Bonsoir, ma Cherie,” Henri crooned as he reached us. He

bowed and I stood still. “Let me introduce myself. I did not get that
chance when last we met, dear lady. I am Henri Villiers de Aix en
Provence at your service.”

“Cara Brennan,” I said, surprised that I could summon up

enough voice to sound as cheeky as I did. “Cara Riley Brennan.”

“May I have the pleasure of the next dance?” he asked, his

voice oozing sweetness with that French fried accent and a tone that
could have melted butter. He extended a hand toward me which I
ignored.

“Last time you touched me, I took sick,” I said, an edge to my

voice like a just-sharpened butcher knife. “I don’t know if I want to
take the chance.”

Henri laughed but it wasn’t pleasant or happy. The sound

reminded me of the choppy sound of fan blades or the rattle of tools
carried in an old metal tool chest. “Ma chaton, I just wanted to warn
you what I am capable of doing. Now that you know, I won’t hurt
you. You have my word as a gentleman on it.”

I’d rather have picked up a full-grown water moccasin and

hung it around my neck than dance with him but I didn’t see any other
options. If I remembered what little French I’d seen or heard over the
years, I thought he called me his ‘kitten’ and I made myself a promise
to remember that even little kittens have sharp claws and sharper
teeth. “All right, one dance.”

Will inclined his head in a nod so slight that no one else would

have caught it. He lifted his eyes upward and I understood he meant
to find his brother, and then bring him down to this floor. I answered
back with my eyes as Henri led me onto the dance floor. I hated his

touch, his hands so cool and dry against my skin that they reminded
me of a reptile. He moved without grace, in a mechanical way and
when he danced with me, he seemed stiff. Although he made polite
small talk, he seldom smiled during our dance and when he did, the
expression flirted with his lips but never touched his eyes. I searched
for Will and when I located him, standing in the dark shadows of a
distant corner with Seamus at his side, I relaxed a little. When that
tune ended, he released me and I resisted an urge to bolt.

“Enchante, ma chaton. Merci beau coup,” Henri said with a

formal bow. “We shall meet again, no?”

“We just might,” I said with more sass that I felt.
He did smile then, stretched his lips out into a curved bow that

seemed more mocking than a grin. “We will and when I want, you
will be mine, ma Cherie. Au revoir.”

He might have kissed my hand but I snatched it back, not

trusting and with another dry laugh, he left me, blending into the
crowds until I didn’t see him anymore. By then, I saw Will make his
way through the people to reach me and when he did, he hugged me
tight.

“Are you all right, Cara?”
I needed to scrub my hands and arms with the hottest water I

could stand and the strongest soap but other than that, I was fine.
“I’m okay but I want to wash away his touch.”

So I did while Will and Seamus waited just outside, their

stance tense and their attitude so protective than one woman asked me
if they were my bodyguards. I just nodded, mute, and went on.

“Do you want to dance some more?” Will asked. He looked

weary again, worry settled into his eyes like a storm front. He’d
dance till dawn if I wanted him to but I sensed he would rather not. I
just wanted to head on home.

“Let’s go home,” I said, kissing him with the promise of more

to come. I linked my arm through his.

“I’d like nothing better,” Will said. “Seamus, dearthair, will

you stay or go?”

My brother-in-law grinned, a slow wicked smile that made me

think he’d found a woman he liked upstairs. “I’ll stay, Will, but don’t
worry. I’ll be home before the sun rises.”

“If you’re not, call me,” Will said, “I do have that damn cell

phone after all. Come on, woman, let’s go.”

Outside, the cold night air gathered around me and I pulled

my fox fur closer, savoring the warmth. Will put his arm around me
and we walked down the sidewalk that way, both of us looking to see
if Henri lurked nearby. Before we reached the car, Will indicated a
young woman standing alone. In the amber streetlight glow, I saw
tears sparkled on her cheeks.

“I’m in need of a donor,” he said and left me standing there as

he approached her. “Miss, do you need a ride or anything? My wife
and I would be glad to see you home.”

She glanced up and nodded. “My date left me so I could use

a ride back to the Peabody. I came down to Memphis for the
weekend.”

“We’ll be happy to take you,” Will said. At the car, he helped

her into the backseat and then bent down to suckle her throat, swift
and certain. She startled for a moment, put one hand to her neck and
looked at me. I smiled back, proof that nothing could be out of the
ordinary. She shrugged and climbed into the car. We dropped her off
at the classy old hotel a few blocks away and drove home, silent but
in harmony.

I tried not to think about ‘The Frog’ but Henri haunted me

and I wondered when he would seek me out again. I knew it would
be when, not if, no matter how much I wished not to ever see him
again. And I worried, a little.

Will did too.
****
Watching that bastard dance with his wife incited him to a

level of violence he’d not known in more than a century. He didn’t
act on it—he couldn’t, not now, without risk. He would take the
chance himself, no question, but he wouldn’t gamble with Cara or his
brother’s safety. He forced himself to wait, to plan, and then to act.

Everything he gained could be lost and he realized it. Henri

had six hundred or more years of seasoning, of gathered power than
he did. Even together, he and Seamus could not claim a matching
number of years. Although he’d been a creature of the night himself
for some two hundred and thirty odd years, Will knew little about
other vampires. He’d kept apart from most, solitary and secret. What
he did understand, though, was that the older the vampire, the
stronger his dominance. Henri outranked him in age and in war
experience. Like the Irish proverb Seamus quoted to him, they must

possess cunning and their unity would be their strength. It might be
the only one that they had, he reflected, that and love.

Cara believed in the power of love and it enabled her to kill

Sallie Hawkins, that awful English bitch that made both he and his
brother into vampires. Without that love and her strong stubborn
streak, Will doubted she could have accomplished the task. That she
had still amazed him.

Love, unity, and cunning were the weapons at hand. All he

had to do was figure out just how to use them to defeat Henri. That he
would have to kill him, Will had no doubt.

Just how he might accomplish that was something else

altogether.

Chapter Eleven

Growing up, I thought I knew just how my life would be one

day. I envisioned a future patterned after my reality. Somehow I
figured I’d grow up, maybe go to college at Lon Morris up at
Jacksonville or at LSU over in Shreveport or maybe Baylor, find a
Texas cowboy, get married and we’d buy a house in Rusk or maybe
next door in Gallatin. I figured I’d work at some job—back then I
wasn’t sure quite what I wanted to be and everyone told me that being
a singer was fantasy—and then we’d raise three or four kids. We’d
grow old together in the little town where I was born and raised, we’d
know everyone and they’d know us.

In that life, most folks unwind after supper. They kick off

their shoes or they may change into something comfortable and either
head for the front porch if the weather’s fine or settle in to watch
television. A few might curl up with a good book. Basically, it’s
down time. Even though I believed that would be my future, I never
could quite see it and it didn’t happen that way. And I’m glad, very
glad.

But, they say that a child doesn’t go far from its raising so

when we came home that night from Beale Street, the first thing I did
was exchange my little cocktail dress for a comfortable nighty. I
slipped into a long, sleek black negligee with lace from the waist up
and in bare feet I came down to find Will already in our moon room.
We had three, maybe four hours until dawn and he’d poured us each a
tall glass of John Jameson’s fine Irish whiskey mixed with just a bit of
ginger ale. He likes to drink, my Will, but when he chooses whiskey,
he’s often upset or nervous.

“Thanks, honey,” I said as he handed me a glass. I flopped

down on the chaise lounge and stretched out my legs. He came to sit
at my feet, raised his glass high and said,

“Slainte,”
“Cheers,” I gave him back with a smile.
His expression, cheerful as a man at his best friend’s funeral,

never shifted as he knocked back a big gulp of his drink. “Conas ata
tu?”

“I’m just fine, Will, I really am. He didn’t hurt me this time.”
He put the back of one hand against my cheek, a gentle caress

that lasted just a moment.

“I’m glad. You can’t imagine how I felt watching you dance

in his arms, Cara.”

“Jealous?” I guessed. I meant it as a joke but he wasn’t in a

mood to be amused.

Will scowled at me. “Woman, I’m not jealous at all. If you

liked his attention, it might be different but I’m sure of your heart. I
was afraid, mo anam cara, and worried that he might hurt you again
while I watched. If he did, I knew I couldn’t stop him.”

“And what else?” I felt something more within his mind but I

couldn’t quite grasp it or understand.

He drained the rest of his whiskey. “I wanted to kill him, right

there, Cara; without a shred of remorse or care.”

I’d never heard him sound this vindictive or so bent on

vengeance. He could have been a warrior, I realized, and I caught a
glimpse, just a faint image in my head of what he must have been like
as a highwayman. Words floated into my consciousness to describe
him: strong, dangerous, cunning, strong, and able. He would need all
those qualities and more to defeat Henri, I thought but I didn’t say
aloud. He caught my thought, though, because he then said,

“I could do it, leannán, but maybe not quickly enough that he

wouldn’t unleash his version of hell on me or you other two. That’s
all that kept me from murder at the dance club. I don’t care about
myself—I would sacrifice whatever unlife I have for you in a moment
but I wouldn’t want you hurt. Then anything I did would be for
nothing.”

“I care,” I said through a thick knot of tears that formed in my

throat. “I don’t want you hurt or your existence ended, Will Brennan.
I love you.”

He put down his empty glass with care. “I know that well, mo

anam cara, but I’d want no existence without you in it. I feel helpless
that I can’t stop Henri yet and I expect there’s more to come before I
can. But believe me when I tell you that I will, somehow. I’ll never
pause again, never stand still, till either death has closed these eyes of
mine or fortune given me measure of revenge.”

I’d never heard him quote that bit of Shakespeare before but it

awed me and scared the hell out of me at the same time. He meant it
and in case I missed that point, he said, after a short pause, “I vow it,
Cara.”

“Then seal it with a kiss,” I said, aching for his touch.

I shifted position and so did he until I reclined in his arms.

Will kissed me with a heady mixture of poignant sweetness and
heated desire. After, he held me close, safe and secure for this
moment in time. We cuddled until his cell phone rang across the
room and he released me to answer. He listened and said a few words
in Irish.

“That was Seamus,” he told me. “He’s not coming home until

tonight—he met a woman and he’s gone home with her. I hope he
knows what he’s doing.”

“Sounds familiar,” I said, with a smile.
For the first time since Henri destroyed our evening out, Will

grinned. “It does, doesn’t it? I shouldn’t worry—he’s a grown man
and on his own for centuries but I can’t help it. I just hope that the
woman doesn’t open the drapes to let in the sun or some nonsense like
that.”

I laughed. “I don’t think she will but you know what this

means?”

“What’s that?”
“We have the rest of the night and all day to ourselves.”
A faint grin played over his lips like summer lighting. “Aye,

but I want to talk to Malachi a few minutes when he wakes and before
we retire.”

I stared through the glass walls of the moon room at the east

where the horizon remained dark. A snippet of poetry, not the Bard’s
flashed into my head and I said, “If we but had world enough and
time.”

Will turned to me, his eyes burning dark with passion. “Oh,

leannán, I think that we can find the time.”

I wore nothing beneath my satin scrap of a negligee so when

he bent his mouth to mine, this time, his lips evoked enough desire
that my nipples hardened beneath the thin cloth. His cool breath over
that lace ignited my body into an open flame that burned hot. I
latched onto him like a snapping turtle and he rucked up the skirt of
my nighty, his mouth lowered to that spot between my legs from
which all blessings flow. He didn’t even bother to undress, just undid
his jeans and entered me, fast, his cock hard as stone as it filled my
wet cave. We both moaned, stirred with the rush, needing release and
it came, quick and certain. Will covered me, his body l over mine
comforting and I liked it.

“Malachi will be waking soon,” Will said after a long sojourn,

“and that means you’d best be getting upstairs.”

“I’ll wait for you.”
He untangled himself from me and stood up, fixing his jeans

and shook his head, “No, Cara, I’d rather you didn’t. I want to tell
Malachi about Henri and what’s happened so he can be alert. I plan
to ask him if he’ll do a little spying to see if he can spot the bastard
and find out where he lays by day.”

I did what he asked but I couldn’t understand why I should

leave. Maybe Will didn’t want to upset me. When he came up and
joined me, I didn’t ask. I knew he probably wouldn’t tell me more
and I hated to push it. Back when Sallie Hawkins first began
hounding us, he wanted to send me home to Texas and I refused.
When he insisted, I just went and got a motel room in Memphis. If
I’d gone like he asked, he’d been dead so I hoped he learned his
lesson about trying to tell me what to do. I wasn’t planning to leave
any sooner now than I was then.

Dawn tinted the horizon by the time Will joined me in bed.

No time remained for conversation or anything but a quick kiss before
we sank down into our repose for the day. Most of the time, I know
nothing until full dark and then I stir like the nocturnal being that I am
but today I came out of my darkness and woke far too soon alone in
our big bed.

“Will?” I asked, more than a little scared. Vampires don’t get

up during the day unless it’s something serious.

I sat up, rattled and stared into the dim room to see if he

might be around.

“I’m here, mo anam cara,” he said. I peered harder to see that

he stood near the windows in a far corner. “It’s all right.”

“What are you doing?”
Will approached the bed, naked as the day he was born, cell

phone in his hand. “Seamus called and the ringing roused me.”

“He called during the day?” That startled me as much as it

might a night sleeper to take a phone call at 3am. “What’s wrong?”

He sat down on the bed and faced me. “Seamus had an

experience much like yours, the one in Branson. He’s with a woman,
you know that, and just as they started to rest, he felt a hand over his
face and he couldn’t breathe. He fainted, just as you did, but this
woman—I think he said her name is Amber—brought him around.”

“Is he all right now?”
“Aye, he’s fine. But he couldn’t get settled to repose and he

worried that Henri might try something the same with you or me so he
called.”

Worry flared over me like a Texas wild fire burning out of

control. “Do you think he will?”

Will sighed. “I don’t think so, not now. He’s flexing his

muscles a bit, showing off his strength. I have an idea that he’s closer
to where Seamus is now. He said Amber has a loft apartment around
the old warehouse district and that’s where they are. There would be
a lot of places to hide by day near there.”

Amber, whoever she was, just got involved in something that

could get gnarly. I remembered my early days with Will, the
unspoken questions and the incredible attraction but I hadn’t dealt
with anything like Seamus just did. “How did he explain it to this
Amber? She is human, right?”

“Aye, she is,” Will said, with a long, slow sigh. “He said he

told her he has panic attacks and I guess she believed it. Anyway, I
told him we’d come get him this evening. He can leave his vehicle
there for now.”

He rubbed his forehead and I knew he must have a headache.

So I softened my tone as I said, “Sure. You need to get some rest,
Will. Does your head hurt?”

“It does but it’s just from being awake this time of day. Let’s

lie back down, Cara.”

I curled up against him, my front to his back like a pair of

spoons in a drawer. Heavy fatigue filled me and I closed my eyes,
comforted by the touch of his skin to mine. Just before I sank into
that deep, dreamless state again, I felt some of the tension that
tightened Will’s body ebb away.

When I came around at dusk, I was alone so I pulled on my

dressing gown to head downstairs. Will wasn’t there either but
Malachi, his manservant, met me at the foot of the stairs.

“He’s gone to get Seamus,” Malachi said, “Will said to tell

you he’d be back soon.”

“Oh,” I said, disconcerted. I’d planned to go along for the ride

when he picked up his brother but that wasn’t happening. “Did he say
if we’d be going out later?”

Malachi wouldn’t look me in the eye. “He didn’t say but he

did have me go grocery shopping and there are all kinds of things to
cook in the kitchen, steaks and chicken and shrimp.”

“Did he?” I asked. That meant we’d been staying in and I

would hazard a guess that Will decided to batten down the hatches to
protect me. Part of me liked his protective attitude but I also hated it.
I’d be lucky to see moonlight or feel the night wind on my face until
this thing with Henri ended and that could take a long time.

I could deal, though, as long as he didn’t try to send me away,

back home to Mama and Daddy, like he did when we had to face that
bitch Sallie Hawkins. That Gaelic proverb Seamus quoted that meant
“our unity is our strength,” was my motto. We had to stick together
to succeed.

“Oh, he did,” Malachi said. To be even more helpful, he

added, “He had me buy plenty of wine and whiskey too.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” I said, in a tone so dry it needed

water. “Thanks, Malachi.”

Since it looked as if we’d be at home, I went back upstairs to

change into jeans and a blouse. When I came back downstairs, I
heard Will’s Caddy roar up the drive so I waited. The brothers burst
through the front door like an invasion, fast and furious. Two sets of
blue eyes spit fire as they gabbled at each other in Irish, much too
quick for me to grasp, and when they saw me, they stopped as if they
ran into a brick wall.

“Cara,” Will said, with a guilty look that could get him hanged

in Texas. That confirmed my belief he left me home on purpose. “Did
you miss me?”

“Oh, I did,” I said, allowing sarcasm to thicken my tone until I

drawled almost pure Texas honey. “What are you up to and what’s
the trouble?”

“There’s no trouble,” Will said with a faux smile that almost

worked. Seamus glared at him so hard that I could imagine Will
shattering with the impact. “We’re just having a wee disagreement.”

“Póg mo thón,” Seamus growled and circled around us to

stomp up the stairs. I’d been around Will long enough to know just
what that meant—kiss my arse—and I smothered a giggle.

“Bí ‘do thost,” Will replied, scowling. He stared after his

brother as if he might follow to keep the fight going. I’d never seen

them have more than a moment’s disagreement so to distract him
from the argument I linked my arm through his.

“Let’s go have a drink, honey,” I said.
“Aye, all right,” Will said, with a sigh.
In the parlor, we settled into comfortable seats and he poured

us both Jameson’s, neat. I sipped mine but Will downed his first
glass, then poured up another. He snorted with silent outrage until I
said, “You might as well tell now and get it over. What were the two
of you fighting about?”

He sent me a look almost as harsh as the one he’d given his

brother. “I just told my amadan brother that it’d be best if he’d stick
close to home for a night or two until we know what may happen with
The Frog. And I suggested, mind, not told, he might want to stay
away from this woman, Amber, for now. I’m thinking of him and her
both—no point in getting them both in danger but he got mad at me.”

“I could tell,” I said, without heat. “Will, I imagine he thinks

you’re trying to tell him what to do like a child.”

“Jesus,” Will said as he poured more Jameson’s down his

throat with well-honed skill. “That’s just what he said, that he’s been
on his own as both man and vampire and doesn’t need to be spoken to
like a wane. I’m not, though. All I wanted to do is warn him and
keep him safe.”

“I know that,” I said. “But I remember how you tried to make

me do what you wanted when we were up against Sallie. It didn’t
work very well, did it?”

He said nothing because it had not. If I’d listened to him and

hightailed it home to Texas without a single fare-thee-well, he might
not exist now. And he would have never known about Seamus either.
I remembered what Seamus said when he stayed with me when I was
sick from Henri’s touch, that Will got mean when he was scared.

“You’re afraid for me, aren’t you?” I asked him.
Will nodded. “I am, Cara, and for my brother too. I love you

both and I wouldn’t want the emptiness of my life before you came
into it. But I had nothing to lose for centuries and now I have
everything.”

His face shifted into such dejection that I put down my empty

glass and went to him, wrapped my arms around him as if I could
keep all the hurt in the world from him. “You won’t lose either one
of us, Will.”

“I hope not,” he said. “Would you want to go cook

something for us to eat? Seamus can’t sulk forever and when he
comes down, I’ll apologize to him.”

“So we’re not going out?” I asked.
“We might go get Seamus’ vehicle in a bit and donors if any

of us needs them but other than that, no I think not.”

“We tried that with Sallie and it didn’t really work out,” I

pointed out.

“Aye, I know,” Will sighed. “But it’s worth trying.”
So I cooked, sirloin steaks, fried eggs over easy, and biscuits.

By the time I served the food, the brothers made up and brought
Seamus’ truck back from Memphis. He still wasn’t happy but he
understood, now, that Will protected out of love. I buttered another
biscuit, mourned that it still wasn’t quite up to Mama’s quality, and
listened as they hashed it over once more.

“I understand why, Will, but how can I explain to Amber that

I’m neither crazy nor not interested?” Seamus asked. “I lied about
having a panic attack already and that was bad enough.”

Will, finished eating and lit a cigarillo with a sigh. “I don’t

know what to tell you, Seamus, but if you’re with her, Henri may
wonder what the attraction is and latch onto her. If you’ll be patient,
this should all end soon enough, then you can go back to your
woman.”

“Aye, if she doesn’t find someone else. This one is special,

dearthair.”

“Is she?”
“She is, Will,” Seamus said, his eyes misty with emotion. “I

watch you and Cara. I can’t help but wish I had that and I never have,
not in all the long years. I’ve had women, aye, but not like what you
share with Cara. But for my sins, I’d like to have it and with Amber.”

God, but that sounded sweet to my ears. Up until I met Will

and fell for him hard, I probably was the world’s worst skeptic about
true love. I’d met men I liked and a few I might have loved a little
but until Will, I didn’t understand love. I don’t suppose anyone does
until they find it, if they’re lucky enough that they do. Seamus’
comment that he craved what we’d found swelled my heart full. Still,
since she must be human and still clueless about what Seamus was, it
remained complicated but I hoped he could work it all out.

“Tell us about her,” I said, joining the conversation. “What’s

Amber like?”

Seamus grinned. “She’s very pretty and she has long brown

hair with highlights in it so it looks like the color of honey. Her eyes
are green, flecked with brown and she’s got a small face with dainty
features. She’s a radio DJ at some station here in Memphis and she
has the voice for it, smoky and sweet at the same time. She can dance
like a graceful angel.”

I looked at Will. “He’s got it bad, don’t you think?”
“Aye,” he said, with a half smile. “He does and I hope it can

end the way he wants. Right now, though, we’ve got to finish this
thing with Henri or you won’t be safe and his Amber could be in
danger, too.”

I agreed but I had no idea just how that could happen or what

we needed to do. Somehow I didn’t think sitting around the house,
big and comfortable as it was, was going to advance things much. So
I asked, “Do you have a plan?”

Will sighed, heavy as a storm front. “No, not yet but I will,

mo anam cara. We need to make one, so

tonight let us assay our

plot.”

That sounded good to me because we needed a plan and fast.
I just didn’t have any idea where to start thinking of one.
After I did up the dishes and tidied the kitchen we gathered in

the moon room, snug beneath the stars and Will poured us all wine.
We settled down to talk and brainstorm although we didn’t come up
with any concrete idea or figure out how to handle Henri. But we
were all three in accord again and that was a good thing.

When morning drew close, Seamus excused himself and left

us alone. I looked across the room at Will, inhaled the rich and fertile
aroma of the plants that surrounded us there and smiled.

His lips curved into his first true grin all night long and he

quoted Hamlet, words I’d heard before but they remained just as
beautiful, all the more when he spoke them, “Doubt that the stars are
fire, doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never
doubt I love.”

He gave me Shakespeare, I offered him back some lines from

my favorite old Pat Benatar tune, “Heartbreaker, “You’re the right
kind of sinner to release my inner fantasy, the invincible winner, and
you know that you were born to please.”

Will took my hand and raised me from the chaise lounge

where I reclined so that I faced him. “I’ll please you, woman, if you
like.”

His mouth met mine with fury, with the impact of a storm

front howling in from the western sky. His power poured into me and
elevated that always simmering passion within to a full boil within
seconds. I burned in his arms, that wild and sweet fever of love
infecting me everywhere. My lips molded to his, fit like Cinderella’s
slipper to her foot, and locked there. I put my arms around his neck
as if we slow danced but I stood still as we kissed, that deep love
between us like a living force in the air.

The way his mouth latched onto mine, took from me what I

wanted to give, and hinted at unruly as I felt rowdier by the minute. I
ran my fingers through his midnight curls, loving the silk of his hair
against my skin. I could taste the cigarillo he’d smoked behind the
softer, sweeter flavor of the wine and his natural musk, that scent he
exuded filled my nose like an aphrodisiac. I adore his fragrance and I
swear I could pick him out of a room of men blindfolded with nothing
but my sense of smell.

That night I didn’t want gentle or a slow touch but a fast burn,

heat delivered with rough passion. I needed that and so did Will.
That kiss burned until it ignited and before I could come up for air, he
undid my blouse so that he could bury his face in my bare breasts.
The warmth of his breath tickled and titillated there, then he suckled
each nipple, taking one at a time deep into his mouth. I moaned with
the sheer pleasure, the sensation of it that got me moist, wet, and
ready. He felt the tension in me and he whispered in my ear,

“Is it time, mo anam cara?”
“Now!” I grunted as I ground my hips, still covered with my

jeans against him. With amazing finesse, he undid my blue jeans and
lowered them to my knees. He pushed me down on the chaise, across
it and then he unfastened his pants. Will’s cock stood erect and
proud, stretched to the full length and swollen with need. He shoved
it into me and I gasped, and then offered up a wordless shout of joy.
Delight rocked me and shocked me into orgasm. I came and so did he
in a wild torrent that reminded me of a river, out of its banks,
sweeping across farmlands and fields with abandon. We hit that mark
together, panting, gasping, and clutching to each other as the sole

solid thing in our world. After, he collapsed onto me and the chaise
shuddered, then fell flat with a bang.

I yelped, barked my shin against the floor, and hit my head

against Will’s. We burst into laughter, unbridled delight and we
couldn’t stop. We giggled until we couldn’t breathe and until we
were almost hysterical.

Seamus looked in on us and his eyes widened. “Jesus! Are

either of you hurt?”

“No, we’re fine,” I sang out, hiccoughing now. “I think we

might have broken the chaise lounge though.”

Will’s brother stared at us, clothes awry, tangled into a heap

among the pieces of the patio furniture and shook his head. “The two
of you makes it hard on a lonely man. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Aye, lad, I think that we do,” Will said, struggling not to

laugh, half-choking with the effort, “But you can thank God above
that we don’t try.”

Seamus’ lips twitched at that. In a strained voice he said,

“That’s a small mercy, mo dearthair. If you tried, you’d kill me,
likely, with my envy and want.”

I looked at him, trying to decide if he was amused or upset

and then he burst into laughter too, unable to contain it again.

The three of us chortled and cackled like clowns until the

first fingers of dawn touched the sky and then, we had just enough
sense left to retire for the day.

Chapter Twelve

One of the first pictures that my Daddy ever took of me shows

me walking around, talking on a cordless phone. I must have been
about two but I look like I’m at least a teenager with that phone
tucked against my ear, resting on one shoulder. I can’t remember a
time when I didn’t like to talk on the phone. In high school I spent
hours chatting with friends about nothing and everything. Until I met
Will, I probably used my cell phone more than anyone should.

Now that my life—or my undead existence to be more

precise—changed all that, I didn’t talk with hardly anyone on the
phone except Mama. Although Will had a cell phone, one he got
when he thought he sent me back to Texas to escape Sallie Hawkins
(whose name I can never say without adding ‘that bitch’), he seldom
used it because we’re not apart much. When he did use it, it was to
talk with Seamus after we tracked him down in Branson.

Seamus, however, being far more social and outgoing than

Will or I, couldn’t survive without his Blackberry. Every time he
visited us or we headed for a few days in the Ozarks, he talked on the
phone a lot. Since he’d come to visit us after the fall season shut
down, there hadn’t been a night he wasn’t on the phone. He talked to
theater people back in Branson, friends he’d made there, and did
business.

That night after we broke the chaise lounge, Will and I, we

planned to stay in again and work on strategy but nothing happened
because the phones rang again and again. First, Amber called Seamus
and he disappeared for a good half hour or more, talking to his lady.
That didn’t do much for Will’s mood, already dark with concern,
because it kept us from our pow-wow about Henri and then my cell
phone went off before Seamus returned.

“Hello?” I answered as Will poured himself another drink.

“Oh, hi, Mama.”

When he heard that, his tight shoulders slumped just a little in

relief and a faint little smile lit his lips. He likes both of my parents
and the rest of my family just fine but he really loves Mama. She is
pretty special but I think he probably misses his own mother too.

“Put her on the speaker,” Will said, with that grin I love so

much. “I want to hear, too.”

I pushed the right button and her voice emerged, a little tinny

but audible.

“Hey, Cara, how’s everything going up there in Tennessee?”

Mama asked.

“Fine,” I lied because sometimes it’s just better to fudge than

upset people with the whole truth. Besides that, explaining why I had
a 700-year-old vampire lusting after me would take more time and
effort that I thought I could put together. “Seamus is here, visiting
us.”

“That’s good,” she said and meant it. Mama loves family, any

connection or relationship. “I called to ask you about Thanksgiving,
honey.”

After I became a vampire I got out of the habit of consulting

the calendar much because it doesn’t really matter most of the time.
It does if Will’s running a load in the truck or a holiday pops up but
for ordinary time, I don’t worry about the date. I remembered, now,
that it was halfway into November so Thanksgiving loomed on the
horizon. Earlier, about September, before I ended up with Henri on
my tail, I’d popped off my mouth about the holidays, halfway inviting
Mama and Daddy to come up for at least one of them. With
everything we were dealing with, I didn’t think that seemed like a
good idea, not for Thanksgiving anyhow.

“I hadn’t really thought any more about it,” I said, as Will

looked at me, perplexed. “But now that you mention it, maybe we
could just come down there for Turkey Day.”

Mama laughed. “Oh, Cara, somehow that doesn’t surprise me.

I figured you would do that anyway. I don’t think you’ve ever
cooked a turkey in your life and besides, I thought Will might want
my good country cookin’.”

“Aye, I do,” Will called from his chair by the fireplace. “I

hope you’ll make your biscuits.”

“I sure will,” she promised and I laughed. “And bring your

brother, too. He’s always welcome.”

“We’ll do that,” Will said. “And you’ll have this feast in the

evening, won’t you?”

If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t know that the time mattered

very much or that anything was at stake.

“I can do that, Will,” my Mama said, “I know how you two

like to switch your days and nights around and we can have dinner

around six or seven Thanksgiving night if you want. You might as
well enjoy that while you can because when you have a baby, you’ll
have to give up the night life.”

I cringed; now that I ranked among the undead, procreation

wasn’t going to happen. Vampires don’t get pregnant and have
babies. It’s not possible and besides when you consider all the
possibilities, it makes you crazy. I wished that I could, now that I had
settled down with the man I’d love for all eternity. If there was ever
someone that I’d like to father a few babies for me, it would be Will
but motherhood wasn’t in my future. Mama had no way to know that,
though, and I hated to break the news to her. She loved the grandkids
she had but she’d always have room in her heart for more. I just
wouldn’t be the one to provide any.

“We’ll handle that when the time comes,” I said, fudging

again. “So we’ll be down Thanksgiving and there in time for dinner,
okay?”

“You know it is, Cara,” Mama said, “And bring Seamus, too,

you hear?”

“We will.”
“All right. Well, we’ll see you then but call me once in awhile,

okay?”

“Sure, Mama,” I said, “Love you.”
“Oh, I love you both. Bye-bye.”

After I hung up, Will looked at me, his eyes piercing into my soul.

“What?”
He sighed, one of those great huge Irish sighs that sound like

they relieve pressure from the weight of the world. “I don’t mind
going to see your family for Thanksgiving and I’ll enjoy it but
leannán do you think it’s wise?”

I hate it when he rains on my parade and he did, a downpour

over my happy thoughts of a family gathering. “Do you mean because
of Henri?”

“Aye, of course I do. What will you do, Cara, should that

shite wad follow us to Rusk?”

“He can’t do that,” I said, with the kind of rock hard stubborn

illogic that most of us Texas gals are born with.

Will cocked an eyebrow, quizzical. “Oh, and why not?”

“He’d stand out too much in a small town like Rusk,” I said.

It made perfect sense to me. “The police would think he looked
suspicious as hell and might even toss him in jail.”

“I doubt that very much,” Will said, and quoted from

Shakespeare, “Was ever book containing such vile manner so fairly
bound? O that deceit should dwell in such a gorgeous palace!”

I got his point like a fist between the eyes. Henri, although

rotten and evil to the core, could dissemble and seem like a wonderful
person. It hadn’t worked with me but then I’m not human anymore
and I suppose that’s how he attracts most of the women he uses and
then discards. If Will were right—and I had to admit he most likely
was—then any police officer would be charmed by Henri who’d spin
them a story they would swallow and ask for more.

“Do you want me to call Mama back and tell her we can’t

come after all?” I asked, disappointed. She would be, too.

He thought about it and I watched various emotions play

across his face like shadows.

“No, don’t do that,” Will said after a few minutes. “We’ll go

and just be very cautious. Maybe it’s far enough that he won’t
bother.”

He didn’t sound like he believed it and neither did I but I left it

alone. Sometimes, like that old adage says, it’s better to let those
sleeping dogs lie. Then again, they also say hindsight is 20/20 and I’d
remember that one too, later in Rusk.

Seamus came back, color brushing his cheeks with faint pink

and he wore the dreamy, dazed smile of a man smitten. He walked
into the parlor and poured himself a glass of wine.

“So, mo dearthair, how’s the evening going so far?”
Will narrowed his eyes at his lovesick brother. “You’ve been

invited to Cara’s family for Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, aye?” He sounded pleased. “I planned to be back in

Branson then for the holiday season show but that was before Henri
showed up. I’ll go, then.”

I smiled. “Good. I think Will was afraid you’d want to go

hang out with Amber.”

My Will fired a look my direction that smoldered. “Woman,

you’re getting altogether too good at reading my thoughts.”

“I learned it from you,” I told him.

He couldn’t hide his grin. “Aye, maybe you did at that. Well,

if we’re going to Texas for Thanksgiving, we might as well go out
and get something to eat. I give up trying to keep you locked here in
the house. Go put your glad rags on, mo anam cara, and I’ll take you
wherever you might like to go.”

Right then, nothing sounded any better than barbecue. Even

though Tennessee style barbecue is as different from the way we do it
back in Texas, I’d got addicted to Neely’s Barbecue right there in
Memphis. I loved their ribs, their spaghetti, and their smoked turkey
but if we were going, we needed to get gone because they don’t stay
open that late.

“Let’s go to Neely’s,” I said, as I dashed toward the stairs so I

could change clothes.

“Hurry, then. We’ll go to the one on Mount Moriah that’s

open until 11 but you need to get a move on, leannán.”

We rolled into town and I felt like a kid on the way to a

special birthday party. We hadn’t been out much in a few days and
I’d been going stir crazy. When you exist at night, like we do, you
lose that excitement of the bright lights in the darkness fast but that
night, I knew it and embraced it.

At Neely’s, I ordered the half hickory smoked chicken and

Will ordered rib tips. Seamus ordered ribs and we all got slaw with
fries. By the time we finished, my hands were sticky and my belly
full despite that nagging little ache that meant I needed a blood donor
before long. I looked at Will and he nodded.

“I need one, too, Cara,” he said. “We’ll take care of that

before we go home.”

As much as I adored Beale Street, I didn’t want to go there

and we didn’t. Instead, we went over on Court Avenue to Backstreet
Memphis, a high energy dance and karaoke club. I didn’t like all the
flashy, bright lights and I preferred slow dancing with my Will so it
wasn’t a place we hung around very often. Tonight though, I wanted
to be there because I thought it wouldn’t appeal to Henri.

Once there, our plan was to get in, get fed and head out. To

make that quick, we split up and I sauntered around the edges of the
dance floor, ears ringing from the music. I noticed a young guy who
didn’t look like he’d own legal ID to get into the place with shy
brown eyes. That cute look trolled me in and I struck up
conversation, putting him at ease until I sank my fangs into his neck

to get what I needed. I don’t think he ever realized it was more than
just a wild kiss that left a big hickey but once done, I searched for
Will.

I caught sight of Seamus first on the other side of the huge

room and he gave me thumbs up to show he’d been successful too. I
scanned for Will, usually easy to find between his height and that
sensual magnetism that draws stares and interest. At first I didn’t see
him and then I thought I caught a glimpse so I moved that way,
working through the energetic dancers. When I got to that spot,
however, he wasn’t there and perplexed, I put my hands on my hips to
look again. The same thing happened twice—I spotted him, headed
over and found no Will.

Seamus met me and he shouted over the music, “Have you

seen my elusive brother?”

I shrugged. “I see him and by the time I go where he was, he’s

not there anymore.”

“That’s what happened to me too. I think something strange is

happening, Cara dear.”

I’m usually not slow on the uptake but until Seamus pointed it

out, I missed that but he was right. This was more than just not
finding each other. I should have known.

“I think so, too,” I told Seamus. “Let’s split up and try to find

Will. When we’re together, let’s head outside.”

We played this weird cat and mouse version of hide and go

seek for another hour until I worried whether or not I’d find Will by
dawn. Frustration made me want to cry like a little baby girl. I’d see
him and then I wouldn’t. I tried to call his cell six times but each call
just went straight to voice mail so that didn’t work. In desperation I
went outside to see if Seamus might have found Will and they were
both there, waiting with identical expressions of aggravated concern.

“There you are,” Will said when I exited and rushed toward

him like a whirlwind. “Woman, what were you playing at?”

“I wasn’t playing at all,” I told him as I ran my hands over him

with relief. “I’d see you and then you’d be gone. Seamus thought it
was more than just having trouble finding each other.”

“Aye, I was just telling him that,” my brother-in-law said with

a sigh. “I fear ‘tis Henri again, the wicked bastard”

Despite my fur wrapped around my shoulders and the circle of

Will’s arm around me, I shivered. “How could it be him?”

“Mind games,” Will said, sounding as if he choked on

something bitter. “The older the vampire, the more they can
manipulate minds. He’s playing with us and I don’t like it. Let’s go
home.”

Nothing sounded better to me that the comfort and security of

our home so I nodded. We hurried to the car and Will piloted that big
old Caddy home with speed. Once we walked inside, Will stalked
straight into the parlor where he downed a glass of Jameson’s straight.

“Pour me one, too,” I said, “I suppose we’ve got to talk about

what happened.”

“Aye,” Will replied as he poured two more glasses of Irish

whiskey. “I’d rather not but we must, love.”

I sipped my drink and settled into my favorite chair to listen.

Will stirred up the fire that burned in the hearth and leaned against the
mantle while Seamus paced, restless. That same agitation churned in
my soul. After all that mess with Sallie Hawkins, I thought I knew
everything about a vampire gone to the bad but nope, there was more.
I sighed as Will downed the rest of his second whiskey and put the
glass down.

“The Frog’s old enough and wicked enough to know most of

the tricks,” he said, looking at me through unhappy eyes. “All of us—
vampires, I mean—have the odd little bit of mind control but the old
ones like Henri are masters at the game. He can create illusions with
little effort. We’re just lucky that he just toyed with us, playing hide
and seek. He could have made us seen each other as if we were a
rotting corpse or dead or anything at all.”

“Yuck,” I said as the whiskey that went down smooth lit my

stomach with warmth.

Seamus shook his head as he paced. “It’s a mind fuck.”
“Aye, you might call it that, brother,” Will agreed, “I’d hoped

he’d tired of chasing Cara and leave us in peace but I can see he
won’t. Sooner or later I fear we’ll have to confront him and I’d rather
not.”
“Why not?” I asked.

“Henri is powerful and strong,” Seamus said as Will turned

back to pour another drink. “Even together, I don’t know if Will and I
can defeat him.”

“What happens if you don’t?” I managed the question

although I could see that I wouldn’t like the answer.

Will wheeled around, blue eyes glittering with inner fire and

bright with pain. “We die, mo anam cara, and so do you once he’s
had his fill of you.”

His tone weighed heavy, sounding like a requiem sermon and

fear caught me, raked me with jagged edges. If Will and Seamus
together weren’t certain they could take down Henri, then we just
might all be screwed.

I struggled to hold onto the few shreds of calm that remained

before I asked, my voice hushed with fear, “So then what do we do?”

Will raked his hand through his hair and snorted. “We’re

leaving tomorrow night. Distance will buy us time, no more than that
but it’s all I have until we can think of a plan that might work.”

“Where do you plan to go, mo dearthair?” Seamus asked with

a face pale even for an undead vampire. “Texas?”

“No, Thanksgiving isn’t for another week and half,” Will said,

“I thought we’d go to your place in Branson and hole up.”

“I wasn’t planning on opening my theater until the first of

December,” Seamus replied

“Good,” Will said with force. “I wasn’t planning for us to get

out and around much either. The lack of night life will be in our favor
this time.”

“Do we have to go?” Seamus asked.
“Aye, lad, we do. I don’t see any other way about it,” Will

told him. “You’re thinking of your lady… Angela, Anna…”

“Amber,” Seamus corrected, “I am but if we must, we’ll go.

I’ll tell her I’ve got to go out of town.”

Will frowned and then he said, “You might tell her to be

careful, to watch for anyone strange. I don’t think the Frog will go
after her but it wouldn’t be fair not to warn her.”

I think that scared me most of all—that things were serious

enough that Will urged Seamus to share even that scrap of our
troubles with a human woman.

Things were going to get ugly.
I felt it in my bones.

****

During his highwayman days, Will knew when the English

hounded and harried him. He developed a sixth sense to know when
someone followed him or when danger lurked. That inner warning

saved his arse more than once and he’d escaped, leaving other robbers
who swung from the gallows to meet their fate.

He felt it now that prickle at the base of his neck, a creeper

down his back and uneasiness deep within his soul if he still
possessed one. Two years back he’d been the first to say he didn’t but
since Cara entered his life and Seamus returned from the ranks of his
dead, Will thought he might still have a soul.

For centuries he cared little if he continued his undead

existence or not but now that it mattered, now that he longed to live
forever with his leannán Will vowed that every creature in
Christendom must be trying to kill him. First that wicked bitch Sallie
Hawkins turned up like a bad penny, now The Frog returned out of
his past to threaten not only Cara but all three of them. His family.

He’d do anything to keep her safe, his woman, and the same

for his brother but whether or not he could was undetermined.

Maybe all this was just karma, fate, he thought. It might be

payment for his many sins both as man and vampire. If he thought it
would help, he’d find a priest to shrive him but Will doubted that it
would.

He’d hold the thought, though, and if necessary, he just might

go to confession for the first time in more than two centuries.

For Cara, he’d do anything.

Chapter Thirteen

I love to travel. When Will makes a truck run, I like the

adventure. I love being out on the highway headed somewhere
listening to the steel belted radial tires sing. On our long road trip
searching for Seamus I enjoyed travel. I think our night on the beach
and the faux sunshine in Las Vegas were my favorites on that journey.
When we packed though to head back to Branson I felt like a fugitive
as I gathered up blue jeans, T-shirts, and my boots. Since the plan
was to hunker down at Seamus’ place until we could head down to
Rusk for Thanksgiving I felt like some old West outlaw heading for
one of those secret hideouts. The fun wasn’t there, not this time.

Since I wouldn’t be singing and we wouldn’t be going out I

left my de la Renta home with all the other fancy clothes. Although
Seamus could have driven his own vehicle, Will talked him into
riding with us in the Cadillac so that it wouldn’t be so obvious
Seamus was back to Branson folk who knew him. We rose at first
dark, packed everything and headed out without even stopping to eat,
a sure indication of just how upset Will was. We drove up to Cape
Giradeau, Missouri where we ate a quick meal at a Waffle House or
Hut, then onto into Branson.

“You might want to stop and get groceries,” Seamus said from

the backseat as we roared up the Branson Strip, empty at that late
night hour. “I’ve little on hand and if you don’t plan to get out, it’d be
the thing to do.”

Will muttered something in Irish that I didn’t understand and

Seamus snorted. Then Will sighed, “Aye, we can do that.”

We loaded up a shopping cart with his cigarillos, several

bottles of John Jameson’s, Moscato, steaks, seafood, pork chops,
bacon, and more groceries. Judging by the amount of stuff stacked
high in the cart I figured Will didn’t plan to leave at all until we went
to Rusk and I wondered just what we’d do to pass the time. I didn’t
ask though—my darling Irish vampire suffered from the darkest mood
I’d ever seen him in and I knew better that to pick at him in the
middle of a discount store.

Once we reached Seamus’ remote home, we unloaded all our

purchases and put them away. We had hours left until morning and

everyone seemed downright touchy. No one said much as we sat
around in the living room with drinks until Seamus rose.

“I’m going to run down to the theater for just a few minutes,”

he announced with a glance at Will. “I’ll take my motorcycle and I’ll
be back well before the sun rises.”

Will glared at his brother with baleful eyes. “Na dean sin.”
“I must go, Will,” Seamus answered with a steely gaze. “I’ll

not talk with anyone and no one will see me. I just want to make sure
everything is the way it should be.”

“It’s not wise,” my husband said, “We’re here to hide and the

more you’re out, the greater the chance that Henri will show up.”

“I’ll take the chance,” Seamus said, his tone stubborn as a

stone. If things weren’t so tense, I might’ve laughed because he
sounded just like his brother. Without another word, Seamus turned
and walked out. Within a few moments I heard his motorcycle kick
to life and listened as the sound of the engine trailed out to the main
road. Silence echoed between us, large and uncomfortable.

“All our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death,”

Will said, his voice destroying the quiet that surrounded us. “My
amadan brother’s like to get all us killed with his stubborn ways.”

I drained the last of my own drink and rose to put my hands on

Will’s shoulders.

“He’s not any more stubborn than you are,” I told him.

“You’re just in a bad mood, Will. Do you want to go outside and sit
under the stars?”

He shook his head. “I don’t, mo anam cara and that’s the

truth.”

“You can’t just sit here, drinking and smoking until daylight,”

I said, “I know you’re worried but please don’t shut me out.”

Will had done it before. When Sallie Hawkins roared he put

up walls that kept me out. That time he tried to send me away but it
didn’t work and I wouldn’t go which turned out to be the right choice.
If I’d scooted back to Texas the way Will wanted, he’d be dead and I
imagine I would be too.

I stroked my fingers through his thick mop of dark curls, slow

and easy to soothe him. He sighed as if he liked that so I kept on.
After a few minutes I moved my hands to his taut shoulders and
rubbed them, letting the tight tense muscles relax under my massage.

Will didn’t ask me to stop so I continued for a good half hour or so.
By then his muscles weren’t so rock hard.

“Honey, tell me what’s wrong. I know its Henri but I’ve

never seen you like this and it worries me, Will.”

“Ta me tinn.” Will whispered and I recognized the words

meaning he felt ill. “But it’s in spirit, not body, Cara. I’m scared like a
child in the dark of night. The Frog will find us sooner or later and I
don’t know that I can stop him. I want to kill him and I will if I can
but I don’t know if that’s possible. I don’t want him to have you or
hurt you again. I’d give my life for yours in a heartbeat, mo anam
cara but I fear he’ll kill us all.”

Tears burned in my throat like acid but I schooled my voice to

sound calm,

“We can stand against Henri or anything, Will,” I told him.
“How?” he asked me, his voice ragged and torn. I could sense

his anguish, feel it rolling between us like a sharp pain.

“We have the power of love,” I whispered. “We have that,

darlin’. It’s the best we’ve got.”

My hands stroked his hair until he turned to face me and

pulled me into his arms. Will held me tight against him, his arms
wrapped around me as if he’d never let me free. A shudder passed
through his body rocking me in its wake and I felt the warmth of his
tears against my face.

“Aye, you’re right,” Will said in a raspy voice that broke with

emotion, “Love is all we have and you prevailed against Sallie.
Maybe, if I can just figure out how to use it this can turn out all right.
If I had but world enough and time.”

“That’s not Shakespeare is it?” I asked.
“No, ‘tis Andrew Marvell,” Will said with the faint hint of a

chuckle.

Cuddled against his chest, the familiar musk and man smell of

him in my nose, I wanted one thing. “I don’t know about the world
but we have time, Will.”

“Do we?” he sounded curious. “For what, mo anam cara?”
“For love,” I said and stretched up so that I could kiss him.
The grim line of his lips softened when I kissed him, his

mouth dissolved into mine as our lips united. That sweet quickening
sped up my pulse and I shivered with anticipation. Will’s lips
lingered on mine for a few moments, tasting and tempting at the same

time. That gentle touch fired me with eager need and then his desire
kicked up into high gear. His mouth changed from that quiet savoring
to an up tempo rhythm that evoked salsa and fire. Will’s lips, cold
most of the time, erupted into a sensual heat that burned. I wanted
more, greedy and so I kissed him back, offering him back the burn of
Cajun spice. My tongue strayed into his mouth and explored.

At that, Will stripped my blouse away and put his heated lips

between my breasts. That fire kindled a blaze within me as I strained
my tongue deeper. My hands twined into his hair and held tight as
Will kissed first one nipple, then the other in slow, tantalizing kisses
that suckled at the end. I felt each nipple harden and grow with his
mouth caresses.

Somewhere distant I caught the whine of a motorcycle tires

against pavement and I remembered Seamus would be back soon.
“Will?”

“Aye?”
“I think your brother’s on his way home.”
A rakish grin lit his face for the first time since we’d headed

for Beale Street and delighted me. “We could just let him watch.”

I laughed. “I don’t think so. Let’s head for the bedroom.”
He scooped me up half-dressed, my blouse and shoes scattered

across the living room and carried me into the bedroom. Will stripped
to his skin with speed and I pulled off my jeans so that we came
together naked. We picked up where we’d left off, with his mouth
teasing my nipple into blossom except now I lay beneath him on the
bed. I reached up to stroke his lean body, loving the feel of it beneath
my hands and then to take his cock into my right hand. I fondled it
rough and it lengthened at my touch, hard as stone.

Will murmured small pleasure sounds as he kissed my breasts

then moved to the sensitive base of my throat. He nibbled there and
then, for the first time since he’d given me that third love tattoo, Will
bit my throat, just enough to break the skin. Exquisite pleasure
rocked my body and I moaned.

“So you like that, do you?” he asked, his voice playful now.
“I do,” I said as I writhed beneath him. “Bite me again, Will.”
So he did, his sharp fangs teasing against my sensitive skin.
We toyed with each other, fondling, caressing, feeling until he

entered me with the stored energy of lightning and unleashed it. His
power shot through me and seared me to my soul. My body exploded

with glorious pleasure that rippled over me like an ocean wave,
drowning me in its depths. Will carried me with him on his own
pleasure ride and the sounds he made as he hit that perfect peak would
have been enough to send me to nirvana alone.

After we cuddled together, entangled in the satin sheets, our

bodies still connected and I lolled there, my head on his chest.
Despite the absence of windows in Seamus’ underground home I felt
dawn coming, knew that out there the sun crept above the night
horizon bringing light for the world but death for our kind.

“Will?” I whispered as I began to fade into our day repose,

that somnolent state so similar to sleep and yet so much like death.

“Aye?”
“Everything’s going to turn out fine, isn’t it?”
I sought reassurance and his moment of hesitation scared me,

my joy at our coupling fading into a mere shadow.

“Oh, Cara,” he said, a measure of anguish back into his voice,

“I hope for the best, mo anam cara, but we’ll see if love can be
enough.”

“It has to be,” I answered with a wail. “Will, it is.”
“I’ll follow you and make a heaven out of hell,” Will quoted to

me, “and I’ll die by your hand that I love so well.”

My hope he’d cheered up with our lovemaking vanished like

smoke into the wind and for the first time since I became a vamp, I
cried myself into daylight.

Chapter Fourteen

Back when I was a little girl wearing Keds, long before I

graduated to Nikes and Converse, Thanksgiving ranked as one of my
favorite holidays. Even though it lacked the fun of Halloween or the
excitement of Christmas, the Riley clan did Thanksgiving up right. In
the early years we headed for Granny Riley’s and even after dinner
duty passed to my mother, we always had the same thing—the biggest
roast turkey we could find, stuffing, homemade noodles, corn, gravy,
hot rolls, and all of that right down to the pumpkin pie with whipped
cream on top. Rileys and other relatives poured out of the woodwork
into our house until the rooms filled past capacity.

The kids ate at a smaller table set up on the back porch or

somewhere. Adults ranked by where they ate—the older ones
gathered around our dining room table and the rest sat where they
could. Some always ended up in the living room balancing plates on
their laps. Afterward, the women gathered together to wash the
dishes and then everyone from little to big watched football while
they complained how awful their bellies hurt from eating too much.

If we hadn’t been facing Henri’s threat I would’ve been a lot

more excited about going home for Thanksgiving but the Frog hung
over us like a dark cloud about to burst into a storm. We idled away
that week and a half before the big day at Seamus’. We drank too
much, didn’t eat enough, ventured out only when we needed a donor,
and fussed among ourselves like stepchildren.

Will and I loved each other, sometimes more than once a

night. The sex was good, as wonderful as ever while we were
engaged in the act but it couldn’t last forever. The joyous wonder
melted away fast like an ice cream bar on an August day, though, and
even when we sat outside on the rocks above Seamus’ home drinking
wine, our thoughts weighed heavy on us.

Poor Seamus missed his new friend so he and Amber spent

hours each night talking on the phone. He drank more than we did
and I worried about him, afraid that somehow I’d dragged him into
this mess against his will. On the Monday night before Thanksgiving
loomed ahead on Thursday I packed for all three of us and then I
called to check in with Mama.

When I heard her voice, Texas drawl over the miles, it cheered

me a little so I reached down deep to pull it together for her sake.

Most of the time, she can spot a lie quicker than a ripe tomato in the
garden but since I became a vampire, I’ve learned to deceive with
more skill. That’s not because I want to but because my circumstance
demands it. If she caught a hint that either Will or I were troubled,
she’d be on it like a blood hound trailing a coon through the night.

“Hey, baby girl,” she sang into my ear, “When are y’all

coming down?”

“Tomorrow night,” I said, “but it’ll be late when we get there.

Will that work?”

“Oh, it’ll be fine,” Mama told me, “We’ll look out for you,

then and leave the light on till you roll into Rusk.”

We chatted a little more and then I hung up. We’d discussed

it in depth, Will, me, and Seamus. The trip down took more than
eight hours whether we traveled I-30 or I-40 so if we left as soon as
dark hit tomorrow night, we could be in Rusk around 1 or 2 in the
morning. The way Will drove it might even be sooner. Then we’d
sleep all day Wednesday, be up all night, then up for Thanksgiving
dinner around six on Thursday. Friday night, we’d head home to
Memphis and hope we had a plan by then.

When we headed out, we stopped for donors in Little Rock

and for food at a What-A-Burger in Texarkana. At Rusk, the porch
light shone like a beacon into the night and to my surprise, Mama and
Daddy were both awake waiting for us. Hugs passed all around and
then we settled down for some coffee despite the hour. My Mama
can drink coffee right up till she lays down her head for the night and
be back at the pot when she wakes the next morning.

“So who all’s coming for dinner?” I asked as we sat around in

the living room.

“Both of your brothers and their families,” Mama told me.

“Curtis said they won’t get here until sometime Thanksgiving
afternoon but that’ll work fine because I know you kids won’t be up
till evening. Conrad’s family should roll in that morning in time for
the kids to watch the Macy’s parade on television. I guess we’ll try to
have dinner around seven or so, a little late for the little ones but they
can get a nap. Will that work?”

“It’ll be fine, Mama,” I said. Sitting in that same old living

room, familiar to me as my own body made me feel safe. That didn’t
make a lot of sense and I knew I probably couldn’t trust the feeling
but I liked it.

Beside me, Will radiated restlessness like a caged tiger. I

swear I could feel the tension in the air between us and I put my hand
on his knee. He placed his hand over it and his eyes smiled at me,
warm and electric. I could ease him a little but poor Seamus looked
wired across the room. He fidgeted and bounced his foot until I
thought I’d go a little crazy. After an hour or so gabbing, my parents
retired and left us alone.

“Thanks be to God,” Will intoned as he pulled a new bottle of

John Jameson’s from one of our bags. “Would there be a glass
handy?”

“Sure,” I said as I rose to fetch a trio of glasses, ones I

remembered being given away at the local supermarket when I was a
kid. “You didn’t have to wait till they went to bed, honey. My parents
know we’re grown-ups and we drink.”

“Aye but they don’t need to know just how much I drink right

now,” Will said as he splashed his glass halfway to the top with Irish
whiskey. “They’ll think I’ve become a drunkard and that must be
even worse than a vampire for Southern Baptists.”

I laughed. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Will,

they love you just the way you are.”

“Slainte,” he said as he raised his glass. “That’s because they

don’t know what I am, my dear woman.”

Ever since I’d come home and brought a husband, we always

slept in my old room unchanged from childhood. The double four
poster bed with the white eyelet cover decorated with big pink roses
reflected my mother’s ideas about my feminity but the AC/DC posters
on the wall were all me, part of my teenage rebellion years. Poor
Seamus got relegated to the boys’ room where bunk beds remained
and he struggled to fit his tall frame onto the lower bunk. He didn’t
complain, though, because like Will he enjoyed being part of a family
again.

When dawn neared we headed for our separate rooms and

retired. I made sure we closed that door with enough time left for a
little bit of loving. Something about martial intercourse with the
sexiest man, vampire or human that ever came into my sights in my
chaste little bedroom always lit my fires so that they burned hot.
Some combination of being back, the holiday and the familiar setting
brought happiness back into my heart. I felt invincible here at home
and thought that no way would Henri ever try to come here. I figured

he still prowled Memphis wondering where we’d been and if he
trailed our scent to Branson he’d be there a few days before he
realized we’d moved on.

As Will took off his shirt, I noticed the fatigue brushing his

eyes with shadows and how tired he seemed as he shucked out of the
sleeves.

“Let me do that,” I said and removed the garment. As I pulled

it free, Will undid his jeans and stepped out of them. I let my fingers
stray over his bare back and stroked his skin. My fingernails, now
longer than I’d ever worn them human, trailed down his body and left
goose flesh in their wake. I pressed my face against his back and
reached forward to grasp his cock in my hand. It awakened at my
touch and I felt it grow and then harden.

Will might be worried but he wasn’t so concerned that he

lacked desire. If that happened, I figured we were all three dead. As
long as he existed, my Will would rouse to my touch and want me.

“Oh, leannán,” he sighed and turned to face me, his stick still

in my grasp. “I need your loving.”

“It’s yours,” I replied.
He stood naked and I had yet to remove any of my clothing

but he pulled me to him, swift and needy. His mouth devoured mine
with hunger and I released him so that I could wrap my arms around
his neck. Will kissed me deep, his lips afire with wanton desire that
leapt from his mouth into my body, even as I burned with fever I
shuddered as sweet thrills of pleasure spun through me like ripples on
a pond’s surface. His hands removed my blouse without finesse and I
thought I heard it rip as he jerked it away. My bared breasts touched
his chest, skin to skin like dry tinder to a match. Each nipple reacted,
sensitive to that connection and bristled.

Will unbuttoned my jeans and rolled them down my legs until

I could kick them off. His firm cock pressed against my cleft so I
spread my legs wider. We still stood as his hands moved over me
with wild abandon, caressing, pressing, touching in every way
possible. He hammered into me and I gloried in every wanton
moment, my inner walls wet and willing. I squeezed him tighter until
he moaned aloud with pleasure. Bodies joined, our hands moved
everywhere and our mouths connected. Our lips molded to the others
and then strayed, trailing over skin to lick, taste, and even bite.

We came and then we came again. A tidal wave built and

grew within for a third orgasm. As it came I knew it would be
magnificent and it smothered us both. We rolled with abandon as our
bodies spasmed with sheer delight. Physical pleasure met the deep
inherent beauty of our love to connect into strength that carried
power.

I gasped with the wonder and flew to the stars. We crashed

together, bodies sated, souls nourished and so tired that all I could do
was look into Will’s blue, blue eyes before they closed and whisper,
misquoting from the book of Matthew, “The gates of hell can’t
prevail against love like this, darling.”

He nodded and a faint smile curled his lips so that as he rested,

he slept.

I roused when night fell like a curtain against East Texas,

came alive again to the aromas of good food wafting from my
mama’s kitchen. I remembered it was Wednesday night,
Thanksgiving Eve. The enticing scent of something sweet in the oven
made my tummy growl and I poked Will so that he stirred.

“My heart is ever at your service,” he murmured quoting the

Bard before he became fully alert.

“That’s good, honey,” I said, “but I’m hungry. Let’s get

dressed and see what Mama’s cooking. It smells divine.”

Will blinked and then after a moment staring at his

surroundings with confusion shook his head. “Aye, it does. I need to
shower, though, mo chroi. I’ll come to the kitchen when I’m clean.”

“All right.”
Seamus sat at the table drinking coffee and from the hint of

barley whiskey I could smell I figured he’d doctored it a bit. Mama
bustled around the kitchen humming as she multi-tasked. I watched
from the doorway with a nostalgic rush of affection as she crumbled
white store bread and home baked corn bread for dressing. She
turned around, saw me and smiled but then an oven timer shrilled and
she turned away to pull a pan of biscuits from the oven.

“They’re for the dressing,” she said with a smile. “But I

thought Will might like a biscuit or two when he gets up too.”

“He’ll love that,” I said, a little dry. One of our long standing

jokes was that Will preferred my mother’s biscuits to mine. “Can I get
a cup of that coffee?”

“Why, sure,” she said, her “sure” coming out “shore” in that

Texas drawl. “I’m glad you’re awake. I need somebody to run up to
Jacksonville to Wal-Mart to get me a few things I forgot.”

“Like what?” I asked as I poured coffee into a brown mug I

remembered well.

“I didn’t get the sweet ‘taters or pumpkin pie spice,” she said

with a little frown. “I could use more evaporated milk too and I think
we’ll need more butter.”

Déjà vu crawled over me like a familiar spider. From the

time I had my driver’s license, I’d been Mama’s runner and I never
complained. Anything that put me behind the wheel of a car headed
down a highway thrilled me. “Make a list and I’ll go.”

Seamus glanced up and shook his head. “Do you think you

should, Cara?”

I met his eyes and remembered Henri. The Frog seemed a

long way off so I nodded, “I do. I’ll be fine, Seamus. I’ve been
running these roads since I could drive. I could drive from here to
Jacksonville blindfolded if needed.”

“Maybe you’d better wait for Will,” he suggested with the

subtlety of a hammer. “Where is my brother?”

“He’s taking a shower,” I said, irritated because my brother-

in-law evoked our trouble. I’d been feeling fine with my fear bedded
down to a low level and I liked the idea of doing something ordinary
like going to Wal-Mart. Our lifestyle didn’t give me many chances to
do stuff like this and now that I was home, I wanted to wear ordinary
like a pair of boots while I could. “I’ll be back before he can miss me.
Mama, can I borrow your car?”

“Sure, baby,” she said. “The keys are by my purse over on the

counter here. I’ve written it all down. Take a twenty from my
billfold if you want.”

“I’ve got it, thanks,” I said. “Tell my husband I’ll be back

soon.”

“Cara,” Seamus warned. “I’m thinking you’d best wait for

Will.”

I tossed back my hair and grinned at him. “No way, Jose.”
“Don’t go alone,” he cautioned me, his tone dire enough that

Mama looked up with a frown.

“I’m going,” I said, “Come with me if you want but I’m out of

here.”

With that I picked up my own purse and dashed out the back

door. Seamus followed me and I climbed into Mama’s old Mustang.
I had the engine cranked before he slid into the passenger seat and
before he could say a word, I took off like demons chased me.

“What’s gotten into you?” he demanded after we roared onto

Highway 69 from the side street. “Have you lost your mind, Cara?”

“I’m just running an errand for my mama,” I said, although I

had a funny little feeling of my own. “You sound like Will.”

“He’ll be angry,” Seamus said, “and scared, too.”
“I’m just going to Wal-Mart,” I told him with more bravado

than I felt. Either he made me nervous or some scrap of intuition
warned me. I should have whipped that car around and headed
straight for home but no, jazzed up on my home turf, I floored the
Mustang instead. It’s just twelve miles or so to Jacksonville and I
made it in record time.

The Wal-Mart Super Center isn’t much different than any

other and it popped up on my left as I roared into town. I wheeled
through the traffic light into the parking lot just as my cell phone
rang. I pulled out of the way of other cars to answer,

“Hello.”
“Cara, what do you think you’re doing?” Will asked with a

distinct growl in his voice.

My little feeling of dread ramped up about six notches but I

played it cool, “Mama needed a few things so I offered to go get
them. It’s nothing, honey. I’ll be home in twenty minutes or less.”

“Aye?” he said, with a sharp tone that cut into my soul. “Well,

then I’ll be trailing behind you. I’m almost there now. Didn’t you
think I’d come after you?”

I should have known he would. Will worried is like a German

shepherd guard dog on steroids. “I guess. What did Mama think
about you rushing out after me like I don’t have good sense?”

“She thinks I’ve lost my mind,” he replied with the dryness of

fine champagne.

“Great,” I said, flavoring that one word with heavy sarcasm.

“I’ll be the one who has to dream up an explanation.”

In a very different tone than he used at first, Will said, “Mo

anam cara, don’t be angry with me. I’m afraid for you. I don’t want
to lose you. Ta ghra agam do, Cara.”

I gentled like a green broke horse at that. “I love you, Will. I’ll

see you when you get here, okay?”

“Aye,” he said, sounding happier now. “Woman, be safe.”
“I’ll do my best,” I promised but about two minutes later I

realized I wouldn’t be able to keep that promise no matter how hard I
tried.

I ended the call and ignored Seamus’ “I-told-you-so” look as I

drove to a good parking slot closer to the door. It seemed like half of
East Texas had come out to grab their last minutes items too. I
watched as people exited the store with turkeys, hens, hams, and
everything else then said, “Will’s on the way but I think I’ll run in,
get Mama’s stuff and get out so we can just go home.”

He stared at me and curled his lip. “You’re stubborn as a rock.

Can’t we wait till Will’s here?”

I grabbed my purse and opened the car door. “I’m not waiting.

Do you see Henri lurking anywhere? No, of course you don’t because
he has no idea where we’re at.”

Seamus sighed. “Then I’ll come with you.”
I strode toward the entrance with Seamus at my side, still

about half pissed that no one seemed to think I had my big girl pants
on today. I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary except for a
weird little prickle down the back of my neck until Seamus gasped so
loud that I turned and so did everyone within a few feet.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.
Seamus couldn’t answer. His face turned brick red as he

struggled to breathe, hands clawing at his face and throat as if
something obstructed him there. The terrible wheezing sound he
made scared the bejesus out of me but when he fell to his knees, I got
worried.

“Seamus? What’s wrong?”
I heard someone in the gathering crowd mutter something

about calling an ambulance but I didn’t think that was a good idea
either. I knelt down beside Seamus, talking to him and then I felt it,
that eerie wicked gaze that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.

The people gathered around us parted as if Moses pointed his

staff in their direction and Henri stepped forward, his left hand
forming a claw. Now I knew why Seamus couldn’t breathe and I
found my feet so that I could stand between them.

“Leave him alone,” I said through gritted teeth. “He’s not part

of this. You want me, not Seamus.”

“When I want you, you will be mine,” Henri said in that smug

voice. “And now I want you my dear little Cara. Come with me.”

“I’ll go to hell first,” I told him with a lot more bravery than I

felt inside. “Will’s coming.”

Henri laughed with an ugly raucous noise that cleared half the

crowd away and sent the remaining lookers back several paces. “If
you don’t accept my invitation, I’ll kill young Seamus here and then
your husband. And you’ll still leave here with me.”

He wasn’t bluffing and I knew it but I stared as he tightened

his hand so that Seamus fell forward onto the pavement, face down.
His struggles slowed and I saw that within moments Henri would
suffocate him in front of me. If my brother-in-law didn’t die here,
everyone would think so and when he revived or come morning, it
would be a different story. There would be some major explanations
and all hell would break loose.

“I’ll go,” I said to save Seamus. “Stop now and I’ll go with

you, Henri.”

Henri smiled at me, slow and sensual but it wasn’t a pleasant

expression. “I knew you were a woman of wisdom as well as beauty,
Cara Brennan.”

Then he unfolded his hand and Seamus gasped as air filled his

lungs again. I heard the familiar low growl of the Cadillac’s motor as
Will turned into the parking lot but so did Henri.

“Do anything to get his attention and I’ll just kill all three of

you now,” Henri said in a voice that rumbled like terrible thunder.
“Come now, Cara, if you want you or your men to live.”

“Let’s hit the road, then,” I said and when he stretched out his

hand, I accepted it even though his touch made me want to puke.
From what Seamus said, Henri would kill me anyway but I’d go with
him to protect my men.

Seamus managed to sit up, still wheezing, and managed to

breathe, “No, Cara, don’t.”

I met his eyes and then I turned my back as Henri led the way

to a white Lincoln Navigator. He helped me climb into the cab and
then joined me as I shivered, terrified and horrified at what I’d done
but I didn’t have a choice.

Although I never turned my head I saw Will pull up in his

Cadillac, rush to Seamus and help him to his feet. I imagined what
he’d say and how he must feel but I couldn’t go back. Unless they
could find me, I would be dead within days, maybe hours.

“So where are we headed?” I asked, forcing a light little note

into my voice that I didn’t feel. If he said Dallas, even Shreveport,
Will had a shot at finding me. He knew those cities.

Henri turned to me as he drove through the evening traffic and

grinned like a wolf,

“Caddo Lake,” he said and with those two words, he signed

my death warrant. “I’ve rented a lovely fishing shack deep in the lake,
Cara, and that’s where we’ll have our tete-a-tete.”

Most of the faint hope I cherished deep within faded out like a

dying ember but I did my best to reach out with my mind to touch
Will, to send him a message through our connection to show him
where Henri took me.

I couldn’t have named a worse place if I tried.
****
He’d known something went wrong in the shower, felt a

strange shudder that made him almost sick. Will rinsed away the soap
and rushed into the kitchen to find no one but his mother-in-law.

“Where are they?” he asked, his panic overriding polite

manners. “Where’s Cara and my brother?”

“They ran up to Jacksonville, to Wal-Mart,” Cara’s mama said

with a sweet smile, “They’ll be back soon. Would you like a biscuit,
Will?”

A biscuit would have stuck in his throat and if it made it to his

belly, he’d suffered indigestion. “No, I’ve got to go find them.”

His mother-in-law frowned, puzzled. “They’re fine. It’s just

Wal-Mart and besides, Cara knows that road like her own house.”

“She’s in danger,” he blurted out. “I’ll be back when I can.

Don’t let anyone you don’t know in this house, do you hear?”

“Well, sure, but what’s going on?”
He didn’t pause to answer—he had to get to Cara.
Will roared up the highway toward Jacksonville, a cigarillo on

his lip and his cell phone in his hand. Her voice should have eased
his fears but didn’t. Danger lurked and his woman refused to see it.
He warned her and he sped up, far past any safe speed but as he

roared into the parking lot he saw his brother on the ground but not
Cara.

He ran to raise Seamus up and although he looked ill, he

lacked time for that.

“Where is she?” he asked
“Gone with Henri,” Seamus said, sounding as weak as he

looked. “He took her after he near killed me.”

“Conas ata tu?”
“I’ll be fine when I catch my breath,” Seamus said. “It’s Cara

who’s in trouble.”

“Do you know where he’s taking her?”
“I don’t,” his brother said. “But we need to find her Will or

he’ll have her dead before the night’s out.”

Rage reddened Will’s world but helpless fear tempered it so

that he retained a tiny scrap of calm. Through his anger he reached
out his mind and searched for Cara. At first he felt nothing but black
void and then he caught a faint sparkle, a whisper that reached him.

“What’s Caddo?” he asked his brother who shrugged.
“I don’t know Will.”
Will thought. Shreveport over in Louisiana was in Caddo

Parish but that didn’t feel right. On impulse he dialed Cara’s mother
and asked, without preface, “What’s Caddo?”

“Will? Is that you?” she asked, sounding worried. “Are you all

right? You took out of here so quick that you scared me.”

“I’m fine,” he said, holding onto sanity by a fragile thread of

control, “But you have to tell me what Caddo means. I think Cara
may have gone there.”

After a long pause, his mother-in-law answered, “Oh, she

wouldn’t, not at night but it’s a lake, Will, a big lake over north of
Marshall, half in Texas, the rest in Louisiana. It’s more bayou than
lake, though. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Aye or I will be,” he told her and lied.
“I hope so,” she said
He didn’t know Caddo Lake but he knew Marshall, Texas.
“Mo dearthair, let’s go,” he told Seamus, “She’s somewhere

on this Caddo Lake and we have to find her.”

Will knew he did but dread drowned him at the idea.

Everything stood against them. It wasn’t yet seven o’clock but still
that left but ten hours until first light. He had no idea where on this

lake Henri might have taken her, if they could find Cara, and whether
or not they could reach her in time. Even if they located her, he still
doubted he and Seamus could kill Henri. Even if they tracked him
down, he didn’t know how or with what but he had to try or die.

Cara’s existence depended on it.

Chapter Fifteen

My Uncle Johnny from over at Bossier City is a fisherman.

He’d rather fish than eat, sleep, or work. One of his favorite places in
the entire world is Caddo Lake and we used to make a couple of
fishing trips with him over there each year. He knew that ghostly lake
better than he did Bossier City and could travel the inlets and coves
without getting lost although a lot of people do. It’s a beautiful place
with an otherworld beauty about it. I swear I always thought we
might run across a dinosaur or two back in the hidden places. Part of
the lake is really Cypress Bayou and cypress trees are everywhere.
Grey, ethereal Spanish moss drapes most of the trees and hangs down
like a widow woman’s tears. Sometimes mists float over the still dark
waters and give me a shiver.

All kinds of critters call Caddo home. Deer live in the soggy

bottom land between the waters, gators are king of those bayous, and
snakes by the dozens swim the waters. The biggest water moccasins
I’ve ever seen were at Caddo and they’re not alone. Rattlesnakes like
Caddo along with a lot of other serpents. Birds populate the sloughs
and backwater. Owls, pelicans, eagles are just a few. Other small
animals exist there too, wild and free.

Unless you know it, it’s not wise to venture into Caddo Lake

without a guide but Henri, damn his evil soul, appeared to be familiar
enough as we parked near a dock at Uncertain, Texas. He grabbed
my arm and shoved me toward a small watercraft that rocked as I
stepped into it.

“We’re going out on the water?” I asked, unable to believe it.

Caddo by day is mysterious and ancient. Caddo at night is just
downright scary and teeming with dangers.

“We are, my curious Cara,” Henri said. “You’re becoming

rather annoying, my dear. I think once I enjoy you I shall give you to
whatever dark gods may haunt this lake. Then those Brennans shall
never find your remains no matter how they try.”

He started the engine on the boat and we moved away from

the dock out into the dark reach of Caddo Lake. I stared at the tall
cypress trees that rose as eerie sentinels in the night. Owls hooted
from the tops of the trees and I heard the night sounds of the bayou
echo around me. Somewhere in the distance I heard a gator bellow
and I shuddered at the sound. We moved through the waters without

a light. Spanish moss waved in the slight breeze like ghosts and I
thought of Will, willing him to find me and scared he wouldn’t.

Although he grew up in the Irish countryside it was a long

time ago and nothing like this place. Since he’d lived in cities and I
had no idea how his nature skills might be although I’d bet my life
he’d never been a Boy Scout or anything close. Seamus didn’t strike
me as an outdoorsman either and I didn’t know if they could find me
no matter how much they wished they could. I remembered Will’s
fears they couldn’t defeat Henri and wanted to weep. I loved my Will
and our undead life. I didn’t want this to be the end of it and so I sent
my thoughts winging out toward Will, hoping that they might reach
him.

Henri drove the boat around the cypress stands, along one of

the main waterways and then veered deeper into the swamps. After
more than an hour he fetched us up at an old fishing shack, one of
those built tall on stilts below a huge stand of cypress trees. The
remote location made in unlikely that anyone might find us by
accident and it would be hard even for a seasoned guide to locate me
here. This time of year and on the night before Thanksgiving there
wouldn’t be many people out on the lake anyway. The only person I
knew who might be able to find his way here would be my Uncle
Johnny but I didn’t dare pull out my cell phone. I knew if I did, it
would hit the black lake waters within seconds.

“We have arrived, ma Cherie,” Henri said as he tied the boat

to the dock. “Come, my lovely lady and we shall enjoy our pleasure
together.”

I wanted to knock him into the lake but I remembered his

strength and his uncanny powers so I didn’t. Instead, I accepted his
hand, docile as a little girl on the first day of kindergarten, and let him
help me onto the dock. Together we climbed the rickety steps up to
the fishing cabin. From the outside it was a wreck, old tin roof turned
magenta with rust, weathered wooden boards gone silver with age and
weather but when I stepped into the main room, I blinked.

This wasn’t the rough, crude room I expected to see but a

beautiful bower. A fine Aubusson rug covered the worn floor and a
huge four poster bed rested against one wall, made up with a beautiful
comforter. Candles burned on low tables and wafted the appealing
aroma of roses throughout the place. Two old-fashioned arm chairs
flanked a table where a silver ice bucket held a single bottle of

champagne. I had no doubt that the silver bucket would be sterling or
the champagne a fine vintage. Henri produced a pair of flutes and he
indicated the door into what must be the bathroom with his head.

“I’ll pour while you change, my dear,” he said, “You’ll find

what you need in the powder room.”

His use of the term struck me as amusing but I didn’t laugh.

My fears trumped funny. I went into the bathroom and found it not as
nice as the outer room. I found a black satin negligee trimmed with
dark fur hanging and so I stripped out of my jeans to put it on. I hated
the way it bared my breasts but I didn’t have any choices. I found a
hairbrush and ran it through my hair stalling for time. Then I washed
my hands, and noticed the cosmetics lined up on the shelf above the
sink. I could kill some more time if I used them so I did. As I applied
the eyeliner, smeared eye shadow over my eyelids, and painted my
mouth with a dark lipstick I tried to think of all the ways to kill a
vampire.

There aren’t many, although I’d killed one, but I didn’t have

any tools or weapons here. A quick scan of the bathroom didn’t
reveal any, either. If I could have a chance at all, I’d need a knife, a
stake preferably wood or silver although the metal one I used on
Sallie worked, a hatchet or something to detach Henri’s head, and I’d
have to do it quick so that he couldn’t hurt me. Somehow I didn’t
think I could sneak up on him, not when he’d made me deathly sick
with just a touch and could smother with one hand that never
connected with flesh.

I thought hard and then I remembered that my cell phone

remained in the pocket of my jeans. Using it would be a risk but I’d
take the chance if I could reach Will. I ran water into the sink to
cover the noise and hoped Henri wouldn’t hear as I dialed Will’s
phone. I moved to the farthest corner away from the running water
and waited. He answered almost immediately, his voice thick with
fear.

“Cara?”
“It’s me,” I said in the softest whisper I could manage. “I

don’t have much time but so far, I’m okay. Listen, we’re out on
Caddo Lake, way out in an old fishing cabin. You’ll never find me
without help. I’ll call Uncle Johnny. If anyone can track me here, it’s
him. Tell me something quick to stall Henri because he’ll need time
to get here.”

Will rattled off in Irish but I couldn’t understand most of it.
“Honey, English, please,” I said.
“Aye, I’m sorry, mo anam cara,” Will said. “Seamus says

Henri likes the chase, the seduction and he likes to dance. Do you
think you can dance with him for awhile?”

“I’d rather dance than do the horizontal bop,” I said with blunt

honesty. “I’ll try. And, Will, I love you, no matter how this comes
out.”

“You’re my heart and my soul,” he said, “I love you, woman,

and I promise, I’ll get you safe or die trying.”

“It’s that dying part I don’t like,” I responded. “But hurry if

you can—I think he plans to finish by morning.”

I hung up and dialed Uncle Johnny. He answered on the

second ring, his familiar voice comforting. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I need your help,” I said, “I don’t have time to explain what

or why but I’m at some fishing shack way deep on Caddo Lake. A
mean dude has me and you’ve got to help my husband find me
tonight. Can you meet Will and brother at Uncertain, Uncle Johnny?”

“What kind of trouble are you in, girl?” my uncle asked.
“I don’t have time to explain but will you help me?”
“You bet your sweet ass I will,” Uncle Johnny said. “Tell your

old man I’ll be there in an hour or less. I still drive like a bat out of
hell.”

His crusty ways put a smile on my lips despite my situation.

“Thank you, Uncle Johnny.”

“Aw, hell, don’t mention it. You’ll have some explaining to

do, Cara.”

“I will, I promise.”
Henri rapped on the door, the sound harsh and I jumped.
“Ma cherie, I’m waiting.”
“I’ll be right out!” I shouted through the door. “Just let me

finish washing up and I’ll do my make-up.”

“Hurry,” he said, without patience.
I dialed Will again and when he answered, I babbled, “My

uncle’s coming to meet you at Uncertain. Be outside the Uncertain
Tavern, okay? I have to go, Will, but I’ll see you soon and I love
you.”

“I love you, too, mo anam cara,” Will said and I think he

meant to say more but I hung up on him. I turned off the faucet and

idled a few more minutes before I emerged. I had an hour or more to
distract Henri from sex which would be followed by my death so I
came out with a seductive stroll.

“At last,” Henri said, “You look lovely, dear Cara. Would you

care for some champagne?”

“I’d love some,” I told him, hoping I sounded like I really did.

At that moment I’d rather drink battery acid than sip champagne with
him but I wasn’t telling him that.

“To our night together,” Henri chimed as we touched our

glasses together in a toast.

I’ll give the devil vampire his due—the champagne was

French and very fine. It trickled down my throat with ease, sweet and
light. I drank slow and asked for more which he obliged. He’d
changed clothes, too into some kind of velvet robe that looked old-
fashioned to me.

We killed off the bottle of champagne but thank God he had a

second in reserve so we drank it too. I prattled at him and did my best
to charm him. He watched me with the avid eyes of a hawk, though,
and despite my happy attitude he scared me deep down. If he thought
for a moment that I faked any of this, it would be over long before
Will and Uncle Johnny could arrive.

The thought did cross my mind that I might be luring my own

uncle to his death but I hoped not. I had no clue how I would explain
any of this to him but I’d do my best. I vowed that Will and I would
send him on a shopping spree of his dreams at that new Bass Pro over
at Bossier when this ended—if we were around to do it.

“Come, then, ma cherie,” Henri said when we’d drained both

bottles of bubbly. “Let us retire to the bed.”

“I thought we might dance first,” I said with a smile that I

hoped flirted and didn’t grimace. “Could we?”

The Frog stared at me for a very long moment and then he

nodded. “Let us have music then.”

He clapped his hands and music filled that old fishing shack

with the antiquated melody of a waltz. Whether it came from a boom
box tucked away somewhere and controlled with The Clapper or if he
created it from thin air with some of his magic I didn’t know and
didn’t want to find out.

“Come to me, Cara,” he told me and I let him pull me into his

embrace. I hated the feel of his skin against mine. His reminded me

of a reptile, cool, dry, and somehow repulsive but I didn’t flinch. He
whirled me around the room, one, two, three; one, two, three with an
amazing amount of grace and I managed to follow his lead. I’m more
at home doing the two step than the minuet waltz so I struggled to
keep up and I guess it pleased him enough that we kept dancing.

Twice my ears caught the distant whine of a boat motor but

the sound faded away and if Henri heard it he wasn’t worried. If he
had a weak spot I figured it had to be his cocksure confidence and his
arrogance that he could defeat any of us without any effort at all. As
we danced, he murmured sweet French nothings into my ear and I
smiled, the expression pasted on with emotional Super Glue.

Between drinking and dancing I guessed we’d wasted about an

hour and a half when he started getting familiar with me. Henri’s
hands began to stray from the formal dance position down to fondle
my breasts or grope the cleft between my legs. He sometimes let his
fingers tickle across my bare back and it took all the restraint I had
left not to scream. The sensation reminded me of tarantulas crawling
over my flesh and I loathed it.

I made no effort to stop him, though because I needed the

distraction worse than a drunk needs a drink to feed his hangover.
When I figured about two hours passed since my last call to Will, I let
my mind wander out toward him and I felt him. He wasn’t very far
away and his relief that he sensed me flowed between us like sweet
water from a spring. All I had to do was keep this charade going just
a little bit longer, I thought, and that would be easy.

Of course, it wasn’t. About fifteen seconds after that, Henri

stopped the music.

“It’s time,” he said and led me to the bed. My skin crawled as

I struggled to think of anything that might bring this to a halt. I’d
never had sex with anyone that I didn’t want to share the deed with
and since I met Will, there wasn’t anyone else I wanted to enjoy that
way. I could hardly tolerate his touch and I didn’t know quite how I
was going to endure his cock rammed into me.

Henri kissed me and vomit rose from my stomach into my

throat, burning. I swallowed hard but his lips tasted nasty, somehow
rotten and decayed. I realized that he might not kill me after we had
sex but that sex with him would bring me to an end. Maybe that’s
why the woman all died, I thought, because intercourse with this
wicked evil thing was fatal.

I lacked time to think of a good plan so I did the only thing

that I could come up with at that point and it was lame. I faked a
bellyache. That wasn’t much of a stretch, really, because between all
the tension and a slight need to feed, my belly wasn’t in the best
condition. I wrapped my right arm around my waist tight and bend
double with a moan that should have waked every gator from there to
Jefferson.

“Oh,” I moaned, “Oh that hurts.”
Henri removed his lips from mine with speed. “Cara, what are

you playing at?”

“Nothing,” I whimpered, my real fear putting a whine into my

voice that sounded authentic. “I’ve got belly pains. I need a donor.”

His eyes narrowed to slits that reminded me of the eyes of a

water moccasin. “If you’re pretending, Cara, this will end now. I am
not amused.”

“It’s no joke,” I said through clenched teeth. “I planned to

grab a donor when you took me from Wal-Mart but I didn’t get the
time.”

I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not but he rolled up his

sleeve and offered me his wrist. “Have a drink, then, so we can
continue.”

I hesitated and he grasped the back of my head with his hand.

Henri shoved my mouth against his wrist and I wondered just how I
could avoid this when the door crashed open with such force it
detached from the hinges and hit the floor with a flat boom.

“Let go of her,” Will commanded, his voice harsh and

powerful.

Henri’s slight hand motion threw me across the room to the

opposite side where I slammed into the wall. I fell to the floor, body
hurting and watched as Henri moved toward Will with speed. He
raised his hand again and I cringed, sure he was about to do harm to
my darling vampire husband when Uncle Johnny stepped through the
broken door. I wondered why he carried a cane fishing pole in one
hand until he raised it to his lips. My uncle blew something out of the
cane tube that impacted Henri’s throat.

The Frog laughed for the first few seconds, an evil cackle and

then he paused as his face shifted from anger to fear. I watched as he
clawed at his own throat trying to remove the dart that hung there
without success and then toppled to his knees before he hit the floor.

“What have you done?” Henri wailed, his accent intensified

with his anxiety. “What have you done to me?”

“I just dosed you with a little taste of dead man’s blood,”

Uncle Johnny said, sounding happy as he lowered his Cherokee blow
gun. I’d forgotten his skill with the ancient art. After mastering all
types of firearms and archery, he’d moved on to learn how to use
Cherokee blow darts with precision. “Seamus, duct tape the bastard to
the chair if you would.”

Will bent over me, eyes dark with worry and lifted me into his

arms, “Are you hurt, mo chroi?”

“I’m all right,” I said and then I started to cry.
I seldom cry but I couldn’t stop. I had too much emotion and

I’d been too damn scared to stop the release of all that now. I put my
head against Will’s chest and wept like a little girl, the way I’d never
cried even when I was one. He held me tight, his big hands stroking
my hair with gentle strokes, and crooned to me in Irish. I sobbed,
dripping tears all over him and no one said a word until I quieted.

“Buíochas le Dias,” Will said. “Oh, Cara, I feared I’d lost you

this time for sure.”

The first real smile in hours stretched my lips wide. “I’m not

that easy to get rid of, honey. What did Uncle Johnny do to Henri?”

“He shot him with a dart dipped in dead man’s blood,” Will

told me with a grin of approval. “’Twas Seamus thought of it. It
won’t kill a vampire but it’s like poison to them. We’ll kill Henri
here in a minute but I had to know you were all right first. We
brought along everything we’ll need.”

“Don’t wait on me,” I said and then I realized he’d been

talking about vampires in front of my uncle. By then both Seamus
and Uncle Johnny stood next to Will, silent. “Will, you didn’t tell my
uncle everything did you?”

Horror that my secret might be unleashed into my family filled

me and I thought I might start crying again.

“Aye, I did because I had to so he could help us,” Will said,

“but you’ve nothing to worry about. He says he’ll not tell your
mother and father.”

I stared at my uncle from Will’s arms. “So you know I’m a

vampire but you won’t tell?”

“Hell, no, I won’t tell,” Uncle Johnny said, “That’s your

business, honey but not mine. You’ve got a good man who loves you

even if he’s a blood sucking night creature. I’m just glad you’re all
right.”

“Thank you,” I said. That practical streak was just one of

many reasons why Johnny ranked as my favorite uncle. “Will, put me
down. We’ve got work to do.”

“Aye, we do,” Seamus said, “We need to finish long before

dawn so we can lay up ourselves. If we hurry we might make it back
to Rusk before daybreak.”

“Let’s do it then,” I said with such zeal that my uncle shot me

an appraising look. I stared right back at him and added, “I don’t
know if Will told you or not but I’ve done this before.”

“He mentioned it,” my uncle said with his usual casual calm,

“but seeing it is a little different.”

It might not be sporting to kill a vampire while he’s suffering

the effects of dead man’s blood but I didn’t care and neither did
anyone else present. Henri unleashed could have killed any of us with
one flick of his wrist so having him poisoned and taped to a chair
evened the playing field. Will staked the sorry son of a bitch with a
baseball sized piece of cypress wood, sharpened to a fine point. Henri
struggled against the tape that bound him when he saw the stake but
he did little to stop it. Blood fountained around the stake as Will
spoke in a quiet deliberate voice,

“Die you bastard,” he said. “You chose the wrong woman to

hound this time and your cruelty ends tonight. Go hifreann leat.”

Henri didn’t die as quick as Sallie had nor did he burst into

flame. Uncle Johnny put his arm around me and offered to take me
outside but I shook my head. “I’m staying for this.”

Seamus lifted one eyebrow. “Are you sure, Cara? It’s going to

get bloody now.”

“Jesus,” my uncle said, “If it’s not bloody yet I don’t know

that I want to watch any longer myself. I think I’ll wait in the boat.
Want to come with me, baby girl?”

He hadn’t called me that in years but I shook my head,

“Thanks but I’ll stay.”

Uncle Johnny nodded. “All right, honey.”
He exited the shack, the old screen door slamming behind him

with a sharp twang as Will used a sharp machete he’d acquired
somewhere to sever Henri’s head from his body with one neat, swift
stroke. If the amount of blood earlier seemed large, it exploded

upward like an oil field gusher, red not black. Henri’s head hit the
floor with an awful thunk and I decided that maybe this was a bit too
much for me after all.

“Will?” I said, hesitant and he glanced up, a fine spray of

Henri’s blood across his face.

“Aye, love?”
“I’m going to the boat to wait with my uncle.”
“Go ahead,” he said. “I’m almost done. We’ve just a little

more to do and then I’ll be there too. Are you all right?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine but honey please wash your face

before you come out, will you?”

Will lifted one hand to touch his cheek and realized, I think,

for the first time Henri’s blood covered him. “I will, leannán.
Seamus, will you take her down?”

“I can go by myself,” I said and then remembered that was the

stubborn notion that brought me here in the first place.

“And you can go with me,” Will’s brother said, his voice dry

as sherry. “If you’d listened to me earlier, neither of us would be
here.”

“Don’t argue,” Will said. “Henri would have caught up to

somewhere else if not here. It’s over now.”

“What do you mean to do now, mo dearthair?” Seamus

asked.

“I’m going to salt his sorry remains and then burn this shack

down,” Will replied, his voice as casual as if he planned a simple
picnic or stroll down Beale Street. “That way we can be sure but first
I’ll wash my face and clean up. Go on, both of you and I’ll be out
soon. Then we’ll go home.”

Seamus and I nodded like a pair of bobble heads. Then we

went outside, down the rickety steps and stepped into the boat where
my Uncle Johnny waited.

“Where’s Will?” he asked, “Isn’t he coming?”
“He is,” I answered “as soon as he sets the shack on fire.”
My uncle stared at me for a moment that stretched out into

infinity and then he nodded, “Good.”

Ten minutes later I saw the first orange glow reflected in the

windows and then Will dashed down to the boat, face clean and
clothes damp from washing away the blood. He joined me and put
his arm around me.

“It’s over now,” he said, “Let’s go.”
My Uncle Johnny’s Bayliner boat took off like a fired shot

into the darkness of Caddo Lake and he wound through the cypress
trees as if it were noon, not well past midnight. In an hour’s time he
brought us back to Uncertain, Texas but the hour was late because the
tavern was closed.

“Will, it’s almost four,” I said after I peeked at my cell phone.

“We probably won’t make it back to Rusk in time. I need to call
Mama.”

“I’ll call her,” Uncle Johnny said. “I’ll make up some wild

story and she’ll believe me. Go get a motel or whatever you do to lay
up during the daytime. Just be sure you make it in time for her dinner
or she’ll be pissed.”

I laughed. “Thanks, Uncle Johnny.”
“Don’t mention it, kiddo. But do me a favor and try not to get

kidnapped by any more wicked vampire bastards, okay?”

“Sure,” I said, and then I hugged him. He held me tight for a

long few seconds and then kissed my cheek.

“Go on, Cara,” he said. “Be good.”
I laughed as I climbed into the front seat of Will’s beautiful,

big black Caddy and scooted over so I could sit beside him. He
picked up the half drunk bottle of Jameson’s from the seat, took a
deep swig and offered it to me. I drank too and with the good taste of
barley whiskey in my mouth, we headed over to Marshall to find a
room for the night.

We booked the last two rooms at the Motel 6, one for us,

another for Seamus. With little time to spare, we stripped out of our
ruined clothing, took a hot shower together, and then collapsed, skin
to skin just as the sun rose on a brand new day.

Chapter Sixteen

I remember in grade school that every year we wrote those

neat little sentences just before Thanksgiving on lined paper. The
topic never changed—it was always “What I’m Thankful For”. In the
lower grades, I remember printing my answer in block letters, then
changing to cursive as I grew older. By high school, we wrote our
answer on the keyboards in computer lab and printed them to turn in.
I remember most of mine—I was thankful for my dog Archie in first
grade, for my brand new Barbie and her pink convertible in the
second, and in the third, I wrote about my new abridged “Heidi”
book. Over the years I offered up grateful praise for everything from
a new boyfriend to a pair of earrings I loved and then got more
serious with answers like “my family” and such.

When I roused up from the nothing of my vampire rest on

Thanksgiving evening, though, I thanked God and everything else in
creation for my existence. I couldn’t really call it life, not when I’m
undead, but I couldn’t help but be glad I wasn’t a pile of ash or gator
breakfast.I felt thankful for my uncle who accepted the news his niece
ranked among the vampire undead with quiet calm. Most of all, I was
thankful for my Will, alive and whole beside me. When he opened up
his blue eyes that night, I swear they sparkled like captured sunshine.

“So long as I can breathe or I can see, so long lives your love

which gives life to me,” my Will quoted, the fact that we don’t breathe
no more than a slight technicality. “Mo anam cara, I love you. Will
you say that poem about counting the ways?”

I smiled. “You mean how do I love you? Let me count the

ways?”

“Aye, that’s the one,” Will replied, “and that’s enough for

now. Let me count them for us both.”

He bent his head so that our mouths connected, intersected

like two roads joining at a crossroads. Will tasted me with slow
deliberation and hunger tempered with something a lot like reverence.
His mouth teased mine into delight as I responded to his kiss, heat
shimmering through my body like sunlight warming a summer
blacktop. He wasn’t in a hurry as he kissed me but his hands caressed
my body, soft against my bare skin. His fingertips evoked pleasure
where they touched, massaging my breasts with admiration and
straying between my lips to stroke the very heated center of me. I

allowed my fingers to dance through Will’s dark curls loving the
sensation of his hair against my flesh.

Will slid his mouth from mine to that sweet hollow at the base

of my throat where he kissed and then he moved right to suckle my
nipple in his mouth. When he switched to the left his teeth nibbled
with such an erotic appeal that I felt ripples shoot through my body,
each one exquisite. His tongue tickled and teased my breasts and then
dipped toward my belly button. He kissed that too and then headed
south to the mother lode.

His tongue entered my space and he tasted my musk as I

writhed with the total pleasure that poured over me. My fingers
twined in his hair and held tight as I raised my bottom up to send him
deeper. Will touched my clit with his tongue and I swear I thought
I’d burst into a thousand pieces. I came and came again as he
repeated the action. My legs kicked out and then wrapped around his
torso to lock in place.

He rose up and kissed me, the flavor of my sex on his lips so

that I tasted me. That heady sensation reeled through me until I felt
almost intoxicated. As our mouths molded, as he French kissed me
with his tongue fresh from my twat, Will entered me with the slow
precision of fitting a knife to its scabbard.

His precise entry found my cleft but he took his own sweet

time to enter. His cock slipped into my waiting warmth with such
deliberate slowness that each sensation heightened and expanded into
a giant burst of physical bliss. I gloried in the sensation, in that
quintessential connection that rocked me to my foundation. Each
stroke, each gentle thrust went deeper and with each one the
enchantment grew larger. Although swept away on a rushing flood of
sensual sensation, of erotic delight and a fever of desire burned hot
within I clenched my vagina so that the inner walls caressed him even
as he deepened inside me.

His face reflected his pleasure and mine increased with his. I

adored the sounds that he made, the small grunts of delight he
couldn’t contain and when he’d had enough of slow, Will quickened
the pace. He rode me hard and with force as I shrieked with
happiness. I bucked upward to meet him and we collided into that
perfect, eternal red explosion of completion.

We hit the peak together and remained that, hovering without

time or space as the pure pleasure, the physical delight spiraled over

both of us. Our voices joined in wordless unison as we clung
together, savoring each delicious second of coming and when the
spasms eased, we crashed back into reality wrapped together and as
one.

Still connected, we lay in that motel bed both sated and bathed

in the wealth of this amazing love we share until reality crashed back
into consciousness. I heard my cell phone shrilling and I rolled to
pick it up without even looking at the Caller ID.

“Hello?” I said, my voice as smug with satisfaction as a cat

that just dined on lobster tails.

“Cara?” my mama said and I sat up, suddenly feeling naked.
“It’s me,” I said. “Did Uncle Johnny call you?”
She hesitated and for a second I thought something went way

south, that he hadn’t covered for us or that she must be mad. “Yes, he
did, late last night. Well, really it would be early this morning. Why
didn’t you just call and tell me that you ran across him in
Jacksonville? I worried myself half sick until he called wondering
what was going on with you and Will. When Will took out of here
like a bat out of hell, I thought something was wrong. I didn’t now
y’all were just going fishing with Johnny.”

“I’m sorry, Mama,” I said. “It just kind of happened.”
Her laugh came over the phone, “I guess I should have known

when Will called to ask me what Caddo was, that you’d be with my
brother the fisherman. Did y’all have fun?”

“Fun doesn’t even begin to describe it,” I said, honest as Abe

Lincoln for once.

“Well, I’m glad. Now hurry up and get over here so we can

get dinner on the table, you hear me?”

“Yes, m’am,” I said. “We’ll be on the way in just a few

minutes.”

Within a half hour we’d bathed, dressed, and collected

Seamus. We roared back down to Rusk through the evening dark
with music blasting through the Cadillac which annoyed Seamus to
no end. His cell phone seemed to have attached to his ear as he
chatted with Amber. It took a lot of dirty looks and a heated brotherly
exchange in Irish but Will turned down the music so Seamus could
chat with his lady.

At home, my mama turned out the best Thanksgiving dinner

ever. The turkey couldn’t have been any more perfect and I ate too

much, proving that even a vampire girl can get a real bellyache if she
tries. As I lay on the couch holding my over full tummy, Will and
Seamus took all the little kids outside into the mild temperature to
play a game they called ‘Moonlight, Starlight’, a reverse sort of hide
and go seek where the ‘ghost’ hides and everyone else seeks him.

We heard the delighted shrieks when the ghost—Will or

Seamus taking turns—caught one of the kids and when they came
inside, the kids headed off for baths and bed. Will settled down at my
feet, looked at my hand stuck up under my T-shirt rubbing my
stomach and asked,

“Do you need to feed?”
Mama heard him and answered, “If Cara’s hungry, there’s all

kinds of leftovers and plenty of them.”

She went on to list everything from turkey to mincemeat pie

and headed into the kitchen to drag out dishes for those who might
want to eat. Will laughed and asked, “Well, do you?”

I shook my head. “No, honey, for once my belly hurts from

what I put into it, not what I need. You ate twice what I did—why
don’t you have a belly ache too?”

“I don’t know,” Will said with a smile. “But I’m glad I don’t.

Seamus was worse off than you till he puked in the bushes out back.
He felt better after that.”

I groaned. “I don’t want to throw up but my stomach’s killing

me.”

“Poor Cara,” Will said with a grin that made me think he

found it funny. “All goodness is poison to thy stomach.”

“Shakespeare said that?”
“He did,” Will said, “In Henry VIII.”
“Figures,” I said.
By the time everyone else headed off to bed, I felt fine again

and even nibbled a turkey sandwich. Of course we slept while Mama
and my two sister-in-laws headed off to Jacksonville to nab bargains
in all those Black Friday sales and when we roused up at dark, we
headed home.

“Come back for Christmas,” Mama shouted as we climbed

into Will’s Cadillac.

“We will,” I answered.

We rocketed back toward Shreveport, listening to Irish music

and in sync until Seamus asked, “Will, are you planning to take me to
Branson or what?”

“Aye, I am,” Will said, “I’ll get you there as soon as I can, mo

dearthair so you can be there for your holiday shows and all.”

“No hurry, Will,” Seamus said and I turned around to stare at

him. Even in the darkness I could see his full wattage grin. “I think
I’d like to go back to Memphis with you first if you don’t mind.
There’s someone I want to see before I go home.”

“So much for your big offer for me to sing Christmas songs,” I

said with mock indignation.

Will laughed and fired up a cigarillo that he smoked with

obvious pleasure.

“That offer still stands, Cara,” Seamus said. “I’d love it if you

do come because I’ll need a ride back anyway. I think four of us
would fit nicely in the car, don’t you?”

“Four?” Will questioned. “And who would the fourth one be?”

“Amber,” I said before Seamus could. “You’ve asked her to go back
to Branson with you?”

“Aye, I did and she’s said she will,” Seamus replied.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” my husband said, his tone as dry as

August.

“I’ll be darned,” I added falling back on an old Texas

exclamation of surprise.

Seamus laughed with a merry sound like Christmas bells

ringing in some holiday carol.

“Damned is more like it,” he said, happily. “I know that but

I’m willing to give it a shot. I love the woman, you see.”

Will and I exchanged a long glance before he nodded.
“Aye, we do,” he said. “So we’ll throw no stones. We’d have

to be without sin for that.”

Our laughter rang out through the car and into the night, as

bright and merry as any noise any human ever made and I let that joy
sweep through me, to have and to hold forever.

****
With every mile he put behind the vintage Cadillac, Will

released any remaining

emotion from the terrible events. Although barely a month

passed since Henri stuck his evil influence into their live and

threatened Cara, the siege seemed to have lasted forever, years if not
decades. His memories of that strange lake, Caddo, weren’t ones he’d
treasure. He didn’t like the dark sweep of still water beneath a
moonless sky or the odd sounds that creatures he could not name
made in the night. Such a place was too far removed from his ken
and he’d been useless there.

That moment when he held Cara safe in his arms, that

mattered and nothing else did. He’d liked her uncle and even when
he confessed in desperate need what they are, the man never blinked
or said a cross word. Will admired that kind of guts in a man. Johnny
accepted what was and didn’t try to judge or change it. No wonder
his woman, his lovely Cara, was such a fine person with kin such as
that.

He didn’t mind killing Henri—he all but gloried in it.

Although centuries passed since he lived a life of daily violence, Will
found it to be a good thing that he’d not lost his touch. For over two
hundred years he’d had no need to fight or protect but since Cara
came into his life, it seemed he’d be in near constant battle. Despite
what he’d done, the old darkness he’d known didn’t come back.

His mo anam cara was worth it, though, he thought, that and

more to keep her and protect her safety.

For now, though, all he wanted to was to go home with Cara

and stay awhile. Someone, he mused, wrote that home is where the
heart is and it wasn’t Shakespeare.

No matter whom it might have been it was true because Cara

was his heart and where she was, that was home enough for Will.

Cara’s Afterward

I longed for an old-fashioned holiday season at home with

holly decking the mantelpieces and mistletoe in the hallway. I
fancied a huge evergreen tree trimmed with candles, ribbons, and
lace. I dreamed about scented candles, garlands wrapped around the
stair posts, and packages under the tree. Most of all, though I wanted
Will and me, alone beneath a moonlit night with silver stars twinkling
down on us like a blessing as we drank sweet Moscato wine together.

Instead, the week before Christmas, I found myself strolling

out at Brennan’s Irish Stage in beautiful if tiny Branson, Missouri
decked out in a dress as green as emerald, the green of those rolling
Irish hills in Will’s home country. Although it didn’t cost half what
my black de la Renta did, the green dress featured a plunging neckline
and a bodice covered with crystals, each one put in place by hand.
The green silk chiffon skirt billowed out around my legs in a very
fetching way and so I walked out to sing.

Seamus wanted me to sing Irish songs, not quite my thing, but

I managed to get two learned that satisfied me so I did The Wexford
Carol and then the one everyone knows, Irish or not, that Bing
Crosby made famous back in Granny Riley’s day, Christmas In
Killarney.

This time no one stared at me from the audience and I felt no

vampires out there anywhere.

At the end of the show, Seamus insisted that I come back out

and had Will join us to sing Blackbird even though it’s not a
Christmas carol at all.

From stage right, his lovely Amber watched us with a smile. I

didn’t know her yet but I liked her and I liked even more what I saw
between her and Seamus.

So far, she didn’t have a clue that we were anything but

eccentric with our nights as days schedule but if things advanced,
she’d have to know the truth.

Somehow I figured Seamus wanted me to help with that and I

will when the time comes.

For now, though, I’m going to sing on stage and love my Will

with everything I’ve got. I’m going to celebrate the light of this
season, the Christmas season in every way because it banishes the
shadows away. We’ve suffered too many shadows, Will and I: so far

from Sallie Hawkins to Henri and while there may be more, for now
we share the light.

As the spotlight panned in on me as we finished the song, I

bowed to the audience. They began to whistle and cheer but I focused
on Will and Will alone. His eyes met mine, sweeter than the Moscato
that we drank and a more brilliant blue than any sapphires I’d ever
seen. He pointed upward and I grinned at the sprig of mistletoe that
dangled from the curtain above.

“Kiss me, mo anam cara,” he said and so I did.
The audience went wilder at that and their applause echoed off

the rafters. When we finished, we linked hands with Seamus and
Amber. All of us bowed and together we shouted,

“Nollaig shona duit!”
Then we repeated it in English, “Merry Christmas.”
I added, with some silly whim, quoting the end of Twas A

Night Before Christmas. My grasp of literature is hardly up to Will’s,
after all, “And to all a good night.”

For us who live in eternal night I had every confidence it

would be— and gazing into the faces of my near and dear I meant not
just the one night but all of them, forever.

The End

www.leeannsontheimermurphywriterauthor.blogspot.com

Other Books by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy:

Wolfe's Lady

Love Tattoo

Love Scars

Love Knots

Midnight Seduction

Stockings and Suspenders

Evernight Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com