The words never really happy with you, lingered unspoken in the air between them.
“I guess I wasted my time coming here.”
“I’m sorry, Harry.”
With a nod, he rose smoothly to his feet. “I won’t bother you again, Skylynn. I hope you don’t regret your decision.”
“I won’t.” Rising, she accompanied him to the front door. “Good-bye, Harry.”
With a curt “Good-bye, Skylynn,” he swept past her.
She watched him climb into the baby blue Cadillac convertible that was parked at the curb. Leave it to Harry to rent a high-end automobile.
She stared down the street long after he had driven away. Someone had gone out of her life again, but this time the decision had been hers, and she had no regrets.
Chapter 10
From his vantage point at the corner across from the McNamara house, Girard Desmarais watched the well-dressed young man get into his car and drive away. Girard had been keeping an eye on the McNamara house for the last two days and in that time, McNamara’s granddaughter had seen only two people—this young man, and the vampire, Kaiden Thorne.
The young man was of no consequence. But the vampire. . . Girard braced his hand against the side of a brick wall. He had no doubt the bloodsucker was searching for the same information he was. He lifted a hand to his cheek, his fingertips tracing the ugly scar that ran from his right cheekbone to his jaw and continued down the side of his neck, a souvenir from his encounter with Kaiden Thorne some thirty years ago.
Girard grimaced at the memory. He had been past his prime back then, but still a hunter without equal. He had pursued Thorne for almost three years before he finally tracked him down. The vampire had been living in Strasbourg, France, at the time. It had been midafternoon of a warm, sunny day when Girard slipped into the vampire’s lair. He had discovered the bloodsucker’s coffin in the basement of a two-story apartment. Jubilant to have found his quarry after such a long time, Girard had moved soundlessly across the floor, a hawthorn stake in one hand, his favorite mallet in the other. To this day, he still didn’t know what had roused the vampire. One minute, his prey had been as still and silent as death, the next, the creature had leaped out of the casket, his eyes blazing red, his lips peeled back to reveal his fangs.
Man and vampire had come together in a rush. To Girard’s astonishment, the stake, which had served him well for decades, had proved to be a feeble weapon against the ancient vampire’s fangs and wickedly sharp nails.
Girard stroked his cheek again. They had fought for what seemed like hours. Finally, Girard had managed to drive the stake into the vampire’s chest. He had known a brief moment of victory as Thorne reeled backward, then sank to the ground. Girard’s triumph had been short-lived when he realized that he had missed the vampire’s heart.
Covered with deep bites and scratches, Girard had decided retreat was the better part of valor and escaped into the sunlight.
Turning away from the house, he walked back to where he had left his car. Sliding behind the wheel, he turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the curb.
He had met Paddy McNamara many years after his ill-fated encounter with Kaiden Thorne. Paddy had been experimenting with a longevity potion and had been looking for a few men willing to test it. Girard had been in his late fifties at the time. The potion had failed, but Girard had kept in touch with McNamara. Several years later, Paddy had asked Girard if he would be willing to test another potion. When Girard asked what the potion was for, Paddy had mumbled something about a tonic similar to the first one and explained he was creating it specifically for a client who had an aversion to the sun.
After months of experimentation, a few careful questions, and some subtle snooping in Paddy’s lab, Girard had come to the conclusion that the intended recipient of the potion was a vampire; a slip of the lip by McNamara revealed that the vampire was Kaiden Thorne. The second thing, and perhaps the most important, was the realization that the new potion restored Girard’s health and vigor until he was as strong and fit as he had been at twenty-five.
He had spent the last two years trying to find Thorne again, but to no avail. On his last visit to McNamara, Girard had learned that the potion he had come to rely on had originally been concocted for Thorne. When Girard had demanded a copy of the formula, Paddy had refused.
And now Paddy was dead and gone, and the formula’s secret ingredient with him.
Girard loosed a string of profanity as he pulled into the hotel parking lot. Killing the engine, he stared into the distance. He couldn’t go after Thorne now, not in his present, weakened condition.
Girard rubbed his scarred cheek thoughtfully. He needed that missing component, and he needed it now, before he got any older, any weaker.
Before the bloodsucker moved on.
Chapter 11
Thorne woke with the setting of the sun. After showering and dressing, he glanced out the front window, debating the wisdom of going to see Skylynn before he fed, only then noticing that the grass in his front yard needed cutting badly.
He blew out a sigh of regret as he realized his experience working in the yard during the day was over. He had enjoyed being able to mow the lawn in the afternoon. He had enjoyed the smell of fresh cut grass, the feel of it beneath his bare feet, the heat of the sun on his back and shoulders. Mowing the yard at night was just a chore. Still, it needed to be done and he had nothing better to do.
Going into the backyard, he got the lawn mower out of the shed. He quickly mowed the backyard, then went out to the front.
He was about to start the mower again when a familiar odor drifted his way. Desmarais! Striding to the sidewalk, Thorne lifted his head to scent the wind. Desmarais, here?
The lawn forgotten, Thorne hurried across the street and knocked on Sky’s door, softly at first, and then with more urgency.
His tension eased when he heard her voice calling, “All right, all right, I’m coming!”
She opened the door a moment later. “Kaiden! You don’t have to break down the door, you know ...” she said, a smile teasing her lips. And then, seeing the worried expression on his face, she sobered. “Is something wrong?”
A deep breath told him Desmarais hadn’t been in the house. With a shake of his head, he murmured, “Sorry.”
She looked up at him curiously. “So, what’s going on?”
He glanced past her into the entryway. “Has anyone come by to see you today?”
“Are you checking up on me?”
“Yes. No.” He swore under his breath. “Just answer me.”