His lips pressed against hers. Hard. Fast. “Then stay.” His fingers curled around hers. “Stay with me through the dawn.»
She smiled at him. And, just for an instant, his lips curved in response.
They lay back in the bed, curled in one another's arms.
It felt good being there with him. Right.
«Sleep, Savannah.” William's voice was soft. His arms were strong around her.
Savannah closed her eyes, feeling safe, completely protected. She slipped into the haunting mists of sleep with a gentle sigh. Moments later, when the sun rose, she was already in the land of dreams and didn't feel the sudden tense coldness of William's body against hers.
At first, her dreams were happy. She was with William. They were dancing under a star-filled night sky. She was so happy. But then he pulled back, and his body seemed to waver before her eyes. She reached for him, but he vanished.
There were woods around her. Twisted trees. She ran, searching for William.
But it wasn't William that she found. In the shadowy world of her dreams, she saw her friend Mary. Her long black hair billowed in the breeze as she stood looking down into a flowing river.
A smile curved Savannah's lips as she ran to greet her.
Mary stepped forward, into the river. A flash of lightning lit the night sky. The water churned, and Mary stumbled, falling to her knees.
Savannah realized the water was black. As black as the night itself.
The hungry waves seemed to surround Mary, pulling her deeper and deeper into its cold embrace.
Savannah ran as fast as she could, desperate to get to Mary. Her bare feet pounded on the dank earth. Her heat pounded in her chest.
She was close. So close. Just a few more feet—
Mary turned, her pale face a mask of fear.
Her arms reached out to Savannah.
And Savannah heard the echo of a scream.
CHAPTER 10
My brother has a taste for death.
-Entry from the diary of Henry de Montfort,
December 11, 1068
The sun had not yet risen in Seattle. Night's darkness still clung to the empty city streets. The shadows of the night cloaked him as he watched her.
He could see her so clearly through the thin glass of the window. Her black hair was pulled back into a careless ponytail. Her face, tense with concentration, peered at the computer screen. Her thin shoulders were hunched over, her fingers typing frantically on the keyboard.
He touched the pane of glass, feeling its cool surface against his hand. He was so close to her.
He inhaled deeply, scenting the night air. He could smell sweat, blood, and the faint odor of burning leaves and garbage. But he could detect no trace of her. Not yet.
She was rubbing her forehead, obviously tired. She'd been at that computer of hers for over four hours. He knew because he'd been watching her all night. Watching. And waiting.
Over the years he'd learned the value of patience. He could wait endlessly for his prey. She'd been easy to track. Almost too easy. Would she be easy to kill? Would she scream? Would she fight him?
He'd always enjoyed a good fight. He hoped that she wouldn't let him down.
She stood up and turned off her machine. He saw her walk to the closet and grab a black leather jacket. He smiled, his teeth glinting in the faint street light. She was coming to him.
He moved away from the window and back into the shadows.
The front door opened with a soft squeak. He heard the jingle of her keys as she carefully locked up the house. She appeared to be such a cautious little thing, locking her doors like a good little girl. As if that would save her.
Her back was to him as she bent over the lock. It would be so easy to go her, to take her now. She would never even know what had happened.
But that wouldn't be any fun. So he waited. Silent. Watchful.
She walked down the stone steps, her padded shoes making no sound against the concrete. When she reached the sidewalk, she paused, her gaze sweeping around the area. He knew she wouldn't see him. He was far too adept at cloaking his presence.
She walked down the sidewalk.
Where was she going at such a late hour? Hadn't her mother ever told her that the night could be dangerous?
He crept behind her, inhaling her scent. He could smell her shampoo. It reminded him of apples. He'd always loved apples.
She still had her keys in her hand. They were clenched between her fingers. He almost smiled at her pitiful weapon. He could hear her heart, pounding fiercely in her breast, and he could almost taste her blood, flowing richly through her veins. Sweet, sweet blood. Oh, how he loved the taste…
He crept closer, trailing her by mere inches.
She never turned around. The street was completely empty. All of the houses were dark. No one could see her. Or him. He reached out, touching her neck gently.
She screamed and jerked around, trying to scratch him with her keys.
He laughed as the keys cut into his face.
His arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him. He yanked the keys from her and hurled them to the ground.
«Hello, pretty lady,” he whispered, his eyes blood red. “I've been waiting for you.»
Her eyes widened in horrified recognition. She opened her mouth to scream again.
He clamped his hand over her mouth. “Shhh, love. We don't want to wake the neighbors, now, do we?” He smiled, letting her see his teeth.
He could smell the rich, heady aroma of her fear. He loved the taste of fear. “Hold still, love.” He licked her throat and felt her tremble.
Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. He'd always hated a woman's tears. They were weak. Useless. “Are you afraid to die?” He asked her, his voice tender.
He felt her slow nod.
«That's too bad,” he murmured. And he sank his teeth into her throat.
* * * *
«Mary!” Savannah jerked awake, her heart pounding. She'd seen her friend so clearly, struggling in the dark waters of the river. Screaming. Asking for her help.
A cold knot of dread formed in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
Beside her, William's body was eerily still. She touched him, her fingers feathering over his bare shoulders. His skin was so cold, and he wasn't breathing. He wasn't moving.
«William?»
He didn't answer, but then, she hadn't really expected him to. He wouldn't, couldn't, rise until dusk.
Fear was growing within her. She was terrified that something had happened to Mary.
She slid from the bed, wondering what time it was. How long had she slept? How long had she dreamt of a black river that churned with hate?
She slipped on her clothes and grabbed her key. She had to call Mary. She had to make certain that her friend was all right.