Page 17 of Twilight Longings

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Saintcrow reminded him, and took the youngest kid for himself. Only to realize that itwasn’t a young man but a girl disguised as a guy. “Damn, girl,” he said. “What are you doing with these punks?”

“They own me,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless.

“Like hell. Where to do you live?”

She gave him an address in Redondo Beach, California.

Kincaid looked at Saintcrow over his prey’s head. “What’s going on?”

“These guys are keeping a teenage girl prisoner. I’m gonna take her home. I’ll be back in a few minutes. If you finish feeding before I get back, I’ll meet you at the hotel.”

With a nod, Kincaid sank his fangs into his prey’s neck once more.

“What’s your name, girl?” Saintcrow asked as he slipped his arm around her slim waist.

“Lissie.”

“How long have you been away from home?”

“I’m not sure.”

“All right. Close your eyes,” he said. “And don’t open them until I tell you.”

Still under his power, she did as she was told.

When they reached their destination, Saintcrow released her from his thrall. “All right,” he said. “You can open your eyes now. Is this where you live?”

Tears filled the girls eyes when she saw the house. A single light burned in an upstairs window. “Y … yes.”

“Well, go along. I’m sure your parents will be glad to see you.”

“Who are you?”

“Nobody. When you get inside, you won’t even remember me. Go on, now.”

Going up on her tiptoes, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then ran up the stairs and banged on the door.

A few moments later, Saintcrow heard a man’s voice call, “Who is it?” and the girl’s teary reply, “Dad, it’s me. Lissie.”

“Lissie!” The door flew open and a tall man wearing sweat pants and a tee shirt stepped out on the porch and threw his arms around the girl. “Lissie, Lissie.” Giving her a big hug, he guided her inside and shut the door, but not before Saintcrow heard him holler, “Marge, Billy, Julie, she’s home!”

Feeling pretty good about himself, Saintcrow transported to a nightclub near the beach where he found a woman sitting alone at the bar. He took the stool beside hers and spoke to her mind, then leaned forward, as if he was nuzzling her neck, and bit her gently.

After releasing her from his spell, Saintcrow willed himself to the hotel suite he and Jake had rented for the night. He found Kincaid on the sofa watching a Western movie on TV. Saintcrow grinned inwardly. Kincaid had spent some time as a cowboy back in the 1800s and couldn’t get enough of cowboys and Indians.

Saintcrow settled in the easy chair beside the sofa.

“Did you get the girl safely home?” Kincaid asked, his gaze still on the screen.

“What do you think?”

“I know. Silly question. What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“We haven’t found anything here. Time to head for Nevada.”

“Some pretty rugged country there,” Kincaid remarked. “Yeah. You still miss the Old West, don’t you?”

“Those were good times,” Jake replied, his voice wistful. “Wide open spaces. Cheap whiskey. Wild horses and wilder women. Bustin’ broncs and bustin’ heads. Yeah,” he said, with a big grin. “I miss those days.”

---