Page 14 of Twilight Longings

Kincaid stared at him, his brow furrowed. “Do you think that would help?”

“I don’t know. Ancient vampires bury themselves in the ground from time to time.”

Kincaid nodded. “Yeah. I’ve done it myself.”

“When you come up, you feel renewed. Refreshed. Maybe it will do the same for Kadie.”

Kincaid mulled it over a moment before saying, “It probably wouldn’t hurt.”

“At this point, I’m willing to try anything.”

Back in Wyoming, Saintcrow sought out a young woman. After mesmerizing her, he transported them to his lair in Morgan Creek.

Sitting on the edge of the bed with the woman beside him, he made a shallow cut in her hand, lifted Kadie’s head, and held the woman’s bleeding palm to Kadie’s lips. She swallowed convulsively, once, twice, three times.

Taking the woman’s hand in his, Saintcrow ran his tongue across her palm to seal the wound. He stared at her a moment, thinking to drink her dry and bury her beside Kadie so Kadie would have some company. But, in the end, he knew he couldn’t do it. He would come back later and take the woman back to where he’d found her.

“You’re a lucky woman,” he muttered with a wry grin. “It’s only knowing that Kadie would never forgive me if I killed you that’s keeping you alive.”

Pulling a heavy blanket from the closet, he wrapped it around Kadie and transported the two of them to the Morgan Creek Cemetery.

The place was ancient, surrounded by a weathered wooden fence. The gate was a rickety old thing. Holding Kadie close to his chest, he stared at row after row of wooden crosses, silent witnesses to the humans who had died in Morgan Creek when the vampires inhabited the town. A few of the women had died after Kadie’s arrival. It had amused him when she carved their names on their markers so they wouldn’t be forgotten.

A tall marble cross stood apart from the others. When Micah had first been turned, he had lived in Morgan Creek. During that time, he had fallen in love with one of the captives, an older woman who had loved him in return, but refused to let him turn her. The wording on the marker simply read,Shirley Elizabeth Hague ~ Gone But Never Forgotten.

“You claimed you’d felt spirits here, sweetheart,” Saintcrow murmured, stroking Kadie’s hair. “I didn’t believe you until they saved your life. I remember when Sofia wanted to modernize the cemetery, but you said no. I guess you were afraid of disturbing the ghosts of the dead. I hope they’ll comfort you now and somehow give you the strength to survive.”

A muscle twitched in Saintcrow’s jaw. If they couldn’t find a cure for this damn curse, Kadie would likely be joining those spirits before long.

He laid her gently on a patch of grass and knelt on the ground a few feet away. Using his bare hands, he dug a hole four feet deep, an easy task for a man with his strength.

Lifting her into his arms again, he held her close for a long time, praying he was doing the right thing, that leaving her here wouldn’t make it worse. Jaw clenched, he dropped to his knees and laid her gently in the arms of Mother Earth. A single tear slid down his cheek as he pulled the blanket over her face. “I hope your spirits will watch over you, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick. “I swear on my undying love for you that if Luca Sasan is behind this, he’ll rue the day he drew his first breath.”

Jaw clenched, Saintcrow quickly filled in the make-shift grave.

Over the centuries, he had survived numerous battles, suffered injuries that could have killed him or maimed him for life, buried a wife and a daughter, but leaving Kadie behind was the hardest thing he had ever done.

Chapter Eleven

Eleni sat at the bar, a glass of Pinot Noir in her hand as she perused the club’s male occupants. What would it be tonight? Young or old? Short or tall? Blond, brunette, or bald?

If she was honest with herself, she didn’t want any of them. It was Saintcrow who piqued her interest. Why had she ever let him go? He was strong and handsome and as stubborn as hell itself. She still couldn’t believe he had endured her wrath rather than beg her to release him. How much pain could he tolerate before he broke? she wondered. It might be entertaining to find out.

She sipped her drink. The other vampire, Kincaid, was also remarkably attractive. And perhaps more easily managed than Saintcrow, who had not yet forgiven her for turning him. And likely never would.

There really was no decision to be made, she decided. She had sired Saintcrow. In the end, he could not refuse to obey her. Had she insisted he beg her to withdraw her power, he would have been compelled to do so. Eventually.

As for tonight, there was only one choice. Catching the eye of a tall, fair-haired young man, she spoke to his mind, calling him to her. He would make a pleasant diversion for the evening, she decided, as she watched him stride toward her.

And a tasty snack for later.

Chapter Twelve

Izabela sat on the high stool in front of the square oak table where she worked her magic. After decades of use, its surface was scarred and scored and badly burned in one place where a transformation spell had gone horribly wrong. A large glass-fronted cabinet took up most of the wall behind her. One shelf was crowded with glass bottles of all shapes and sizes, beakers and bowls, and dozens of small containers that held a variety of oils and flower petals, including mugwort, wormwood, sage, rosemary, thyme, peppermint, and cloves, among others.

A second shelf held candles in an assortment of sizes, colors, and fragrances. Her wand, made of hawthorn, rested on a pillow beside her grimoire and her scrying mirror on the third shelf. A heavy black cauldron, a large wooden spoon, an athame, and a pair of heavy leather gloves occupied the fourth shelf. An assortment of odds and ends took up the shelf on the bottom of the cabinet.

The soul-catcher and the silver dagger rested side-by-side on the table in front of her. A fat black candle filled the air with the scent of sage and cedar. Thinking to try something new, Izabela found a piece of heavy paper and drew a picture of a little girl with the long, red pigtails. Chanting softly, she filled her cauldron with water and dropped the image inside.

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