Twilight Hunger Part 21

"There's more. Just recently there was a murder in our town. A woman who was very close to Lydia Jordan. It looked like the work of a vampire, and I realized I couldn't keep the information I had to myself any longer. Not if people were dying. So I told Lou what I knew, showed him the CD. The next thing I know, my Mend is found in Lou's apartment. She'd been shot in the head with Lou's gun. I know Lou didn't do it, but it was pretty clear someone was setting him up. I know it was Frank Stiles. I know it."

"When did this happen?"

Max wondered why it mattered. "Last night between nine and ten p.m. Why?"

"And how long did it take you to drive here? You did drive, didn't you?"

"Yeah, we drove. About six hours, give or take."

Morgan nodded slowly, no longer in a big hurry to get rid of her newfound sister, it seemed. "So who is it you're after? The vampire who killed Lydia's friend or the scarred man who shot yours?"

Max blinked. "I didn't say he was scarred."

Morgan lowered her head, shaking it quickly. "You said he was badly burned. Same thing."

"No, it's not. Not really."

"I just a.s.sumed-"

"You've seen him. h.e.l.l, of course you have. He probably made the same connection I did when he saw the film."

"You're putting words in my mouth. I never said-"

"All I want is the truth," Max said.

"I don't know the truth!" Morgan's knees seemed to give, and she clutched the countertop to hold herself upright.

"You look really ill, Morgan. Have you been sick?"

"It's a... condition. A certain blood antigen. Belladonna. Although, if we're twins, I would have expected you to have it, too."

"Plain old A-positive."

"Is that even possible?"

"I don't know," Max said. "I suppose we'd have to ask a doctor or... something." She lowered her head, then raised it again. "Who was that, attacking you out there tonight? Was it Dante?"

Morgan shook her head slowly, pacing away from Max, her gait unsteady, feet almost dragging. "It was the scarred man-Stiles. Like you, he thinks Dante is real and that I can lead the way to him. But you're both wrong. There is no Dante. And even if there were-"

Her legs dissolved, and as she slumped toward the floor, Max grabbed her and held on, eased her down rather than letting her fall.

"You knew, didn't you, Lou?"

He looked at Lydia's face as they walked along the cliffs outside. Her hair had been pure honey gold once, but now a few strands of gray had appeared in its waves. Her face was sharper now, harsher, having lost the plump-cheeked look of youth. And yet she was still beautiful.

The gra.s.s fell away just beyond where they walked, vanis.h.i.+ng into the face of a steep rocky cliff that plunged to the sh.o.r.e below. He liked the ocean up here. It smelled good. Salty and fresh, and the sea breeze wasn't as cold as he would have expected it to be. It seemed to roll in with the waves.

"I suspected," he admitted at length. "About Maxie, anyway. That's why I introduced you two. I honestly didn't expect her to take off with this vampire theory the way she has. It was just an excuse to put the two of you together and give you a chance to see what was obvious to me."

"And Morgan?" she asked.

"I had no clue whatsoever, Lydia. I swear."

She licked her lips. "You should have told me. About Max, I mean."

"I thought it was something you two ought to put together on your own." He put an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry if I did it wrong, hon. You know I want the best for you."

"I know you do."

"You gonna tell them?"

She sighed. "I don't know. I need to think."

They both turned as Max's voice shouted for Lou from the house. Lydia gripped Lou's arm. "Could he have come back?"

"Come on," Lou said, taking her arm as they ran across the wide expanse of back lawn toward the house. "We haven't been out of sight of the house," he muttered. "He could have come in another door, I suppose, but-"

They reached the house, rus.h.i.+ng inside to find Morgan unconscious on the floor and Max kneeling beside her, cradling her head and looking scared to death.

"Jesus, what happened?"

"She just collapsed!"

Lydia ran forward, knelt beside Max and touched Morgan's face. "She's so cold."

"I think she's sick," Max said. "Lou, can you get her into her bed? I'm gonna see if I can find a phone number for a doctor or something."

Nodding, Lou bent to scoop the woman up. She didn't weigh more than a minute. Then he carried her up the stairs and started hunting for the right bedroom.

Max sat by the strange woman's bed and stared at her. It was 2:00 a.m. Lou was long asleep in one of the guest rooms, Lydia in another. This place had a half-dozen spare bedrooms, all made up, that apparently got very little use. Thin films of dust in the spare bedrooms told Max that her odd little twin didn't have much company.

She had been unable to sleep a wink herself. So she'd come in here, and now she sat and watched the woman sleeping like the dead. The bed was a huge four-poster, with white lace coverlets over mounds of blankets and thick pillows all around her. Four people could sleep in that bed with room to spare.

This place was gorgeous. Huge and gorgeous. The adjoining bathroom was bigger than Max's bedroom. h.e.l.l, so was the walk-in closet. And the clothes!

She rubbed her arms against a chill. When she had come in here, the French doors with the creamy sheer curtains had been open, the chill autumn night breeze wafting in. Max had closed them. But it was still too d.a.m.ned cold in here.

But of course all those thoughts were just trying to distract her from the real reason she was here. Oh, she told herself a thousand lies. That she just wanted to try to get used to looking at a face so like her own. That she wanted to be nearby in case Morgan awoke, to explain why they were all still here, invading her home. That she was worried the obviously ill woman would take a turn for the worse before morning.

But none of those were the real reason.

She wanted to see underneath that turtleneck collar.

Licking her lips nervously, Max leaned forward. Morgan lay on her back, just as still as stone, her face startlingly white in the darkness, her hair spread on the pillows around her. Sleeping Beauty. Max reached closer with her hand, and it hovered just above Morgan's neck. Then she moved it closer, very slowly. Her fingertips touched the black fabric.

Careful, she told herself. Don't touch her skin, or she'll wake. Careful...

She pinched the edge of the stretchy fabric between her thumb and forefinger, and pulled very gently out and downward. She leaned closer over Morgan, trying to see behind the collar.

They were there. Just as she had thought they would be. Two tiny marks, deep maroon in color.

"Dante, nooo," Morgan moaned in her sleep.

Max jumped so suddenly she let the collar snap back against the other woman's neck as she jerked backward.

"Stay away!" Morgan rasped. Her head began to turn to one side and the other on the pillows. "No, Dante, don't come here." There were tears squeezing out from beneath her closed eyelids now.

Max couldn't help but feel a twist of pain in her gut. This was her sister. And she had been attacked by a vampire. Max didn't know why the h.e.l.l Morgan insisted on denying it, but the evidence was there, from the marks on her neck to the words of her nightmares, begging the monster not to come back.

"No, no!"

Max leaned in again, clasping Morgan's shoulders this time. "Easy. It's all right. You're safe."

The woman stopped straggling. She went still, her breath rus.h.i.+ng in and out a bit more slowly than before.

"It's all right," Max whispered.

Morgan blinked her eyes open. It seemed to take her a moment to remember who Max was. That brief instant of shock was followed by one of dawning realization. "You're still here?" she asked softly.

"You pa.s.sed out downstairs. Lou carried you up here."

She nodded, her eyes falling closed. "I'm fine. You can leave now."

"That's not what your friend David said."

Her eyes flew wide again. "D-David? You've spoken to-but how?"

"I was trying to find a phone number for your doctor or a family member or someone, and not having much luck, when the phone rang. It was a man named David Sumner, who seemed very worried about you. I explained what had happened-"

"There was no reason to do that," Morgan whispered.

"He'll be here in the morning. He asked me to stay until he could arrive. So I did."

"I don't need watching over."

"I know about Dante," Max said flatly.

Morgan's gaze shot to hers. "So do I. He's a fictional character in some films I wrote."

"I meant the real Dante. The one who left those marks on your neck."

Morgan's hand flew to the spot on her neck, but when she felt the collar there, she frowned. "There are no-"

"Save it, sister. I peeked."

Sighing with everything in her, Morgan said, "You don't understand."

"Why don't you explain it to me?"

Morgan sat up then, slowly. Max automatically leaned in to plump the pillows behind her, and when their eyes met that time, she felt a connection, the first one. "You don't have to deal with this alone anymore," she told Morgan. "You've got family here now. That means something to me, even if it doesn't to you. You're my sister. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you."

Leaning back on the pillows Max had arranged for her, Morgan lowered her eyes. "It means something to me, too." She said it as if with great reluctance. "I just... I was shocked. I didn't mean to be... cold."

"You'd had a rough evening."

"But it wasn't Dante. He wouldn't hurt me."

"No?" She tried not to show her jubilation that Morgan had finally admitted-or all but admitted-mat Dante was real.

"No. It's the scarred man. He's the enemy. He's the one who attacked me. He had... " She had to pause there, battle down a sob. "He had a crossbow."

"That must have been terrifying."

"It was. G.o.d, I was so afraid. And I still don't know if he's... " She stopped there, bit her lip.

"You don't know if he's what? Coming back? You don't need to worry about that, Morgan. You've got a cop, a P.I., and a counselor for runaway teens in the house. Between us, we can handle just about anything that comes up. He's not going to get near you again."

Morgan looked at Max for a long moment, almost as if she intended to argue, but then she simply nodded. "You really aren't after anything from me, are you?"

"No. I'm really not." Max closed a hand around one of Morgan's thin, cool ones.

Morgan returned the squeeze. "Rest now. You'll feel better in the morning." Nodding, Morgan closed her eyes and sank into sleep.

Chapter 19.

*It was late morning, and Max had fallen asleep in her chair when the creaking of the bedroom door made her jerk herself awake. She twisted toward the door, half expecting to have a fight on her hands. But it was neither a dark vampire nor the scarred Frank Stiles who walked quietly into the bedroom. It was Lou, and he was with a big, sandy-haired man who stared at Max as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes.

"Maxie, this is David Sumner," Lou said. He couldn't quite manage a whisper, but his voice came out softly all the same.

Nodding, Max got to her feet, and only then did she realize she was still holding Morgan's hand. She gently let it go, placing it on the bed and giving her newfound sister one last lingering look before she turned back to the men. "Let's talk downstairs, can we? She's sleeping so soundly, I hate to wake her."

Lou nodded and started to leave, but Sumner didn't. He moved closer, leaned over Morgan and looked at her, his eyes troubled. He touched her very gently, just laid his hand lightly on her face. She sighed deeply, but other than that didn't respond at all.

Lowering his head, the man nodded, turned and walked out of the bedroom. Max followed, closing the bedroom door behind her, and it was a good thing, because Sumner began asking questions almost immediately.

"What happened to her? Why does she look so pale? My G.o.d, her skin is as chilled as if she's been on ice overnight. And-"

"One question at a time, Mr. Sumner," Max cut in, holding a stop-sign palm toward him and pressing her other hand to her head. "I haven't even had my morning infusion of caffeine yet, and I didn't exactly get a lot of sleep last night."

Sumner offered an apologetic nod. "G.o.d. I can't get over the resemblance. Officer Malone-"

"Lou, it's Lou."