Night's Master

“How do you know that?” I asked, my curiosity about Edna and Pearl growing by the minute. For that matter, I wondered how they recognized the Werewolves and the Vampires. Unless the Werewolves were in their furry forms, or the Vampires were displaying their fangs, the Supernatural folk looked pretty much like everyone else most of the time. Of course, maybe Edna and Pearl were able to detect them the same way I did. For a moment, I was tempted to ask, but then I thought better of it. My gift, such as it was, might best be kept under wraps, at least until I knew Edna and Pearl better.



The two women exchanged glances, then looked at me with conspiratorial smiles.



“We have our ways, dear,” Pearl said. “You be careful now, hear?”



“And remember,” Edna added. “Handsome is as handsome does.”



I looked from one woman to the other. “Excuse me?”



“Raphael Cordova is a mighty handsome man, dear,” Pearl said.



“Nice butt,” Edna remarked candidly.



I nodded in agreement, though I was somewhat shocked to learn that a woman of Edna's age would notice such a thing, and more surprised that they knew I was seeing Rafe.



“You do know he's a Vampire, don't you, dear?” Pearl asked.



“Yes.”



“His grandmother is a witch,” Edna remarked. “Did you know that?”



“No, he never mentioned that.”



“Well, just be careful,” Edna admonished. “I know he seems like a nice young man…”



I bit back a grin. Raphael was anything but young.



“But as my husband always said, a girl can't be too careful,” Pearl added.



“Roger was absolutely right,” Edna agreed. “But then, he always was.”



“You know, dear,” Pearl said, “it probably isn't wise for you to go to Raphael's house alone.”



I think my mouth fell open. How could they possibly know I had been out to Raphael's house? Or that the Werewolves met in an abandoned building on Foster Road? Or that Raphael's grandmother was a witch? A witch! Good grief! Next they'd be telling me that Susie McGee was a fairy princess and the police chief was a troll!



After I had taken their credit cards, bagged their books, and bid Edna and Pearl good-bye, I poured myself a cup of coffee and replayed the entire conversation in my mind.



A short time later, another woman entered the store. She was young and pretty, with dark blond hair and violet eyes. I thought at first that she was a Werewolf, and it occurred to me once again that there were an awful lot of Werewolves and Vampires in town, although, after what had happened the last two nights, there were at least two less than there had been. But then I realized she wasn't a Werewolf. She was like Cagin, a shape-shifter of some kind.



She looked at me sharply when she handed me her credit card, and I had the distinct impression that she knew that I knew what she was. Taking her receipt and the book, she left the store without ever saying a word.



The rest of the day passed quietly. I ate lunch at my computer and washed the ham and cheese sandwich down with a cup of coffee. I made another sale later in the afternoon, and I closed up early.



Driving home, I felt suddenly melancholy. I hadn't heard a word from Raphael since last night. Of course, he had probably been at rest all day. I wondered if he would come by my house later, or ever again.



Handsome is as handsome does.



Pearl's words echoed in the back of my mind. Raphael Cordova was handsome as sin, and just as dangerous. Last night, he had killed a man in cold blood. Oh, sure, the Were had asked Raphael to end his life, but it was still murder.



Handsome is as handsome does.



Okay, I admit it, it troubled me more than I wanted to admit that Raphael had killed the Werewolf. How many other Were-creatures and humans had he killed since becoming a full-fledged, practicing Vampire?



It was a question that haunted me while I ate dinner. Like an itch I couldn't scratch, it lingered in the back of my mind while I cleaned up the kitchen, and later, while I tried to watch a late movie.



I was about to get ready for bed when the doorbell rang.



I knew before I answered the door that it was my Vampire. Raphael.



Chapter Twelve



Handsome. The word whispered through my mind as I looked at him. Dressed in a dark blue shirt open at the throat and a pair of black jeans, he looked good enough to eat.



“Any chance I could come in?” he asked.



A girl can't be too careful. I blinked at him, and then, ignoring Pearl's earlier warning, I invited him inside.



Nice butt. I grinned as I recalled Edna's assessment of Raphael's behind. Following him into the living room, I had to agree with her.



“Please,” I said, “sit down.”



I sank into the chair across from the sofa, one leg folded beneath me, suddenly at a loss for words. I had a lot of questions I wanted to ask him, but I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answers.



“You're still upset about last night,” he said, and it wasn't a question.



I nodded. There was no point in lying. “You killed him,” I said with a snap of my fingers. “Just like that.”



A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Yes.”



I took a deep breath, then blurted, “How many people have you killed?”



His gaze burned into mine, and then he rose effortlessly to his feet. “Good-bye, Kathy.”



I stared at him, knowing if he left now, I would never see him again.



He was at the door when I called, “Rafe, don't go!”



He glanced over his shoulder, his face impassive. “It's better this way.”



“No.” I blinked against the sharp sting of tears. “Please stay.”



He stared at me for a long moment before resuming his place on the sofa. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”



I nodded, although I wasn't sure at all. Maybe ignorance really was bliss.



“I'm a Vampire,” he said, both his voice and his expression devoid of emotion.



I was tempted to say, “duh!” but I restrained myself.



“You have to understand that killing comes easy to us,” he went on, “and it gets easier with every passing year. After a while, some of us forget that we were once human. Those who do look on mortals as nothing more than prey, theirs for the taking.”



“Is that how you feel?”



“No, but many do. Even so, there have been times when I've taken a life.”



I waited, hoping he would say he had killed them all in self-defense.



“When I was a new Vampire, I fell in love with a young woman. After a while, she said she wanted to be what I was, that she wanted us to be together forever.” He paused, his gaze looking beyond me into the distant past. “I knew how Vampires were made, and even though I had never brought anyone across or seen it done, I was sure I could do it. I was wrong. She died in my arms.”



He looked at me again, his dark eyes haunted. “I've never tried to bring anyone else across.”



Feeling suddenly chilled from the inside out, I ran my hands up and down my arms, waiting for him to go on.



“I've killed men and Werewolves in self-defense,” he said, his voice cold and flat. “I've killed men when my need for blood was stronger than my self-control, but I've never killed a man in anger.” He smiled faintly. “Or a woman.”



“Where do you sleep?”



His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”



I shrugged. “I didn't mean where, exactly, I was just wondering what you sleep in.”



“My underwear,” he replied, and then frowned. “But that's not what you're asking, either, is it?”



“No.”



“These days, only Hollywood Vampires sleep in coffins. The rest of us have discovered king-size beds are more comfortable.”



I hoped my relief didn't show on my face.



“Anything else you want to know?”



“Someone told me your grandmother is a witch. Is that true?”



The sound of his deep, rich laughter filled the room. “You've been talking to Edna and Pearl, haven't you?”



“Maybe.”



He shook his head. “I don't know where they get their information, but I think those old broads know everything that happens in this town. Hell, maybe they're witches, too.”



“You didn't answer my question.”



“It's true. My grandmother Brenna is a spell-casting, card-carrying white witch.” He canted his head to one side. “Looking for someone who can make me disappear?”



“Of course not. Don't be silly.”



“What are you looking for?” he asked, all hint of amusement gone from his voice and his expression.



It was a good question. I wished I had a good answer. “I'm not looking for anything; I was just curious.” I blew out a sigh. “Vampires and Were-creatures and now witches. I don't know what to think anymore.”



“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”



I lifted one brow. “Shakespeare?”



“Hamlet, act one, scene five.” He grinned at me. “I had a good tutor.”



“Did he know you were a Vampire?”



“No. My folks didn't see any reason to divulge that particular bit of information.” He grinned. “Rane and I played some awful tricks on old Mr. Axtell.”



“What kinds of tricks?”



“One night, my folks invited him to stay for dinner. While they were all in the living room talking, Rane and I turned his car upside down. Another time, Rane hypnotized Axtell, and when he woke up, he was in a…”



“In a what?”



Rafe cleared his throat. “A bordello.”



“How'd you manage that?”



“It wasn't easy.” Rafe shook his head. “We caught hell for that one.”



“I should hope so,” I said, but I couldn't help grinning.



“He figured out we were behind it. I don't know how. But a few days later, my old man received a bill for five hundred dollars from the bordello for services rendered. He wasn't happy about that. Neither were Rane and I. Our father decided if we had enough spare time on our hands to play pranks on our teacher, then we could paint the house, inside and out.”