Night's Master

“We all have problems to deal with,” Rafe remarked. “Some people are born with physical deformities, some have mentally handicapped children, some people are married to alcoholics.” He shrugged. “I've never known anyone who had a perfectly carefree life.”



“So, do you think of being a Vampire as a problem?”



He shrugged. “In a way. I could have let it ruin my life. I could have turned my back on my humanity and let the lust for blood consume me. Instead, I chose to look at it as a kind of sickness that imposes limits on what I can and can't do. On the other hand, it's given me some remarkable powers.”



“So, you're saying that Susie should just look on this as some kind of monthly inconvenience, like retaining water and cramps?”



Rafe chuckled. “I guess you could put it like that,” he said, and then his expression turned serious once again. “I don't want to make light of this. It's going to take some serious readjusting on Susie's part, and on her family's, as well. Whether she can handle it or not depends on how strong she is, both mentally and physically. And spiritually, I suppose.”



Rafe's words troubled me. How strong could Susie be, mentally anyway, if she had already tried to take her own life?



I looked over at Rafe, admiring his profile, the spread of his shoulders, the way his hair framed his face. “Do you like being a Vampire?”



He glanced in my direction. “Most of the time. Why? Are you thinking of becoming one?”



“Of course not! Do you think you'd like being a Werewolf?”



“I don't know.” He slowed to make the turn onto my street. “I never gave it a lot of thought.”



“Would you be mortal again, if you could?”



“I'm not sure I was ever mortal, at least not in the true sense of the word.”



“Would you like to be?”



“I don't think so. It's a moot point, anyway, since there's no cure for what I am.”



“I don't guess there's a cure for being a Werewolf, either.”



“Not that I know of.” Pulling up in front of my house, he killed the engine.



“Do you want to come in?” I asked, smothering a yawn.



“I'd like to, but I think you'd better get some sleep.”



“Maybe you're right.”



Leaning toward me, he cupped the back of my head in his hand and kissed me, slow, sweet, and deep. “Honey, I'm always right.”



Chapter Fifteen



After leaving Kathy's house, Rafe made a brief stop at his place, and then returned to Brawley Woods. Following Mara's standing orders, he went searching for the body of Mark Littlejohn. He found what was left of the man at the bottom of a deep crevasse, the grisly remains covered by rocks and debris.



Rafe had seen death in many forms, but never had he seen a body as badly mutilated as this one. Had Littlejohn been unmarried, Rafe would have left the body where it was, but Littlejohn had a wife and a little girl, not to mention parents, who would miss him. Learning of his death wouldn't be easy on his family, but never knowing what had happened to him would be even more cruel. This way, they would have closure if nothing more.



He wrapped the man's remains in the blanket he had brought from home, then carried the body back to his car and placed it in the trunk.



When he reached town, he pulled up in back of the Oak Hollow emergency room and left Littlejohn's remains where they were sure to be found. He felt bad about leaving the body outside, but he wasn't a fool. Any Vampire who waltzed into a hospital carrying a dead body was just asking for trouble. And whether Littlejohn's body was found tonight or tomorrow morning wouldn't matter. The man was beyond help, both mortal and Supernatural.



It was near 2:00A.M . when Rafe met up with Mara, Clive, Cagin, and his grandparents in one of the vacant rooms in the Hollow Tree Hotel. They didn't bother to tell the clerk at the desk they were there. The fewer people who knew, the better.



Rafe was the last to arrive. He hugged his grandmother and Mara, shook hands with his grandfather, and acknowledged the presence of the two Were-creatures with a nod of his head. He didn't like Clive, and he didn't trust Cagin, but it was time to put his personal feelings aside, at least for the moment.



“You've all heard of the recent attacks,” Mara said without preamble. “Clive and I agree that a Werewolf is responsible. However, neither Clive nor Cagin recognized his scent.”



Roshan looked at Clive. “Are we dealing with the possibility of a rogue Werewolf?”



“I'm afraid so,” Clive replied. “I followed his scent for several miles, and then it disappeared.”



“How is that possible?” Brenna asked.



Clive shook his head. “I don't know. I have several of my people out scouting the area.”



“Even if he transformed, wouldn't he still smell the same?” Rafe asked.



“Yes,” Clive said. “That's what troubles me.”



“What are you thinking?” Mara asked.



“I don't know how he did it, but I'm thinking he's either found a way to mask his scent or change it altogether.”



“Are we sure Littlejohn was killed by a Were-creature?” Roshan asked.



Mara turned to look at him, her green eyes glittering like polished jade. “Who else could it be?”



“One of us, perhaps?” Roshan said quietly.



“I've never known a Vampire to rip his victim to shreds,” Mara remarked. She looked at Rafe. “Was the body drained of blood?”



Rafe shook his head. “I don't think so, but it was hard to tell from what was left.”



“Are we sure the woman and Littlejohn were both attacked by the same person?” Brenna asked. “Maybe there's no connection. After all, it could just be coincidence that both of the humans were taken on the same night.”



“And in the same place?” Clive said. “I don't think so.”



“Did you pick up any Vampire scent at either scene?” Mara asked.



“No.” Rafe glanced at Clive. “It smelled like dyed-in-the-wool Werewolf to me.”



“Maybe it was a blood sucker,” Cagin said, his yellow eyes narrowing as he looked at Rafe. “Maybe it was a Vamp smart enough to mask his own scent. Maybe he mutilated Littlejohn to make it look like one of us did it.”



“Maybe it wasn't a Vampire or a Werewolf,” Roshan suggested.



Clive snorted. “Who else would have done it?”



“A mortal,” Roshan replied. “Maybe a group of mortals who don't want the war to end.”



“I'm the one who found Littlejohn,” Rafe said flatly. “He smelled of Werewolf. As for the girl, I know for a fact that she was bitten by a Werewolf, since she transformed when the moon was full.”



“All right,” Mara said. “Until we learn otherwise, we're going on the assumption that there's a Werewolf in town who has deliberately disobeyed Clive's command to cease any and all killing within the city. Our first order of business is to find him before he kills again, or before he bites anyone else. Clive, I want you to determine the whereabouts of all your people on the night the McGee girl and Littlejohn were taken. Once you're convinced that none of your people is responsible, I want you to send them all away.



“Roshan, when the girl gets out of the hospital, I want you and Brenna to keep an eye on her. I want you to watch her house day and night, and follow her if she leaves.”



“Any particular reason why?” Roshan asked.



“I don't want any more human casualties in Oak Hollow. There have been too many already. Rafe, I want you to get in touch with our people and tell them all to go home.”



“Hold on a minute,” Clive said. “Including you, that leaves four Vamps in town and only two of us.”



Mara lifted one brow. “And your point is?”



“I want an equal number of my people in town.”



“We're not going to war,” Mara said impatiently, “we're trying to stop this one from escalating.”



Clive shrugged. “If you don't like it, then send two of your people away.”



“That's how this whole war between us started,” Mara reminded him. “The thirst for power has brought us to the brink of war with the humans. At one time, I thought it was a battle we might win, but I see now that the old way was better for all of us.”



“You mean when we tucked our tails between our legs and hid out in the woods?” Clive asked disdainfully.



“The humans outnumber the Supernatural community ten thousand to one,” Mara said impatiently. “Even we can't beat those odds.”



“Sure we can,” Clive retorted. “All we have to do to lower the odds is kill them, one at a time.”



“And how will you survive when the prey is gone?” Roshan asked.



“This is getting us nowhere,” Mara said, rising to her feet. “It's time to end the feud between us now, once and for all, before the humans do it for us.”



“They'll never defeat us,” Clive said with a sneer. “They're too weak.”



“But they're not stupid,” Mara said. “They have found cures for almost every disease known to mankind. They have conquered space and harvested the oceans. They have found a way to overcome any and all obstacles that they have encountered. Do you doubt that they can find a way to destroy your kind, as well?”



Apparently, Clive had no argument for that. Rising, he motioned to Cagin, and the two Weres left the room.



“He's a fool,” Mara said. “Even now, I've heard rumors that human scientists are working on a drug that will cure lycanthropy. If they can come up with a viable concoction that won't harm the humans, all they'll have to do is add the drug to the water supply. The Werewolves will be cured whether they want to be or not. Perhaps the shape-shifters, as well.”



Rafe grunted softly. “And how will that affect us?”