Night's Touch. Amanda Ashley

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Night's Touch - Amanda Ashley Children of the Night

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don’t.”

      “That seems odd. I mean, they live in that huge old…”

      Cara put her spoon down as she remembered something Vince had said. “Did you follow me home from The Nocturne the other night?”

      “Me?”

      “Did you?”

      “Why would you think that?”

      “Just answer me, yes or no. Did you?”

      He shrugged. “What if I did? I just wanted to make sure you got home all right. Is that a crime?”

      “No, but…”

      “Lots of crazies hang out at The Nocturne. I was worried about you, that’s all.”

      “You needn’t worry. I’m perfectly safe wherever I go.”

      “Yeah? Why is that?”

      “I have a bodyguard.”

      “You do? Why?”

      “My parents are very protective.”

      “No sh…no kidding. I don’t think I’ve ever dated a girl who had her own bodyguard.” Anton glanced around the shop. “Where is he?”

      “Probably peeking in a window somewhere. He’s very discreet.” She glanced toward the door when it opened, letting in a blast of cool air and two women wearing long gray cloaks.

      Cara leaned closer to Anton. “Are they witches?”

      “How would I know?”

      “Well, they certainly look like witches.” She glanced at her watch. “I should go, it’s getting late.”

      “Since I can’t convince you to invite me to dinner on Sunday, how about if I pick you up and take you out? Just one thing,” he said with a grin, “your bodyguard has to pay for his own meal.”

      Cara considered it a moment. When she said yes, it was more to soothe her bruised ego than because she wanted to go out with Anton.

      As they left the shop, Cara noticed the two gray-clad women with their heads together. She couldn’t help wondering if they were talking about her.

      Chapter 6

      Serafina waited until Anton had gone to bed, and then she left the house, her destination Anthony’s secret lab located in an abandoned brick building on the outskirts of town. The front door was made of heavy steel. The windows were boarded up on the inside and barred on the outside, but she had a key. After unlocking the door, she stepped inside, then closed the door behind her.

      She wandered from room to room before entering Anthony’s laboratory. Save for a new state-of-the art computer and printer that Anton had bought to replace his father’s old ones, the lab was just as Anthony had left it. Serafina ran her hands over the glass jars and test tubes, the beakers and flasks and funnels, and as she did so, she imagined she was touching him. She paused in front of a shelf that held several books on witchcraft, anatomy, and hematology. A small refrigerator, a microscope and an incubator shared space on a counter that stretched across half of one wall. A large gray metal file cabinet stood on one side of the door. A circle of power had been drawn on the floor in the center of the room. A gray metal table stood in the middle of the circle. A splotch of blood, now a dark, ugly brown, stained the floor.

      She moved around the room, walking where he had walked, touching what he had touched. She didn’t know what had happened the night her beloved Anthony died, but from reading his notes, she was certain that Roshan DeLongpre and his witch wife had been involved.

      The story of Anthony’s death had made all the papers. Speculation ran wild as to the cause of his demise and what had happened in the house the night he died. Myra’s body had been found cocooned in plastic. There had been blood on the sheets on the bed, but it hadn’t been Anthony’s blood and it hadn’t been Myra’s. The newspapers had had a field day. The headlines screamed, “Witches Run Amok in City.”

      She had crossed the yellow police tape under cover of darkness, gathered up all of Anthony’s journals, personal effects, and clothing, and taken them home. After the funeral, she had placed an enchantment on one of the gravediggers, directing him to return that night, dig up Anthony’s coffin, and transport it to Anthony’s lab where a stone crypt waited. When it was done, she had erased the memory from the man’s mind and sent him on his way.

      Nights when she was lonely for her beloved, she came here to the lab to talk to him. If only he had discovered the secret of immortality, he would be with her now.

      She made her way down a flight of stairs and unlocked the door to a large, windowless room that had once been used for storage. Anthony’s tomb rested inside. Sometimes she opened the coffin and looked at him, and when she did, she saw him as he had been in life.

      “Where are you now?” she murmured “Is your soul still in Summerland?”

      She wondered if he was resting peacefully, recovering from the trials of his most recent life, or if he was reflecting on all the lives he had lived in the past. Perhaps he had rested long enough and he was already planning his next incarnation.

      Hopefully he had not already been reincarnated. If so, her spell would most certainly fail.

      The thought brought tears to her eyes. Sitting on the floor, she laid her head on his tomb and wept.

      Chapter 7

      Vince moved silently through the dark city streets. Who would have thought that being immortal would be boring? He had always been a night person, but this was ridiculous. He hadn’t expected to miss ordinary things like eating a hamburger or just walking down a sunny street. Not that he had taken that many walks when he had the chance, but he sure as hell missed it now that it wasn’t an option.

      His thoughts turned to Cara, as they so often did of late. She had brought a little color into his world, made him yearn for a normal life. He wondered where she was, what she was doing.

      Almost without conscious thought, he found himself standing on the balcony outside her room. His senses told him the vampires who lived here weren’t home, and he wondered again how a mortal happened to be living with the Undead. Was she their daughter? Had they been turned after she was born?

      One of the French doors leading into her bedroom was partially open. Prevented by some vampire mumbo jumbo from entering without an invitation, he peered into her room. She was in bed, lying on her side facing his way, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. Her hair fell over her shoulder like a river of molten gold.

      She made a small, sleepy sound and rolled onto her back, and he knew she was awake.

      Cara bolted upright, her gaze darting around the room. “Who’s there?”

      “It’s me, Vince.”

      “Vince! What are you doing out there?”

      “I came to apologize for hurting your feelings the other night.”

      She folded her arms across

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