I heard you call.” His eyes narrowed to study her face. She hoped the circles beneath her eyes didn’t show. “Are you sure you’re—”
“Fine. I’m fine. I stubbed my toe on the bedpost, that’s all.”
Still he looked doubtful. “You look tired.”
“I was about to take a nice hot bath and then I’m down for the night.” She smiled to ease his worry, but it turned to a frown when she noted the coat over his arm. “You’re going out? Daniel, it’s been snowing all day. The roads—”
“I’m not driving, Tam. Curtis is coming to pick me up.”
She felt her spine stiffen. Her breath escaped her in a rush. “You’re going to spy on that man again, aren’t you? Honestly, Daniel, this obsession you have—”
“Spying! It’s surveillance. And don’t call it obsession, Tamara. It’s pure scientific study. You should understand that.”
Her brows rose. “It’s folklore, that’s what it is. And if you keep dogging the poor man’s every step he’s going to end up dragging you into court. Daniel, you’ve followed him for months. You have yet to come up with a shred of evidence that he’s—”
“Daniel.” Curt’s voice cut her off, and in a moment he’d hurried up the stairs to join Daniel outside her bedroom door. “Are you ready?”
“And you!” Tamara rushed on as if he’d been privy to the entire conversation. “I can’t believe you’re encouraging this witch-hunt. For God’s sake, the three of us spend every day in a high-tech, brass-and-glass-filled office building in White Plains. We’re living in the nineties, guys. Byram, Connecticut, not fifteenth-century Transylvania!”
Curt stared at her for a moment. Then he tilted his head to one side and opened his arms. She sighed and allowed his embrace. “Still not sleeping nights?” His voice came smoothly, softly.
She shook her head against the damp fabric of his coat.
“I’m worried about leaving her alone,” Daniel said, as if she were not there.
“I have experiments to finish in the basement lab,” Curt offered. “I could hang around here, if you want to do the surveillance alone.”
“I don’t need a baby-sitter,” she snapped.
Daniel ignored her. “I think that’s a good idea,” he said. He leaned over to plant a dry peck on her cheek. “I’ll be back around dawn.”
She pulled from Curt’s arms and shook her head in frustration. “Daniel and I know what we’re doing, Tam,” Curt told her, his tone placating. “We’ve been in this business a lot longer than you have. DPI has reams on Marquand. It’s not legend.”
“I want to see the files.” She sniffed and met his gaze.
His lips tightened at the corners. “Your security clearance isn’t high enough.”
It was the answer she’d expected, the same one she got every time she asked to see the data that the Division of Paranormal Investigations had on the alleged vampire, Marquand. She lowered her head and turned from him. His hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Tamara, don’t be angry. It’s for your own—”
“I know. For my own good. My tub is going to run over.” She stepped away from him and closed the door. Curtis would sequester himself in the basement lab and not give her a second thought, she was sure of it. He didn’t worry about her the way Daniel did. He did seem to feel he had the right to boss her around more than usual lately. She shrugged, vowing not to worry anymore about Curt’s proprietary attitude toward her. She stopped the water in the bathtub and stared down into it for long moments. No hot bath was going to help her sleep. She’d tried everything from warm milk to double doses of a prescription sleep aid she’d pressured her doctor into giving her. Nothing worked. Why go through the motions?
With a frustrated sigh she padded to the French doors. On a whim, she flung them open and stepped out onto the balcony. A purple-black sky, lightening to silvery blue in the west, dropped snowflakes in chaotic choreography. The sun had set fully while she’d been arguing with her insane guardian and his stubborn cohort. She stared, entranced by the simple grace of the dancing snow. All at once she felt she had to be a part of it. Why waste all this nervous energy lying in bed, staring up at the underside of the white canopy? Especially when she knew sleep wouldn’t come for hours. Maybe she could exhaust herself into oblivion. How long had it been since she’d been able to put aside her gnawing worry and enjoy some simple pleasure?
She hurried back inside, eager now that the decision was made. She yanked on tight black leggings and a bulky knit sweater, two pairs of socks and furry pink earmuffs. She grabbed her coat and her skates from the closet, dropped them into her duffel bag, shoved her purse in beside them and opened her bedroom door.
For a moment she just listened. The hollow dinosaur of a house was silent. She tiptoed through the hall and down the stairs. She paused at the front door just long enough to stuff her feet into her boots, and then she slipped silently through it.
Crisp air stung her cheeks and her breath made little steam clouds in the falling snow. Twenty minutes of walking and snow-dance watching brought her to the outskirts of Byram. Childish delight warmed her when her destination came into view.
The rink sparkled from its nest amid the town park’s shrubbery and carefully pruned elms. Meandering, snow-dusted sidewalks, wrought-iron benches with redwood slatted seats, and trash cans painted a festive green made a wreath around the ice. Tamara hastened to the nearest bench to change into her skates.
When he woke, Eric felt as if his head were stuffed with wet cotton. He’d swung his legs to the floor, landing with unusual clumsiness. He hadn’t needed a window to sense the pale blush that still hung in the western sky. It hadn’t been the coming of night that had wakened him. Hadn’t been that for weeks. Always her cries echoed in his head until he could no longer rest. Fear and confusion were palpable in her wrenching pleas. He felt her need like a barbed hook, snagged through his heart and pulling him. Yet he hesitated. Some preternatural instinct warned him not to act hastily. No sense of imminent danger laced her nightly summons. No physical weakness or life-threatening accident seemed to be the cause. What, then?
That she was able to summon him at all was incredible. No human could summon a vampire. That anything other than mortal danger could rouse him from his deathlike slumber astounded him. He longed to go to her, to ask the questions that burned in his mind. Yet he hesitated. Long ago he’d left this place, vowing to stay clear of the girl for her own sake. He’d hoped the incredible psychic link between them would fade with time and distance. Apparently it had not.
He relaxed for an hour in the comfort of his lair. With the final setting of the sun came the familiar rush of energy. His senses sharpened to the deadly keenness of a freshly whetted blade. His body tingled with a million needles of sensation.
He dressed, then released the multitude of locks on the heavy door. He moved in silence through the pitch-black hall and pushed against a heavy slab of stone at the end. It swung inward easily, without a creak of protest, and he stepped through the opening into what appeared to be an ordinary basement. The door, from this side, looked like a well-stocked wine rack. He pushed it gently closed again and mounted the stairway that led to the main house.
He had to see her. He’d known it for some time, and
