Night's Promise Page 4

  Shaking his head, Travis decided to go back to his temporary home. The warehouse was perfect; no one would think to look for him there. And he needed to figure out how this new man could complicate things. The next time he called Diane, he’d tell her to discover more about him.

  When he finally did get his revenge, he wanted it to be perfect. He had spent too long thinking about what he wanted to do to allow some new guy to fuck it up.

  Walking away from the expensive house, he determined to return that night. So far she hadn’t seemed to notice that he was following her. And he would continue to do so until the perfect moment arrived to strike.

  Smirking, he knew she would never even suspect how close to her he was. She thought she was safe from him. And he would take pleasure in letting her know just how much of an illusion that was. She belonged to him, and he’d make sure she learned that lesson well.

  Chapter Three

  Looking down at the fresh grave, Melissa felt her heart break all over again. She’d never forgive herself for going to school that fateful day instead of staying at the hospital with her mother. She’d been inconsolable when she’d found out.

  The principal, a typically nice older woman had come down to her class and Melissa could still hear her.

  “Melissa, please grab your things and follow me to my office.”

  There had been the various calls and hoots from the other students, questions about what she could have possibly done wrong flew through her head, but she obeyed without question. Five minutes later, she was sitting in the principal’s office, waiting to find out what she had done wrong, why she was in trouble.

  “What’s going on? Am I in trouble?”

  “I’m so sorry to be the one that has to tell you this…” The principal knelt down in front of her. “It’s about your mother.”

  “What’s wrong with my mom? Did she have to get more tests? They said she was getting better.” Melissa started panicking. “The doctors said she was getting better.”

  “Sweetie, the doctors were wrong. I guess your mom didn’t want you to know how sick she was…she died. Just a little while ago.”

  “You’re lying,” Melissa shouted in the principal’s face, shoving the other woman away from her as hard as she could. Without stopping to grab her books or her backpack, she ran to the door, tears flowing down her face. “You’re a liar!” she screamed, and ran out of the door.

  No one stopped her as she ran out of the school or down the street.

  The only thought running through her head was, She’s lying. I don’t know why she’d want to hurt me like that but she’s lying, she has to be.

  She ran all the way to the hospital, ignoring the yells—the horns—as she ran full speed across streets disregarding any traffic, and even the burning in her side. All that mattered was that she got to her mother’s side. That she see for herself everything was going to be all right. She’d tell her mother what that horrible old woman said, then, as she lay safely in her mom’s arms, she’d get to hear her on the phone, screaming at the principal for trying to torture Melissa.

  Pushing past the people leaving the hospital and shoving her way through the group getting off the elevator, she hit the button for her mother’s floor repeatedly until the doors closed.

  As soon as the elevator stopped, she was out of it, racing down the hallway, past the nurse’s station and straight to her mom’s room.

  Melissa stared at the empty bed and tears began to flow down her cheeks.

  One of the nurses must have seen her run into the room because she felt a pair of hands on her shoulders.

  “She’s just getting some tests run? Right?” Melissa pleaded, her voice trembling. “Right?” she demanded. “They just needed to run a few more tests before she gets to come home.”

  “I’m sorry,” a gentle voice answered.

  “But you said…the doctor said she was getting better.”

  “Your mother didn’t want you to worry. She begged us not to tell you, she said she didn’t want you sitting beside her bed, refusing to move. It was wrong, and I’m so sorry, but your mother didn’t want you to live your life this last week as though the world had stopped turning. She didn’t want you to stop living. She gave us this to give to you.”

  An envelope was pressed into her hands, but Melissa barely felt it even as her hand automatically closed around it.

  A firm hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present.

  “It’s time to leave,” Travis told her.

  Melissa just shook her head. She’d never be ready to leave her mother. She wondered if her mom would have liked the dress she picked out for her to wear, or if she would have preferred the blue one. Her mom had always said the green was her favorite, but she’d only worn the blue one on special occasions.

  When the hand at her shoulder grew more insistent, bruising her flesh, she had no choice. She still wasn’t ready to leave, but she knew her mother wouldn’t want people to see Travis dragging her through the cemetery.

  Allowing him to lead her away from the fresh grave, she felt hollow inside. She felt completely numb to everything but the emptiness that now settled in her heart. It was as though she were somehow watching someone else’s life unfold before her eyes.

  When they reached the waiting car, her stepfather pressed the medicine into her hand. Mechanically, she took the pills.

  Staring out the window as he drove her farther away from where her mother would rest for eternity, she wondered how the sun could possibly be shining on such a horrible day. Why wasn’t it raining, why weren’t the angels crying, like in that song her mother loved so much?

  The next few days slid past in a blur. Her stepfather would give her medicine, and she would take it, feeling too dead inside to do anything but obey him.

  A week had passed since her mother died and Melissa still spent her days curled around her mother’s pillow, crying.

  “You’re not still crying are you? Damn, it’s been a week, get over it already. The house needs to be cleaned and I’m hungry.”

  Ignoring him, she closed her eyes as she remembered how her mother used to read to her—before she got sick. She could almost hear the sweet voice, telling her a story. The words didn’t matter. They wouldn’t matter now.

  The only thing Melissa wanted was to hear her mom’s voice again.

  When she felt the pillow being ripped from her hands, she opened her eyes and sat up on the bed.

  “That got your attention, didn’t it? Now get your ass up and fix me something to eat.”

  “Leave me alone,” she said, snatching the pillow from him and pulling it close to her. Her body curled around it, protecting the item from him.

  Without a word of warning, Melissa’s face was thrown to the side, her cheek burning as though someone had just set fire to it.

  “You want to cry so damn much, I’ll give you something to cry about. This house better be clean when I get home, or so help me…” Travis didn’t finish his threat. He didn’t have to. Her cheek was already throbbing from his first blow.

  She waited until the front door slammed shut before she left her room. As Melissa cleaned the house, her mind was far away, on a picnic she and her mother had enjoyed a few summers past. When she finished taking the trash to the curb, she went straight back to her room. Pulling the familiar textbooks out of her backpack, she littered them around her, in preparation of her stepfather’s return home. She didn’t want to give him any other excuses to come into her bedroom, to think that she had “free” time.

  The next day at school, one of her teachers and the principal pulled her aside to find out about the large bruise on her cheek. Unemotionally, as though she were talking about someone else’s life, she told them what happened. Shocked and outraged, they’d called both the police and her stepfather into the school.

  Before her very eyes she saw him do a song and dance number.

  Watching him, she hoped the group was too intelligent to actually believe what
he was saying. Her stomach knotted as the other adults clung to his every word, every little detail he fed to them. By the time he was finished, he had everyone in the room convinced she was acting out to get attention.

  Travis led her out of the school without so much as a harsh word. But when they got home, he slapped her face. Pain blossomed inside of her, but she didn’t cry out, she didn’t even whimper. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  “I better not ever get called back to your school. You made me miss half a day’s work, you little bitch. Get your ass inside that kitchen and make me some supper.”

  Keeping her mouth shut, Melissa did as she was told.

  In the weeks that followed, Melissa withdrew farther into herself. Whenever a teacher would look at her, or a friend would ask about her bruises, she would shrug and ignore them. She simply burrowed deeper and deeper inside of herself, hiding in the memories of a happier time, when her mother was still around to comfort and protect her.

  *

  The first thing Melissa became aware of as she woke was the tears running down her face. That realization was quickly replaced by a man’s arms around her.

  Panicking, she struggled, trying to fight her way out of the embrace and unable to stop herself from screaming. Her struggles grew stronger when she felt the bare sheet slide over her legs.

  “I need to study. I-I can’t fail this test,” she pleaded. When that didn’t work she screamed, “Get off me.” Her fingers curved and she slapped and scratched and kicked for all she was worth, her panic growing more acute when the arms around her grew tighter. Almost crazy with the need to escape this fate, she opened her mouth and began to scream, praying one of the neighbors would hear her. Uncaring of the punishment she would receive for the cops or some damn nosey neighbors interrupting Travis’s plans, Melissa prayed for a small reprieve.

  She prayed he would hit her hard enough that she would at least lose consciousness rather than be forced to endure his touch.

  A hand went over her mouth and, even though she knew she would pay for the action later, her fear of what he was about to do was too much for her to care. Clawing at the hand, trying to pull it away, she only managed to turn it slightly. Opening her mouth, she bit down on the hand as hard as she could.

  A curse sounded through the room and one of her hands was pulled away, the motion much more gentle than anything she’d ever expected from her stepfather. A single finger was pried away from the rest, and Melissa wondered if he planned on breaking the digit as punishment for her bite.

  Tears ran down her face and she whimpered, determined not to let him know just how bad he hurt her. Bracing herself for the pain, she was surprised when she felt her finger slide over his lips.

  A shudder went through her body and she began to struggle again, harder. But his grip was firm. Her finger went between his lips and her entire body locked up as she felt the sharp fang. When her struggles eased, she heard a sigh.

  “If I let you go, will you stop trying to rip me apart?”

  A wave of relief swept over her, warming her blood from the cold panic that had washed through her. “Yes,” she croaked. “My-my light…”

  “I think the bulb blew,” Duncan’s voice came, followed by a clicking sound as he tried to turn the light on. “If you tell me where I can find them…”

  “The closet. Just across from my room.”

  She heard him step away and took the time to quickly pull on the pair of the jeans she always had beside her bed. She had a feeling Duncan took more time than he really needed to get the bulb. That he was giving her the opportunity to collect herself.

  By the time he came back in, she was dressed and feeling a bit more in control of her emotions. Melissa heard him unscrew one bulb and screw another in as she tried to figure out what to say. Brightness filled her room, allowing her to finally relax completely.

  Looking at his scratched up face as he stood beside the bed, she felt guilty for having hurt him, even if the scratches were already beginning to heal.

  “I’m so sorry,” she began, turning her back and reaching for the hairbrush on her dresser, just to have something to do.

  “I’ll heal. Are you still going to tell me you aren’t having any trouble sleeping?”

  “Who are you, my brother?” she asked nastily, before she could curb her temper. “What the hell were you doing in my bedroom anyway?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I got up to get a drink of water and I heard you cry out. Forgive me if I wanted to make sure you were all right. It was a mistake I won’t make again.” Duncan turned to leave the room.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly, staring down at the brush in her hand.

  A quick glance at the door revealed Duncan looking back at her, his hand poised on the knob.

  “Look, I know it’s not easy to talk about shit when you wake up like that. But damn it, you need to talk to someone. If you refuse to talk to your own brother, and you won’t talk to me, you need to find someone you will talk to before whatever you’re running from destroys you.” There was a pause. “I won’t bother you again.”

  Looking up, she watched as he left the room.

  Her fingers automatically braided her hair into one long plait down her back as her mind went back to the horrible dream. As much as she hated to admit it, he could be right. He at least deserved to know that she’d had a nightmare about her mother.

  With slow steps, she exited her bedroom and went down to the kitchen. She grabbed two of Gareth’s tall bottled waters from the fridge, then stuck her head inside the den and the living room before heading down to the guest room.

  Knocking on the door, she waited a moment for Duncan to respond. When no response came, she knocked again. “Duncan, it’s Melissa,” she said, feeling a bit foolish. Who else would it be, he knows Gareth isn’t home.

  Waiting another minute with no response, she was turning away, assuming that he either really didn’t want to talk to her, or he’d fallen asleep pretty quickly, when the door opened.

  He waved her inside. “Come on in.”

  “Thank you. I thought you’d like some…” She handed him the water, trying not to notice that he was walking around in his boxers. “That’s a pretty cool tattoo. I didn’t know you guys could get tattoos. Gareth always said they wouldn’t last, something about your bodies rejecting them.”

  “You have to use a special ink or it won’t take.” He lifted his hand to the claw marks forever ripping his flesh open. “A sorceress enchanted the ink for me. It isn’t very easy to do—it uses a lot of magick—so, not many vamps have them.”

  Nodding as she opened her water, Melissa struggled to figure out what she should say.

  “It was a nightmare,” she began lamely. “I was dreaming about my childhood. About…” Her voice caught. “About my mother.”

  Remaining silent, Duncan allowed her to talk. He could feel the grief rolling off her as she sat down on the bed. He knew how hard it must be for her to open up, and he wouldn’t rush her story.

  “My mom died when I was fourteen. And life with my stepfather was…not easy.” She looked across the room, anywhere but at him. “I was dreaming about the day she died. About how much my life changed.”

  He sensed her closing down. There was more to the story, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t tell him what was going on if he didn’t step in.

  “I have trouble sleeping some days myself. I remember what I was like eighty years ago, and I’m not very proud of the things I did. I was a different person. I was the person people called if they had a ‘problem’ to take care of.”

  “That doesn’t sound so horrible,” Melissa said, before taking a sip from her bottle.

  “I was an assassin, Melissa. Of course, sometimes people called on me to simply scare someone into cooperating. I wasn’t a very nice man, and no one was ever happy to see me. Even the top crime bosses were afraid of me. I gave no man my allegiance, and all of them were terrified of the night I would turn on them. An
d they all knew, given the right price, I would turn on them.”

  “That sounds like a rough life. Feeling like no one wanted you around, no one cared. You could have just walked away—simply disappeared one night and no one would have ever thought twice about what happened to you.”

  “Tell me about it, Melissa,” Duncan asked, his voice soothing.

  “From the day my mother died until the night Gareth walked into my life, life wasn’t worth living. My stepfather…he used to hit me—never when my mother was alive, but after…” Melissa’s hand rose, cradling her cheek as though she’d just been hit.

  “Did you tell anyone?”

  She gave a cynical laugh and nodded. “Of course I did. I walked into school with my entire left cheek dark purple, clearly bruised. They pulled me into the office with that speech about how the principal was my friend, how if someone was hurting me I should tell them.

  “Well, I told the principal what happened. But when they called Travis in, they believed him when he said that I was acting out. That I just wanted attention and wanted to leave him because I blamed him for my mom’s death. That I’d do anything to make him look as though he weren’t taking care of me. Of course they believed my stepfather. After all, I was just a stupid kid, right? I mean, after all I had just acted out a week earlier, shoving the principal when she told me my mother was dead. I shoved her and screamed in her face, calling her a liar, so of course it was easy to believe I was merely acting out. It was easier for them to remain in their safe little world than think that I could be getting hit.”

  Anger filled Duncan. He wanted to rip apart the people who had sworn to help Melissa if she confided in them, but turned her away when she asked for help. Unable to resist, he pulled her into his arms, the movement one of comfort and nothing else.

  For the first time in a very long time, he held a beautiful woman in his arms and merely wanted to offer her his strength, his acceptance…his comfort.

  “Tell me how you met Gareth,” he asked softly.