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“You’re right. I didn’t stop to think.”
“That’s always been your problem, dear.”
Edna stuck her tongue out at her friend. “I guess you think we should have stayed and given him a chance to stake us.”
“Of course not.”
Edna sipped her drink, and then sighed heavily. “I’m just sorry we never made it to California.”
“There’s always tomorrow, dear,” Pearl said cheerfully. “After all, we haven’t avenged Travis’s death yet.”
“Now, why didn’t I think of that?” Edna said, her mood lifting.
Pearl raised her glass. “Here’s to tomorrow. And to all the tomorrows to follow.”
Chapter Forty-five
Kyle grabbed the bars and pulled himself to his feet when the vampire entered the room. He had known this night was coming. He had felt it, deep in his bones. So be it. If he was to die, it would not be cowering on the floor. Gathering his courage, Kyle met the monster’s gaze.
Ramsden cocked his head to the side as he regarded the pitiful mortal. He could smell the man’s fear. It rolled off him in waves, yet he stood tall and straight, his eyes filled with hatred and defiance. You had to admire that kind of grit, but then, mortal men were often at their best in the face of unbeatable odds.
For a moment, Ramsden regretted having to kill the man, and then he shrugged. The destruction of one more human meant nothing to him. He had seen death in all its ugliness far too often to feel either queasiness or remorse at the thought of taking a human life.
Still, the man had courage.
Feeling generous, Ramsden said, “I’ll make this as quick and painless as I can.”
“I won’t.”
At the sound of her voice, Ramsden whirled around, his eyes going wide with disbelief. “Mara!”
Kyle’s voice echoed her name as he sank to his knees. Thank God, the cavalry had arrived just in the nick of time.
Mara swept into the room, her bearing that of a queen paying a call on a peasant. “I’ve come for my son, Doctor,” she said imperiously. “For your sake, I hope he’s well.”
Ramsden shrugged. “He was fine, last I saw him.” He moved away from the cage, putting his back to the far wall. “If you’ll excuse me, I was just leaving.”
Mara glanced at Kyle. She breathed in his scent, and knew he was dying. “I’m sorry, Doctor, but you’re not going anywhere.”
Ramsden’s eyes narrowed. “How did you find me?”
“I followed my son’s heartbeat. All the witchcraft in the world will not save you now.”
Ramsden looked past her to where Logan stood in the doorway. “Two against one? Not very sporting of you.”
“Logan won’t interfere.”
“And if I win?”
Mara smiled, baring her fangs. “Then I won’t be here to stop him.”
“Can’t we talk this over?” Ramsden asked, his hands outstretched in a gesture of goodwill. “The brat’s fine.”
It was the wrong thing to say.
Her eyes narrowing with rage, Mara flew at him, her fangs fully extended, her hands like claws.
Logan watched the battle impassively. Ramsden fought valiantly, but Mara was a mother defending her young. Almost, Logan could pity the doctor. Ramsden was as helpless as a fledgling to defend himself against Mara’s wrath. His claws and teeth savaged her flesh, but, thanks to Logan’s ancient blood, her wounds healed almost instantly.
Like a cat with a mouse, she toyed with Ramsden until she tired of the game, and then she slammed him against the wall with such force, it shattered the plaster. Eyes blazing with hell’s own fury, she pulled a stake from her skirt pocket, the very same stake she had pulled from Janis’s body outside.
A harsh cry of denial rose in the doctor’s throat as she plunged the stake deep into his heart and gave it a sharp twist.
Ramsden slid helplessly to the floor. He clutched weakly at the stake protruding from his chest, but only for a moment. With a sigh, his eyes glazed over. His hand fell away from the stake. It was over.
Inside the cage, Kyle smiled faintly, then toppled onto his side and lay still. Mara was there. She would rescue their son. He could stop fighting. Help had arrived at last, he thought dully, only it had arrived too late for him.
Mara was at Kyle’s side in an instant. Ripping the door off the cage, she ducked inside and dropped to her knees. Murmuring Kyle’s name, she cradled his head in her lap. Guilt rose up within her. It was her fault he was here, her fault he was dying. Ramsden had fed off him. And not just Ramsden, she thought, scenting the air, but Edna and Pearl as well. They would pay for that, she vowed. Sooner or later, she would find the old biddies and she would make them pay dearly for what they had done.
“Kyle, hold on.” She stroked his brow. “You can’t die. Our son needs you, now more than ever.”
At the sound of her voice, his eyelids fluttered open. “I always loved you,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “Even when I hated you.”
“Save your strength. Let me bring you across.” There was no time to lose. His life force was ebbing away with each breath he took, each beat of his heart.
Kyle glanced at Logan, who stood a few feet away. “He turned you back.”
“Yes, that’s how I found you. It isn’t so bad, being what we are.”
“No . . . no. One kiss . . .” he murmured weakly. “One kiss . . . of farewell . . . to send me on my way.”
She thought briefly of bringing him across against his will, but she knew in her heart he would hate her for it; knew that Kyle, like Jeffrey Dunston before him, would destroy himself the first chance he got.
With tears in her eyes, Mara gathered him into her arms. Lightly pressing her lips to his, she swallowed his last breath. His body went limp as his life ebbed away. Her fault, she thought, all her fault. He would never have been involved in any of this if not for her.
She sat there a moment, lightly stroking his hair, until, from somewhere down the hall, she heard a baby’s cry.
“Derek!” Sliding out from under Kyle’s lifeless body, Mara gained her feet and flew out of the room and down the hallway. “Derek!” Bending over the crib, she gathered her son into her arms and held him close. “Oh, my sweet baby boy,” she wailed. “What have they done to you?”
“Is he all right?”
Turning, Mara looked at Logan over the baby’s head. “They fed off of him!” she exclaimed, her eyes flashing with anger as she kissed her son’s cheek. Her baby, once plump and pink, was now pale and thin, so thin. “Don’t worry, my love,” she cooed. “I’ve come to take you home.”
