Midnight Crusader Read online

  "Wow, what an ending,” Candice was gushing. “Who came up with that at the last minute? It was awesome."

  "Did you hear that crowd?” Molly crowed. “They loved us. They really loved us. I think I'm going to go out and shop for an expensive little sports car. I'm going to be famous. What did you think of it, Miss Bright?"

  "Have any of you seen Charmaine?"

  Candice and Molly exchanged puzzled looks. Marty and Grace continued to stare blankly at their own bloodied reflections.

  "Not since her grand finale,” Molly said at last. “Maybe she's meeting admirers back stage. She was fabulous. I'm going to ask her if I can be the sacrifice on opening night."

  A chill shuddered through Naomi as she backed from the room then raced toward the emptied stage. The guests had been efficiently ushered to a private reception in another room. Marcus and Gabriel were at the base of the temple, but no Charmaine.

  "How do you get into this thing?” Marcus demanded of the stage hands. None of them seemed to know.

  "Is there a trap door? How do they get in and out?"

  One of the workers shrugged. “I don't know. A special crew set it up like it was some big secret. They never let us near it."

  They spent the next few hours searching above and below the monolithic structure to no avail. The rock sides were seamless, and on top, there was only a small slit through which ancient tribes poured their golden offerings. And the blood splashed liberally on the stones looked frightfully real. None of the backstage crew knew anything. None of them had seen Charmaine.

  Naomi had an awful feeling that none of them would ever see her again.

  And with her went Naomi's only link to her past.

  * * * *

  "What have you done? This is madness!"

  Alex Cross regarded his partner with a calm, unblinking gaze. “Just taking care of business."

  "Is that what you call it? Making a spectacle in front of a human audience? In front of Gabriel McGraw?"

  Cross shrugged, unconcerned. “Perhaps it's time he knew what he was facing. Perhaps he needs to know that he isn't dealing with a run-of-the-mill night crawler. Perhaps then he'll show some respect and well deserved caution and give us space to maneuver."

  "You don't know him like I do. He'll be all over us. He has no fear. There isn't a cautious bone in his body. You're mad, Cross. You're mad, and you're going to destroy us both."

  "Mad, am I?” He turned on Zanlos, eyes blazing with an unnatural cold fire, breath seething through extended fangs and movements becoming jerky with agitation when he finally began to pace the room. His image flickered, becoming one thing then another as if unable to fix on either.

  It was more than simple madness fermenting behind that blazing glare. It was a fatal flaw that Zanlos was just now beginning to recognize. A flaw that might well get him killed. Again.

  "It's not madness, fool, it's brilliance. Brilliance like mine is rarely recognized by the simple masses. But in time, you will understand how what I've done tonight has set the stage for the ultimate production. You have no insight into a man like Gabriel McGraw. You are a creature of this century, and his is an old, noble soul. You have to understand where he comes from to realize how to finally devastate him. You have no clue. You think your security teams and your pretty little secretary are going to keep you safe from him. He will crush you like a bug, Zanlos, if I were to let him. Perhaps I will. Perhaps you are not the type of man I need to stand by my side. I had not thought you would be squeamish."

  "Not squeamish, Alex. Cautious. Perhaps if you told me what you had planned—"

  "I've told you all you need to know. The rest is my business. My pleasure."

  Cross faced his wary partner, all smooth charm once more. But having been once burned, Zanlos wasn't deceived.

  "Kaz, you have fulfilled your end of our arrangement beyond my hopes and expectations. For that, I thank you. You deserve the success this hotel will reap as long as you allow me the latitude I need to conclude my plans."

  "Which you refuse to share."

  Cross smiled. “Exactly. They do not involve you. Not directly."

  "Do they involve Miss Bright?"

  "Oh, you might say they do. Oh yes, you might.” His chuckle burbled with manic genius, then his stare grew hard and fierce. “Don't interfere, my friend, unless you'd like the lovely ladies of the Amazon to come looking for you."

  * * * *

  Gabriel wouldn't let her remain at the Amazon. He didn't give reasons. She didn't ask. She knew he thought it was too dangerous. She agreed.

  He and Marcus would remain in hopes that Charmaine turned up. His tight expression said he didn't think that was going to happen. She was too heartsick to let him know she saw right through him.

  She drove home, her emotions on autopilot.

  What had she witnessed? A murder? A sacrifice? Right in front of a room full of people? How could that be?

  But Charmaine was gone. And deep in her soul, she knew she'd seen and recognized evil in the eyes behind the mask.

  Chilled to the bone on the balmy night, she locked her house up tight and headed for the shower. If Rita came home, it wouldn't be until dawn. Tonight she was glad for the solitude. She didn't want to speak. She didn't want to think about what she had or hadn't seen.

  And as the steamy water beat down upon her shoulders, she wept where no one could hear her, until the spray grew cool and her throat ached too much to draw another sobbing breath.

  Her hair toweled dry and her shivering form wrapped in a plush terry robe, she made herself a cup of strong tea. Some of Rita's herbal brew without caffeine, taste or any harmful additives. All she wanted was the heat to restore what had seeped out of her.

  She sat curled on the couch with a single low-wattage bulb burning. The tea helped calm her nerves and so did the blob of motor-revving fur stretched across her lap. But nothing could erase the sight of that face, of that remembered horror. Remembered from where?

  Mel's contented purrs lowered to a more menacing rumble. He jumped down from her lap and went to stuff himself under her end table. Before she could puzzle over his behavior, there was a knock at the door. She glanced at the numbers on the VCR she rarely used. 4:55.

  Gabriel McGraw stood on her front step looking woeful and yet wonderful to her. What she couldn't see through the peep hole that was revealed by the opening of her door, was that he wasn't alone.

  Charmaine Johnson's three daughters were with him.

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  Chapter Twenty-one

  Gabriel's somber expression belied her question.

  Naomi opened the door and gestured them inside. “I was just sitting here by myself thinking how nice it would be to have visitors.” She forced a cheerful tone as her heart swelled for the three children.

  Janeece, the six-year old, spotted Mel's fat tail twitching underneath the end table and forgot her shyness. “You have a kitty!” She raced across the living room and began to drag the fat feline from his lair by the hind legs.

  "Careful, honey. He's not too friendly."

  But the child had Mel wrapped in her arms, cooing about the creature's beauty and softness. Mel, though he looked displeased hanging like a sack of suet from the strangle hold the little girl had under his front legs, began what sounded suspiciously like a purr.

  Holding the dozing Tonya in her arms, Roxanne regarded Naomi through swimming eyes, though her features were composed in grim lines. She either knew or guessed the truth. “Gabriel said we might be able to stay with you for a while. If it's all right."

  "I'd love the company. Come in."

  The couch pulled out into a bed. Naomi supplied sheets and pillows. The younger girls curled up and were asleep in minutes with Mel snoring between them. The eldest watched Naomi with a look way too serious for her years.

  "We won't be any trouble, Miss Bright."

  "I don't expect you will be. If Mel says you're all right, I'm sure you are. Sorry the couch
isn't more comfortable."

  A wry smile shaped her pretty face. “We've slept on worse.” How much she looked like her mother at that moment.

  "I want you girls to make yourselves at home until we find out something ... definite."

  The girl's expression grew weary and resigned, as if that truth was already apparent to her.

  "I know I'm just a stranger to you,” Naomi continued, “but you'll be safe here."

  "We trust Gabriel, so if he says it's all right, we're not worried."

  She slipped under the covers with her sisters and turned off the nearby light, but sleep was most likely hours away for her.

  Naomi stared at the three unmoving shapes. Tears returned to burn her eyes. Poor little things. Alone and afraid, despite Roxanne's brave words. She joined Gabriel in the kitchen area.

  "Are you sure you don't mind?"

  She waved off his hesitation. “Don't be silly. What did you find out? Anything?"

  His gaze fixed upon the silent trio. “Nothing encouraging.” He turned away, his tone growing harsh with self-castigation. “I let her go in. I knew it was dangerous. I seem to have a talent for getting those around me killed."

  "We don't know that she's—"

  His stare cut through her hopeful naïveté. “Don't we?"

  Naomi lowered her gaze, anguish ripping through her.

  Gabriel sighed and reached out to gather her up against his chest. Her instinctive stiffening yielded to the comfort he offered. She looped her arms about his middle, leaning in while he struggled to come to terms with what he considered his failure to protect one of his own.

  "I just don't know why they killed her,” he concluded in quiet misery.

  A sheet of icy knowledge spread through Naomi's belly. She knew. It was because of her. Because of what Rita had overheard.

  What was in her past that would threaten Kaz Zanlos enough to have an innocent woman murdered so brutally and publically? Was it a warning to her? Just to let her know that he knew she was thinking about abandoning him? Just to let her know the type of consequences that might be in store for her or anyone she cared for?

  Gabriel stepped back suddenly. “I have to go. You'll be all right, Naomi.” Then he said something strange. “Zanlos isn't a danger to you or the girls."

  She saw the concern in his gaze and pounced upon it. “But someone is. Who? Do you know who?"

  "Not yet. But I will. I let those girls become orphans. I won't let their future come to a sudden end."

  "You're not going to do anything foolish, are you?"

  He grinned at her alarm. He looked so young and handsome, it was hard for her to view him as a seasoned warrior. “Probably, but you don't need to worry. I have a habit of surviving my mistakes.” Then his expression altered subtly until he appeared positively ancient. “If only those around me were so lucky.” His fingertips traced Naomi's jaw line. “Don't look so distressed. I won't let anything happen to you."

  "I wasn't worried about me."

  Boldly, she reached up to bracket his face between her hands, drawing him down into her urgent kiss. She dove in without shyness. There wasn't time for tact or diplomacy. When Gabriel backed away, it was with obvious difficulty.

  "I have to go,” he repeated. Reluctance steeped in his expression.

  "I'll take care of them. I'll enjoy it. The older one, Roxanne, reminds me of someone."

  Gabriel smiled as she puzzled over it. “She reminds me of you."

  He pressed a quick kiss upon her willing lips and was out the door, locking it behind him. She touched her dampened mouth wistfully.

  "He likes you."

  Naomi glanced toward the couch to find Janeese smiling at her. “You think so?"

  "Sure. He'd stay if he could."

  "I'm sure he had other places to go."

  "He can't stay past the dawn, Mama said."

  "And why is that?"

  "Because he's a vampire."

  And with that incredible conclusion, the child rolled over and went back to sleep.

  * * * *

  "Don't let anyone go in."

  Marcus Sinclair nodded.

  "I'm trusting you to keep them safe."

  Sinclair leaned on the window frame of the big classic car to peer chidingly at the man behind the wheel. “Even if it wasn't my job, I would."

  "If Rita Davies shows up, you might want to suggest she find another place to stay, at least until we know who she's with, Zanlos or his unseen partner."

  Marcus's features tightened. “You think it was the partner who put on the show tonight?"

  "Maybe,” was all Gabriel would volunteer. “He must be someone with a lot of power behind him for me not to have sensed him."

  "You and him ... you're the same?"

  Gabriel flinched at Marcus's awkwardly put question. “No. We're not the same. Not at all."

  "Do you think we'll ever find her?” The undercover cop asked in an abrupt change of topic, not that the new subject was any more pleasant.

  "Not alive,” Gabriel finally admitted aloud. “And if you do happen to see her, she won't be the same. She'll be—"

  "Like him,” Marcus supplied. He caught on quickly and didn't waste time demanding explanations.

  "Yes.” He glanced in his rearview to see the pastel approach of daylight. His eyes narrowed and watered. “I've got to go."

  "Because of the dawn?"

  "Yes. And I've got miles to go before I sleep. I'll rest easier knowing you're here."

  Marcus pressed a big hand down on his forearm. “Then rest easier. And tomorrow, we're going to have us a conversation."

  Gabriel smiled thinly. “I look forward to it."

  Vampire.

  Naomi wanted to laugh off the idea as the product of a child's imagination.

  But as she lay in her bed, atop the covers and still fully dressed, she could see the beast drenched in Charmaine's blood. That image was quickly followed by Jeannie's burning stare.

  Vampires.

  Her hand had gone subconsciously to the faded marks on her throat. She'd explained them away to her own satisfaction as some sort of insect bite.

  Or inhuman bite?

  Would that explain her memory losses, her odd weak spells, her compulsive behavior?

  Strange that it would be more palatable to blame a mythical creature of the night for her quixotic moods than ascribe it to mental illness. She blindly accepted Zanlos’ claims without questioning, without asking for proof. Why? Why couldn't she bring up the subject or demand an accounting? Why was she always so grateful and subservient around her boss, when her usual type-A manner required an analytical approach and substantiated cause.

  Was that because Kaz Zanlos had mesmerized her with a vampire's bite?

  A laugh burbled up at the absurdity of it. But when the nagging suspicion should have gone away, it continued to linger, to fester in the back of her mind.

  What was really going on at the Amazon?

  And if such things as vampires were real, and her boss was one, was Gabriel McGraw one as well? If so, how could she possibly love him? Wouldn't that make him a monster? A beast preying upon the life blood of others to sustain his own self-gratifying existence?

  She recalled the coolness of his touch and his ability to seemingly disappear at will.

  Her breathing shivered slightly.

  Gabriel was not a vampire. Kaz Zanlos was a lawyer and a businessman and if he was a blood sucker, it was only in the figurative sense. Jeannie was drug crazed and impervious to pain.

  But what about Charmaine? Who ... or what had killed her?

  Naomi closed her eyes as the familiar throbbing began to build at the base of her skull. Was it her own psychological flaws that made the impossible seem plausible? Was she making Gabriel into some kind of unnatural being because it would be easier to reject his attention and potential affection if he was other than a man?

  There had to be records. Some paper trail that would lead her to the truth. She'd depen
ded upon numbers and facts to guide her whole life. They couldn't let her down now.

  Records. Paper. Documents. Facts would protect her and provide her with answers.

  And those facts were in Kaz Zanlos’ private files.

  But just in case, she would search them before the sun set.

  * * * *

  She awoke with a scream on her lips, and another nearly followed when she saw an unfamiliar figure seated on the foot of her bed. Naomi released a ragged breath when she recognized Roxanne Johnson. The young woman sat, still and silent, her eyes fixed unblinkingly ahead.

  "I'm sorry,” Naomi managed in a semi-calm voice. “I didn't mean to frighten you. I was having a bad dream."

  Roxanne's stare never wavered. “It wasn't a dream. It was memory. You're the one my mother said was caught between two lives. She'd asked if I could help you but never had time to arrange a meeting. It was you, wasn't it?"

  "She said she knew someone with a gift."

  Roxanne's mouth warped in a bitter smile. “Gift. Curse. Call it what you like."

  "You're a psychic?"

  "I prefer to think of it as being sensitive to other worlds. I just know things about people, whether they're good or bad. I recognized the good in Gabriel right away, despite whatever else he might be. And you, too. I had a feeling about you."

  "Tell me about Gabriel. What did you mean by whatever else he might be?"

  "That's for him to explain to you. But you have another question for me."

  Naomi gathered her courage and convictions to ask, “Whose memories and why me?"

  "It's hard to explain. It's like a layering of your life over another.” She spoke these things so matter-of-factly while sitting there wearing one of Naomi's tee shirts, like a teenager at a slumber party instead of a mystic about to unveil the secrets of a hidden universe. Her tone was old, so old. “In spots, the one bleeds through the other and you see with each others’ eyes, hear with each others’ ears, feel with each others’ hearts. What do you know about reincarnation?"

  Naomi shook her head. “Nothing really. Is that what this is?"

  "It's stronger than a past life because the memories, the desires, the needs are very real to you here in the present. The soul of this other person has somehow mingled with yours. That other spirit can't find peace, that's why it won't leave you alone. There's something you need to do first."