Midnight Hunter Book One in the Midnight Hunter Trilogy

Donna woke up to daylight. She was alone. A note was on the bed stand.

  “Don't worry, you're being guarded. Love, Hunter.”

  She rolled over and stretched. What was it with him? One minute he was afraid to let her go to the bathroom unsupervised, and the next he left her in utter solitude. Well, as long as the “guard” kept his evil distance, she supposed she could take some comfort in knowing somebody was keeping Stephen and his minions at bay.

  Donna got up and went to her computer. She clicked “vampires and children” in the search field. Lots of stuff came up:

  Vampires and the blood of newborn children

  Vampires and children's blood

  Children - Halloween costumes – ghost and vampire

  Not what I want to know…

  Donna keyed in - Can vampires reproduce?

  The very first result: “CAN VAMPIRES REPRODUCE?” She clicked the first link and was taken to an exhaustively long information page.

  Exactly how many vampires are having sex with mortals out there?

  Donna spent half the day finding out. She discovered that half-Underworld / half-human children were rare, but not unheard of. She learned that the baby of such a union with a vampire would have mortal and vampire traits, which seemed logical. She also learned the offspring would be born with a highly evolved immune system, meaning it would rarely get normal mortal illnesses and it would never require vaccinations. In fact, vaccinations could damage the fragile balance between mortal and Underworld DNA. That made Donna wonder how she would get their kid enrolled in school without proof of vaccinations.

  But...Hunter promised we'd never get pregnant.

  Donna scoffed at herself for even thinking about it. She read more.

  “Pregnancy hormones in a mortal female impregnated by a male vampire can be detected in as few as 24 hours. This is due to the speedy metabolic nature of vampire DNA.”

  Another site stated, “The gestation period of a coupling between a vampire male and mortal female is not typical of a mortal one.”

  Not typical? What does that mean?

  Donna wound up with more questions than she'd started out with, typical of most internet searches she'd ever done. And there was nothing anywhere to suggest a vampire couldn't reproduce. Maybe only her vampire couldn’t.

  But what if Hunter isn't the infertile one?

  Donna recalled the whimsical way he'd gazed at that family at the Commons and her insides turned cold. Maybe it was she who couldn't have kids and he was just trying to spare her the truth. That would be so like Hunter. Donna grabbed her phone and texted Mo.

  Call me @ lunch.

  She did. “Do you need rescued from the Impaler?”

  “I need you to drop by the store and get me something.”

  “Why can't you go? Is he holding you hostage again?”

  Donna examined her injuries in the mirror. Not a lot of improvement. “He left me a note telling me to stay home today.”

  “And you're going to do it because he says so?”

  “I'm going to do it because the last time he told me to stay somewhere and I didn't, Stephen almost killed me.”

  Mo sighed. “Fine. What do you need me to pick up?”

  Donna swallowed hard. “A pregnancy test.”

  “Damn it!” Mo exclaimed. Then her tone became sympathetic. “Okay. I'll drop by before I go to work.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You know how you can thank me,” Mo said. “Dump the blood-sucker.” She hung up.

  Donna dragged herself to the shower. But first, she observed her injuries in the mirror again. Indeed, not an ounce of improvement since last night. She'd have to ask Hunter about that. Still, compared to how she'd first seen herself, she really shouldn’t complain now.

  She went downstairs and sifted through what Samee had bought. Onions, eggs, soda, Popsicles, chocolate-covered pretzels, hot dogs, whole wheat bread, orange juice, marshmallows, cheddar and pepper jack cheese, lettuce, rib eye steak, microwave popcorn, bananas, and nothing containing peanuts. Donna chuckled at the thought of Samee let loose in the supermarket with Hunter's debit card and a cab ride home. She pulled a container of strawberry yogurt from the fridge and poured a glass of chocolate milk. She moaned in pleasure because the cold felt like sweet relief against her throat. She scrolled through her phone until she found Hunter's name and then she almost pressed the number.

  No. He’s the one who left me without a kiss. Let him do the calling.

  Donna walked to the closest window and looked out. She hated knowing she was being guarded by that horrid hit man so she flipped shut every curtain on the first floor and went upstairs to study French. She wound up doodling in her notebook margins; a tall, dark, dreadful man with scraggly hair and eyes the color of blood. She sketched his likeness over and over again until she felt tired – in fact, overwhelmed by exhaustion. Donna set down the pencil, laid her head on the desk, and within minutes she was blissfully, dreamlessly asleep.

  She was startled awake by somebody beating on the front door, but before she had a chance to react, her phone rang.

  “Hello Mo,” she said groggily. “Can you hold on? Somebody's at the -”

  “Are you going to let me in? Or are you going to let me stand outside your front door like an idiot?”

  “Um...”

  “Just let me in.”

  Donna lumbered downstairs, still half asleep, and opened the door.

  “Here.” Mo shoved a pregnancy test box in Donna's face. She grabbed it and hurried upstairs to her bathroom, Mo following close behind. Donna stood over the sink and tried to pry open the box with trembling hands, but when she knocked over the purple toothbrush holder, Mo snapped up the pregnancy test box. “Give me that.” She handed Donna the test stick. “Here. Take this. Pee on it. If it turns blue, you're pregnant. If it stays white, you're not.” She primped in the mirror while Donna sat on the toilet trying to pee.

  “I can’t pee on command.”

  Mo turned around, surveyed Donna on the toilet, tilted her head and squinted.

  “Wait here and I'll be right back.” Mo flung open the bathroom door and ran downstairs.

  “Where are you going?” Donna asked. Mo didn't respond. A few moments later, kitchen cupboards slammed and something crashed to the floor.

  “Oops!” Mo hollered. “Tell your mother I'm sorry.” More slamming and clattering then she thudded back upstairs carrying something. “Here. This will help you pee.” She presented it to Donna.

  Donna raised her eyebrow. “A cereal bowl?”

  “No, silly. A cereal bowl filled with warm water.” Mo ran the bowl full of water that turned out to be more hot than warm, but when Donna placed her hand in, sure enough, she peed. Mo chuckled. “This would make a great picture for the college paper. We could title it, 'Test Taking: Get Better Results with a Steaming Hot Bowl of H2o'.”

  Donna pulled the strip out and looked.

  “It's white,” she said in relief. “I'm not pregnant!” A wave of remorse hit her next, which surprised her.

  “Slow down, hyper-drive. You have to wait five minutes for the results.”

  “But, you said -”

  “Five minutes,” Mo pressed her hands together and rubbed them.

  “Damn it, Mo. Stop being like that.”

  Mo tilted her head again. “Being like what?”

  “Calm. It doesn't fit you.” Donna bit her nails and watched the stick.

  “Give me that.” Mo set the stick on the counter, emptied the cereal bowl and placed it over the stick. “It will just drive you crazy to look at it,” she rolled her eyes. “Trust me.”

  Donna paced the room, sat on the edge of the toilet and plucked purple fibers from the lid cover, turned the sink faucet on and off a few times, cleaned the toilet and then furled and unfurled toilet paper from the holder.

  “How long has it been?” she asked. Mo held up three fingers. Donna groaned, counted fl
oor tiles and rubbed a smudge off the mirror. “How long has it been now?”

  “Thirty seconds since the last time you asked.” Mo stroked Donna's hair and spoke tenderly. “I know how you feel. Well, sort of. I've gone through the pee test part.”

  “But you haven't gone through the 'I wonder if my baby will be allergic to sunlight' part.” Donna stopped chewing her fingernails long enough to rub her temples, even the sore one.

  Mo examined her for a moment then asked, “If you're pregnant, what will you do?”

  “If my baby inherits Hunter's traits, then I can't very well put it up for adoption.” She could just see it now; her sweet, innocent offspring at the dining room table...sprouting fangs and demanding blood while the rest of the family passed the ketchup.

  “I meant abortion,” Mo chewed her bottom lip.

  Donna shook her head. “I don't know. I haven't thought about it.”

  “Having a baby with a vampire surely isn't going to be easy,” Mo pointed out.

  “Even normal pregnancies aren't easy.”

  “This one's going to result in a baby who's very different.”

  “We don't know that,” Donna’s tone escalated. “My baby could be completely normal.”

  “And if it isn't?”

  “My baby will be normal.” Donna wanted to scream at Mo for making her think about this stuff. Mo took Donna's hand and looked in her eyes.

  “I won't tell you what to do but, I'll be here no matter what you choose to do.”

  “Thanks.” Donna smiled weakly.

  “And I'll love the little freak even though it's half blood-sucker. In fact, it might be kind of fun to be Aunty-Mo to a half-human kid.” She checked her phone. “It's time. Let's see if you're going to be a mommy.”

  Why does she have to say it like that?

  Mo placed a hand on the bowl and Donna sat on the bathtub edge, biting her nails. “Do you want to look first, or do you want me to?”

  “You do it. I can't.” Donna's skin felt tight - like it wanted to grab the rest of her and crawl down the bathtub drain. Mo swallowed hard, lifted the bowl, peered underneath.

  “Ah…”

  Donna scowled. “What in the hell does that mean?”

  “It's blue,” Mo said.

  Donna stared at her.

  “You're pregnant.”

  For some reason, Donna's ears started ringing. She wasn't sure she'd heard right.

  “You're knocked up, got a bun in the oven. The rabbit died.”

  Mo’s voice sounded far away and not quite real. And why did the air feel like sludge? Mo said something else but Donna had no idea what she was talking about until Mo took Donna's face in her hands and spoke slowly.

  “You're hyperventilating, Donna. Keep your head low, breathe.” Mo placed a hand on each of Donna's shoulders and gently, but firmly pushed her head to her knees. She rubbed Donna's back, brushed her hair and cooed “breathe deeply” until Donna did. After a few tormenting minutes, the ringing in her ears stopped and she raised her head to look at Mo.

  “The test could be wrong, right?”

  Mo stroked Donna's forehead. “Technically, yes. But they rarely ever are.”

  “What am I going to do?” Donna looked up desperately at her friend. Mo pressed her lips together and whipped out her phone. She called in to work, said she’d be late due to a family emergency. Then she sat on the bathtub edge with her friend and took her hand.

  They discussed Donna's options until night fell. When the front door slammed shut and Hunter announced himself, Mo pulled Donna to her feet.

  “Take a deep breath,” Mo urged. Donna did, but her hands shook. “Relax,” Mo said. “You don't have to tell him now. Tell him when you're ready.”

  “What if he finds out anyway? He can read my mind if he wants to.”

  Mo held Donna's hands until they stopped trembling. “He might be a mind-reading blood-sucker, but he’s also a guy. Once they've gotten what they want from a girl, they don't care what's on her mind anymore.” Mo winked, opened the door and Donna planted a fake smile on her face while trying to keep her mind blank. “Call me later,” Mo said. Then the bedroom door opened and Hunter stormed in, glaring at Mo.

  “Are you driving that Sentra?”

  “What do you care?” Mo snarled.

  “The front tire's low.”

  “Did you pierce it with a fang?” Mo thudded down the stairs.

  Hunter yelled after her. “I’m simply pointing out that you might want to air it up because a front tire blow out can be dangerous. You're welcome.”

  The front door slammed shut in response. Hunter grinned lopsidedly at Donna, but when he noticed her dour mood, he frowned.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I have a headache.”

  Hunter snorted. “After a conversation with that obnoxious one, I'm not surprised.”

  Donna bit her pinkie nail until she realized she was doing it. Then she balled up her fists at her sides. “I need to...take a nap.” She felt guilty lying to him, but she needed time to figure things out.

  “Okay, sweetheart. I'll be downstairs. Hope you feel better soon.” Hunter pecked her on the cheek and offered her a concerned look before going downstairs.

  Donna flopped on her bed.

  What if he decides to hate me when he finds out? And where on earth will I find a doctor to deliver a vampire child?

  Vivid images of an old, chintzy horror movie came to her. A mother gave birth to a baby that immediately went after the delivery nurse, then the doctor, killing them both because it craved blood. The mother wouldn't let anybody hurt the baby, even after it killed in cold blood. Donna wondered if she'd be like that movie mother...and if her baby would be like that movie baby.

  What am I going to do?

  Donna opened the bedroom door and called downstairs. “Hunter?”

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “Could you bring me a soda?” In less than three seconds, Hunter stood next to her, holding a can. She popped it and took a sip, smiling weakly. He grinned back.

  “Hit the spot?” he asked.

  “Yes, thanks. How often do you have to feed?”

  The grin evaporated. “We've already discussed this.”

  “I know,” Donna looked at the floor. “I just...how much do you think it takes to feed a ba -?”

  “Dante’s here.” Hunter's expression darkened.

  “Your friend?”

  “And roommate.”

  Donna looked out the window. “I don't see anybody.”

  “He will be.” Hunter’s jaw tightened. “But he wouldn't be here unless something's wrong.”

  Donna heard and saw a motorcycle pull in the driveway. Before she could ask about it, Hunter thundered down the stairs. Donna set down her soda can and scrambled to the top of the staircase to look down. A couple of guys stood in the entryway, talking to Hunter in low voices. One had close cut, black hair. The other was tall and thin, with light brown long hair. He looked up the stairs. Donna backed away, but he’d already seen her.

  “My phone battery died,” Donna heard Hunter explain. “That's what happens when people call all day and night.”

  Donna strained to hear more, but the conversation ended abruptly. Hunter dashed up the stairs, demanding Donna follow him. His eyes blazed with anger...or was it something else?

  “It's Samee,” he said. “She's missing.”

  “She's probably out having fun like a normal high school girl. Hunter, you should let the poor kid have some space -”

  “Dante was just at the house. He showed up right after I came back over here. There are signs of a struggle. And there's blood, though it’s not hers. The kitchen looks like a war zone…” Hunter trailed off.

  “Stephen?” She felt numb at the thought of what that monster would do to poor little Samee.

  “Or one of his minions.” Hunter’s lip twitched, exposing a fang.

  “What
are we going to do?” Donna bit her fingernails.

  Hunter put on his jacket. “Dante's staying here with you. Trent's going with me because he runs almost as fast as I do. We'll find her.”

  “I'll be all alone with a guy I don't even know?” Donna wasn't sure she felt comfortable staying with a strange guy...and with a name she associated with that awful Ms. Schmill. “Why can't I go with you?”

  Hunter's eyes clouded over, a thunderstorm rolling in. “Damn it, Donna. I can't babysit you and find Samee at the same time.”

  “Babysit?”

  Hunter shook his head. “I didn't mean it like that.” He turned and disappeared down the stairs, without even giving her a kiss. Donna shut the bedroom door and leaned against it, expecting tears to come, but they didn't. She also expected Hunter to burst back in like a tornado - declaring he had changed his mind and wanted her to join him. But that didn't happen, either. Instead, the front door crashed closed in Hunter's wake. Donna was alone in the storm and Samee was lost in it. A couple of mere mortals, unprepared for the shadow side of the Underworld, and Hunter trying to protect them both. She sat on her bed and felt numb until a soft knock landed on the bedroom door a few seconds later. It was unlike Hunter’s usual style, but maybe he felt humbled by his lack of consideration. Donna dashed to the door and flung it open.

  “Thanks for -” Standing in front of Donna was the long haired guy from downstairs. Up close, his eyes matched his hair, both the color of sand. His features were strong; Roman nose, chiseled jaw line, tall forehead. His pale skin was flawless but for a small scar under his right eye. He was tall and broad-shouldered like Hunter. He looked a little older than Hunter, too - maybe thirty. A faint aroma of sea breeze clung to him.

  “Hello, love. You must be Donna.”

  “Um,” she stammered. He offered a long, slim hand and she stared at it for a moment before realizing she was supposed to shake it.

  “It's a shame we're meeting under less than ideal circumstances, but I'm nonetheless pleased to make your acquaintance.” Her skin tingled at his touch. “My name is Dante.”

  “Oh, okay. Hi. I’m Donna.”

  Donna stood there feeling awkward while Dante leaned against the door for a moment before motioning toward the injured side of Donna's face. “Stephen did that?”

  She nodded. “Hunter fixed most of it, but then it got to this point and seems to be stuck here.”

  “I can fix it for you,” Dante said gently. “May I come in, love?”

  “You're actually asking? Hunter doesn't usually bother.” She indicated for Dante to enter.

  “Hunter's ways are unique.” Dante chuckled. It reminded Donna of wind chimes. “May I sit, love?”

  “Um...” Why am I stumbling over my words like they’re rocks on the sidewalk? “Yes, please.”

  He sat on the bed and motioned for Donna to follow. She stood back, at least until Dante smiled, revealing a dazzling pair of fangs. Something in that smile lured her in...she sat.

  “Close your eyes, love.”

  Donna complied.

  “Now lie down and relax.”

  She did.

  “May I touch you?”

  Donna wanted to say no, but instead she slowly nodded her head. Dante gently rested his hands against her temples, which warmed with his touch just as Hunter's hands had done.

  “Relax,” he whispered. She did as he said. Before long, light blue smoke whirled across her field of vision, followed by pink and lavender. Donna’s bedroom fell away and she stood on a peaceful, moonlit beach.

  “I'm dreaming,” she whispered. “But I don't want to dream because Stephen -” She turned to run, but Dante whispered in her ear.

  “All is well, love. Listen to the tide.”

  “No -” But the ocean whispered, a gentle breeze brushed against her skin and sand tickled between her goddess toes. Soon Donna felt lulled and languid and almost without form, as if she was part of the air and sand around her. Dante was there with his hand extended.

  “Come to me,” he said. She did. He took her injured face in his hands and spoke. “You mustn't feel afraid. You must feel safe so you may heal.” His voice was like a bird, effortlessly tilting to embrace the wind.

  “But,” she whispered, “I can't.”

  “Yes you can. The bruise on your face is the outward expression of the bruise that's in here,” Dante pointed to her head, “and here,” he pointed to her heart. “For your face to heal, so must your head and your heart.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “I don't know if I can ever forget what Stephen did.”

  “You don't have to forget, love,” Dante's smile was as wide as the horizon. “You simply have to own it, rather than it owning you.”

  “I don't understand,” She shook her head. A seagull stood on the sand next to them, its feathers ruffled. It watched Donna.

  “As long as you hold to the fear, Stephen has control of your head and of your heart. Now do you understand?”

  “I…think so.”

  “I would like to take your fear and toss it to the wind. May I?” She nodded. Dante's hand brushed against the side of her face and it filled her cheek with warmth. Similar sensations danced through her head and chest. The warmth increased until it felt almost hot.

  “It's starting to burn,” Donna whispered.

  “Fear is a burning emotion that doesn't release its hold without a fight.”

  The burn increased. “It hurts. Please make it stop.”

  “I can't make it stop,” Dante spoke softly. “I can only make it leave. And when it does, you may stop it from returning.”

  “It's too painful. I can't do this. I can't -”

  “I'm here with you, Donna. Your power lies beneath the pain.” Donna's heart felt like it would rupture and her head seared from somewhere deep inside. Her entire body felt ablaze with pain. She screamed, cried, and begged for the pain to stop. And eventually, it did. The scalding slowly cooled, mercifully burning itself out. But it seemed to take forever, and all the while Dante stayed with her. When the heat subsided, in its place came tranquility and something that almost felt like determination. Donna felt utterly exhausted. Dante removed his hands from her face and slowly lifted them skyward. Swirls of gray and coal emerged then were carried away with the wind. The seagull took to the sky, cawing until the breeze carried it out of earshot.

  “Your fear is tossed to the wind, Donna.” Dante touched her forehead. “And in its place, I give you empowerment.” A burst of white light cracked through her vision field, momentarily blinding her. She blinked several times until her sight returned. And what she saw was beautiful. Nothing had changed; the sky was still blue and the sand still golden. But it was as if she were seeing it clearly for the first time. Donna smiled and then she laughed.

  “I feel different.”

  Dante nodded. “You are different, love. You are no longer owned by fear. Now you lead by self-confidence - like a warrior.”

  I’m not sure he’s right about that. Mo’s more the fighter type.

  But Donna smiled, breathing in sweet, seaside air.

  “You should purify in the ocean, love. When you emerge, you'll feel renewed.” He indicated toward the water's edge and Donna made her way to it, letting the tide lap her ankles and the soft waves call her. She stepped in deeper, until the water was to her waist. She raised her arms and dove under the waves, swimming toward the western horizon, against the tide, pushing out further and deeper. She swam against the tide until her lungs felt on fire and she knew she could go no further. Then Donna turned around, caught a wave and let it carry her back to shore. By the time she stood with her feet firmly planted in the sand, her eyes burned from the salt and her whole being felt lighter than air. Her summer dress was soaked. Dante stood on the shore reaching out to her.

  “Now, Donna. You are master of your own direction. You may recall the past without fear, the future with purpose.”

  Something in her be
lly moved. She gasped.

  “That's your baby stirring to life inside of you,” Dante smiled.

  He knows about the baby. I wonder if he knows how many of Hunter's traits it will have.

  “Donna,” Dante said softly, but sternly. “Open your eyes and take the power of your healing into the world.”

  “Do I have to?” She didn't want to come back to the world. She liked the peace that came with this place. Dante assured her she could take that feeling with her anywhere she went if she chose to. So she opened her eyes and was back on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

  “You may see yourself anew now.” Dante indicated toward the mirror. Donna went to it, observing her reflection and touched her face. She spun around and smiled at Dante.

  “The bruise is completely gone! How did you do that?”

  Dante chuckled. “I just opened the energy pathways, love. You did the work.”

  “But -”

  “But how did I start the process so you could heal?” His smile went from ear to ear. “Vampires used to be mortals, love. We have strengths, weakness and predispositions, just like mortals do. When we Turn, we keep those virtues and vices and they become magnified,” he winked, “especially to the uninitiated mortal.”

  “What were your strengths before the Turn?” Donna touched her face. There wasn't as much as a tender spot anywhere on it.

  “Come now. You can guess, can't you?”

  She shrugged. “A doctor?”

  Dante grinned. His was not crooked, like Hunter's, but perfectly symmetrical. “I was a healer.”

  That made sense. “Was Hunter a healer too?”

  “No,” Dante shook his head. “Hunter can heal you because of your Eternal Partner connection.”

  “Then what was he?”

  Dante frowned. “It's certainly odd that Hunter did not divulge this information to you already.”

  Donna chuckled. “Hunter isn't big on divulging.”

  “That's true,” Dante nodded sympathetically. “Do your best not to hold it against him love, because you see, Hunter's talent is precisely dependent upon concealment and careful strategy. It's in his DNA, as they say these days. Before the Turn, he was a warrior.”

  A warrior…Donna smiled.

  “His brother -”

  “Stephen?”

  Dante nodded. “Stephen had been in the army for three years. Hunter looked up to his older brother, even though the two had little in common other than blood. For Hunter, being a warrior was about honor.”

  “I know Hunter's a man of honor,” Donna folded her hands on her lap. “He took in Samee.”

  Dante paused for several moments and his eyes glazed over like he was somewhere else.

  “Hunter was my dearest friend,” he finally said. “When he was terribly wounded and sent home from the battlefield, it was painful to me.” Dante looked at Donna. “Hunter was one of the army's best men.”

  “One of the best men,” she repeated quietly.

  “Hunter arrived home from the war injured, and to a desperate situation. His father had died from a lingering illness and Stephen had disappeared during a battle and was assumed dead. Hunter's mother and two young sisters were alone. Needless to say, they were grateful to see him, even as a wounded soldier. They finally had a man in the house again.”

  “Back then, women didn't survive well on their own, did they?”

  “Most did not,” Dante admitted.

  “I'm glad I live now.”

  “You lived then too, love. Hunter was home for many months, during which time he healed from his injuries, which surprised everybody because back then, medical techniques and preparations were Spartan, to say the least. He had intended to rejoin the battle, but when the king learned of Hunter’s great battlefield talent and his seemingly-magical recovery, he was called to assist that king in protecting the kingdom. It was a great honor. And somehow during his paltry time off from duties, Hunter fell in love with the girl of his dreams.” Dante winked at Donna.

  “Me?” Her stomach filled with butterflies.

  “Yes love, you. And it's been you ever since.” Dante sighed. “I knew nothing of this and I didn't even know whether Hunter was still alive. I kept fighting because that's what we were expected to do. When warriors became injured, I lay down my sword and tended to their wounds as best I could, which was more natural to me anyway than fighting.”

  “I understand that,” Donna said. “I don't care to fight, either.”

  Dante lifted an eyebrow. “In all likelihood, it will someday be pressed upon you to change your mind about that.” She wanted to ask Dante what he meant, but he quickly turned back to the story. “One fateful day, about a year after Hunter had been sent home, I sustained a severe injury, the kind which was destined to end my life right there on the battlefield. I was taken to camp, but not attended to much as my wounds were considered so severe that the best that could be done was to comfort me with a warm blanket and quiet corner in which to die. I summoned what small strength I had left and tried to heal myself, but there was too much damage. My legs were shattered, my chest crushed and my breathing was labored. A healer knows, love, when the person he is trying to heal can't be helped. So I prepared to die.”

  Donna nodded sympathetically. “I'm so sorry.”

  “Night fell, yet merciful death still had not taken me. Only ruthless pain had. I slipped in and out of consciousness and became increasingly disoriented. When I finally saw Hunter, I thought he'd come from the Other Side to retrieve me. They'd spoken of a special place on the Other Side reserved for fallen warriors. I simply never saw myself as much of a warrior, though I had certainly fallen in battle.” Dante stopped speaking, gazed at the floor without saying a word for a full minute. Then he shook his head and dragged himself back from wherever he had gone. “Hunter stood above me, looking pale and with eyes so heavy with burden that I just knew he was there as my death-bringer. I wanted to tell him not to worry, that my life had been good and that I was ready to die as a young soldier, not as an old healer. To this day, so many centuries later, I remember vowing to meet my death that night. But then, Hunter knelt beside me and asked, 'Dante, are you ready to die?' The truth was, I wasn't. So I whispered 'No,” though if I had known then what I would soon be privy to, my answer may have been different.” Dante gazed at Donna, pain clouding his otherwise sharp eyes. “To this day, I'm haunted by the ghost of that choice. Hunter told me to sleep and he promised I'd not face death that night. The last thing I remember was something piercing my neck.”

  She gasped. “Hunter Turned you.” Why had Hunter been willing to Turn Dante, but not me?

  “When I first came to my senses, I didn't realize anything had changed. It was a chilly night and I remember Hunter helping me to stand. My legs felt solid, as if I'd never been hurt. In fact, I didn't immediately recall that I had been hurt. Strength poured in to every part of me.” Dante chuckled lightly as he recalled the memory. “Hunter stood off to the side watching, brooding.”

  “I know that look of Hunter's.”

  Dante nodded sympathetically. “He observed me, a dire expression playing across his face.”

  “Like an oncoming storm?”

  “That's right, love.”

  She nodded. “I know that look, too.”

  “Before I uttered a single word to my dearest friend, Hunter told me what he was and what I now was, too. I laughed, expecting him to join in, but he didn't. Instead, he stared at me much like you're staring at me right now, love. He assured me of what he and I were. Vampires.” Dante cringed when he said it. “It sunk in slowly and burned deeply. I'm a healer. Healers offer life, they don't drain it from others. But here I was, forced to become the very thing I hated - a killer - and it was my best friend's fault. He had done this terrible thing to me.

  “The outrage was upon me like a battle. I ran at Hunter and hit my friend. I hit him many times. I beat him until he was broken and I felt satisfied that he hurt
half as much as I did. It was very counter-intuitive behavior for a healer.” Dante looked sadly toward Donna. “But it was quite typical for a vampire. Even now, my temper sometimes disgusts me.” Dante scoffed. “Mark my words, there's nothing worse than the vampire temper, love. Except, perhaps, the demon temper.”

  “Demon?”

  Dante's expression was apologetic. “In this world that you're now part of, you'll soon learn that many of the monsters your mortal mind has imagined as fanciful beings are in fact quite real.”

  He eyed Donna closely and continued with his story. “I was quite angry. I beat Hunter brutally and he didn't fight back, didn't even try. He didn't move a muscle during the entire attack, except for a tiny twitch in his arm.” Dante shook his head and focused on the floor. “I told him horrible things, things I now regret saying. I told him I'd never forgive him for what he had done to me and I told him I was nothing like him. I told him that killers might make good vampires but healers are better than that. I told him I would rather have died than do the things he said I'd do on instinct in order to survive as a member of the undead.” Dante glowered. “My healer instincts were freezing up inside me and I inflicted cruelty after cruelty upon Hunter. When I was done, I made him leave me.”

  “But you're friends with Hunter now. What happened?”

  Dante looked squarely at Donna, his eyes full of fire. “Stephen happened, love. He's our war now.” Dante placed his hands over his eyes and breathed deeply. Moments later, he brought down his hands and his expression was once again peaceful. “I made myself live in fear and anger for centuries. I took souls to feed the emptiness inside. But once I freed myself from hate's slavery, I became alive again, at least in a way that makes sense to me. I no longer hunger for souls, love. I feel strong without them.”

  “I'm sure you are strong,” Donna said gently. “Look how quickly you healed me.”

  Dante smiled at that. “Thank you. It's more than healing that I live for now. Hunter cannot stop Stephen without help. I am part of that help. And there are others.”

  “Like Trent?”

  “Indeed,” Dante nodded. “Like Trent.”

  “Why is Hunter reluctant to Turn me?”

  Dante glanced gravely at her. “He doesn't want you to feel like I did, love. I resented Hunter for many long years.”

  She searched Dante's soulful eyes. “Why did Stephen Turn Hunter?”

  Dante leaned against a bedpost, which creaked under the pressure. “Hunter was home from the war, healing. Stephen, who all thought was dead, had been kept as a slave and Turned by a mighty and dark magician. Stephen showed up on the eve of Hunter and your wedding day, arriving shortly after sunset. He'd gotten word of the revelry and became jealous, especially in light of the fact that you were promised to him before he was sent to war.”

  Donna gasped. “I was supposed to marry that monster?”

  Dante nodded. “He even admitted that the only thing which kept him sane through the torment of imprisonment was the knowledge that you waited for him.”

  Donna's hand went to her breast. “Oh no.”

  “Oh yes, love. You broke Stephen's heart. And Hunter broke a brother's honor. This is why Stephen has laid claim to your life so many times.”

  She didn't want to ask the next question, but did it anyhow. “And Stephen's treatment of women who look like me?”

  “A direct reaction to the rage he feels inside.” Dante shook his head. “A rage I cannot heal. Stephen won't allow it.”

  “I'm sorry,” Donna whispered to nobody in particular. An ache filled her heart.

  “It's not your fault.” Dante placed a hand on her forehead, and let it linger there for several minutes. Indigo, rose, and pale yellow circled through her field of vision, calming her. “Would you like me to go on, or have you heard enough?”

  Donna shook her head. “I need to know.”

  Dante observed her carefully and took her hand. “Wedding festivities were planned for the evening. While the celebration was in full swing, Stephen crept to the village and hid in Hunter's room. When Hunter arrived there, Stephen attacked, because by that point, Stephen had vampire strength, a thing mortal warriors are powerless against. Stephen dragged Hunter out of the village and Turned him. During the disorientation time, between becoming Turned and knowing he was Turned, Stephen left Hunter and went to find you.”

  Donna swallowed hard. “Then what happened?”

  “The beginning, love.” Dante raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Beginning?”

  “The beginning of Stephen hunting you and Hunter hunting Stephen.”

  Her skin chilled. “It's our fault. Mine and Hunter's.”

  Dante draped an arm around her shoulders. He smelled just like a salty sea breeze. “No, it's not. The whole valley assumed Stephen was dead. His mother and sisters had mourned him. When Hunter returned home injured, he mourned Stephen. There was no way anybody could have known.”

  “Did I mourn Stephen?”

  Dante's brow furrowed. “Only you knew the answer to that.” He paused for a moment. “Love, Stephen chose his path centuries ago. No matter your feelings, then or now, he could have chosen forgiveness. Instead, he keeps himself yoked to hatred.”

  He was right, of course. Still... “What about all those girls Stephen's hurting now? How can we help them?”

  “We're doing all we can,” Dante assured. “It's not easy to catch a shadow. Trent did come close a few years ago, though.”

  “Was Trent in the war with you and Hunter?”

  Dante shook his head. “Trent was Turned a bit over 50 years ago.”

  “That's still a long time ago.”

  “Not to ones who exist forever,” Dante replied. “I found Trent roaming the streets of New York City. The female who had Turned him disappeared shortly after the Turn. He was left alone in a strange, dark, world.”

  “That's terrible,” Donna mumbled.

  “I found Trent just in time, when painful hunger was only hours away from making him take his first soul. It's a hunger unlike anything mortal, or even human. You can see it in the devoured eyes of those who have been Turned and then lost their way. I didn't want to see that happen to Trent. So I took him under my wing, as they say.” Dante frowned at Donna. “They do still say that, don't they?”

  She chuckled. “They do.”

  He smiled. “I try to keep up with current lingo, but you wouldn't believe how often it changes. When you're alive for a generation, you barely notice slang. But when you're centuries old, trying to keep up is like tying knots in a waterfall.” Dante chuckled. “Anyway, I taught Trent how to self-heal so he'd no longer crave mortal souls. Then I showed him the best ways to feed from mortals without harming them. There's a trick to it.”

  “So I've heard.”

  “Trent is convinced the woman who Turned him meant to remain by his side. They were lovers. He's spent much time trying to locate her.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Mara.” It rolled across Dante's tongue like fine wine.

  “What a beautiful name.”

  “She was apparently a beautiful lady.” Dante shrugged. “However, I believe she's dead because she Turned Trent at his request, much like Hunter Turned me at mine. When a Turn happens upon request, it's highly unusual for the vampire not to remain with his Turn.”

  “Why do they stay?”

  “Because they care.”

  “So…Hunter cared about you.”

  Dante's eyes deepened in color, from beach sand to soil. He became silent. Donna closed her eyes and imagined Hunter in full warrior regalia. She smiled at how handsome he would look. A thought startled her back to here and now.

  “Dante,” she asked. “Will you talk to me about Stephen?”

  “I will.” Dante's mood shifted like sand in a windstorm and he knitted his brow before speaking. “Stephen finds fascination in torturing. Though both Hunter and Stephen were in the army, there was a
significant difference between their types of service. On the battlefield, we'd all heard stories. Some of us had seen with our own eyes how Stephen was never happy to simply kill his enemy. He derived pleasure in the process of death. He preferred to draw it out for as long as possible.”

  “He's such a monster.”

  “There's a saying in the vampire kingdom,” Dante explained. “It goes like this: 'You are what you were, only better at it.' It means that whatever you were before being Turned, the qualities of it are magnified. A decent man who is Turned becomes an exceptionally decent vampire. An evil man who is Turned becomes -”

  “Stephen...” Donna mulled it around in her head. “But Dante? Since Hunter's such a good warrior, why hasn't he killed Stephen yet?”

  Dante shook his head. “He can't. In the Underworld, blood cannot kill blood. That's one reason why the Organization is so important to him. To get Stephen, Hunter needs an army.”

  Donna swallowed hard. “Is Stephen my Eternal Partner?”

  Dante's brow furrowed. “Why would you think that, love?”

  Donna's throat tightened. “He said I was Partnered to him before I was to Hunter.”

  Dante's gaze penetrated deeply into hers, almost as deeply as Hunter's had that first night alone in her room. Only, rather than Dante pulling up a vision for her to see, he searched for one behind her eyes. The room went utterly silent, the air perfectly still. Dante's mind intermingled with Donna's. It tickled. She even giggled. Then Dante grinned and they both blinked.

  “Trust me, love. There's nothing of Stephen's evil that is mated to you.” He frowned. “But when I searched your soul, I did find something disquieting.”

  “Disquieting?”

  “You're at great risk. Stephen's repeated attacks upon your soul have taken their toll. You may not survive another attack.”

  “I know,” Donna grimaced. “Stephen's killed me in many lifetimes.”

  “That's not what I mean.” Dante's tone was unnerving. He cleared his throat. “What I mean is, if Stephen kills you in this lifetime love, you may not come back for another.”

  Donna inhaled sharply. “This is my last chance?”

  “I believe it is.” Dante's expression was bleak.

  Donna's phone rang. The number was unfamiliar. “Hello?” she said. Silence. “Hello?” More silence. Donna prepared to hang up.

  “You don't want to hang up on me, lamb.” Every hair on Donna's neck stood. “Listen to me, pretty pet. Your Eternal Partner is in terrible danger.” Dante peeled the phone away and put it to his ear. Donna stumbled back. The room spun. She didn't hear what else Stephen said and she didn't care. All she cared was that Hunter was in trouble. Donna rushed to the bedroom door. Dante got there first and stood directly in her path with her phone clamped closed and wrapped tightly in his grip.

  “Do you even know where Hunter is?” he asked gently. “My orders are to keep you here and safe, no matter what.” Dante was apologetic, but nonetheless unmovable.

  “Orders? You take orders from Hunter?”

  “I owe Hunter my life,” Dante said. “You're in grave danger, love. Placing you in Stephen's path is a poor idea.” He looked in Donna's eyes, which were pleading with him. “Before we get too riled up, let me try calling Hunter. Okay, love?” He opened the phone.

  “Didn't he say his phone was dead?” Donna hated how the word dead sounded coming from her mouth right then.

  Dante snapped the phone shut. His voice was razor sharp. “We'll go together. You'll be safe with me.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the stairs so fast she didn't even know how they got to the front door. Dante led her to a heavy, hulking, black motorcycle, thick with chrome and leather.

  Donna stared at it suspiciously. It seems impossible that a professional healer who uses terms like “love” should be in control of such a beast.

  Dante nudged her toward the machine. “There we go, now. Hop on.”

  “Hop on?” Donna had heard stories about mangled corpses wrapped around telephone poles, DNA being the only ways to identify the bodies...

  “You haven't been on one of these, have you?” So it was obvious. Dante reached in the saddlebag and removed two helmets, each matching the bike. He held one out to her.

  “What if we crash?”

  “Don't worry love, we won't.”

  And if we do, he can probably fix me.

  “Okay.” Donna took a deep breath and attempted to tie the chinstrap in a bow.

  Dante smiled, but tried hard to hide it. “Let me help you with that.” He fastened the chinstrap on his own helmet, explaining how it was done, then helped Donna with hers. He straddled the metal monster, reached back and patted the seat behind him. Donna swallowed hard and copied what Dante had done. Only instead of mounting the motorcycle gracefully, she lost her balance and fell to the driveway on her butt.

  Donna reddened. I’m such an idiot.

  “Take my hand, love,” Dante kindly offered.

  She did.

  “Grab tight around my waist.” He didn't have to tell her twice. She held so tight she thought Dante would suffocate.

  The hulking mass of metal roared to life and moved at Dante's command while Donna held on for dear life. Before squeezing her eyes shut, she saw old Mr. and Mrs. Franklin from down the road, dressed up in formal attire, step into their Cadillac. They glared. On Sunflower Street, a long-haired, sexy vampire on an over-sized motorcycle wasn’t exactly a common sight.

  Dante turned the bike left at the end of Sunflower Street and Donna held her breath. She just knew the machine would tip over. When it didn't, she allowed herself to breathe again, though her eyes stayed shut and her cheek stayed firmly planted against Dante's shoulder blade. Even at the horrendous speeds they reached, the soft scent of ocean breeze accompanied him, which made Donna feel a bit more at ease. After several minutes of treacherous turns and her stomach trying to escape through her mouth, the motorcycle's engine quieted and the bike slowed. Donna cautiously pried open her eyes. Dante stopped the bike across the street from Autumn Lane and his helmet was off in no time. Then he helped Donna remove hers.

  “Why are we parking clear down the street?”

  “We don't want to warn anybody of our arrival.”

  Well then, we should have parked in the next county, because that damned bike sounds like a rocket launcher.

  “I don't know if Stephen's here love, but it seems like a good place to start.” Dante frowned. “I got very little from him. This is one of the downfalls of technology. I read people’s thoughts through the window of their soul. Tell me, how does one do that through the telephone?”

  Donna didn't know how one did it through the window of the soul, so she shrugged.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  Donna said yes, but looked down so Dante couldn't see the window of her soul screaming no. He took her hand in his and hurried down the street, around to the backyard. Donna stood behind while Dante slipped through the back doorway. He reached back out and pulled her inside the pitch-dark house. Almost immediately, she knocked against what must have been the kitchen table. Something on the tabletop crashed to the floor and her hip blazed with pain. With the next step, the goddess toe on her right foot impacted a chair leg. The chair screeched against the floor and she bit her tongue to keep from hollering in pain. A hand closed around her wrist.

  “Follow me, love.” Dante led Donna to a different, though still dark, room. “Please, have a seat and rest.”

  “Thank you.” She knew it was just Dante's polite way of keeping her from causing more of a ruckus, but Donna didn't care. Stumbling around in the dark was not for a sun-worshiping mortal like her. Dante searched the remaining rooms in utter darkness and after what seemed like hours, his hand reached for hers.

  “Come now love.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “The Dark Side seems reasonable.” Dante pulled her out the back doorway.

&nbs
p; chapter seventeen