Part 21 (1/2)

”There's more. Just recently there was a murder in our town. A woman who was very close to Lydia Jordan. It looked like the work of a vampire, and I realized I couldn't keep the information I had to myself any longer. Not if people were dying. So I told Lou what I knew, showed him the CD. The next thing I know, my Mend is found in Lou's apartment. She'd been shot in the head with Lou's gun. I know Lou didn't do it, but it was pretty clear someone was setting him up. I know it was Frank Stiles. I know it.”

”When did this happen?”

Max wondered why it mattered. ”Last night between nine and ten p.m. Why?”

”And how long did it take you to drive here? You did drive, didn't you?”

”Yeah, we drove. About six hours, give or take.”

Morgan nodded slowly, no longer in a big hurry to get rid of her newfound sister, it seemed. ”So who is it you're after? The vampire who killed Lydia's friend or the scarred man who shot yours?”

Max blinked. ”I didn't say he was scarred.”

Morgan lowered her head, shaking it quickly. ”You said he was badly burned. Same thing.”

”No, it's not. Not really.”

”I just a.s.sumed-”

”You've seen him. h.e.l.l, of course you have. He probably made the same connection I did when he saw the film.”

”You're putting words in my mouth. I never said-”

”All I want is the truth,” Max said.

”I don't know the truth!” Morgan's knees seemed to give, and she clutched the countertop to hold herself upright.

”You look really ill, Morgan. Have you been sick?”

”It's a... condition. A certain blood antigen. Belladonna. Although, if we're twins, I would have expected you to have it, too.”

”Plain old A-positive.”

”Is that even possible?”

”I don't know,” Max said. ”I suppose we'd have to ask a doctor or... something.” She lowered her head, then raised it again. ”Who was that, attacking you out there tonight? Was it Dante?”

Morgan shook her head slowly, pacing away from Max, her gait unsteady, feet almost dragging. ”It was the scarred man-Stiles. Like you, he thinks Dante is real and that I can lead the way to him. But you're both wrong. There is no Dante. And even if there were-”

Her legs dissolved, and as she slumped toward the floor, Max grabbed her and held on, eased her down rather than letting her fall.

”You knew, didn't you, Lou?”

He looked at Lydia's face as they walked along the cliffs outside. Her hair had been pure honey gold once, but now a few strands of gray had appeared in its waves. Her face was sharper now, harsher, having lost the plump-cheeked look of youth. And yet she was still beautiful.

The gra.s.s fell away just beyond where they walked, vanis.h.i.+ng into the face of a steep rocky cliff that plunged to the sh.o.r.e below. He liked the ocean up here. It smelled good. Salty and fresh, and the sea breeze wasn't as cold as he would have expected it to be. It seemed to roll in with the waves.

”I suspected,” he admitted at length. ”About Maxie, anyway. That's why I introduced you two. I honestly didn't expect her to take off with this vampire theory the way she has. It was just an excuse to put the two of you together and give you a chance to see what was obvious to me.”

”And Morgan?” she asked.

”I had no clue whatsoever, Lydia. I swear.”

She licked her lips. ”You should have told me. About Max, I mean.”

”I thought it was something you two ought to put together on your own.” He put an arm around her shoulders. ”I'm sorry if I did it wrong, hon. You know I want the best for you.”

”I know you do.”

”You gonna tell them?”

She sighed. ”I don't know. I need to think.”

They both turned as Max's voice shouted for Lou from the house. Lydia gripped Lou's arm. ”Could he have come back?”

”Come on,” Lou said, taking her arm as they ran across the wide expanse of back lawn toward the house. ”We haven't been out of sight of the house,” he muttered. ”He could have come in another door, I suppose, but-”

They reached the house, rus.h.i.+ng inside to find Morgan unconscious on the floor and Max kneeling beside her, cradling her head and looking scared to death.

”Jesus, what happened?”

”She just collapsed!”

Lydia ran forward, knelt beside Max and touched Morgan's face. ”She's so cold.”

”I think she's sick,” Max said. ”Lou, can you get her into her bed? I'm gonna see if I can find a phone number for a doctor or something.”

Nodding, Lou bent to scoop the woman up. She didn't weigh more than a minute. Then he carried her up the stairs and started hunting for the right bedroom.

Max sat by the strange woman's bed and stared at her. It was 2:00 a.m. Lou was long asleep in one of the guest rooms, Lydia in another. This place had a half-dozen spare bedrooms, all made up, that apparently got very little use. Thin films of dust in the spare bedrooms told Max that her odd little twin didn't have much company.

She had been unable to sleep a wink herself. So she'd come in here, and now she sat and watched the woman sleeping like the dead. The bed was a huge four-poster, with white lace coverlets over mounds of blankets and thick pillows all around her. Four people could sleep in that bed with room to spare.

This place was gorgeous. Huge and gorgeous. The adjoining bathroom was bigger than Max's bedroom. h.e.l.l, so was the walk-in closet. And the clothes!

She rubbed her arms against a chill. When she had come in here, the French doors with the creamy sheer curtains had been open, the chill autumn night breeze wafting in. Max had closed them. But it was still too d.a.m.ned cold in here.

But of course all those thoughts were just trying to distract her from the real reason she was here. Oh, she told herself a thousand lies. That she just wanted to try to get used to looking at a face so like her own. That she wanted to be nearby in case Morgan awoke, to explain why they were all still here, invading her home. That she was worried the obviously ill woman would take a turn for the worse before morning.

But none of those were the real reason.

She wanted to see underneath that turtleneck collar.

Licking her lips nervously, Max leaned forward. Morgan lay on her back, just as still as stone, her face startlingly white in the darkness, her hair spread on the pillows around her. Sleeping Beauty. Max reached closer with her hand, and it hovered just above Morgan's neck. Then she moved it closer, very slowly. Her fingertips touched the black fabric.

Careful, she told herself. Don't touch her skin, or she'll wake. Careful...