Holiday with a Vampire 4: Halfway to DawnThe GiftBright Star (Harlequin Nocturne) Read online

  Fiona blushed. “Alfie—”

  “Cap’n,” Alfie said, walking toward the front door, “time you ’n’ the lieutenant get workin’ on more o’ them li’l peacemakers.”

  Before Fiona could protest, Kane had her in his arms. He kissed her neck, grazing her skin gently with his teeth.

  “The sergeant always did have good sense,” he murmured.

  Fiona laughed and took his hand.

  * * * * *

  The Gift

  Theresa Meyers

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  This book is dedicated to my readers.

  Whoever you are, wherever you may be, know that you are greatly appreciated, for without you,

  I wouldn’t have a reason to send my stories out into the world. Thank you.

  Chapter 1

  He had to find her.

  The last holder of the locket had passed away almost a month ago, and Cullen McCormack had to find the new owner as soon as possible. Time was running out.

  He knew her name, Angelica Edwards. He knew that she lived in New Harmony, Pennsylvania. But beyond what he could dig up on the internet, he knew little else save she was Tamara Edwards’s only daughter and his entire existence hung in the balance. Not that he called continually hiding in the shadows and constantly living in fear that a single woman’s whim might be your demise an existence.

  Being immortal had sounded like the greatest gift when he’d been young and brash, but if Cullen McCormack had learned one thing in the past two hundred years, it was that being immortal hardly ever turned out the way you expected.

  For one, he never anticipated how tiring it would become to try to convince one woman after another to give him back a locket that held his immortal soul. Especially when his efforts always failed. For another, he’d never considered how lonely it would be to live without love.

  Not the physical sensation, mind you, but the warm feeling deep in one’s bones—that utter certainty that another person made the sun rise and set just by their sheer presence.

  The weight of his morose thoughts matched the fat snowflakes falling from the leaden sky. Cullen pulled the lapels of his black wool coat tighter about his throat as he sniffed the air fragrant with the scents of wood smoke, evergreens, mulled apple cider rich with spices, and wet wool. Normally shadows stretched luxuriously along the walkways and streets of New Orleans at this time of day. But not here.

  He couldn’t wait to get out of New Harmony and return home to the warmth of New Orleans. Every time the locket changed hands, he came close to being damned for eternity, thanks to the scorn of Marie, the voodoo priestess he’d crossed so long ago.

  The twinkle of holiday lights in the trees lining the street reminded him of the fireflies that had danced in the thick, humid heat of the night he’d last been mortal.

  That night, crickets had hummed a chorus in the darkness as he’d climbed the steps of Marie’s rickety gray cypress plank cabin, the shake roof draped heavily with the pale green of Spanish moss from the trees all around.

  “Der’s dat Cullen.” The way Marie had stared at him with her dark, smoldering eyes should have told him that she’d discovered his tryst with the plantation owner’s flirtatious daughter, Lisette. But he’d been too stupid to see the signs. Too confident in himself and his prowess with ladies to believe he was in any danger.

  He’d reached out to hold Marie’s hand and pressed a kiss to it. Her eyes burned with black fire.

  “You have betrayed me, Cullen.”

  “Betrayed? Don’t be silly.”

  “Dat porcelain French doll been worth it?”

  Cullen pulled Marie into his arms, pressing her womanly curves against him. “Lisette was nothing but a dalliance. I don’t love her, as I love you.”

  Marie plied her long fingers through his hair, her nails dragging along his scalp as she skimmed her lush lips over his. “You don’t know what love is. But you going to learn.” She gave a vicious tug and pulled out some of his hair.

  Cullen shoved her away from him, massaging his scalp. “What the devil was that for, woman?”

  “Exactly. De debil you be, de debil you become.” The heated words cut quickly to his core, like a searing knife melting butter. She tossed the dark strands of his hair into the small fire she had burning in the brazier on her worktable, and the flames turned green.

  Cullen realized the flame danced on the surface of a black liquid. Perhaps it was port or something stronger. He couldn’t smell any alcohol coming from the pot, only the dank, fetid smell of the bayou and the musty odor of dried herbs that hung in shriveled bunches from her cabin’s rafters.

  From her pocket she pulled an oval gold locket and swung it through the greenish flames. The locket’s shining surface reflected the oddly colored flames.

  “Cullen McCormack, you always asked me how to make de magic dat make you immortal. Now you going to find out.” Her husky voice chanted in her native tongue, the rhythm of it vibrating straight through him so that he felt it as deeply as his own beating heart.

  “Da girl dat takes dis locket holds your soul. If she love you wit all her heart, den she may give you de locket. If she does not, you will be at her beck and call her whole life, but never her love.

  “When de time come and you can truly love in return, you’ll have but one chance to make tings right, Cullen. If you miss dat chance, de gods will take your soul to the deepest reaches of Hell.”

  Her words disturbed him deeply, so he resorted to making light of it to ease his discomfort. “Is that a threat or a promise, Marie?”

  Her dark eyes bored into him, making his stomach shrivel with certainty. “Dat be a promise.”

  Damn.

  A searing pain pierced him, like the white-hot sting of a bullet, the heat of it burning through his veins. He tried to scream, but nothing came out as he toppled to the floor.

  Marie took a battered tin cup, dipped it into the black liquid and poured the scalding mixture down his throat. “Till de day you have de locket freely given back to you, you will roam de Earth a vampire who feeds on life, but never knows it.”

  Cullen choked against the vile warm liquid but could neither sputter nor spit it out.

  * * *

  The bitter memory made Cullen stop in his tracks before he forced himself to move forward. Just a block ahead lay the tree-lighting ceremony in the quaint downtown of New Harmony.

  Four times he’d already been through this ridiculous process. First had been Charlotte, who’d chosen the richest man in town, only to find that once he died in the Civil War, she was a penniless Southern widow. Next had been her daughter, Anne, who’d married herself into high society and found her husband preferred his mistresses. Third had been Anne’s daughter, Catherine—Kate—whose flashy beau passed away in World War II, leaving her heartbroken. And last with Kate’s child, Tamara, who’d wanted her high school boyfriend so badly that she’d wished for him, gotten promptly pregnant and then found herself at his funeral after an unfortunate motorcycle accident had taken him before the baby was ever born. Each time it had turned out the same. While their chosen love died, he stayed on to serve them—opening doors to opportunities and giving them the benefit of a mysterious yet powerful benefactor, but never love. The connection between them perpetuated the cycle of loneliness, spreading it like a cancer he couldn’t control, which gave him little hope for this current case. Somehow these women had known the power of the locket and kept it from generation to generation.

  He’d offered them all the same choice: the man of their dreams or immortality. All of them had picked the man, but not once had he been that man. It was a simple enough process to go out and glamour whatever beau had attracted their fancy. But it grew increasingly harder and harder for Cullen to stomach the loneliness. Any physical
relationship he had was short and brief. He could make promises to no one because his existence teetered on uncertainty, tied to the locket and the women who owned it.

  Most inconvenient and annoying.

  He dug his frigid fingers deeper into the pockets of his coat as he scanned the gathering of locals. The mingle of their heartbeats was like the roar of the ocean. Focus, he told himself. One woman, her brown hair caught into a twist at the back of her head, her elegant profile lit by the sudden brightness emanating from the tall tree in the town square, caught his attention. From the angle it was hard to tell if it was Angelica Edwards, but the intense pull in his gut gave him the confirmation he needed.

  Cullen edged his way toward her, trying not to attract undue attention. Several female gazes lingered on him, but Cullen didn’t return them. What he needed now was to gain Angelica’s interest...and her trust.

  Chapter 2

  The cold wind whipped against Angel’s hair, sending damp wisps lashing at her cheeks. She took a deep breath, the cool air piercing her lungs, then exhaled slowly to hold back the tears. Coming to the holiday tree lighting had always been a tradition she’d shared with her mother ever since she’d begun singing in the choir. But now her mother was gone.

  The colored lights, seen through a veil of softly falling snow, looked beautiful against the black sky. Even though the love and support she’d received after her mother’s death four weeks ago had helped, she still felt too sad to mingle tonight and stood apart from friends and acquaintances. The clear, pure voices of the New Harmony High School choir soared in the cool air. Her eyes burned, welling with tears at the thought of her mother being gone.

  The last gift from her mother, the oval gold locket around her neck, had only arrived that morning via a big brown delivery truck.

  The words from the note still swam before her eyes.

  Dearest Angel,

  It is time for me to pass on to you something very special. This locket has been handed down from mother to daughter for generations in our family. It is a talisman of sorts. Keep it close at all times and pass it down to your daughter after you pass. A man will come asking for the locket. He’ll offer you a choice of a lifetime, but whatever you do, don’t give him the locket. It’s your key to keeping the good luck he’ll grant you and your children, and their children. Know that I miss you, more than even you miss me. You were the most wonderful part of my life.

  Love Forever and Always,

  Mom

  Her mom had worn the locket for as long as Angel could remember. She’s seemed so sad whenever Angel would ask about it that she hadn’t pushed her mother for more information. She’d only ever opened it once.

  Her mother had been in the shower and left the locket on her dresser. Angel had been fourteen when she’d snuck into her mother’s room and opened it to find the image of a searing blue eye staring back at her. It was a man’s eye, not anyone she recognized. Her father had had brown eyes. She’d thought it was strange her mother didn’t have a picture of her father or her in the locket. But whenever she’d asked about it, her mother had said it was merely an important family heirloom.

  Angel clicked open the locket and the same blue eye stared back at her, making her breath catch. She had the oddest sensation of being watched, as if the owner of the blue eye was able to see her just as clearly as she could make out the flecks of silver in the iris.

  She’d never gotten answers from her mother about the locket and only had the cryptic note as consolation. She pulled off one of her red knit gloves to brush back the tears, then let her fingers slip over the cool metal of the locket.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” A husky male voice spoke just over her shoulder. She didn’t recognize the intriguing Irish accent and turned to see who he was, her fingers reactively tightening on her locket.

  No. She’d never seen him before. If she had, his was a face she’d never forget. His dark brown hair acted as the perfect foil for the brightest blue eyes Angel had ever seen. Stunning was the word that came to mind. Snowflakes stuck to the thick rim of his dark lashes. The brilliant blue of his eyes softened features that were a little too intense and harsh. Or perhaps it was the play of colored Christmas lights and shadows that gave the appearance that he wasn’t having as much fun as the small crowd listening to the choir.

  A little breathless, she pulled on her glove and forced a smile.

  “Yeah, they are. Claimed to be New Harmony High School’s finest choir in thirty-five years.” Her smile widened a little at the humor dancing in his eyes. “Which tells you just how small New Harmony really is. Every year is their best year. Still, it’s the best show around during the holidays.” She stuck out her hand to shake his. “Angel Edwards. Choir of ’03.”

  His lips lifted in a casual smile that made her stomach somersault as he clasped her hand in his much larger one. A charge of electric current raced right through the knit of her glove and up her arm. “Cullen McCormack, nice to meet you. Sorry I missed your operatic performance. I’m sure 2003 was the choir’s pinnacle.”

  Even though they’d only briefly touched, it left a profound impression on Angel. She shook her head. “That’s kind of you, but as you can tell I’m here, not singing opera somewhere, so it can’t have been that good.”

  There was an indefinable allure about him. Something she couldn’t put her finger on. Cullen was hot. That wasn’t in question. But it was more than that. He seemed to radiate sex appeal on a level she’d never seen from a guy. And it wasn’t the cocky, I-know-I-could-have-any-woman-I-want kind of appeal; it was as if he’d been a male model for the statues of Greek gods. He was comfortable in his own skin, which stirred up a little bit of envy inside her.

  She’d never been one of the popular kids. She was too fascinated by history and art to really fit that mold. She’d dreamed of getting out of New Harmony, traveling, seeing the world and historic places, but it had never seemed to materialize. Her mom counted on her too much at the shop. But with Mom gone, there wasn’t much to hold her here any longer—except the shop.

  She stuck her hands deeply into the pockets of her red wool coat. “So, what are you doing in New Harmony, other than stopping to watch them light the tree and hear the best school choir this side of the Great Lakes?”

  “Stick out that badly, do I?”

  Angel smothered a small laugh and tilted her head back, watching the snowflakes drift down like magic from an endless dark sky. “No, stick out isn’t right.” She slid her gaze to meet his. “Overshadow, maybe?”

  He chuckled, and the warmth of it seeped away the tired ache in her bones, if only for a moment.

  Cullen caught her gaze. “I’m in town on business. I saw the flyers for the tree lighting and thought it would be an interesting way to pass the evening.” He paused for a second, shifting his weight as if he were working through what to say next. “Would you like to go for a coffee?”

  For a second she just stared mutely at him, mesmerized. Why, out of anyone here, would he pick her? Given her current morose mood, she wasn’t exactly the best company. And he was a total stranger. She had no business going with him anywhere. “Thanks, but I don’t drink coffee.”

  “Hot chocolate?” The dark brow over his right eye lifted, making him look impossibly hopeful and charming at the same time.

  Angel grinned. Perhaps she was making more of it than she should. The note her mother had enclosed with the locket had shaken her, that was all, she told herself. He was simply a good—no, gorgeous—looking stranger asking her out for hot chocolate at a public place. It wasn’t as if it could lead to much. And it being the holidays, why shouldn’t she show a little warmth and kindness to someone as obviously alone at the moment as she was? “Now, that I can do, once the lighting is finished.”

  He smiled and it went straight through her.

  Chapter 3

  Once the crowd gathered around town hall began to disperse, they headed for The Beanery—the small coffee shop on Main Street that w
as still one of the few places open at this time of the evening.

  Apparently half the people at the tree lighting had the same idea. The Beanery was packed. The bell over the door chimed merrily as they entered. Warmth and the heady smells of hot coffee and a hint of cinnamon hit Angel in the face, tempting her to pull off her gloves. She flexed her stiff fingers, then grasped Cullen’s sleeve, afraid she’d lose him in the crowd.

  In the bright lights of the small coffee shop, he looked bigger and even more handsome than he had in the shadowy lights outside in the square. Bigger and more handsome, and even more unlikely to be escorting plain Angel Edwards.

  Should she just tell him she changed her mind? Instead, she said, “There’s a small table over there,” nodding toward a table barely big enough for the two chairs on either side of it. Considering the former occupants had only just left, the seats were probably still warm.

  He nodded. “Why don’t you hold down the table and I’ll brave the counter?”

  Angel glanced at the line. He was brave. It stretched all the way across the shop back to the door.

  “What do you like in your hot chocolate? Wait. Let me guess. Hint of cinnamon and whipped cream?”

  Angel could tell her mouth had dropped open slightly because she could taste the coffee-saturated air on her tongue. It was as if this total stranger had reached in and read her mind. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

  He gave her an enigmatic smile. “Good guess.” He pulled out a chair for her at the table.

  Angel sat down, her brain spinning and her gaze lingering on his broad shoulders encased in a tailored black wool coat as he headed for the end of the line. No one, not even Alex Sterling, her on-again, off-again boyfriend, had ever read her that quickly before. And if anyone should have been able to read people, it should have been Alex. He was the county’s district attorney, for pity’s sake. It was his job to peel people apart and reveal their secrets. Angel pulled off her gloves one at a time, setting them on the table, then unbuttoned her jacket, wrapping it around the back of her chair.