As Twilight Falls

chapter 4

Kadie followed Darrick to the door, stood on the porch watching him as he walked away. “Wait!”

He turned slowly to face her.

“I’m hungry.”

A wry smile twisted his lips. “Sorry. I should have thought of that. Come on, I’ll take you to dinner.”

Kadie grabbed her jacket, then followed him down the street. There were more people out tonight—a middle-aged woman walking her dog, a young couple strolling hand in hand, a tall, blond man who stood out from the others. Kadie stared at him, trying to decide why he looked different from everyone else. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it occurred to her that Darrick had that same indefinable something.

She looked up at him, trying to decide what it was.

“Here we are,” Darrick said.

Drawing her gaze from his face, she saw that they were in front of the restaurant.

He went inside and she followed him, sliding into the booth he chose, reading the menu he handed her.

“Order whatever you like,” he said.

She glanced at the menu, then frowned. “There aren’t any prices.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Feeling like she had fallen down the rabbit hole, Kadie stared at Darrick. Nothing in this place made sense. She was Alice and he was the Cheshire cat, speaking in riddles.

She ordered a Caesar salad, shrimp and rice, and a glass of lemonade. “Aren’t you eating?”

“Not now.”

“Did you mean it when you said I couldn’t leave here?”

He nodded. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t want to get used to it. I don’t want to stay here. I have a life, a job that I love, a family. . . .” She fought back tears of frustration as she thought of her little sister, anxiously waiting for her to return. “I have to go home.”

“You are home, Kadie. The house is yours.”

“What do you mean, it’s mine?”

“Just that. It’s yours for as long as you’re here.”

“How can you give it to me? You said it wasn’t yours. That the people who lived there left in a hurry.”

“So I did.”

“Why would you give me a house?”

He shrugged. “You need a place to stay. Do with it whatever you wish. Buy whatever you need. Groceries, clothing, furniture for the house. Just charge it all to me.”

“I have money of my own.”

“Your checks and credit cards are no good here.”

“I have some cash.”

“It’s no good here, either.”

She had to be dreaming, Kadie thought. Whoever heard of a town where your money was no good? And if they didn’t use checks, cash, or credit cards, what kind of currency did they use? And why was Darrick willing to buy her a house and pay her bills? She was certain it wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart.

Did he expect her to be his mistress? She took a deep breath, hoping to calm the sudden flutter of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. “What do you want in return for . . . for keeping me?”

“Only what you’re willing to give.” It wasn’t an out-and-out lie, but it was close.

Kadie glared at him, her eyes narrowed. “I’m not willing to give you anything.”

He didn’t reply, just sat there, watching her through hooded eyes. He didn’t move, didn’t blink. It was eerie, almost as if he wasn’t human, but a statue.

She felt a rush of hysteria rise inside her. Maybe she wasn’t dreaming. Maybe she was dead. Maybe he was the devil and this was hell.

When the waitress brought her dinner, Kadie pushed it away, her appetite gone.

“Kadie, you should eat something.” His gaze held hers. “You’re hungry and thirsty. You need to eat to keep your strength up.”

Overcome by a strange lassitude, she picked up her fork. She didn’t really feel like eating, but the food was suddenly irresistible, and she ate every bite.

The next thing she knew, she was outside, walking toward her house with no memory of leaving the restaurant.

Darrick walked her home. “Good night, Kadie,” he said quietly. “Just one more thing. Now that the house is yours, be careful who you invite inside.”

And with that enigmatic message, he left her standing on the porch.

Kadie stared after him a moment before going inside. She locked the door behind her, then stood there, wondering what to do with the rest of the night. It was too early to go to bed.

In the living room, she glanced at the clock over the mantel, surprised to find it was almost midnight.

That couldn’t be right, she thought. They had gone to dinner around six. It certainly hadn’t taken her six hours to eat, but a look at her watch confirmed the time. She didn’t know how it was possible, but sometime between dinner and returning home, she had lost six hours. How could that be? She recalled feeling a little disoriented during dinner, eating when she wasn’t hungry, but she didn’t remember anything after that. Had she fainted?

Worrying about it had her tossing and turning all night long. It was near dawn when she fell into a troubled sleep populated by white rabbits and Cheshire cats and a frightened Alice who ran through the night, fleeing from an unseen terror with bloodstained fangs and hell-red eyes.





In the morning, Kadie stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She looked pale, the bags under her eyes mute evidence of a mostly sleepless night. She didn’t usually remember her dreams, but she remembered the nightmare she’d had. She had never dreamed about monsters before. But maybe it wasn’t so unusual, considering her bizarre circumstances.

There was nothing to eat in the house. With her stomach growling, she dressed quickly, grabbed her handbag, and headed for the grocery store.

She bought the necessities—coffee, milk, bread, eggs, butter, sugar, flour, salt and pepper, as well as some fruit, mayonnaise, blueberry jam, and ice cream. Thinking ahead to dinner, she added a package of chicken legs and a box of stuffing.

The woman at the register smiled as she rang up Kadie’s groceries. “You must be Kadie Andrews,” she said. “I’m Maricela Romero, but my friends call me Marti.”

Kadie nodded, surprised by the woman’s friendly welcome. She guessed Marti to be in her late twenties, with glossy black hair, brown eyes, and a figure Kadie couldn’t help envying.

“Welcome to town. I hope you’ll learn to like it here. If you get lonesome, some of us meet at the library Wednesday mornings at ten thirty. We have coffee and doughnuts and talk about books and things. Sometimes we go out to lunch. You should come.”

“Thank you,” Kadie said politely. “Maybe I’ll do that.” She bit down on her lower lip, suddenly uncomfortable at the thought of telling Marti that Darrick was paying for her groceries. But it wasn’t necessary.

“I’ll just put this on your bill,” Marti said, handing Kadie a receipt.

Kadie looked at the white slip of paper. There was nothing on it except her name. Curiouser and curiouser, she thought, fighting a rush of hysterical laughter.

“Can I put those in your car for you?” the bag boy—his name tag identified him as Jeremy—offered.

“I’m afraid I don’t have a . . .” The words died in her throat when she saw her SUV pull up to the curb. Groceries forgotten, she hurried outside to confront the man behind the wheel. “What are you doing in my car?”

“Hey, back off,” he said, holding up both hands as he exited the vehicle. “I was just bringing it to you per Mr. Vaughan’s orders.”

“Who’s Mr. Vaughan? And where did you find gas in this town?”

“You’re Kadie Andrews, right? His protégée?”

“Protégée!” she exclaimed. Well, that was a new word for it.

“You must be something special,” he said, his voice tinged with envy.

“Why would you say that?”

He snorted. “You’re the only one in town with a car that runs.” He thrust the keys she’d left in the SUV into her hand, then turned and walked down the sidewalk.

Kadie stood staring after him. Protégée, indeed!

“Shall I put these in your car, Miss Andrews?”

Glancing over her shoulder, Kadie saw the bag boy—who wasn’t a boy at all, but a young man who appeared to be in his early twenties—standing behind her with her shopping cart. “Yes, please.” At least she wouldn’t have to walk home weighed down with her groceries. “Who was that man?”

“Oh, that’s Claude Cooper. Nobody knows much about him, except that he’s a real grouch. Keeps to himself, mostly.”

Thinking that she couldn’t blame the man for being out of sorts, all things considered, she thanked Jeremy for his help, and climbed behind the wheel. After checking the gas tank—it was full—she put the car in drive, and drove straight toward the bridge. It was one thing for Vaughan’s magic, or whatever it was, to stop her. Let him stop a four-thousand-pound SUV!

When she reached the other end of the bridge, she stomped on the gas pedal. And the engine died.

After restarting the car, she put it in drive and pressed gently on the gas. But the results were the same. The engine died.

She pulled her cell phone from her handbag, knowing even before she looked at the display that the battery would be dead.

Shoulders slumped in defeat, she stared at the road that led to freedom. She really was trapped here, she thought dully. Like a rat in a cage.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, staring into the distance, before she restarted the car and put it in reverse, but the ice cream was melted when she returned to the house.

A house that was, in reality, a prison. She was never going to get out of here, she thought bleakly. Never see her parents, or her sister, again.





By Wednesday morning, Kadie was heartily sick of her own company. She had spent the last four days rattling around the house, rearranging the furniture for want of anything better to do, reading the books she had brought with her until the words blurred on the page.

It might not have been so bad if the house had been equipped with a TV, a radio, or a computer, but there were no connections to the outside world.

Deciding to take Marti up on her offer, Kadie showered, ate a quick breakfast, and walked to the library.

The gray-haired lady at the front desk looked up. Taking off her glasses, she smiled at Kadie. “You’re the new one, aren’t you? Kadie?”

“Yes.”

“Are you looking for a book? As you can see, we have a large selection.”

“No, thank you. Marti invited me to visit her readers’ group.”

“Oh, of course, they meet in the back room. I’m Brittany Thomas,” the librarian said. She gestured at a door to the left of the desk. “They meet in there.”

“Thank you.”

“Hold on a second, hon. Marti made up a list of addresses for you. so you’ll know who lives where.”

“Oh, that was thoughtful of her,” Kadie said, taking the list the woman offered.

Squashing her nervousness, Kadie opened the door and stepped inside.

Marti and six other women were seated at a rectangular table. They all looked up when Kadie entered the room.

“Kadie!” Marti exclaimed, rising. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Thanks.”

Kadie took a seat at the end of the table amid a chorus of “Pleased to meet you’s” and “Welcome to our group.”

“Let me introduce you to the others.” Starting with the woman on her left, Marti introduced the group.

Shirley Hague was middle-aged, with short, curly brown hair, brown eyes, and a faint scar near her hairline.

Leslie Miller looked to be in her early twenties, with long, straight black hair, dark brown eyes, and skin so pale it was almost white. She wore a bright red scarf around her neck. So did several of the others, Kadie noticed.

“We’re discussing one of Stephen King’s books,” Marti said, when the introductions were complete. “Salem’s Lot. Have you read it?”

“Actually, I have,” Kadie said. Funny, she had finished reading it just a few weeks earlier. “Scared me half to death.”

Murmurs of agreement ran around the table.

“What did you think of Mr. Barlow?” Rosemary Holmes asked. She appeared to be in her early fifties with short gray hair and gray eyes. She regarded Kadie through a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.

“Pure, unadulterated evil,” Kadie answered without hesitation.

Chelsea Morris nodded. “I agree! I slept with the light on for a week after I finished that book.” Chelsea was rail thin, with shoulder-length blond hair and blue eyes.

“He made the vampires seem so real,” Kadie said. “I almost started to believe they truly exist.”

“And when Ben Mears destroyed Barlow. . . .” Nancy Dellenbach shivered. The plump woman with long, wavy, red hair touched the red silk scarf she wore around her neck. “I’ve often been tempted to try it when Nolan or one of the others come to my house,” she said, her green eyes flashing. “But I just don’t have the nerve.”

Pauline Stefan nodded. She was a lovely woman, with clear blue eyes and long brown hair she wore tied in a ponytail. Like Nancy and Leslie, she also wore a bright red scarf loosely tied around her neck. “I know what you mean. They’re so much stronger than we are.”

“Wait a minute,” Kadie said. “Are you saying . . . ?” She shook her head. What she was thinking was impossible. They were just messing with her.

“You don’t know, do you?” Rosemary asked.

“Know what?” Kadie felt a sudden uneasiness as the women exchanged glances.

“Maybe we shouldn’t tell her,” Pauline said.

Chelsea leaned forward, her hands folded on the table. “She needs to know.”

“Know what?” Kadie repeated, her unease ratcheting up a notch.

“Morgan Creek has a lot in common with King’s book,” Nancy said, fiddling with the ends of her scarf.

Kadie shook her head. “I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?” She frowned. “Does it have anything to do with the reason why I can’t leave?”

“Everything,” Rosemary said succinctly.

Kadie’s gaze moved quickly around the table. The women were all watching her, some with curiosity, some with pity.

“Just tell me!” Kadie said. “What’s going on?”

“You’ve probably noticed the mansion up on the hill,” Shirley said quietly. “Blair House?”

Kadie nodded.

Still watching Kadie, all the women leaned forward, waiting for Shirley to go on.

“Morgan Creek is home to a coven of vampires. They all live in the house on the hill. Well, all but one.”

Kadie sat back. She would have laughed if all of the other women didn’t look so serious.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Shirley asked.

“Of course not. There’s no such thing as vampires. Salem’s Lot is fiction, not fact.”

Shirley looked at Leslie, Nancy, and Pauline. As if on cue, the three women removed their scarves.

Kadie frowned, wondering at their odd behavior. And then she saw the bites. They weren’t mosquito bites. Or spider bites. The imprint of teeth—fangs?—looked eerily like the bite marks usually seen in vampire movies. She sat back, feeling faint.

“Are you all right?” Nancy asked.

“I haven’t seen any vampires,” Kadie said. “At least, no one’s tried to bite me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, of course I’m sure. I’d know if someone bit me, wouldn’t I?”

“Maybe,” Rosemary said. “If you were awake when it happened.”

“And if they didn’t seal the wound to make it disappear,” Pauline added.

Kadie’s mind flashed back to the six hours she had lost. Had Darrick Vaughan bitten her while she was unconscious and then sealed the wounds? “Why do your bite marks show?”

“The vampires don’t bother to seal them,” Chelsea remarked. “We all know what’s going on.”

“Then why hide the bites with scarves?” Kadie shook her head, unable to believe she was having this conversation.

“They aren’t to hide the marks,” Leslie explained. “They’re to let the vampires know that we’re not available.”

“Available?”

“They aren’t allowed to feed on any of us more than a couple of times a week,” Marti added as if that made everything all right. “A red scarf means you’re off-limits A black one means a vampire has claimed you.”

Kadie’s stomach churned. “Feed on you?”

“Of course. That’s why we’re here,” Leslie said. “Why they won’t let us go.”

She was dreaming, Kadie thought. It had to be a dream. This couldn’t possibly be real. There was no such thing as vampires. “I thought vampires couldn’t be out during the day?”

“They can’t.” Pauline lifted a hand to her neck. “We don’t always get home before dark.”

“Oh.”

“In a way, you’re lucky,” Shirley said, a note of envy in her voice. “Darrick has staked you out for himself.”

“Darrick?” Kadie choked out the word. “He’s a vampire?”

“Of course. Most of the men in town are vampires. Since Darrick has claimed you for himself, the others are forbidden to feed on you.”

“Until he tires of you,” Chelsea said.

“Just be glad Rylan Saintcrow didn’t set his sights on you,” Pauline said, a shiver in her voice.

“Who’s that?”

“He’s the head vampire. Very mysterious,” Marti said. “None of us have ever seen him. All we have are rumors.”

“What kind of rumors?” Kadie glanced around the table. Were they really having this discussion? She would have thought it was some kind of grisly joke, except they all looked so sincere.

“It’s said that when he picks a woman, she’s never seen or heard from again,” Shirley said, her voice a whisper.

“You mean . . . ?”

“No one knows for sure if he kills them,” Chelsea said. “But what other explanation is there?”

Kadie shrugged. “Do you know any of the women who disappeared?”

“Well, no,” Rosemary said as if she hated to admit it. “Saintcrow hasn’t been seen in town since I’ve been here.”

“So, it’s all just speculation,” Kadie said.

“Well, the rumor must have come from somewhere,” Pauline remarked. “But I wouldn’t worry about Saintcrow, since you belong to Vaughan now. I wish he’d picked me. Vampire or not, I think he’s hot.”

Kadie shook her head, unable to believe her ears. Hot or not, she didn’t want anything to do with him. Or this place. She pushed away from the table as panic washed through her. She had to get out of here. Now. Before it was too late.

Heedless of the calls of the other women, Kadie fled the library and raced for home.

Inside, she bolted the door, then stood there, her heart pounding in her ears. Darrick Vaughan was a vampire. All the women she had met were there for one reason—to feed the vampires.

How many vampires lived in Morgan Creek? No, that wasn’t right. Vampires weren’t really alive.

Had Vaughan fed on her without her knowing?

She gagged as revulsion swept through her.

She had to get out of this place!

Moving into the living room, she sank down on the sofa. If there was a way out of here, she would have found it by now. If there was a way, surely the other women would have left long ago.

She sat there, staring blankly out the window, as the clouds chased the sun from the sky.

The sound of the doorbell brought her to her feet. For a moment, she considered pretending she wasn’t home, but what good would that do?

Gathering her courage, she went to answer the door. After all, there was always a chance it wasn’t him.

Taking a deep breath, she called, “Who’s there?”

“It’s me. Marti.”

Weak with relief, Kadie opened the door. “Come in.”

“We were worried about you,” Marti said. “I came to make sure you’re all right.”

“All right?” Kadie repeated, locking the door. “I’ll never be all right again.”

“I know how you must be feeling,” Marti said, taking the seat Kadie indicated. “But once you get used to it, it’s not so bad.”

“Not so bad? I don’t believe what I’m hearing! How can you say that?” Kadie sat down, then stood and began to pace the floor. “You tell me this town is filled with vampires, that you and the others are food, and it’s not so bad?”

“Kadie, sit down and listen to me.”

With a shake of her head, Kadie sat on the sofa, her hands clenched in her lap.

“I’m not saying it’s wonderful or that I wouldn’t leave at the drop of a hat, but it could be worse. We have the run of the town during the day.”

“So, how does it work?” Kadie asked.

“Oh, it’s all very civilized,” Marti replied. “Like I said, they aren’t allowed to feed on any of us more than two or three times a week. And as long as you belong to Vaughan, no one else can touch you.”

“Lucky me,” Kadie muttered. “So, the vampires just come knocking on your door and expect you to let them take what they want?”

Marti nodded.

“Darrick told me to be careful who I invite into the house,” Kadie said. It hadn’t made any sense at the time.

“The vampires can’t enter a person’s home without an invitation. By giving you this house, he gave you more than just a place to live. It’s a haven. None of the other vampires will be able to come in unless you invite them.”

“You mean your house isn’t yours?”

“No, all the other houses belong to the vampires.”

“How many vampires are there?”

“Nine. Eight men and one woman.”

Considering she hadn’t even known vampires existed, it seemed like a lot. “And they all live here?”

“Yes. I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think they can leave, either.”

Marti drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. “Vaughan has given you a wonderful gift, Kadie. Something none of the rest of us have.”

“The only thing I want from him is my freedom. That would be wonderful.”

Marti nodded in agreement. “But it isn’t likely to happen.”

“How long have you been here?”

“I’m not sure. I tried to keep track of the days when I first got here, but . . .” She shrugged. “What year is it?”

“Two thousand and thirteen.”

Marti stared at her. “Five years,” she said, blinking back her tears. “My daughter will be in first grade by now. Brad’s probably remarried.”

Kadie laid her hand on Marti’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”

Blinking back her tears, Marti said a hasty good-bye and took her leave.

Kadie closed the door, then went to the window. She wondered how the vampires could be so cruel, separating a mother from her family? Silly question. They were vampires. Monsters. Bloodsucking fiends.

She thought about what Marti had told her about the vampires. There were nine of them in Morgan Creek. She frowned. How many people resided here besides those she had met?

She wondered why Vaughan let her have a car when none of the other women had one. And how she was supposed to keep him out of the house when he had already been inside?

The rest of the day passed with agonizing slowness. Kadie found herself constantly watching the clock, counting the minutes until the sun went down. Would Vaughan show up when the sun set and expect her to . . . to feed him?

The very thought made her stomach churn with revulsion. And then she heard a knock at the door.

Mind racing, she moved through the house, seeking a weapon of some kind, but there was nothing more menacing that the table knives in the kitchen. They didn’t look sharp enough to cut butter, let alone kill a vampire.

If only she had listened to her father and bought a pistol. Vowing that a gun shop would be her first stop if she ever got out of this place, she went to answer the door.