She found herself tuning in as the young man laughed softly. “Stories about Old man alligator have been around since before my grandfather’s time. It’s just a legend, an old tale to scare the children away from the swamp, nothing more. My mother used to tell me that same story.”
An argument broke out instantly among the men. The oldest, the one with the heaviest accent, broke into French, not the elegant French Gregori spoke, but the local dialect. All the same, Savannah was certain he was swearing a blue streak. There was such a soothing cadence to the old man’s voice, a rhythm unique to New Orleans.
As she listened, the old alligator grew in stature. He was huge, like the grinning crocodile of the Nile. He had eaten hundreds of hunting dogs, lay in wait along a trail and gulped them as they came running by. He snatched small children from the banks in front of their parents’ homes. An entire boatload of partying teens had vanished in his domain. The tales grew with each telling.
At first, Savannah was smiling, enjoying the fascinating old legend, but a slow dread was beginning to seize her. She glanced at Gregori. He was talking quietly with Gary, extracting information with skillful questions even as he gave the illusion of having a pleasant conversation. She knew he was automatically scanning the area, monitoring other conversations, yet he seemed relaxed, unaware of the gathering blackness.
She rubbed her pounding temples, massaged her tight neck. Little beads of sweat broke out on her forehead.
Savannah tried to concentrate on the funny tale, the growing exploits of the alligator, but with each passing moment all she could do was feel the black apprehension building like some terrible disease that managed to get inside her mind and cling to her.
Gregori turned his head, the silver eyes slashing her face, at once concerned. mapetite, what is it?His mind was already reaching for hers, merging fully so that he could feel the gathering sense of darkness growing so quickly within her.
Is it possible there is an evil one present?she asked. Her stomach was lurching.
Gregori studied the room. There was always the chance one of the undead had learned to mask himself from other Carpathians. He could do it. It would be egotistical to think another might not learn the trick. The master vampire was very old. He had survived the hunters because he was cunning and perfectly willing to flee the vicinity and leave it to the hunter until such time as it was once again safe to return. Still, Gregori doubted he would deliberately go to the same restaurant as a hunter to secretly gloat, especially if that hunter was Gregori. The Dark One.Only those weary of their existence challenged him outright.
Gary was looking from one to the other in alarm. “What is it?”
“Remain calm. Savannah is very sensitive to evil. She can feel it, and I can touch it through her, but I cannot detect it within the room myself.”
“Are we in danger?” Gary found the idea more exciting than frightening. He was looking forward to action. Rambo style.
Savannah and Gregori exchanged a sudden smile. “Gary.” Savannah couldn’t help herself. “You’ve seen too many movies.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t know what this is like for me. All my life my classmates and friends made fun of me.
The bullies shoved me into walls and tossed me into trash cans. All because I always did my homework and got A’s on every paper. This is exciting stuff for me.”
“Me, too,” Savannah lied. She didn’t want any part of it, for herself, for Gary, or for Gregori. She wanted them all to be safe. Whatever horrible thing was waiting for them, crouched just beyond their reach, carried the foul stench of evil. It permeated her mind and left her feeling sick and dizzy. “I have to get out of here, Gregori.”
You will be fine,mon amour. We will leave this place immediately. It seems your mother did pass on her gift to you.Once more he allowed himself to survey the room. There was nothing but the laughter of the tourists and the good-natured wrangling of those who lived there. Gregori summoned the waiter, paid the check, and took Savannah by the arm as they wound their way among the tables.
Chapter Fourteen
Walking around the French Quarter in the night air helped to clear Savannah’s head of the presence of evil. Whatever or whoever it was didn’t follow them out of the restaurant. Within a few minutes, she felt better. Gregori kept her under the shelter of his shoulder. He remained silent, but his mind was merged fully with hers, observing the darkness rapidly dispelling.
Gregori guided them without saying a word toward the hotel where Gary was staying. He wanted the list of names, wanted to be able to see how far the society’s rot had spread. Gary believed most members of the society were others like him, hoping it might be true that vampires lived and that they were the romantic characters depicted in recent movies and books.
But Gregori had seen what the depraved human mind could do. He had seen the work of the society time and time again. Women butchered and murdered, innocents, children. He laced his fingers through Savannah’s, finding a measure of peace and solace in her closeness. The wind blew the dark, ugly memories into the night.
Savannah’s fingers tightened around his. “Did you know what it was?”
“No, but it was real, chérie.I was in your head. You did not imagine it.” They walked along, the silence comfortable between them.
A block from his hotel, Gary cleared his throat. “I thought you said going back to my room might be dangerous.”
“Life is dangerous, Gary,” Gregori said softly. “You are Rambo,remember?”
Savannah’s laughter rang out, rivaling the jazz quartet playing on the corner. Heads turned to listen to her, men to watch her, stealing away the attention of the audience gathered in a loose semi-circle around the quartet. She moved in the human world, completely comfortable in it, a part of it. Gregori had walked unseen, and that was how he preferred it. She was dragging him into her world. He could hardly believe he was walking down a crowded street with a mortal with half the block staring openly at them.
“I didn’t know you knew who Rambo was,” Savannah said, trying not to giggle. She couldn’t imagine Gregori in a theater watching a Rambo movie.
“You saw a Rambo flick?” Gary was incredulous.
Gregori made a sound somewhere between contempt and derision. “I read Gary’s memories on the subject. Interesting. Silly, but interesting.” He glanced at Gary. “This is your hero?”
Gary’s grin was as mischievous as Savannah’s. “Until I met you, Gregori.”
Gregori growled, a low rumble of menace. His two companions just laughed disrespectfully, not in the least intimidated.
“I’ll bet he’s a secret Rambo fan,” Savannah whispered confidentially.
Gary nodded. “He probably sneaks into movie theaters for every old showing.”
Savannah was really laughing now, the soft notes dancing in the air, contagious, infectious, beckoning all within hearing to join in.
Gregori shook his head, pretending to ignore the two of them and their shenanigans. But he couldn’t help himself; he felt his heart lighten even as he scanned the hotel from the courtyard and knew they would soon be in another confrontation with dark, compulsion-driven members of the society. He stopped them abruptly, drawing them into the shadows of the building. “Someone is in your room waiting, Gary.”
“You don’t even know which is my room,” Gary protested. “There’s a lot of people staying here. Let’s not make a mistake.”
“I do not make mistakes,” Gregori said softly, his black-velvet voice very much in evidence. “Would you care to go up alone?”
That was unnecessary, lifemate,Savannah reprimanded. And beneath you. You like this mortal, and it bothers you that he may be in danger.