Page 90 of Whispers at Dusk
“Oh, Della, come on! You are my soulmate, my worthy opponent. If you’re lucky, I’ll bring you with me to eternal life! But I knew, of course. You’re worried about beings so less worthy! But you! You are a worthy opponent.”
“Worthy opponent, huh?” Della said dryly. “Okay, I’m worthy. And I don’t believe that crock for a single minute.”
“Tough nut to crack, as they say. But let’s see. Here’s the fun part. You have no idea how I know you, oh, so well. But here is what I know. You’re not going to shoot me or even arrest me. Not when the girls are out there. Oh, by the way, there are three of them. Little Lyndsey out of Baton Rouge is a sweet and adorable girl. So innocent and naive for a college kid!”
“Sweet and adorable—but you want to rid the world of her?”
“She’ll turn into a raving bitch. You can tell. As soon as she realizes her power. That’s just it. Life—and death—are all about power. So, what’s your pleasure? Shoot me. Or follow me.”
“How do I know they’re not already dead?”
“You don’t. You must gamble.”
“Hey, you know, I’m not much of a gambler. Penny slots, at the lowest possible amount per spin. So, let’s see, what’s your plan?”
“I want you to see me, see the strength and the brilliance, and join me.”
“No. Let’s both be honest here. I see you as a narcissist and, of course, a homicidal maniac.”
“A genius,” he corrected.
“Sorry, I don’t see you that way.”
He shrugged and grimaced, looking away and then back at her. “Then I want you to die,” he told her casually.
“All right. You want me to die. What if I trade me for them?”
“Hmm. I will give that one some consideration. But you must behave to get to the girls.”
“Because you know this bayou area is crawling with law enforcement.”
“I’d expect nothing less from you. I knew you’d split from tall, dark, and handsome. Mr. Intensity. Because you are you! Independent. Powerful. Taught from the time you were a kid that a girl could do anything a boy could do. No one needs to hold your hand. In truth, though, him? I really—really—want him to die.”
“I’m sure he’s aware of that,” Della said sarcastically. Because, of course, he was. The tiny mic she was wearing let Mason hear every word that was being said.
“He’s out there.”
“Somewhere, of course. Not even I know where right now. Hey, I’m independent. Not stupid,” Della told him.
“And beautiful. Really. From the time I first saw you...well. Now, you still have your chance. Learn to drink blood with me. And if not, Special Agent Della Hamilton, you will be the most spectacular and beautiful display I have ever managed to create. A lovely Snow White just waiting for true love’s kiss. Oh, you’re thinking that’s him, tough he-man Special Agent Mason Carter. Well, when he finds you, no kiss will awaken you. It won’t be a nice nap for a hundred years. Death will be eternal.”
“Wonderful. Have you thought about that? In death, you will find eternity, too.”
“But I won’t die! I really do drink the blood, you know. I’m willing to bet you believe there is a god—and others believe wholeheartedly in their gods, too. Religion! I’m a maniac when wars occur over religion all the time? Think about it! Anyway, as I said, since the rest of the world goes on blind faith, maybe I do, too... Believing in something tangible. Blood. The force of life. And taking blood so carefully, leaving behind beautiful angels! That’s genius, not crazy. Can’t begin to tell you what a high it gives me!”
“You may be the sickest individual I’ve ever met,” Della told him.
Gideon was by her side, watching, listening, nervous, and shaking his head. “Della, careful, you’re pissing him off!”
Stephan Dante didn’t hear the ghost. He was grinning, highly entertained, as he stared back at Della.
“Sick? Crazy? Brilliant and farseeing. Whatever I am, Della, my love, you’ll have to decide very soon to be with me—or against me.”
“I want to see the girls,” Della said.
“Give me that walkie-talkie thing strapped to your waist. Oh, and hand the Glock over. That’s the only way you get to see the girls.”
She held still for a long moment.
