Night of the Vampires. Heather Graham

from one of the Texas towns recently annihilated…by ‘outlaws,’ of course, they say.”

      All three men were quiet, staring at her. She hadn’t really lied; people were whispering on the streets. She hadn’t explained just how far up in the Southern echelon it was known that something beyond the absolute horror of warfare was going on. She didn’t want to—certainly not now. She wasn’t trusted as it was. Cody was trusted; she was not. They surely knew what he was. And Cody had been with the Southern army—until his wounds had sent him home to New Orleans, held firmly in Union hands. All this, and still they trusted him but not her.

      Cole set a hand on her upper arm, spinning her around to look at him, still the skeptic. She stared at the hand. He stared back at her; he didn’t let go.

      “What?” she asked icily.

      “Why didn’t you try to contact us first?”

      A knock at the back door stalled any answer she might have been able to dream up.

      “Keep her here—I’ll get it,” Cody said.

      “Well?” Cole asked as Cody walked to the door.

      “Well, what?”

      “Why didn’t you contact us?” he asked. “Why did you chance going into that prison alone? How did you get into that prison alone?”

      “I think Cody can answer that for you.”

      “I think you should answer the question for me, right now.”

      But before she could pretend to answer, she was suddenly swung about and pulled hard against his chest; he had a large, long-fingered hand clamped over her mouth.

      She heard Martha Graybow speaking. “Cody, is everything all right? I saw you all come in, and then I noticed that you still have lights on. It’s so late, and you fellows never came for your supper, so I was worried.”

       Martha. She should call out to Martha, and Martha could vouch for her. But then again, what good would that do? None—it could only do harm! Brendan Vincent was a diehard—if he knew that she knew Martha, he might decide that Martha was a Southern spy!

      She held still and waited, tempted to bite Cole Granger’s hand.

      She somehow refrained.

       If she were to bite him…

      “Everything is fine, Martha, thank you. We did have a late night—you heard about the trouble at the prison. Well, it’s all over now and we’re just sitting with a bit of whiskey and winding down,” Cody said.

      “Oh, thank goodness. I do worry about you boys.”

      Martha, beautiful, sweet Martha. She hadn’t wanted her husband to go off. She had known she would become a widow.

      “Boys?” Cody said with a laugh. “I’ll have to tell Brendan. He’d appreciate that.”

      “You young men!” Martha corrected.

      “Thank you for your concern. We’re fine. And we won’t forget breakfast, Martha, I promise you.”

      The door closed. Megan gave a good hard kick backward, getting Cole Granger in the shin. He tensed but didn’t let go.

      “I don’t think I like your sister much, Cody,” he said, easing his hold then and pressing her firmly away.

      She turned and stared at him, it was becoming increasingly difficult to remain calm in the face of this irritating man. “You don’t know how lucky you are that I’m a temperate and reasonable woman,” she said pleasantly.

      “Oh, you can get worse than this?” Cole inquired.

       Patience…

      But her temper had flared. She drew back her lips and let out a hissing sound, displaying the fangs she could summon within seconds. She felt they were really quite beautiful…not that that was the effect she was going for here.

      “Holy, Jesus!” Brendan Vincent cried, jumping back.

      Cole Granger held his ground.

      “Don’t make a move!” Cody warned.

      She smiled sweetly, retracting her fangs. “If I’d wanted to hurt anyone here, Cody Fox, I could have bitten off the ever-so-charming Sheriff Granger’s fingers just moments ago. Don’t you get it? What is the matter with you? Why don’t you believe me? I’m your sister—your half sister, your father’s daughter!” she said, praying again for patience and control.

      Brendan Vincent stared at Cody. “She could be any bloodsucking monster out there,” he cautioned. “She could have found out things about you. God knows—there is a war going on. She could be here to kill us all in our sleep. I say we stake her right now.”

      “Now, now, hold up,” Cole said, arms crossed over his chest as he walked around her. “She did fight with us at the prison. And look close. She and Cody have the same eyes.”

      “I’m not getting that close,” Brendan said.

      Cole smiled at that. “She could have killed us a few times already, if that had been her intent. Well, maybe she couldn’t have killed Cody.”

      “Well, maybe you should have just staked her at the prison,” Brendan muttered.

      Cody had moved closer. Megan stood very still, watching him as he resurveyed her, head to toe. Admittedly, she wasn’t particularly well dressed. One didn’t pick one’s finest ball gown for a romp with ravenous killing machines in a prison yard. She wore a simple tailored blouse, vest, form-hugging, knee-length jacket, men’s breeches and boots.

      But he wasn’t looking at her attire, she knew.

      His gaze rose at last so that his eyes met hers. Fire and ice. They were the same hazel and green color of his own, a color that seemed like gold. She wore it well. Her eyes were fascinating, compelling—mesmerizing. Or so her admirers had told her.

      Cody touched her hair, drawing his fingers through it. Suddenly, he smiled. “Let me see those fangs again.”

      She flushed, looking at the others. “Cody, it makes your friends uncomfortable.”

      “My friends know exactly what I am. They just want you to be the same, and nothing worse.”

      She allowed her fangs to show once again.

       Yes, she was half vampire. Go figure. Her father seemed to have a steady ability to propagate. It wasn’t like all the things that she’d read about vampires, but then again, who really knew anything about them?

      “What else did your mother say about my father?” Cody asked.

      “It’s really a long story….”

      “A long story, Cody,” Cole Granger spoke up from behind her brother, coming forward. “I personally find long stories wonderfully intriguing.” To her astonishment, he paused, gripped her chin and looked into her mouth—at her receding fangs. He looked at her mouth and studied her teeth and fangs as if he were looking at the quality of a horse he was considering for purchase.

      Oh, she was tempted to bite.

      Oh, so tempted.

      She restrained. He was pushing her. He knew that a bite wouldn’t turn him into an uncontrolled maniac. Nor would a single bite kill him.

      He was trying to see if she would snap—if she was capable of control.

      She pretended boredom. And strangely, surprisingly, she discovered that she liked something about him….

      It was his scent, she realized. He smelled of leather and musky soap, of the night air and of something more subtle and deep and alluring. Horses, whiskey…and himself.

      Bathed.

      God,