Authors: Christopher Golden
Waking Nightmares (50 page)
“Could you be more selfish?” she said aloud in the lonely confines of the elevator. Keomany was dead, and all she could think about was the growing distance that she felt between herself and her boyfriend.
Peter had promised to catch up with her by Atlanta, at the latest. That was four days from now. Four days was nothing. They had been apart from each other much longer in the past. All she had to do was pour herself into her music, sing her heart out, give her audiences the performance they deserved for shelling out their hard-earned cash.
“Get it together, woman,” she whispered.
The elevator slid to a stop on the twelfth floor. Stepping off, she went the wrong way and then laughed at herself. She really did need to focus.
Wondering whether she might find something edible on the room service menu, she let herself into the mini-suite the club management had provided. The maid had been in, and the citrus-chemical scent of her cleansers filled the suite.
Nikki put her key card on the little coffee table in front of the love seat and kicked off her shoes. The room service menu waited on the desk over by the window, next to her laptop, but first she needed to peel off her clothes and slide into the cotton pajama pants and Boston Celtics T-shirt she had worn to bed last night.
As she walked into the bedroom, its curtains still drawn from the morning, she dragged her clingy black top over her head. A sliver of sunlight sliced into the darkened room between the curtains, enough for her to seek out the sleepwear she’d shed in such a hurry.
Only as she slipped off her bra did she recognize that something was not right. The maid had been in. She had cleaned the bathroom. Made the bed. There would be mint chocolate candies on the pillow.
A figure coalesced in the deeply shadowed corner.
“You
are
lovely,” he said, in a rasping Spanish accent. “What a pity.”
are
lovely,” he said, in a rasping Spanish accent. “What a pity.”
Nikki froze, flushing with the heat of fear.
“Who the hell are you?” she breathed.
Though he was all in darkness, somehow she knew he smiled then.
“I am Cortez,” he replied.
His fangs tore into her throat before she could scream.
She wept as she died.
Wondering why.
Look for all
the Peter Octavian novels
from Ace Books
the Peter Octavian novels
from Ace Books
OF SAINTS AND SHADOWS
ANGEL SOULS AND DEVIL HEARTS
OF MASQUES AND MARTYRS
THE GATHERING DARK
WAKING NIGHTMARES
ANGEL SOULS AND DEVIL HEARTS
OF MASQUES AND MARTYRS
THE GATHERING DARK
WAKING NIGHTMARES
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