Ashes of the Day by P.G. Forte Read Free Book Online

with both sugar and cinnamon so I’m sure they must be very tasty.”
    Julie giggled again. “That’s another silly word. Cinnamon. What does it mean?”
    “It’s a spice,” Marc answered, looking very pleased with himself. “Don’t you remember? Grandfather told us all about the spices. They’re those things that grow on islands and people want them to make their food taste better, so they come in big ships and steal the spices and make everybody slaves.”
    “They used to do that, Marc,” Damian corrected. “Not so much anymore.”
    Julie frowned. “Ships? I thought it was camels. Didn’t he say that they piled all the spice things up in big bundles on top of camels and then rode them across all those horrible, dry, sunny deserts?”
    Damian sighed. He’d really have to have a word with Conrad about what he thought he was teaching the children. “I’m sure your grandfather wouldn’t say anything that wasn’t so, chica , but once again, nowadays most people simply buy their spices in a store. And, if they’re going to travel to remote islands or cross deserts, or travel any distance at all, they generally do so by airplane.”
    “We don’t,” Marc pointed out.
    “Very true.” Damian suppressed a shudder as he thought about it. Like most vampires he found the dehydrating effects of plane travel intensely uncomfortable. Then again, the same could be said for long ocean voyages, or traversing endless deserts… Most forms of travel, actually. It was not too hard to imagine how the silly rumor about vampires needing to sleep in their native soil got started, given how reluctant most of them were to stray too far from the comfort and safety of familiar surroundings.
    He and Conrad were lucky in that the eastern portion of this continent held an abundance of suitably obscure communities in which to hide—most of them at a reasonable distance from either oceans or deserts. Moving every few years might be tedious, but at least it did not have to be actually painful. Assuming they could continue to avoid running into any others of their kind, they stood a good chance of raising the children with a minimum of danger, discomfort or death. Still, that was not a subject he need think about tonight. He smiled brightly at both of the children. “Now, let’s get started. Shall we?”
     
     
    Damian was lifting the last tray of cookies from the oven when he heard the front door open. Soft masculine laughter reached his ears. Conrad. The sound was unmistakable. The sexy intent behind that chuckle was something else with which Damian was familiar. Too familiar. No. Not this again . His chest was suddenly so tight he could hardly breathe. His heart thudded painfully. Once, fool that he’d been, he’d believed that particular laugh—that particular intent—was reserved for him alone. Carefully, he placed the tray on the stovetop and listened harder.
    Two sets of footsteps. Conrad’s, of course, and…a woman’s, by the sound of it. High heels, a little unsteady on the hardwood floor. Maybe too much to drink, or a touch too much venom? Had Conrad brought her home for the children’s dinner, or did he have something else in mind? The footsteps bypassed the living room and continued down the hallway. Ah. Well, that answers that question . More laughter floated back to taunt Damian. A bedroom door closed. A lock was turned. Damian bit back a snarl. “Marc, go and knock on your grandfather’s door for me, if you’d be so kind, and ask him if he intends to feed you and your sister anytime soon.”
    “What?” The little boy frowned. “Why? I thought we were eating cookies tonight?”
    “ Sí . And so we are. But, as I keep telling you, they’re just a snack. If you’re eating your dinner very soon, we might want to save the cookies for afterward, so as not to spoil your meal.”
    Marc’s eyes narrowed. The stubborn look on his face indicated another argument was about to ensue.
    Damian fixed the boy with a