Twilight Hunger

Epilogue

A month later
Dressed to the nines, Maxine sat and admired the way Lou looked in a tux. She was clutching his hand in one of hers and Lydia's in the other. Lydia, too, was glamorous tonight. Sequins, daring neckline, gorgeous cascading blond ringlets. She'd been drawing hungry looks all evening, from both men and women. Everything was beautiful, and yet bittersweet.
"This is incredible," Stormy said, leaning over Lou to grin at Max. "I can't believe you managed to get an extra ticket for me."
"For Best Original Screenplay, the nominees are... " the stunning female presenter on the stage said.
Stormy sat back in her seat as all of them focused on the stage. Max was practically holding her breath. David sat on the other side of Lydia, and from the look on his face, he was as nervous as she was when the starlet on the stage said, "And the award goes to... " and tore open the envelope.
Looking up, blinking back emotion, the actress said, "Morgan De Silva for Twilight Hunger."
The audience roared with applause. The emotional favorite had won. People rose to their feet, the five of them included. They hugged. Max and Lydia both cried liberally, and David made his way into the aisle and onto the stage as a voice announced, "Accepting the award on behalf of the late Morgan De Silva, David Sumner, her producer, director and dear friend."
He took the podium, nodding sadly as he shook the pretty presenter's hand, accepted her kiss on the cheek. He took the golden statue in his hands, fighting tears and waiting for the applause to die down. The big screen behind him was suddenly filled with a larger than life photo of Morgan, before the illness had ravaged her.
"God, she was so beautiful," Max heard someone say. "So young."
Slowly the crowd retook their seats and the applause died down.
David spoke. "Thank you. Morgan would have been so thrilled and so honored by this. I only wish she could be up on this stage tonight, accepting it herself. This firm-not just this one, but all three of her films-meant the world to her. And through them, I like to think her spirit lives on. Thank you. Thank you so much."
Applause thundered again as a pair of models led him off the stage.
Lou walked Max to the cemetery in the wee hours of the morning. Once there, though, he stood back. Gave her some space.
Standing alone, holding the golden statuette in both hands, Max stared at the beautiful rose granite headstone that had Morgan's name engraved on its face, along with her date of birth and date of death.
Sniffling, Max held the trophy out toward the headstone.
"You did it, my beautiful sister. You won."
Morgan stepped out from behind the headstone. She couldn't wipe the smile from her face as she took the statue and hugged it to her chest. "I did, didn't I? Oh, God, this is incredible! I won! I won!" She spun in a circle, tipped her head back and laughed, loving the rich, clear, powerful tones of her own voice, ringing in the night.
Dante came out of the shadows, as well, and stopped her spinning by catching her in his arms. Strong arms that she relished feeling around her. "Let's not forget whose story it actually was."
"Oh, please," she said, smiling up at him. "It was lifeless until I turned it into a script."
"Your script was lifeless until you fed it my story," he teased.
"Fine. We'll share the trophy, then."
Dante kissed her, and her laughter died away. "As we share everything," he whispered, and his deep voice so close to her ear sent delicious shivers up her spine.
Max cleared her throat exaggeratedly, and Dante finally released her. "You get to see her a lot more often than I do," Max said, opening her arms. "Do you mind?"
Dante waved his arm in surrender. Grinning, Morgan hugged Max hard. Her sister. Her very own sister. Morgan could barely believe how much she had come to love Max in two months' time. But it seemed, once survival had stopped being foremost in her mind, she had time to think about what it really meant to have Maxine in her life.
"You look wonderful," Max told her, holding her at arm's length as her green eyes danced over Morgan's face. "Healthy. Vibrant. Okay, a little pale, but I guess that goes with the territory."
"I am wonderful, you know," Morgan told her. "Better than I ever was, Max. Stronger. More powerful. I feel more alive than-than when I actually was. All thanks to you."
Max lowered her head. "I nearly got you killed," she whispered.
"No, love. You saved me. You showed up when I needed you most. You stayed, even though I tried to chase you away. You kept me alive, and you rescued my love and brought him to me." Still, Max's eyes were downcast. Morgan caught her chin, lifting it, holding her gaze. "Darling, if you hadn't come, Stiles would have done us both in. Even though it took you a bit to see the truth, it was your presence that made the difference. I'm convinced of that."
Max sniffed and hugged her again. "I'm just sorry it was so close. I should have listened to you from the beginning."
"That was a mistake I made as well, Maxine," Dante said, speaking softly. "In fact, I think Malone was the only one who was clear on things from the start."
"Clear my ass," Lou said, finally coming to join them. "I thought I'd lost it."
"Thank goodness you hadn't." Reaching out, Dante shook his hand.
Morgan took Max by the hand and led her away, leaving the two men at the graveside to chat. "We need to talk," she said.
"All right."
The two sisters walked together amid the stones of the rural cemetery, along its winding paths, among headstones that cast eerie shadows on the lush grass, fresh flowers and dead ones. Leafless trees swayed in the brisk night wind. The scent of flowers on a fresh grave, and the approach of winter, flavored the air.
"I wanted to talk to you about the house," Morgan said. "You've barely used it at all since I... well, since my funeral." A little chill of cool air whispered over her nape, and she shivered. "God, it feels funny saying that."
"It's your house, Morgan. You still need a place to live. I don't want to take it from you. I mean, the will was just a formality. It's only mine on paper."
"No, I meant it. I want it to be yours," Morgan said. "Besides, I can't occupy it openly and not risk discovery. I want you to have the place. Use it. Run your business out of it, if you want. It would be best for both of us."
"For both of us, huh?" Max asked. She paused near a bench that had been placed alongside the path for visitors and, turning, sat down. Morgan sat beside her. "Just how does it benefit you and Dante? Having relatives around all the time can't be a passionate young couple's dream come true. You guys are as giddy as newly weds."
"You don't know the half of it," Morgan said, averting her face. "He's incredible," she whispered. "I never thought I could be this... complete. For so long I had no one. Other than David. Now, suddenly, I have you, and I have this man who... he would die for me. He loves me that much. I still can't quite get over it."
"All the more reason to let you have your privacy," Max said. "My moving in wouldn't have one positive benefit for you two."
Morgan blinked against the moisture that came to her eyes and the catch that entered her breathing whenever she pondered Dante's love. "Yes, it would," she told her sister. "If you were there, I would have cover."
"Cover?"
Nodding, Morgan paced in front of the bench where Max sat. "As it is, I have to be so incredibly careful not to be seen. If you were here and someone saw me, they would just assume it was you. I could go out in public again, once in a while. Go to a movie, or go shopping." She stopped pacing, crouched down in front of Max and clasped her hands. "On top of that, if the place is occupied by my surviving family, strangers won't come snooping around."
"People have been snooping?" Max asked, looking concerned.
Morgan nodded. "Yes, every now and then. Curious fans, local kids. Hey, I'm famous. I won an award, you know."
Max smiled. "Yeah, I heard that somewhere."
"So?"
Max thought about it for a long moment. "It really would make a great place for the business. But, um, well, Stormy is my partner. She would have to come, too."
Morgan nodded slowly. She had only observed the blonde from a distance, but there was something oddly familiar about her. "Does she know about me?"
"I haven't told her," Max said. "But I think she suspects. And I do trust her. You know, she's convinced that she met you while she was in the coma. She goes on and on about how you led her back to the land of the living again. There's no telling her it was just a dream. So she feels she owes you. You can trust her not to betray your secret."
Morgan smiled just slightly as the memory that had been eluding her finally clicked into place. She had met her sister's best friend before-in a dream, when she was hovering between life and death in that hospital. Or... maybe it hadn't been a dream at all.
"And of course there's Lou. I have to consider him," Max went on.
"Do you think he'll agree to move up here? To work with you?"
Max shrugged. "I think I've got my work cut out for me to convince him to give it a try. But he was talking about a little cabin on the beach, and a fishing boat. He retires from the force soon, you know."
"Then what's stopping you, Max? Come on. Do it." She clasped her sister's hand. "I miss you. If you were here, we could have more time to make up for all the years we missed."
Max licked her lips. "If you're sure you want us here."
"You're my sister," Morgan said, smiling now, knowing Max would agree. "You know I want you here."
Finally Max nodded. "Okay. I'm here then. The Supernatural Investigations Service shall be based in Easton, Maine."
"SIS," Morgan said, with a slight nod. "I like it."
"I kind of thought you would."
Arm in arm, they rose from the bench and walked back to join the men at the grave. Morgan curled herself into Dante's arms, and he held her gently, lovingly. "It'll be dawn soon, love," he told her.
"I know." She smiled at her sister and the man who stood at Max's side, looking uncomfortable. "I'll see you soon?"
"Very soon," Max promised.
Morgan and Dante turned, moving into the shadows.
"You know, she's happier now than she has been her whole life," Max said, watching them walk out of sight. "She's so lucky."
"How's that?" Lou asked. He started toward the car, and Max fell into step beside him.
She shrugged. "Isn't it obvious? They're soulmates. Madly, wildly, eternally in love. I can't imagine how gratifying it would be to have a man love me the way Dante loves Morgan. It's pretty special, what they have together."
"I guess you're right," Lou said, sliding a casual arm around Max as they walked along the path toward the parking area. "Some folks go through their whole lives without finding that kind of thing."
"Yeah. And some have it right under their noses and refuse to see it."
"You think?" he asked, glancing down at her.
Max rolled her eyes, shook her head. "Yeah," she said. "I think."
Lou shrugged and kept on walking.
From the darkest shadows, Sarafina watched Dante talking and laughing with the mortals, finally leaving them with his lover held tightly in his arms.
"I'll love you forever," he whispered to Morgan. "I think, in some way, I already have."
"We were meant for each other, Dante. You know that now, don't you?"
"I've always known it on some level. The first time you said it, I got a chill." Gently, he kissed her. "I'm sorry it took me so long."
She smiled and kissed him back. "Just don't let it happen again." Then she danced away from him, her eyes sparkling with life and love. "Race you back to the house!" And, whirling, she laughed and ran off, nearly as rapidly as Sarafina herself could have moved.
Dante raced after her, never looking back.
So this was what he wanted. He had a new family now. He had turned his back on her. Dante-the last remaining link to her own family, her heritage, her blood.
Damn him.
He had betrayed her. Just as surely as every other member of her family had betrayed her.
It didn't matter, she thought, as she walked into the open and sat on the ground in a pool of spilled moonlight. She was a vampiress. She did not need a family. She didn't need anyone at all. And she never would.
No. Not ever again.