Vince prowled the confines of the room he had rented, his agitation growing with every passing minute as he waited for darkness to shroud the land. Cat sat on the windowsill, regarding him through unblinking yellow eyes.
For the last hour, Vince had tried to summon Cara’s image and come up empty. The fact that he couldn’t find her, couldn’t sense her, filled him with quiet terror. Did it mean she was too far away? Unconscious? Or…he refused to consider the possibility that something had happened to her. And yet what other reason could there be?
It was not yet sunset when Vince left the house. The last rays of the sun singed his skin, but he paid no heed to the pain as he traveled with preternatural speed toward the DeLongpre’s house.
Brenna answered the door, her welcoming smile fading when she saw the stark expression on his face. “Vince, is something wrong?”
“Where’s Cara?”
“I don’t know. I thought she was with you.”
“Me? No. What gave you that idea?”
“She left me a note saying she was going to see you.”
“How long ago was that?”
“I don’t know. I just found it a few minutes ago.”
Vince muttered an oath. Why was it that every time he left the girl, she got into trouble?
“She must be all right,” Brenna said. “I mean, Frank’s with her. If something was wrong, he would have called unless…”
“Unless he couldn’t,” Vince said flatly.
“We’ve got to find her,” Brenna said.
“Let’s go,” Vince said. “We’ll start at the garage.”
It took them only moments to travel across town and ascertain that Cara wasn’t there. The garage was closed; there was no sign of Di Giorgio or Cara, no sign that there had been foul play.
“Maybe she’s gone to her house,” Brenna suggested.
A thought took them there. “She’s here!” Brenna said. “Look, there’s Frank’s car.”
Brenna ran up the stairs and into the house, with Vince on her heels.
“Cara?” Brenna called. “Cara, where are you?”
A quick search of the house turned up nothing, but she had been there. Vince was certain of it. Where could she be? Cursing softly, he went out the back door.
He found Di Giorgio’s body wedged in a corner behind the shed and the back fence. The man’s neck was broken.
Coming up behind Vince, Brenna murmured, “Oh, no.” A single blood-red tear slid down her cheek. “Poor Frank.” She clenched her hands at her sides. “I wish Roshan was here.”
“Where is he?”
“Gone to ground,” she said.
Vince nodded. It was what he had expected. “What do you want me to do with the body?”
Brenna shook her head. “I don’t know. We should probably report this to the police.”
“Later,” Vince said tersely. Di Giorgio was dead. Nothing could be done for him now. “Let’s take him inside,” he said, picking up the body. “You can worry about notifying the police after we find Cara.”
Brenna followed him into the house. While she went looking for something to cover Frank, Vince carried the body into the laundry room and laid it on the floor.
“Where do we look now?” Brenna asked, covering Di Giorgio with a sheet.
“Damned if I know.” Vince closed his eyes, his preternatural senses expanding, searching. Cara? Cara, dammit, darlin’, where are you?
He was about to admit defeat when his blood stirred and he felt the latent connection between himself and Cara shimmer to life.
Brenna laid her hand on his arm. “Vince, what is it?”
“Wait!” He gathered his power around him and felt the connection grow stronger as every fiber of his being reached out to Cara.
“Vince, we’re wasting time.”
“Come on,” he said, and headed for the door.
“Where are we going?” Brenna asked, hurrying after him.
“I don’t know, but Cara’s there.”
So saying, he set off down the street, not stopping until he came to a house set on a hill.
“There,” he said. “Cara’s in there.”
Brenna felt a chill skitter down her spine as she stared up at the house that had once belonged to Anthony Loken, the inside of which she had hoped never to see again. A quick mélange of images flashed through her mind: Anthony Loken standing over her, a demonic smile on his face as he cut a gash in her arm, his eyes glittering with madness as he and Myra watched the wound heal; the look of surprise on Myra’s face when Loken killed her; the sight of Myra’s body sprawled on the floor like a pile of dirty laundry. So much misery and death, Brenna thought, and all because Anthony Loken had thought he’d created an elixir that would allow him to live forever and he didn’t want to share it.
“I’m going in,” Vince said.
“And I’m coming with you.”
With a nod, Vince moved toward the fence. He took hold of two of the iron bars, widening the space between them. He ducked inside, with Brenna on his heels. Moments later, they reached the front door.
Brenna glanced around. There were a couple of old newspapers scattered on the front porch.
The door was locked, of course. Vince swore impatiently. The lock was no problem, but the threshold was. He glanced over his shoulder at Brenna. “Now what?”
“I’ve been here before,” she said. “Maybe I don’t need an invitation.”
Then again, maybe she did, since the house had changed owners. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to try. A bit of vampire magic unlocked the door. It swung open on well-oiled hinges. “There’s something dead in there,” Vince muttered.
Brenna nodded. “And it’s been dead for a day or so. Come on.”
She crossed the threshold without any trouble. Whatever power it had once held had been negated; by what, she didn’t know.
Vince followed her inside, surprised that he felt no shimmer of power as he entered the house. Inside, the stench of death was stronger.
Vince moved through the dark house, as unerring as a cat, the scent of Cara’s blood like a road map to his vampire senses.
The trail led to a door which led to a set of steps. Wary now, Vince moved silently down the stairway into the basement. Something unnatural stirred in the air, a leftover vestige of magical power.
He moved deeper into the basement, a low growl rising in his throat as he rounded a collection of old furniture and boxes and came face to face with the creature, but it was Cara who held his attention. She was huddled on the cement floor at the creature’s feet, her eyes wide with fear as she stared up at it. Oblivious to anything else, it reached for Cara’s neck, its hand closing around her throat.