I glanced at Aiden, hoping he, at least, would see sense. “This really isn’t a good idea.”
“No, and it’s therefore probably better if you remain here.” He glanced down at the shoe, his expression giving little away. “We just need you to give us a general idea of location, and we’ll—”
“What?” I cut in, tension giving my tone a harsh edge. “Detect and undo any spells he might have laid out?”
“Well, no—”
“I appreciate the concern, Aiden, but we both know I have no choice but to join the hunt.”
“Agreed.” Hart picked up the shoe and held it toward me. “So let’s stop arguing and get this fucking show on the road.”
Aiden pulled a pair of silicon gloves from the rear pocket of his jeans and handed them to me. I gave him a quick, tense smile and put them on.
Only then did I touch the shoe. The vibes that had poured from the bloodstone had been bad enough, but this… this was hell itself come to life. If there had ever been any good in our vampire, then it was long gone. His heart had died when Frieda had, and in its place a festering evil had slowly grown, until it had utterly consumed him.
The leather was so stained with his decay that even with the protection of the gloves, it burned my fingertips. It took every ounce of control I had not to throw it as far away from me as I could, and then scrub its touch from my skin. I took a deep, slow breath that failed to calm my nerves, and then cracked open the door to my psychic self.
Life beat within the cloud of foulness—a rhythm that spoke of slumber.
“Anything?” Blume asked.
I jumped slightly. “He’s sleeping.”
“You can tell that through just a touch?” Hart said.
“Yes. That doesn’t mean there aren’t traps, however.”
“No, but again, it’s a risk we’ll have to take.” Hart glanced across to his partner. “You remain here, just in case we need rescuing.”
Blume nodded, though he didn’t look all that happy to be missing out on the action. “Hang on while I check the tracker signal.”
He walked across the room, picked up what looked to be a small remote, and fiddled with it. After a couple of seconds, it began to emit a soft beeping.
“Right,” Hart said. “Let’s go. You can drive, O’Connor.”
Aiden didn’t reply. He simply plucked the shoe from my fingertips then led the way out to his truck. After placing the wingtip on the console between the front seats, he said, “What direction?”
I hesitated as Blume settled into the rear s
eat, and then carefully brushed my gloved fingers across shoe’s shiny toe. This time it wasn’t just waves of decay that hit, but images—a dirt road, thick trees, an old cabin. One black-and-white wingtip shoe waiting patiently for the return of its brother.
I shivered and pulled my fingers away. “Head toward Argyle.”
Aiden immediately swung the truck around and planted his foot. I touched the shoe again as we left Castle Rock and guided him. All too soon we left the main road and were once again driving along a dirt track heading deep in the heart of thick scrub.
It was the same dirt road the shoe had shown me.
When the road petered out and became little more than a goat track, Aiden stopped and leaned his arms on the steering wheel as he studied the ground ahead. “Rushdown Settlement is about two kilometers down that track, but it’s a rather odd place for our vampire to be hiding out.”
“Why?” Hart asked. “This area isn’t exactly a major draw for tourists.”
“No, but it is now an overnight stopping point for hikers. There’s too big a risk of discovery if he bunked down here.”
“Not if he’s got daytime guards,” Hart said, as he climbed out. “Or simply fed on the hikers and then chucked their bodies down one of the many mine shafts.”
“I think even we would have noticed a sudden increase in the number of missing hikers.” Aiden’s quick glance at Hart verged on the edge of scathing, even if it wasn’t evident in his voice.
I climbed out and joined the two men at the front of the truck. Though the eucalyptus-scented air was free of the trace of evil, trepidation pulsed through me nevertheless. The vampire might not be close, but something was.