One Grave at a Time (Night Huntress 6)

Some people, for reasons of genetic anomaly, trauma, or staunch willpower, needed to be bitten before vampire mind control would work, but I couldn't bring myself to bite her on top of everything else. She didn't try to run, so maybe some of what we told her was getting through even though the poor woman jumped at every noise, gaze darting about as if expecting Kramer to pop up and continue his abuse. I could only hope that a few days of being around Francine and Lisa would help bring Sarah back from what seemed to be a near mental breakdown.

Of course, what would really help Sarah and the other women would be for us to manage to stuff their tormentor into that stone-and-mineral trap. Then they could take all the time they needed to heal from the emotional damage he'd inflicted on them. Anger burned through me. Most murderers I'd encountered, while still vile to the bone, only sought to destroy people's bodies, but that wasn't enough for Kramer. He had to crush their minds, hearts, and spirits, too.

Spade descended from the night's canvass, and Sarah reared back, the scent of fear exploding out of her pores. Guess seeing another person drop out of the sky was too much for her right now. I held on to her, murmuring that he was a friend, and she'd be safe with him. Only when I told her that he'd take her to Francine and Lisa did she calm down enough to stop trying to pull away. I'd told her about the other two women Kramer had set his sights on, and how they were safe. Words were nice, but seeing them for herself would do more to prove to her badly wounded psyche that Kramer wasn't the all-powerful punisher he'd made himself out to be than any reassurances I could give her.

Bones walked over to his friend with a last pitying glance her way, taking Spade off to the side to warn him about her fragile mental state, I assumed. After a minute of hushed conversation, they came back. The other vampire held out a bundle to her that I gratefully recognized was a coat. Bones and I left so fast to retrieve her, we hadn't thought to grab our own coats, let alone bring an extra one for her.

"Sarah, this is my very good mate, Spade," Bones said, calling him by his chosen name instead of the one he normally used. "He'll take excellent care of you."

She took the coat but then edged closer to me. "He? Aren't you coming, too?"

Her dark topaz gaze was pleading, fragmented thoughts revealing that she didn't want to go without me. It might be because I was another woman, and that made me feel safer to her, or because Spade looked rather imposing with his great height and black coat surrounding him. Our proximity to the river even had his shoulder-length hair blowing dramatically around his face, adding to the effect, but in addition to being trustworthy, Spade also had a deep chivalrous streak.

"I can't come now, but I'll see you soon," I promised her, exchanging a glance with Bones. Real soon, considering we'd deliver the trap to Spade's in the next couple days, then wait for my inner signal to lead Kramer right to us.

Wait until Sarah found that out. Then she'd be extra, extra nervous.

Or maybe we'd be lucky, and she'd know who the accomplice was. Two out of three women had fit the same pattern before Kramer started attacking them, and I was betting Sarah wouldn't be the exception.

"Sarah, you had a cat recently, didn't you?" I asked her. "One who died? Do you happen to know how it happened, or who did it?"

Her thoughts seized with that question, making it hard to pick out the coherent ones from their less stable, scattered counterparts. I caught words like "hung" and "break in," though, confirming my belief. Francine's and Lisa's cats had been hung, too, their little bodies left on display. Step one in the beginning of Kramer's reign of torment.

"Do you know who did it?" I pressed.

She shook her head, getting so visibly upset that Bones nudged me. "Let her get settled first, Kitten," he murmured. "She'll be better able to answer questions with Denise and the others."

He was right. This was too soon, and it was a long shot that she'd know who killed her cat, anyway. I gave Sarah a quick hug goodbye, telling her again that this would all be over soon, and she'd be safe.

God, let that be true, I prayed.

Spade held out his arm to Sarah as if he were offering to escort her to a ball. "Please come with me," he said.

She looked at me. I nodded, forcing a smile. "He'll take you to the others, and I'll see you soon."

With obvious reluctance, she took Spade's arm. Spade gave a last nod to me and Bones, then swooped Sarah up and winged her away with all the flair of those old Dracula movies that the real Vlad Tepesh hated. A scream trailed after them, growing fainter, until Sarah's voice was lost to the darkness.

I turned to Bones with a slight smile. "Beam me up, Scotty."

His snort was soft with amusement. "You don't need me for that. You can beam yourself now."

"I know," I said, sliding my arms around him. "But I'd rather fly like this."

His arms circled me, strong, hard, and infinitely blissful. "So would I, Kitten."

Much later, I heard the distinct rustle of boards on the porch that said someone was out there. Had to be Kramer. I stayed seated on the family room floor with my back propped against the wall and debated ignoring him. If I moved, Bones might wake up, and he'd just fallen asleep. It was my turn to make sure all the sage stayed lit while everyone else slept. Kramer had been known to chuck branches or boards at sage jars to knock them over, trying either to burn us out or extinguish the repelling smoke. Neither was an option we wanted to explore, hence the shifts.

If left up to Bones, he'd split up the watches between himself and Ian, but that wouldn't be fair. My mother couldn't help her weariness as soon as dawn struck, but I could stay awake as well as the men could. All of us slept in the family room, sharing the four mattresses that we'd brought in from the bedrooms. It might not be comfortable-and it sure as hell wasn't romantic-but it was safer. If by chance the watchperson did fall asleep and Kramer managed to sneak past the sage and get in, he wouldn't be able to single out the most vulnerable of us without waking all the rest. Not with the way we slept, clustered around each other.

Another creak of the boards sounded outside, but this time, it was followed by a whisper I couldn't make out. I frowned. That was unusual for Kramer. He normally liked to bash about while stringing curses together as loud as he could squawk. The ghost knew when we slept, too, so he frequently stopped by at dawn for maximum pain in the ass effect. But whispers? It made me curious enough to get up. It might be Fabian or Elisabeth, unable to venture inside because of the sage and trying to be considerate by not waking everyone with a loud greeting.