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The newest hole—barely large enough for Michael and DB to squeeze through—folded to a close near where they’d left the suitcases. Vivian froze, her body rigid, her nose identifying an odor other than the odor of singed clothing. Her eyes panned from side to side as she searched for an unseen threat. Through a door to the mall corridor, Cary Grant had discovered an eye-popping spectacle in a window seat on a television screen. The appliance store had resorted to volume rather than color to draw customers.
“What’s the matter?” Michael asked.
“Something’s wrong,” she said, rubbing her arms to fight her rising gooseflesh. “Don’t you feel it?” Her ears twitched as if she expected to pick up an answer through echolocation, and Michael found himself not moving, half expecting her to hear what she sought in the quiet evening of the mall.
Crystal, whose hands rested heavily on her knees, looked up from the floor. “Are you talking to me?”
“No, but we should be,” her sister said. “Are you all right? You look ready to collapse.”
Crystal waved Harmony off and stood up with apparent effort. “I’ll be fine. Vivian, what’s the matter?”
Vivian pointed to the door at the other end, the crumpled bar between the double doors leading to the asphalt outside the mall. In a surge of adrenaline, she bolted toward the door, noting as she ran past the shattered glass down the adjoining corridor.
“Luke!” she screamed. “Megan!”
Michael unclipped his phone from his waist and punched buttons nearly as fast as his legs traversed the tile. Harmony and Crystal branched off down the glass-peppered hall.
Vivian crossed the threshold. Three large, green dumpsters smelling of food court refuse stood alongside the building. In the distance, she could see parked cars and a couple of mall employees who’d stepped out for a cigarette. They regarded her with curiosity, but didn’t acknowledge her.
There was no trace of Lukas or Megan.
Michael hung up his phone and slapped it back on his clip. “Lukas!” he bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth for amplification. He and Vivian fell silent, as did a bird in a tree across the lot. The hush that settled, although not complete, left the atmosphere heavy, eerie, like rain patter on the roof in the wake of a tornado. All she heard was the sound of cars racing by on the nearby road—no footsteps, no voices to break up the white noise of tires on concrete.
Harmony and Crystal met them outside.
“Anything?” Michael asked.
Harmony shook her head. “The room with the soda machine—the door was blown out from the inside. Glass everywhere. No signs of struggle, though—I mean, other than the glass. I suppose it could’ve been a couple of juvenile delinquents, but I’m thinking not.”
Vivian’s eyes flickered to a folded silver telephone on the ground a few paces away. She trotted over, picked it up, and brought it back to where the others stood. Opening it, she turned on the power. A chirpy tune welcomed them to the wireless provider and a photo of Lukas, grinning, was on the display screen.
“Megan’s phone,” Michael breathed, taking it from Vivian’s hand like a holy relic.
Vivian flipped open her phone as well and checked for messages. The screen was blank.
“They’ve found us,” Vivian said. “We’ve got to go.”
“But Lukas—”
“He’s gone, Michael,” Vivian said. “He’s gone, and if we’re going to find him, we’ve got to figure out how and where.”
Michael smacked himself on the forehead. “That damn credit card. We shouldn’t have left them behind. It brought them right to us. We knew it might but damn... that was fast.”
Crystal breathed heavily and eyed the two employees grinding their cigarettes under their heels. Flexing her finger and gearing up for another tear, she asked, “Where are we going?”
Vivian opened her mouth, prepared to admit she didn’t know, when an insight hit her like a quick fist to the back of her skull. “Doyle!”
Michael’s eyebrows shot up in confusion. “Doyle? What about him? Does he know where to find them, you think?”
Vivian wanted to sob, laugh, crumple up in despair, and dance all at once. Lukas and Megan were gone, but Doyle was theirs. “He’s defected. I can sense him now! We still have time to save the vampires in Savannah but he needs our help.”
“Damn it! We just left there!” Crystal said. Wagging her head, she puffed her chest out and stuck out her chin and her trembling finger. “Allow me.”
Vivian held her hands out and placed them on Crystal’s temples. “First, allow me.”
––––––––
KRIEG’S GRIP WAS POWERFUL and secure, painfully so, and Megan had no fear he’d drop her—not by accident, anyway. He hadn’t tracked them to Virginia for pleasure, and he had no plans to lose his precious cargo. She feared she knew where they were heading. Krieg had been Jude’s henchman recently; it stood to reason he was Charles’ creature now.
Too frightened to fight, too angry to converse, and too far across the width of Krieg’s body to exchange eye contact with Lukas, she focused on the scenery that passed under them at speeds that made her glad she was hard to kill. Lots of woodlands, farms, ponds, and man-made lakes. Subdivisions. She suspected Krieg soared at the proper height to avoid detection by radar or human eye, and he often changed course to avoid flying directly over towns. Anyone below with a decent telescope or binoculars would be in for a shock if they focused on the blurry speck rocketing past, but that chance grew smaller as night fell.
“Ever been shot at?” she asked.
“Only once,” Krieg replied. “Some podunk farmer in Alabama thought I was a duck.”
She managed a half-laugh and wished she could reverse time and improve the poor sap’s aim.
After only a few minutes, Krieg’s firm grip on her ribs made them ache, and her arm throbbed. The scenery became blurry and repetitive and harder to make out in the dark. Soon her sides grew blissfully numb, and she almost felt ready to doze. The air at their elevation was chilly, and although she sensed the cold, it didn’t adversely affect her undead body.
Megan’s ears began ringing. I’m the living dead. I can’t have tinnitus. What—?
Then she knew. The last time her ears had sensed this was when Shepherd had put out a psychic All-Points Bulletin on Vivian. Every wicked vampire across the globe received it like a burst of telepathic radio. Although not evil by nature, she and Lukas were close enough in blood that they’d sensed the message. Could she pick up a mental conversation between Krieg and Charles Dunning?
Krieg fine-tuned his flight pattern slightly and began his descent. The landscape grew clearer, the details more defined, the closer they drew to the earth. Now she saw spots of the ground between the trees, the smallest limbs, and what looked like a gigantic bird’s nest. Below them, a two-lane highway cut through the forest, then emerged before a familiar bridge that spanned a wide river. Megan watched in amazement as the city of Savannah came into view.
What in the hell are we doing back here?
Krieg coasted until he hovered near the airport, and fear clenched her body like a vise. The last time she’d been here, she and Lukas had hidden safely inside while war waged in a nearby field until Gina had summoned Lukas away. Megan had nearly lost her sire that night, the man whom she’d recently met, but intuitively trusted and cared for.
The lights from the dual runways came into clear view, and soon, Krieg aimed his feet at the tarmac. A white limousine, its engine idling, waited near a small plane. Megan realized who rode in the rear of that machine, and she crazily wished that the door to that vehicle would never open.
Krieg alighted on the ground, and air whooshed into Megan’s lungs as he dropped her and Lukas on the broken concrete. She landed painfully on her feet, twisted her ankle, and broke her fall with her hands. Concrete and gravel cut a painful rash into her palms and fingers, and as the smell of her blood hit her nostrils, powerful emotions stirred in her: anger, hunger, fear.
Beside her, Lukas rose slowly to his feet. He, too, seemed to suffer the effects of the trip; the knowledge lightened her concern for her wounds. He gripped his side with a grimace, and she wondered if Krieg had broken his ribs in his effort to hold her massive boyfriend in place. How long until he healed? A day, maybe? How long until his body recovered and he was ready to escape? She wouldn’t leave without him. If it meant she died, she’d die, but she would never leave Lukas alone with Charles.
She willed herself to stand, but her ankle felt as if she might have broken it—it’d take at least a day to heal, and that only if she fed. Her depression and helplessness sank into every pore. No doubt Charles’ presence had a lot to do with that.
Her eyes met Lukas’s, and she saw the same despair in his eyes, the same sad effort at courage, given their circumstances. Physically, he was stronger than she; emotionally, he was the more fragile one, and she wished she had the power to whisk them away from all of this.
Even if I could run, where would I go? Charles can find me if he wants to. I can’t fly, and if I could, he’s got Krieg!
She thought about the story Lukas shared about when he and Gina had dropped in on Jude. Gina had told Lukas to concentrate on anything other than the facts Jude sought to uncover to avoid having their minds read. Come to find out, Jude didn’t need them to find out what he needed at all—he’d invited them over for an evening of entertainment. That night, Gina had her throat torn out and became Shepherd’s slave, and Lukas barely escaped with his life.
The door to the limousine opened and a leg extended from within. Polished black shoes reflected the overhead lights, tailored gray slacks with a sharp crease. A handsome middle-aged vampire unfolded from behind the door. Oval face, thick, arched eyebrows, and an unworried paternal expression.
The fucker’s as calm as Hannibal Lecter.
Her every impulse screamed at her to flee, but if she did, Charles would kill her. She held no more value to him than a penny.
That can’t be true. If it is, why bother kidnapping us?
Charles had a plan, one that required Megan and Lukas to live long enough for him to get what he wanted—
Vivian.
Of course. The Source protected her—his ability to track or sense her was nonexistent. With them as hostages, she’d draw close to Charles to save her family. As long as they lived, Vivian’s need to protect them made it inevitable that she’d come to save them.
Once she arrived, she and Lukas would be used bait, free for cutting.
Or killing.
Oh, God. Not Lukas. Please, not Lukas!
