Chapter 24

Dracula stepped over a body of the fallen, his scowl deepening as he surveyed the damage he’d inflicted amongst the people living in Lakefalls. Death and carnage. Blood and rage. He picked up a small golden crown lying in a pool of red that dripped as he inspected it, smelling it. His daughter had been here, he was sure of it.

He threw the crown aside, the insignificant jewelry clinking as it hit the ground. Now having Willow’s semi-fresh scent, he could follow and find her.

The city was eerily quiet as he glided through the streets. He hadn’t killed everyone, but he had killed enough to make the rest stay quiet, huddling in their hovels. However, if he found his daughter dead, he would come back and finish what he started. He feared for his daughter’s fate. After all, Laurel Covaci was not much younger than Oriel. If she almost burned at the stake, it was possible Willow hadn’t escaped alive. But he kept hoping, for it was all he had.

The trail led him off the beaten path and into the trees. She had run away from some sort of danger. But what?

His question was answered as he entered a small clearing between the trees, her lingering scent growing stronger. There were signs of a skirmish. A little bit of human blood, but not enough to be a grave wound. Plants were flattened, bark scraped off a tree. And a boat oar had splintered nearly in half. She had fought well.

He followed the skirmish with his eyes and came across the remnant of a blood hunter trap, a hiss escaping his mouth. The trap was broken—it had been used. There was no vampire blood. If she’d been killed, it hadn’t been here.

He lifted his head to the skies and unleashed a death-defying screech that pierced the clouds and beyond. It was enough to deafen anyone standing too close, but he didn’t care. He was angry. A blood hunter had captured his Willow. And by now, she could very well be dead.

When the screech died down, his body burst into a thousand small black flakes as he materialized, following her scent, along with another smell—a male scent he assumed to be the blood hunter—out of the clearing and down a trail. He would find his Willow—dead or alive—and when he did, he would rip the blood hunter limb from limb. Even if it was the last thing he ever did.