Pay no attention. Keep moving. This is for Sylvius. “Constance.”
She gasped, wheeling. Then she recognized him. Lore!
“Where the bloody hell did you come from? What are you doing here?” she asked, every hair on her body tingling with shock. “I thought you’d gone. Escaped. You and your whole pack.”
It was all she could do not to slap him for scaring her clear to her second death.
It had been a year since she had seen Sylvius’s childhood friend, but Lore looked the same. His dark hair was still long and shaggy, his face still gypsy-dark, the prominent bones giving him the same rough-hewn look as all the hellhounds. The young alpha looked fit and healthy, his slim, tightly muscled body moving with vigor. His clothes were different, cleaner and better mended than she remembered.
He leaned against the wall, bending his tall frame so he could see her face. “Why are you waiting by the door, Grandmother?”
She grimaced at the name. It was a title of extreme respect, one he knew she hated. At her disgusted expression, a rare grin split his long face. Hellhounds, like any dog, were not above teasing those they liked.
“How did you get back in here?” She dropped her voice to a whisper, just in case.
“When we escaped the Castle, we regained our magic.” He spoke slowly, his words slightly accented. The hounds had their own tongue, and rarely spoke with other species. “One of those talents is unlocking doors. As long as I do not stay long enough for the Castle’s magic to affect my powers, I can come and go.”
“Why by Saint Margaret’s toenails would you want to come back?”
He gave her a long look, the torchlight deepening the hollows in his face.
She folded her arms, hugging herself. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
One never asked a hellhound too many questions. Unlike almost every other species in creation, they could not lie. It was even hard for them to evade a direct question.
“I don’t like standing here in the open,” she added.
He cupped her elbow and drew her around the corner and into the shadows. “You should not have asked me why I’m here.”
She wasn’t in the mood for more guilt. “I can keep your secret.”
“Atreus—”
“Atreus is losing his mind. He grows worse each day, each hour.”
Lore’s face grew tense. “Even so—”
“Bloody hell, Lore, you know me. You were like Sylvius’s big brother.”
He licked his lips. She could see the moment he decided to trust her. “Most of my pack escaped, but some were left behind. They are slaves or soldiers for the warlords and sorcerers. One by one, I’ve been bartering for their freedom.”
“Bartering?”
“You wear oil of roses. Where do you think it comes from?”
“Josef gave it to me before he left.”
“And where did he get it?”
Constance blinked, putting the pieces together. Doors. Keys. “It came from the outside world.”
“Like others before me, I’ve discovered the Castle residents have a taste for luxury goods.”
“Smuggling!”
Lore gave a low laugh. “Clothes and books and tobacco. Goods are cheap and plentiful out there.” He nodded toward the door. “So far, I’ve traded for a half dozen of my people. Shoes are popular. Cross-trainers.”
Cross what? “And no one sees you come and go?”
“Bribery works. It is more the outside of the Castle that is a problem.”
“Why?”
“Naturally enough, not everyone wants those in the Castle to escape, but I’ve arranged it so that my hounds guard the door. At certain times they leave. They can honestly say they haven’t seen me go in with gifts and come out with another hound.” He gave a sardonic smile. “It seems we are compelled to tell the truth in the outside world, the same as we must here.”
Constance hugged herself, considering what he’d said, and what she needed. “Lore,” she said, picking her words carefully. “Something has happened.”
He put his big hands on her shoulders, solid and comforting. “What?”
“The guardsmen have taken Sylvius.”
Shock blanched the hellhound’s face. He swore, spitting something in the hounds’ own tongue. Not sparing a single detail, Constance told him what had happened. Lore crouched to the floor, as if her news had robbed him of the strength to stand.
Constance knelt beside him. “I need your help.”
Lore closed his eyes. “Constance, no one can help Sylvius now. I wouldn’t pit my whole pack against Reynard and his men. They’re as strong as the most powerful demons.”
“I don’t need your hounds. I’ll do this myself. I just need your help leaving the Castle. Show me what to do when I get to the outside world. I’m sure it’s changed since I saw it last.”
Lore didn’t answer.
Constance searched his face. “Will you take me with you when you go?”
He looked away. “No.”
For a moment, she didn’t comprehend his words. It was the opposite of what her ears wanted to hear. She stared at him, astonished. “Why not? It’s such a little thing. A tiny favor!”
He shook his head. She gripped his arm until he turned back to her. “Why not?” He stood, backing away.
She rose as well, refusing to let him avoid her. “Tell me.”
He made a frustrated gesture. “Right now, you’re still as much a human as a vampire. Would you throw that away?”
“If I have to.”
His eyes grew dark with sorrow. “Didn’t you say that you were captured as soon as you rose from the grave? That you never fed?”
“Yes. That’s why I’m so weak.”
“Did none of the other vampires talk to you about this?”
Constance flinched. “I’m not one of them. They call me a mistake and won’t have anything to do with me. You know that.”
Lore hung onto the words a long moment, but he finally, reluctantly let them go. “If you cross the threshold, the bloodlust will overtake you. There’re humans everywhere out there.”
Constance shrugged, doing her best not to picture the moment. “So I will feed. That’s what vampires do, isn’t it?”
“The newly Turned don’t simply feed. They kill. They go mad with hunger. I’ve seen it. You’ll attack someone. You’ll tear them to shreds.”
“No.” Shaking her head, Constance struck him in the chest. The blow thumped, making Lore stagger back. “No, I won’t. You don’t understand. I have to get out.”
“You’ll be executed if you leave!”
“It’s not fair. I shouldn’t be a prisoner. I haven’t done anything wrong! I’m not a monster!”
But hadn’t becoming a monster been her plan? Constance trembled, angry and confused.
Lore took her hands in his. “It’s against the law to harm a human. The punishment is death. And that doesn’t even touch on how you will feel about what you’ve done.”
“You mean I’m trapped in here forever?”
“Could you kill someone? Not a guardsman. Not some-one intent on doing you harm. Just an ordinary person living their ordinary life. Could you do it?”
Doubt pooled in her gut. “I never thought I would kill them. I thought I would simply take some of their blood.”
“You’re such an innocent, Constance. And Atreus kept you that way. That was both good and bad.”
“I’m on my own now. I have to learn to fight for myself. I need to finish Turning.”
“Your life has been blameless, Constance. Would you give that up? The cost of power is always more than we expect. We pay with what’s closest to our hearts.”
She paused, turning over his words. “But I’m trying to save the one I love most.”
“Be careful how you bargain with destiny. You risk destroying the good it brings.”
“Spare me your cryptic hellhound prophecies!”
“It’s not a prophecy. It’s truth.”
“Freedom costs.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I barter for my people every chance I get. Someday I’ll pay with my life.”
Constance sank to the floor, sitting down before her legs gave out. She felt suddenly hollow, an eggshell with nothing inside.
Freedom cost. Hope came at a high price, too. She was really tired of being poor.
Chapter 9
October 2, 7:30 am 101.5 FM
“Good morning, Fairview, this is—uh—CSUP, the super supernatural station on campus. Welcome to the morning show, brought to you by the Fairview Interspecies Cultural Association, proud sponsor of the new Fairview University and Community College Pan-Species Studies Department.
“Our regular host is off this morning, so this is, um, Dr. Perry Baker, your friendly resident computer professor. Is your laptop possessed? Eating your homework? Sending socially awkward e-mails? Give me a call, and I’ll give you a diagnosis. I might even give you deniability. But first, a tune from my personal local fave songstress, Lupa Moon... Hmm, okay, how was that, Dave? Am I talking too fast?”
“Turn the mic off, Perry.”
The next morning brought cloudy October skies and a wind that smelled of frost. The atmosphere reminded Mac of endless hours spent doing sports drills before school— football, rugby, and whatever other team that would have him. Hockey outdoors if there was ice, after school on the streets if there wasn’t. The memories of cold mud and bruises were sharp and precious. They gave the part of him that was still wholly human a source of strength.
Maybe that connection to his old self was what made it so easy to fall back into a man-with-a-plan routine. He had investigating to do, and he knew where he was going to begin.
As he got dressed, he looked inside the gun locker he kept in the closet. He’d had to surrender his police weapon, but his 9 mm Sig Sauer P229 semiautomatic was in good working order. He had plenty of clips of ammunition. Good to know. He’d never been the kind of cop who relied on firepower to solve his problems, but times they were a-changing. He wasn’t going to need it in broad daylight when sword-toting vamps were safely in bed, but come sundown he was going armed to the teeth, silver bullets and all. One night of playing tag with Caravelli was enough.
And then it was time to go to work. The moment he took his raincoat out of the closet and slipped his notebook into its roomy pocket, Mac felt like himself again. His chest unknotted with relief, the same sensation as finding a long-lost set of keys.
His good luck held. His search for Holly on the Fairview University and Community College campus lasted less than half an hour. Like many early-morning students, she was walking, head down and eyes half shut, from the bus stop to the library. Mac came out of his lurking position beneath the spreading branches of a cedar tree.
“Hello, Holly.”
She stopped dead in her tracks, turning the color of old cottage cheese. She was scared. “Oh, Goddess, what are you doing here?”
He held up his hands, palms out. “Okay, so I didn’t leave a good impression the last time we met. I’m safe now. I’m on a strict diet of junk food and antacids.”
Frowning, she shifted her overloaded backpack. It looked like she had half the bookstore in there. “How’d you get out of the Castle?”
“I walked out. The maid service sucked.” He stretched out one hand, indicating a nearby bench. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
She didn’t budge, but watched his every twitch. “You walked out, huh? How?”
“Luck and an absence of hellhounds.”
“Goddess, Alessandro’s going to be pissed.”
“Can we talk? Anywhere you like.” He kept standing, hands in the air, like a suspect under arrest.
She looked wary, then interested, and then checked her watch. “Yeah, okay. But this had better be good. And I want to talk someplace where there are lots of people around.”
Mac wasn’t going to argue. He’d have said the same thing. He lowered his hands slowly. “Coffee?”
“Okay.” She turned and headed for the Student Union Building, but kept him a few paces away and within clear view. Her distrust bothered him, but it was no more than he deserved.
There were coffee wagons set up outside, releasing clouds of heavenly scent into the crisp air. Heavy plastic tables and chairs were ranged around them, the garish shades of green and pink almost luminous in the gray light. The outdoor eating area made more sense in the summer, but students seemed to use it all year around. Maybe they needed the cold air to wake up.
Holly kept marching until she joined the line outside the Zap Baby Espresso Bar. Her quick, graceful movements brought other things to mind, like the way she kissed.
And the way Connie kissed. Mac gave himself a mental head slap. When did she become Connie instead of Constance? For a moment he was lost, reliving the moment, the silken softness of her mouth, the wild berry taste of her. She didn’t know Jane Austen. What woman doesn’t know Pride and Prejudice? That’s just unnatural. The campus bookstore should have a copy....
Oh, come on! She tried to bite you, goof Get a grip. No more Babes of Doom.
Mac blinked, rejoining the here and now with a guilty jolt. He was daydreaming about a girl like he was in eighth grade. One with fangs and claws. Yup, he was one sick puppy.
He stood beside Holly. The tension between them felt like solid ice. “How’s classes?”
She flicked her dark ponytail over her shoulder. “Hard. How’d you find me?”
“I was a cop, remember? Everyone knows you’re taking a business degree. The rest was simple deduction.”
“Who’s everyone?”
“Everyone is everyone. You’re a celebrity in the supernatural community after defeating my evil demon mistress in the smack-down of the decade. You sneeze and every vamp, fey, and werewolf wants to talk about it.”
“Oh, great.” Holly winced. The gesture emphasized the dark circles under her eyes. With her softly pointed features and the oversized sweater that hung almost to her knees— probably Caravelli’s—she looked like a sleepy child. “So you listen to celebrity gossip, eh?”
He pointed to the Student Union Building. The CSUP call letters were mounted over a small door to the right, along with a large poster of the Gothed-up werecougar announcer, Errata.
“There’s the radio station. They chatter on-air like it’s the amateur stalker hour. And, you know, there are some bottom-dwellers in some of the motel bars who’ll talk to demon trash like me. If I buy them drinks, that is.”
Holly gave a lopsided smile, showing she was entertained despite herself. “So what do they say?”
“No one can figure out why you’re bothering with school. You’ve got major magic.”
That earned him an eye roll. “I was running my ghost-busting agency into the ground. I didn’t know how to balance the books, or market effectively, and forget anything to do with payroll. Being a witch didn’t make me a businesswoman. Get real. I beat Geneva. So what? It’s not like I won the lottery and can retire. Life goes on.”
By then they were at the front of the line. Mac ordered a plain medium coffee, Holly a latte. They took their cups to a bright green table at the edge of the eating area. A scattering of crumbs on the pavement had attracted a flock of sparrows, and Mac had to walk carefully. They wanted the food more than they feared his feet.
Holly dumped her backpack and sat down. “So what do you want to talk about?”
“The demon thing,” he started, but then stalled. It was going to be hard to put everything into words.
“What about it?”
He caught his breath and plunged in. “After you zapped me, I’ve been eating like a human.”
“How long has it been?”
“I got out of the Castle about six months ago.”
Her brow furrowed in surprise. “You’ve been back here all that time?”
“No.” Mac smiled briefly. “I took a detour.”
The corner of Ho
lly’s mouth turned up. “Is there a punch line to that?”
“Well, I got out of the Castle the first time by sheer accident. There were these New Agers in Sedona trying to summon an angel. They thought they were making a portal into the hereafter. They got me instead, poor bastards.”
Holly gave a startled whoop of laughter.
Mac chuckled. “Anyway, to give them their due, these folks were terrific. I was a wreck, after everything that happened, everything I’d done. They let me stay with them out in the desert—and I mean literally just sit and look at the earth and sky—for as long as it took to put myself back together.”
“So their angel had guardian angels of his own.”
“Yeah, though I never did bond with the whole vegan idea. If that’s heavenly food, I’m not pure enough yet to appreciate it. Anyway, I came back here about a month ago. I’ve been laying low, just picking up the pieces.” He paused. “Quite a few of them are broken beyond repair.”
Holly looked down at her hot pink travel mug, picking at the rubber grip. “You got a raw deal, Mac.”
“Yeah, and it’s going south on me again.” She looked up. “Alessandro said. The demon’s still in you.”
Damn Caravelli. “I have to stop it. I seem to be getting some of those demon-type powers back. And it’s odd. It feels different this time.”
One of the sparrows hopped onto the table, but Holly ignored it. She was staring at Mac. “How do you mean, different?”
“Not too bad. Not painful. Kind of hyped. It started up when I was in the Castle again.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Tell me exactly what happened last night.”
He did. There was no point in leaving anything out. He had no idea which details might be important.
As he talked, the clouds started to thin, allowing a wash of weak sunlight to dapple the trees and buildings. More busloads of students arrived, and the crowds began to increase. The coffee area was getting noisy.
When he finished, Holly set her coffee mug down, a faint smile in her large green eyes. “So do you know anything more about this vampiress?”
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