by Мишель Роуэн
He crossed his arms. "You know, I was thinking Peter was the bad apple in your family, but I think I was wrong. The wordscross andgarden are less help than I'd hoped. I thought there might be a—"
"Cross or a garden?" she finished. "Aren't you afraid of crosses? The whole undead animated corpse thing never goes over with the religious sect very well."
"I'm not undead."
"If you say so."
"Let's go into town and ask around. Maybe somebody can help us."
She stared at him blankly for a moment. Nothing was easy. Officially.
"Fine."
She could have sworn the temperature in the truck had gone down ten degrees when they drove the short distance to the center ofGoodlaw —such as it was—and it wasn't because the air conditioner was turned up. It didn't even work.
Chapter 6
Janie was going to do it, Quinn thought. She was going to tell Lenny to hurt Barkley. Just like that. Just to get her hands on something that she knew nothing about.
Why was he surprised? He'd met his share ofMercs in his career as a hunter. They weren't driven by trying to do the right thing and make the world a better place—which actuallywas Quinn's philosophy back when he hunted vampires. As deluded as it was, he thought he was being the good guy. And sometimes he was. Usually he wasn't.
Mercsdidn't have that same work ethic. Greedy and deceptive and lacking a caring soul, they were driven by one thing and one thing only: money.
Why it bothered him to know that Janie had turned out that way he wasn't sure. Why he wanted to believe that she was different than the rest he didn't know, either. Was it because she was attractive?
He'd met his share of beautiful women in his day. A respectable number of them had even been interested in him. So it took more than a pretty face and a nice body to turn his head.
Besides, he didn't want to get involved with any women any time soon. He'd been burned lately. He'd thought he was in love with a fledgling vampire named Sarah Dearly. When he first met her a couple months ago inToronto , he'd been traveling with his father and a group of other hunters. Despite his attraction to her, the moment he found out that Sarah was a vampire, he'd tried to kill her. A couple of times. Luckily he'd failed. When he'd been turned into a vamp and left for dead, she'd helped him when everyone else turned their backs on him. Sarah was cute, sweet, caring, and all-around wonderful.
But she didn't love him. She was in love with a jackass six-hundred-year-old master vamp named
Thierry who liked to wear black and sulk around in the shadows. Nursing a broken heart and a bruised ego, Quinn had leftToronto at the first opportunity he had—driving Barkley back toArizona .
Only now could he look at the situation objectively and see that she wasn't the right girl for him. His feelings had grown out of gratitude for her help when he was in a bad place. It was all an illusion. At least that's what he had been trying to convince himself of.
After that, he'd sworn no more women. They were a distraction and gave unneeded angst to his already angst-filled life. He'd felt very confident with his decision.
That hadn't even been two weeks ago.
Janie might be cute, but she wasn't sweet or caring like Sarah. One out of three didn't cut it for him. Not anymore.
He'd find the Eye. Then he'd knock her out.
There was no other choice in the matter.
The car rolled into town, which appeared to consist of only one gas station. He drove up to a pump and cranked down his window.
An old woman with coarse gray hair sticking out from under her Arizona Sun Devils baseball cap slowly approached. She didn't even say anything and instead just started to fill up the tank. Then she started back for the station.
Quinn looked at Janie.
"Go get her, big boy," she said.
He snatched Malcolm's letter out of her hand and got out of the car without another word.
He caught up to the woman outside the door of the small station. "Excuse me," he said. "Can you help me?"
"That depends." She looked him up and down. "What needs helping?"
This is going to sound really stupid. "Do the wordsgarden orcross mean anything to you?"
"You doing a crossword puzzle?"
He glanced back at the truck. "We're actually looking for something."
She noticed the paper he held. "There were some people earlier who were doing some scavenger hunt party thing. You a part of that?"
"Yeah. A scavenger hunt. I need to find something here inGoodlaw , and all I have to go by is the clues garden and cross." He grinned at her hopefully.
She grinned back, showing sparkling white dentures in the middle of her leathery, creased face. "I do love scavenger hunts. Used to do them when I was a girl. Lived inPhoenix then. Big sprawling metropolis compared to this good-for-nothing desert." She nodded at the surroundings. "God's abandoned all of us here. Only a bunch of no-good stragglers come toGoodlaw ."
He worked hard to keep the friendly grin on his face. "Well, if you don't like it here, why don't you move back toPhoenix ?"
"I killed a man inPhoenix . Son-of-a-bitch husband. They never found the body, and they never will. Bad luck to go back. Bad luck." She crossed herself and then spat to the side of him.
Okay. "So—" He held on to that grin with all his strength. "Garden or cross? Anything come to you?"
She rubbed her wrinkled face and creased her already lined forehead. "No, can't say as it does."
"Dammit," he swore under his breath. "Malcolm must have been wrong. Or maybe this wasn't a code,
after all. Back to square one."
"Malcolm?" she repeated. "Youain't looking for Malcolm Price, are you?"
His gaze shot up. "What did you say?"
"Malcolm Price. Comes here once a month to pick up his supplies. Got a shack up on Garden Ridge.
Now that I think about it, that might be your garden clue for the scavenger hunt."
"Malcolm," he said again, not believing his own ears. "You've actually seen him?"
"Well, yes, of course. I've got twenty-twenty vision even after all this time."
He'd told Janie that Malcolm was dead, but he didn't tell her how he'd died. The letter arrived eight years ago, shortly after he'd been killed by a clan of vampires who'd been kept in a basement by hunters so long that the hunger had turned them savage.
It had been a closed casket.
He was alive? How was that possible? He felt stunned and suddenly uncertain what to do next.
"Where's Garden Ridge?" he asked hoarsely.
She told him. He left.
When he got back into the car and shifted into drive, Janie eyed him curiously.
"Everything okay?"
He nodded stiffly. "Just fine."
He pulled out of the gas station without realizing that he'd neglected to pay and the gas nozzle was still attached to the truck. Hearing that Malcolm might still be alive—which made no damn sense at all—shocked the hell out of him.
Five miles south, the desert turned greener. The browns of the arid landscape gave way to a patch of lusher foliage. Garden Ridge was a valley area shadowed by two medium-sized hills. The winding gravel road led them to a "road closed" sign.
"Dead end," Janie said. "What did that woman tell you?"
He ignored her and pressed down on the gas to maneuver around the sign and onto the rough path beyond. After a while they came to a very small house shielded by vegetation. It looked run-down,
overgrown, and as if no one had lived there for a hundred years.
Where are you, Malcolm? Quinn thought and felt a churning in his empty stomach.And why have you been in hiding all these years ?
Just as he'd told Janie, the man had been like an uncle to him. Nice and understanding when his father was cold and rigid. He sent the letter. That meant if Malcolm was still alive, he would also be after the
Eye—that is, if he didn't already have it. If he'd found it and made the wish already, then all of thi
s would be for nothing.
It was worth checking out, anyhow. Besides, he had to keep Janie occupied until he had a chance to… incapacitate her.
She scanned the area with a look of distaste. "This place is probably crawling with bugs."
"Shhh."
"What? Isn't it abandoned?" Her eyes narrowed.
"Just be quiet."
She got out her gun.
Quinn held up his hand. "That won't be necessary."
She hesitated and thenreholstered the gun. That thing made him nervous. Very nervous. He'd never liked guns. Way too unpredictable. Not the guns themselves, but the people holding them.
He walked through the overgrown landscape and behind the house. A grime-covered window looked out on the back. Quinn walked cautiously over to it and peered inside, but it was too dirty to see through.
The place felt abandoned.
The woman at the gas station must have been wrong.
Simple as that.
Then he laughed. Just a small sound of disappointment, and he shook his head. What did he expect?
Malcolm to suddenly appear and give him a fatherly hug? Tell him that everything was going to be okay?
What was he doing, anyhow? Coming all this way to find some stupid artifact that was only rumors and speculation. Talk about grasping at straws. And what if he did find it? What if he did make the wish to become human again? What was that going to solve?
It wouldn't change what he'd done. What he was. It didn't change the fact that he was a nobody now, and neither vampire nor human wanted a damn thing to do with him.
He frowned. Maybe he should wish for a full-time therapist. Yeah, that might be something to consider.
"Hey!" Janie called. "Take a look at this."
He turned to give her a dirty look. Hadn't he told her to be quiet? Honestly, the woman was annoying to the sum of a thousand.
She was pointing at the ground.
He sighed and came closer. Beneath the overgrowth and weeds was a two-foot-tall stone cross.
She grinned. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
He looked at her blankly.
She put her hands on her hips. "Start digging."
"With what?"
"You have extra vampire strength. Use your hands."
He eyed the cross. It did fit the clues. There were at Malcolm's alleged home in Garden Ridge at the correct coordinates. There was a cross right in front of him.
He started to dig.
After ten minutes he'd gone down about two feet. He looked up at Janie. "There's nothing down there."
"Keep digging." Then she frowned and pointed down. "Wait. What's that?"
He looked. It was something small that glinted in the sunlight. He reached down and brushed it off and then reached farther down into the dirt to uncover it.
"Is it the Eye?" Janie said breathlessly. "Let me see."
It was a shiny red rock, two inches in diameter. Looked like a ruby, but coated on one side in gold and engraved with a symbol. A circle surrounding a smaller circle.
It was something, but he was certain it wasn't the Eye.
"Dammit. That's not it." Janie crossed her arms. "Well, keep digging."
"That won't do you any good," a voice said from behind them. "The stone is the only thing that's buried there. I know that because I buried it myself hoping that you'd come to find it."
Quinn turned around slowly. He recognized that voice. Even after all of these years.
It was Malcolm. Standing there in the overgrown back yard. Not quite the Malcolm Price he knew before—a well-dressed, well-spoken, well-groomed man with dark hair gray at the temples. No, this version had a long white beard and hair to match, pulled back into a ponytail. Deep creases under his eyes. He wore a dark blue shirt and tan cargo pants.
But his eyes were the same. Those pale green eyes that had never looked at Quinn with cruelty or disappointment. They crinkled as he smiled widely. "I've waited for you a long time, my boy."
So many conflicting emotions ran through Quinn he didn't know where to start. Confusion, happiness, relief, mistrust. Complete and total shock and disbelief, even though he was now looking directly at the man he thought was dead for eight years. Just a small sampling.
He shook his head. "I can't believe this."
"Who are you?" Janie demanded as she backed away a few steps.
Quinn glanced at her. "That's Malcolm."
"I thought you said he was dead."
"That was the impression I wished to give to anyone who might be looking for me." Malcolm looked at her.
"This is a trap." Suspicion edged every word Janie spoke.
She had her gun in her hand again and with the other hand reached for her cell phone.
"Put the phone down, Janie. I told you Malcolm's an old friend of the family." Quinn regarded Malcolm.
"What the hell is going on? You'resupposed to be dead."
He smiled, and deep wrinkles spread out from the corners of his eyes. "I am, aren't I?"
Quinn found that he couldn't help the smile suddenly on his face. He swallowed past the lump of emotion that had suddenly formed in his throat and approached Malcolm cautiously, taking in the sight of him.
They clasped hands. "It's so good to see you. You look like hell, old man."
"But I feel wonderful." Malcolm's smile widened. "Please bring the red stone and come inside."
They followed him into the house, which wasn't as run-down on the inside as it was on the outside.
Clean floors and counters, modern appliances. The open shelving in the kitchen confirmed that Malcolm had enough canned food and bottled water to feed a small army.
"How long have you been here?" Quinn asked as he tried very hard to push past the lingering sense of disbelief he was having.
Malcolm tensed. "Since… since the accident. Or shortly after."
"What accident?" Janie words were clipped, and she eyed the men with mild curiosity. She kept her hand under her jacket, close to her shoulder holster.
"I had a little run-in of the fanged variety. They definitely got me back for what I'd done to them all those years."
Quinn cringed at the memory. He'd mourned the old man for a very long time. Helped to hunt down the vamps who did it. And now to find out it had all been a mistake?
"What happened?" he asked. "Why didn't you contact us? Contactme ?"
Malcolm approached him and patted his cheek with a gnarled hand. "I'm sorry I caused you grief. There are reasons for everything I do, my boy. I hope you can still trust me."
Quinn pressed his lips together, a lump forming in his throat. He swallowed past it. "So you live here now? All of the time?"
"I have Mildred at the gas station to keep me company."
"She's the one who told me where to find you."
The right side of his mouth quirked. "Ah, I doubt that you were looking for me. You were searching for the Eye, weren't you?"
He nodded. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Malcolm everything. Just spit out all of his troubles and woes in a tirade of words. But he stopped himself, glancing briefly at Janie, who was silent as the two of them had their reunion.
"It's been some time since I sent that letter," Malcolm continued.
"Eight years. It's been eight years that you've been gone. My father thought you were dead. You have a burial plot. I thought your body was inside."
"All was essential to my plan." He sighed heavily. "How is Roger, anyhow?"
"He… he's dead."
Malcolm's brow furrowed. "How did it happen?"
Quinn's father had been shot when he'd tried to kill Quinn. But not by him. The man had no mercy, no second thoughts about ending his own son's life when he found out he'd been turned into a vampire. It hadn't been a good end.
"He… he was shot."
Malcolm nodded gravely. "Was that before or after he found out about your little problem?"
Janie sat back and watched them with cool appraisal.
; "What's my little problem?" he asked carefully.
"Your slight case of vampirism."
Quinn had personally witnessed Malcolm slay scores of vamps over the years. He'd learned a lot from the old man. He may have been kind to Quinn growing up—a mentor, a friend, a sounding board—but he showed no mercy when it came to the business of hunting. Quinn immediately felt his adrenaline kick in and hoped this confrontation wouldn't lead to a fight. Not with Malcolm. Any hunter but him.
"How did you know?" he asked.
Malcolm smiled. Wide enough to show off his own set of shiny white fangs.
Quinn stifled a gasp. "What the hell—?"
Malcolm slowly walked to the corner of the kitchen and grabbed a walking cane that rested against the wall right next to a new-model computer. "Internet is expensive here, but I have it. I have managed to stay informed of everything going on in the hunter world. Yes, I knew Roger was dead and how he died.
For his sake, I hope he isn't burning in hell for how he treated those close to him in life. I also know of your recent predicament. I'm sorry I couldn't have been there to help you. It is a difficult time, believe me,
I know."
Quinn couldn't believe his own eyes. "You're a vampire."
Malcolm smiled as if this wasn't information that had just shaken Quinn's entire world. Malcolm was a hunter who'd been turned into a vampire. Just like him. "Yes. We have a great deal in common. When I was attacked, the vampires gave me a choice: I could live or I could die. But by living I would become one of them. I am not proud to say that I made my decision based on fear of the unknown. Fear of death. After it was done, I hid. I knew what my peers would do to me if they found out."
"You could have told me."
He gave Quinn a weary smile. "I fear that you would not have been as understanding of my situation as you are now. Can you honestly say that you wouldn't have hunted me?"
Quinn couldn't answer that, and Malcolm didn't wait for him to. "I had been researching the Eye, with your father, for years and had finally come upon some leads. When I left the world I once knew, I came here in search of it alone. The search led me to the red stone you have in your hand. And it led me to much more than that. I would be honored to share this information with you."
