Himself? From me?
He frowns. Tell me, Anna. What did he say?
Nothing that made sense. He told me I was “the one.” That I had the power. He told me to ask you what that meant. And then he was gone. Avery, is he dead?
Avery moves to Williams, kneels beside the body, presses a hand to his chest. He's not dead.
Then what?
He's in stasis.
Stasis? What does that mean?
Avery passes a hand over his face as if suddenly weary. It happens sometimes with us. A withdrawal from reality. It's a kind of suspended animation. Vampires do it when they're under severe pressure or when they feel death approach. He feared you would kill him.
A shudder passes through me. I feared I would kill him, too. I wanted to. He doesn't know where David is or who has him, and yet, he would have lied if I hadn't taken the information.
I bring my eyes up to meet Avery's. He is watching me closely, a frown still pulling at the corners of his mouth. He knew once you took what you needed, you would be finished with him. He thought you would kill him. This is the way he protected himself.
But I could have killed him anyway.
He took the risk that you had enough humanity left in you to prevent that. He was right, wasn't he?
Was he? I'm not sure.
I turn away from Avery, and Williams. I can't look at either of them.
How long will he be like this?
I feel Avery come close. His hands touch my shoulders. When he speaks, it's a whisper in my ear.
"There's no way of telling. It could be hours. It could be days or weeks."
"What do we do with him then? What do we tell his wife?"
Avery turns me to face him. She will be told the truth. Williams will have prepared her for this possibility. As for the rest of the world, Chief Williams will have suffered a stroke. We have a facility nearby where his needs will be met. He will be well cared for. You did nothing wrong. Now, I must make some telephone calls. Perhaps it would be better if you went upstairs. No one need know you were here.
Reluctantly, I agree. There will be nothing to gain by complicating matters with my presence. The truth will not be known to anyone except Williams's wife, and even then, I'm sure what Avery tells her will be an altered version of what really happened. Again, I owe Avery my life. He always seems to have my best interest at heart.
I trudge up the stairs to my room. I stretch out on the bed, listening as an ambulance arrives, listening as voices drift up and away, listening as Avery recounts a story that is accepted as the truth because of who he is. Eventually, the voices quiet, the sirens move off, and Avery is at my side.
It's over now. You are safe.
But David is not.
Avery sits on the edge of the bed, draws me to him. I'm sorry about David. But Williams was your last hope to find him. You must let it go now.
Despair settles around me like a velvet curtain being drawn, thick and black and shutting out hope. Still, I shake my head, fighting it.
I don't understand this, I tell him. Why was David taken? What sense does it make? I've gone over this a thousand times in my head. If it had been Donaldson or the Revengers, at least there's a connection there. They know I'm a vampire. But David knows nothing about what happened. He isn't a threat to anyone. I can't let it go until I find out what happened to him and why. I won't.
Avery's arms drop away. Aggravation and impatience form a crease in his brow, though he fights to conceal it from his thoughts.
Instead, the tone of his voice is patient and full of understanding.
"What do you think you can do now? You've exhausted all leads. There's no one left to help."
"Then I'll start over. I'll go back to Beso de la Muerte . I'll talk with Donaldson's vampire friends. Maybe I was wrong about him.
Maybe David is there somewhere—"
"Do you really think he'd still be alive if he was?” Avery pushes himself to his feet. “You can't keep doing this. You have to accept that David is lost. You must learn to separate yourself from mortals. It's a lesson best learned at the beginning. It will save you centuries of heartache. One day you will look back at this and realize it was the best thing that could have happened to you."
Avery's agitation is like a knife thrust. He pounds one fist into the other as he paces. “It could have been worse,” he continues.
“Don't you realize it could have been your parents or Max that were taken? This is a warning. You are not like them anymore. You are immortal. You will watch your parents wither and die, and Max will be a vessel to draw from, nothing more. You don't need them anymore, Anna. You don't need anyone—"
But me.
Avery opens his mind and the frenzy of negative feeling is gone. Instead, his thoughts are full of love, overwhelming, complete. He's beside me on the bed, his look a question.
Confusion snarls my thoughts. I start to pull away, but his emotion is so intense, I'm swept along. I'm in his arms and I can't tell where his passion leaves off and mine begins.
I don't fight it. I don't want to. I don't understand what's happening, but he offers me the one thing I seem to find only in his arms—
safety. I let him strip off my clothes, feel his hand sear a path down my abdomen, explore my thighs, move up. My own urgency soon matches his. This is much more than sexual desire and the degree to which I respond stuns me. I find myself calling his name over and over. And more.
Love, intense, relentless as a rip tide permeates my being.
Can he feel it?
Do I want him to?
It's too late to wonder about it now. Imprisoned in a web of arousal, I let desire spiral through me until it soars to a height of passion I have never known before.
Chapter Thirty-Four
It's not until Avery has left my bed that I start to think, something that does not seem possible when he's touching me. Did I let Avery know that I loved him? Did he read it in my thoughts? I don't even know if it's true, but it certainly felt like it at the time. And it certainly drove all other considerations from my head. Important things, like finding David, something I'm not ready to give up on.
If Avery was a witch, I'd think I was under a spell. But Avery is a vampire. We don't cast spells.
Do we?
I'm hovering on that point between consciousness and sleep when a flash of something important jolts me awake. It's something Williams said, something I should ask Avery about. It's that thing about being “the one.” It all got lost in what happened to Williams and in what happened after that.
But I can ask him now.
I throw off the covers and shrug into the robe Avery left for me. He's gone into his own room to shower, and when I knock on his door and there's no answer, I let myself in anyway. I'll wait for him to finish.
But the bathroom door is open and I don't hear the shower running. I pad into the bathroom. Perhaps he's taking a bath. It was only a day or so ago when he walked in on me in the tub. Turn about is certainly fair play.
But the shower is empty and dry, as is the bathtub. Did he go downstairs to get a drink? I start to send out a mental query to determine his whereabouts when I remember it won't work—that pesky white noise. I'll have to find him the old fashioned way.
It's dark and quiet in the house. My vampire night vision allows me to see without turning on lights, and I make my way downstairs and into the living room. The debris from the broken coffee table has been swept away. I suppose Avery took care of that before the ambulance arrived. There's not even a shard of broken glass to hint at the battle that took place here.
A tremble passes through me. I'm not ready to face what I did to Williams, because in spite of what Avery said, I know I'm to blame. Williams was so afraid of me, he willed himself into a state of suspended animation from which he might never recover. I can't understand how such a strong, old soul could be driven to such a thing by a newbie.
But I push the thought out of my head. I need to find Avery. P
erhaps he can make sense out of the riddle Williams spun. I know I can't do it alone.
A search of the library and kitchen yields nothing. Avery is not in any of the downstairs rooms, nor is he on the deck. Puzzled, I start back up the back stairs to the bedroom landing. As I get to the top, it hits me that perhaps Avery has gone to the attic. If he has, am I prepared to intrude? The intensity of his anger is rivaled only by the intensity of his passion. I've evoked both in him today.
I'm unsure what to do. I'm standing in the hall between our bedrooms when I hear it. The sound of a door opening. From inside Avery's room.
But I was just in there. The adjoining bathroom doors were already open and the closets are walk-ins. No doors. Yet I hear the distinct clatter as the tumbles of a lock click into place. Then Avery's footfalls pad across the carpet and the rush of water from the shower floats out across the still night air.
Uncertainty grips me. There's another door somewhere in Avery's room? Where does it go? Why didn't I see it when I was looking around this afternoon?
I feel rooted to the spot, unable to make a decision. After all that's happened today, I don't trust my instincts. One part of me wants to barge right in there and turn the room inside out until I find that secret door. The other, saner part keeps asking why I would do that. After all, this is a vampire's house—an old vampire's house. Perhaps the secret doorway leads to nothing more than a safe room where Avery keeps valuables or money. What right do I have to break into something like that? How would I explain it to the man I was just making love to? A man who has come to my rescue more than once in the last week. A man who can very probably tear my head right off my shoulders if I piss him off again.
So I take the line of least resistance and go on back to my room. After all, Avery is going to the hospital tomorrow morning. I can snoop all I want then.
* * *
Avery wakes me up with a kiss, his fingers busy down there, and once again, I'm swept away. When it's over and rational thought has returned, I ask him about Williams's comments.
He stretches and yawns and smiles down at me. I think you must have been mistaken. I know nothing of anyone “being the one” or “having the power.” It sounds melodramatic to me.
But I shake my head. No. It was in his blood. There was no mistake.
Avery turns away from me, shaking off the covers as he gets to his feet. I have to go. Early rounds.
He leans down and brushes my forehead with his lips. We'll talk more tonight. I want to take you to dinner. Someplace special.
Are you up for that?
I try to read what he has in mind, but nothing comes through. Yes. I'd like that. But we do have to talk. David—
But he brushes the air with his hand, and there's a flicker of annoyance at the corners of his mouth before he smoothes it away. I have to go. I'll send a car for you at eight.
I won't see you until then?
He throws me a secretive look. I have some arrangements to make. I think it will be worth the wait.
And then he's gone, sweeping from the room without a backward glance.
There's a subtle shift in his attitude this morning. A confidence that I am his. He has read it in my thoughts, after all. He has felt it in the way my body responds.
All too true.
Still, I burrow under the covers and wait for him to leave the house.
Chapter Thirty-Five
When I'm sure Avery is gone, when I've watched his car disappear down the driveway from the window opposite my bed, I get up, shower, and pull on jeans and a tee shirt. I hear the housekeeper moving around the kitchen, so I know my time is limited. She'll come up to make the beds when she's through with her downstairs duties.
There is a battle waging inside me. The way I've come to trust Avery feels complete and right. Yet, the need to know all his secrets is overwhelming. I can't explain why. I just know I must.
I tiptoe into his room, lock the door behind me. I let my eyes run over everything—there are bookcases against two walls, a fireplace against another, windows on the fourth. The door into the bath faces the bed. The only logical place for a secret door would be behind those bookcases.
I run my hands over the shelves, peek behind books, drag a chair over so I can climb up and look over the top. Nothing jumps out at me, no outline of a door presents itself.
What now?
I step back and look again. What am I missing?
The doorknob on the outside door jiggles as someone tries it. Then there's a gentle tap.
"This is the maid, Miss. Shall I come back later?"
I blow out an exasperated sigh and cross to let her in. “Sorry,” I say, swinging open the door.
She's not what I expect. She's young, twenties, maybe, and beautiful in an exotic way. Her shiny, black hair hangs straight to her shoulders framing a thin face with huge, dark eyes and a generous mouth. Hispanic-Asian mix, maybe, or Eurasian. She's dressed in jeans and a baggy tee shirt over which hangs a white linen apron. She looks embarrassed at having disturbed me.
I hold out my hand. “My name is Anna Strong. I'm a friend of Avery's.” I smile. “But you knew that, didn't you?"
She returns the handshake timidly. “Dr. Avery said he had a guest. And that I wasn't to disturb you."
"You didn't. Really. I'll leave you to your work Miss—?"
"My name is Dena. And I can come back later."
She's so serious—almost deprecatingly so. Very different from the attitude of most twenty-year-olds. She almost seems afraid of me.
Why?
I wave a hand at her as I pass into the hall. “No. You do what you need to. I'll be downstairs, all right?"
She nods and turns away and it's then I notice two tiny marks on her neck. They are not fresh, but whoever made them, didn't use his vampire power to heal them, either. I touch her shoulder and she jumps.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I was curious, though. How long have you worked for Dr. Avery?"
Dena shrugs and, as if suddenly aware of what I've seen, tugs at the collar of her tee shirt. “Not long. I had an accident several months ago. I was a patient of Dr. Avery's and he was kind enough to offer me this position when I was released from the hospital.
I needed a job. He lets me work in the mornings so I can go to school in the afternoons. He's been a godsend."
But her tone is less than convincing. And as she speaks, she backs away from me, twisting at the hem of her apron. She's not vampire, I'm sure of that because there's no path that I can find into her mind. But she's afraid of me because she recognizes that I am.
I smile at her gently, trying to ease her fear. “I'll leave you now, Dena."
Her eyes never leave my face. I feel them follow me as I make my way back to my own room. For the first time, I'm aware of a dark side to Avery. That in spite of all his talk about wanting to work with rather than prey on mortals, he has taken advantage of this girl. I know it as well as I know my new strength, as I know I am no longer human. As I know that she senses the difference.
She may have offered herself at first, been excited or flattered that the handsome doctor showed such interest. But she doesn't want it now. Is he still feeding from her? Was it her blood he offered me the morning I came back from Beso de la Muerte ?
I'm filled with angry impatience as I wait for Dena to finish in Avery's room. I'm more determined than ever to find out what he's hiding. When we're together, it's truly as if I'm under his spell. He makes me forget everything except the touch of his hand, the taste of his blood. But I know very little about him—only what he wants me to know. And I've let him shape my knowledge of what it is to be vampire in his own image.
It's time I learn more. Maybe some of those secrets are hidden in this house.
Dena tiptoes past my room, anxious to be on her way, afraid that I might try to stop her. I hear it in her halting footsteps, see it in the drawn expression on her face as she passes my open door. I let her go, listening to the sounds of the fr
ont door closing, the clicking of the deadbolt, the cranking of a car engine. When I'm sure I'm once again alone, I head back for Avery's bedroom.
No finesse this time. I pull books out of the case, use vampire strength to move them from the wall, run my hands up and down to search for hidden seams.
Nothing.
Shit.
I slump down on the foot of the bed. I try to remember exactly what I heard last night. Avery moving from somewhere along this wall into the bathroom.
Or was it this wall?
I turn to the fireplace. There's a massive stone hearth with a raised platform in front and storage areas for wood on either side. The storage areas are both well over six feet tall and the one on the right is stacked floor to top with neatly sawed, fragrant logs of cedar and pine. The one on the left is only half full, though. And when I peer at it closely, a faint outline presents itself.
But if this is the door, how to get in? Avery certainly didn't have time to remove all these logs last night, then replace them when he came back. I heard the door close and he moved immediately away.
There must be a hidden catch.
I take a step closer. The mantel is a solid slab of heavy dark wood. I run my fingers over the surface, above and below, not knowing what I'm searching for, but not feeling anything that might activate a door either. Stepping back again, I look up at two big brass sconces on either side of the hearth. Could this be the way in?
I reach up for the one on the left. I tug, pull, twist.
Nothing.
I move to the opposite end. This time, when I pull there is a grinding sound, like a gear mechanism springing to life. I jump back and watch as the left side of the fireplace moves in on itself, the entire wall disappearing into a passage that stretches into a black void in front of me.
I've found the way into Avery's secret room.
I have to wait a moment, to let my eyes adjust from the bright sun-filled bedroom to the darkness of the passageway. When my vampire vision takes over, I take a step inside.
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