by Ally Shields
Disconnecting, she dashed for the airline gate. Lilith was arguing with the attendant who was trying to close the door, and Ari squeezed by just in time.
The flight to London seemed longer than eight hours, and her legs were leaden when they made the transfer to Andreas’s jet. She’d dozed once or twice during the Atlantic crossing, never sleeping deeply, and she sat stone-faced on the flight from London to the De Luca estates. Sometimes her head swirled with questions and fears; more often there was only a black void dimly penetrated by the pulse of Andreas’s life force at the other end of their link.
They touched down in Italy near 7:00 a.m. local time.
“God, I’m glad that’s over,” Lilith grumbled as they headed for the ramp. “I can’t sleep much on planes.”
Ari stopped in the airplane door and sucked in her breath. Tuscany was breathtaking. Shades of gold and brown and green glistened in the morning sun. Andreas had understated its exotic beauty. But her stomach turned leaden flip-flops. He wasn’t there to show it to her.
She closed her eyes and reached out with her magic, sending it as far and wide as she could. The faint link was still there, but only slightly stronger than at home. She swallowed her disappointment and descended the ramp onto Italian soil.
Samuel hurried forward from the direction of two cars parked at the edge of the field. “Ari, I am so sorry,” he began. “I should—”
She shook her head. “Just tell me if you have any leads.”
“Nothing. There’s no sign of him. I was hoping you’d sense something.”
“Not yet.” She shook her head, and he looked away.
“We’ve searched the estate and the countryside.” He waved toward the distant landscape. “The vineyards, the buildings…” He stopped, and his arm fell to his side. “I’ll take you to the house so everyone can get settled and show you his room. That’s where the fight took place.”
“Any sign of bone dust?”
“No, I would have told you.”
Every sense told her there shouldn’t be any ash, those last few remnants left from the rapid decomposition after a vampire death. Andreas was alive. She felt it. Still, it was an inexplicable relief to hear Samuel’s confirmation.
As they approached the cars, the weretiger introduced her to his cousin Beppe, the overseer. Beppe’s rich lyrical rendering of English was a sharp reminder of a more refined Italian accent that had become so familiar to her. Lilith asked about the olive trees, and the Italian weretiger launched into a travelogue that he kept up as they drove. The narrow road to the mansion, which local workers referred to as a farmhouse, took less than five minutes. With one hand on the steering wheel, Beppe continued his guided tour all the way up the lane.
“The De Lucases have a fine casa. Six suites, eight baths, all the extras. As you can see, it sits in the middle of wonderful trees on one side, open fields over here, and the olive grove the lady asked about.” He turned, swinging his arm across the panorama. “The grapes are in every direction. Many grapes. It has been a grand harvest.” His face sagged. “Until now. Nothing is good if Master Andreas is gone.”
“He’s not gone.” Ari bridled at the implication. “He’s just missing.”
“Yes, yes. We will find him.” The middle-aged retainer shuffled his feet, and the cheerfulness on his face was clearly artificial.
Ari dismissed him before she let his mood infect her. “Thank you for meeting us, Beppe. I won’t keep you from your other duties, but I’d like to talk with you later.” She turned to Samuel. “Can we see Andreas’s room now?”
They entered the spacious three-level home, crossed the tile floor and climbed the staircase. Unlike many vampires, Andreas did not prefer to be underground. He had kept the master suite on the second level, just as his ancestors had done, although certain changes had been made for security, including the alarmed and monitored steel door to his quarters. Samuel keyed in a code on the electronic door pad.
Before stepping inside, Ari scrutinized the door from top to bottom, but saw no evidence of pry marks or battering. No one had forced their way in. That narrowed the possibilities to someone Andreas invited in, an intruder with the key code, or an Otherworlder who had entered by magical means.
Samuel spoke from behind her. “When I hadn’t seen Andreas by 4:00 p.m., I pounded on his door, then went in when there was no response. I didn’t touch anything.”
The room was a mess. Even now, the metallic smell of blood filled the air. After Samuel’s description on the phone, Ari had prepared herself for the scene, but she couldn’t stop the chill racing through her at the sight of so much dried blood. How much of it belonged to Andreas? She pulled her fears up short. None of it. Even if Andreas had shed any blood, it would have disintegrated long ago. This was damage he’d done to warm-blooded attackers. So who were they? How had they overpowered him?
And why the hell hadn’t she felt anything when it happened? The only logical answer was Andreas had blocked her at the first sign of trouble, prevented her from realizing he was in danger or sharing the experience. But why?
She ignored the tug of panic and thought it through. He’d decided someone or something was too dangerous for her to handle. He’d tried to stop her from coming after him.
“Damn him,” she swore softly. She’d thought he was getting better at allowing her to make that kind of decision for herself. Apparently, he’d reverted to his alpha male instincts in a crisis. Closing the link would make him ten times harder to find, but it wouldn’t stop her.
She continued to swear under her breath as she strode around the room, and her companions gave her a wide berth. She finally glared at Lilith. “He’s blocking me out. Overprotective bloodsucker. Thinks I can’t handle it.”
“Can’t handle what? What’s he consider that dangerous?”
Ari’s fears and irritation spilled out. “The freaking O-Seven would be at the top of my list.” She stopped herself. “But the door is still secure, so they didn’t get in using vampiric strength. It would have to be some kind of dimensional transport or teleporting. Demons or sorcerers. And most demons leave a rotten egg stench of sulfur that isn’t here. Just a faint trace, more like someone evoking black magic.”
“Witches or wizards then? Could it be Sophistrina?” Lilith hadn’t exactly liked any of the German witches who only a few months ago had left Ari stranded in the desert to die. “I thought she said they owed you.”
“It wouldn’t be her, but maybe another coven like hers or a super powerful witch.” Even though Ari had been instrumental in getting the High Priestess and her black magic coven banished from the States six months ago, Sophistrina hadn’t been angry. It was her deceased predecessor who had caused all the problems, and Ari had seen to it that the rest had received leniency when she’d brought them before the Magic Counsel for their actions.
Ari scanned the room again for anything that might have been missed. She picked up a small black scarf—one of Andreas’s favorites—and ran her fingers over it. “Witches in this part of the world hate vampires. They’ve been at war since 1329 when the two sides nearly annihilated each other.”
“But why pick on Andreas? He hasn’t been involved in their war.”
“How would any witch over here know that?” Ari shrugged. “It’s just one theory. I’m not ruling out anything.” She stopped in the center of the room. “I can’t pick up a magical trail strong enough to follow.” It had been too long since the attack. She also didn’t feel that tiny void that accompanied every Otherworld death. So no one had died here. That was remarkable, considering all the blood. She tucked Andreas’s scarf in her pocket before reaching down with one finger to touch a splatter and bring the sample to her nose. “Werebears.”
“Bears? How would they get in?” Lilith demanded. “The door was still sealed.”
“They don’t live in the area,” Samuel said. “There’s not enough cover for even a pair of creatures that large to hide and feed.”
“Somebod
y teleported them. That’s the trace of black magic I felt. Residue from a teleportation spell.” She turned to Andreas’s local staff who had hung back near the doorway. “Where is the nearest bear country, dense forests and mountains?”
“North, in Austria or Switzerland,” one of them said.
Samuel cleared his throat. “How far can they transport? The Black Forest in Germany must be filled with bears.” He exchanged a significant look with her.
Crap. O-Seven territory. Yes, that would fit, except—Andreas wasn’t dead. Had he escaped and gone into hiding, or had he been kidnapped? Neither answer made sense.
“If they came from that far, they’d still need a local stop. No one could do a teleport and return with an unwilling captive without renewing their magic.”
“So they’ve taken him somewhere local?”
Ari shook her head. “I don’t know yet, Lilith. Just thinking out loud.”
She closed her eyes and centered herself. Now that she knew what to look for, she wanted to try reaching out into the surrounding countryside with her own version of Spidey senses. Maybe she could pick up the scent of werebear or the location of a teleport circle. Her magic spread out around her in increasing circles. The same faint trace of dark spellcraft came back to tickle her senses, but not enough to follow.
Lilith shifted her feet in impatience. “Well?”
“No go. The sorcerer was careful. I’ll walk around outside, see if I can find anything, but I’m not counting on the teleport circle being close by. More likely a mile or two away. Maybe more. Outside my immediate sensory range.”
She left the room, heading down the stairs to the front door. Everyone followed, but she waved them off except for Samuel.
Lilith took the hint. “I’ll get us settled in and take a quick shower.” The weretiger guards grabbed their own bags and went off to find their accommodations. Andreas’s staff scattered.
Once Ari was alone with Andreas’s security chief, she looked him in the eye. “So, explain how this happened.”
He returned her gaze without flinching. “I’d been away for the evening, visiting relatives. Andreas planned to go over the estate books and was in the study when I left, about nine o’clock. I returned around 2:00 a.m., and he’d already gone to his room. It looked like he’d taken some of the books with him, and I found them beside his bed the next afternoon. Anyway, I checked that night to make sure his bedroom door was secured. I knocked, and he said, ‘Goodnight.’”
“Was that his usual routine?”
“Yes. We often turn off the downstairs lights after midnight to make the casa look more natural. So neighbors won’t think it’s odd for him to stay up every night.”
“I still can’t believe they don’t know he’s a vampire.” She frowned. “So how did he sound? Are you positive it was his voice?”
“Just like normal. I’d swear to it.” Samuel looked away. “After that, I went to bed and slept through whatever happened.”
“And your room is right next door.”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“What about the other guards and staff?”
“Nobody saw or heard anything.”
She pictured the blood and disarray in Andreas’s room. “Why didn’t you hear the fight?”
“I can’t explain it.”
But she had been talking more to herself than Samuel. With his lycanthrope hearing, the weretiger should have noticed such a violent event. The lack of sound was more than strange. “It had to be a spell placed on the entire household.”
Teleportation, and now a silence spell. A sorcerer had to be behind this. Was it possible he or she was working with the vampire elders?
“OK, thanks.” She started to turn away but swung back. He needed her to say it. “Samuel, this wasn’t your fault. Now, come on, let’s see if we can find him.” She strode across the lawn toward the nearest building with Samuel staying beside her. “If someone’s taken Andreas, we need something to show us where they’ve gone.”
An hour later, as they completed their circle of the nearby area, he led her to a grove of fig trees still laden with their distinctive leaves and the last crop of the year. The sweet, fruity smell drifted around them. He pointed to a matted area in the grass, and they crouched down to inspect it. “This is the place I was telling you about. The only thing our people have found.”
“Someone has been here, watching the house.” Ari ran her hands over the disturbed ground.
“Maybe,” Samuel admitted, “but it looks more like an animal has nested here. A local dog or wild fox, maybe.” He sniffed the air. “Strange I don’t notice a distinctive scent.”
“A vixen.” She said it with assurance. “A werefox vixen. I can feel her Otherworld scent clinging to the grass and soil, even though she’s attempted to hide her presence by spraying with some kind of masking agent.”
“Geez. Is that what’s making me want to sneeze?” He rubbed his nose, stood and backed away. “You think she was spying on us?”
“Don’t you? There’s a reason they’re called snoops-for-hire.” Damned sneaky creatures. Ari got to her feet and vented her frustration on a chunk of dirt by kicking it out of her way. “Is there a pack near here?”
“Fifteen or twenty miles. They avoid my family’s hunting area.”
“Let’s go visiting. Do you have a vehicle that isn’t being used in the searches?”
“Got a truck.”
Five minutes later, Ari smiled and climbed into the vintage pickup that stopped beside her and backfired. Its light green paint was liberally sprinkled with patches of rust. “Where on earth did you find this?”
“It belongs to the overseer,” Samuel said. “I thought it would be a better choice than Andreas’s silver Maserati.”
“Good thinking.” Andreas’s taste wasn’t always geared toward blending into the local landscape. She searched for the seat belt. “No seat belt?”
Samuel grinned. “Just hang on. It’s the bumps that’ll get you.”
She quickly found out what he meant when he took off down the back roads, winding through short cuts that were barely more than well-beaten paths. Finally he pulled the truck over to the side of a narrow lane. Ari coughed, wiping dust from her eyes. The region had been unusually dry, and the fall heat and dust billowed through the open windows. The cranks were missing, but that didn’t matter as the glass had been broken out long ago.
“Beppe suggested we walk from here. To give the foxes time to get used to the idea of visitors.”
Word would spread quickly. Ari’s neck already prickled with awareness. They were being watched. She climbed out, giving the foxes plenty of time to assess their arrival while she brushed off her dusty jeans and T-shirt. When she straightened, Samuel turned toward the east, leading the way. They hadn’t gone more than fifty yards when a male figure appeared ahead, and they stopped to wait for him to reach them. Ari sensed the fox pack filtering into the grove of trees and vines to their left. When Samuel stiffened, apparently picking up the fox scent, Ari touched his arm in a warning not to react.
The man striding toward them was deeply tanned, his natural Mediterranean complexion weathered and turned into a mocha color by the Tuscan sun. Well-built, confident, his expression was neither welcoming nor threatening. “Why is a tiger on our land?” he asked Samuel without preamble.
Ari answered instead, explaining she was a Guardian from the States and was visiting the De Luca vineyards. “A werefox has been on the estate property recently, and we’d like to talk with her.”
“You’re concerned about a trespasser?” The werefox, who’d identified himself as Ramon, was faintly mocking. His eyes narrowed. “You said her?”
“Yes, it was a vixen.” Ari had deliberately mentioned the gender. Lycanthropes had a hard time differentiating the males and females of other species by smell alone, unless the female was in her heat cycle, but witches could read the remnants of auras. It should tell him what she was.
He took anothe
r look at her and then a deliberate sniff, his nostrils flaring. “Witch.” His expression hardened. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
“There was a break-in at the De Luca house, and your vixen may have seen the suspects.”
Ramon scowled. “Are you accusing her of being involved?”
Ari struggled to keep her voice casual and not antagonize him. “We just want to talk. We’re willing to pay for information.” If anything motivated werefoxes, it was money.
Ramon’s tense stance relaxed at the mention of payment. “It may have been Katya. I heard she had a new client.”
Client! Ari’s nostrils flared with indignation. Too tame a word for the lowlife behind a sneak attack and abduction. She forced herself to focused on what she’d heard. So the fox had been someone’s local eyes, just as they’d suspected. The small and clever creatures could go wherever they wanted without being noticed. It made them effective spies, and in the States they earned good money doing freelance surveillance.
“I’ll take you to her, but…” he looked directly at Ari, “I think I better stay while you talk.”
“Fair enough.” Ari and Samuel followed him back down the road. He cut through a grove of trees and approached a gentle hillside of vines and brush.
His soft growl warned her before the smell did. Rotting flesh.
The den had been dug out by deep claw marks; twigs and earth scattered; the werefox’s body lay half in, half out. Her neck had a large chunk of flesh missing where it had been ripped by sharp teeth, and she had bled out. Katya’s clothes hung in shreds; the backs of her hands showed small tuffs of red fur, suggesting she’d been in the process of transforming when she died. Probably in an attempt to escape. Foxes were not effective fighters against larger opponents, but they could run like the wind.
Ari sucked in a shallow breath. It hadn’t been an easy death. But overshadowing her natural empathy for any loss of life—even this life—was a bitter disappointment. Ari wanted answers, and Katya wouldn’t be telling them anything.
